Uninvited Guest (5)
Ever since she was little, overusing her divine power made her body heat up.
She never knew why.
It simply happened the way intense exercise left the body exhausted and sore—something inevitable, almost natural.
She had consulted other Saintesses and Cardinals, yet no one could uncover the cause.
Even so, it had never been much of a problem.
She could endure it.
Even when her womb burned and tormented her, she could hold out.
With the power of faith she cooled her head and emptied her mind, and that was enough.
That was before she learned to masturbate, of course.
Back then she had never realized the heat that clouded her thoughts was sexual desire.
But now everything was different.
She had awakened to lust and was thoroughly addicted to the instant pleasure of touching herself.
Knowing was far more terrifying than not knowing.
Because she knew how good it felt to knead her pussy, how thrilling it was to peel back the hood and roll her clitoris, how ecstatic it was to slip fingers into her vagina and explore every fold—enduring that knowledge was truly difficult.
“Bishop Lowen… Bishop Lowen…”
Having offered the Prayer of Sleep, Ariel poked at Lowen, who was sleeping on the sofa.
“……”
She prodded his shoulder, pinched his cheek, even grew bold enough to tweak his nose. But he was so deeply asleep that he showed no sign of waking.
“Bishop Lowen… I’m sorry… Just one last time… really, just once… Starting tomorrow I’ll try harder…”
She had sworn right in front of him that she would fight her lust and overcome it, yet her desire was already heating her womb until her underwear grew damp.
She clutched her belly and clenched her teeth, trying somehow to hold on, but the more she resisted, the stronger the temptation became.
If she forced herself any longer, she felt her mind might break.
Rustle… slip…
The soft sound of her underwear sliding down her thighs whispered through the quiet room.
“Haaah… It’s already so wet…”
Ariel lightly tapped the soft, padded crotch of her panties.
Slick moisture clung to her fingertips.
As if begging for the pleasure of being filled, her pussy was already drooling with need.
A look of self-disgust crossed her face at her own filthiness.
“Sniff… sniff-sniff… haaah…”
Yet drawn by her lewd instincts, she brought the underwear to her nose and inhaled, nostrils flaring.
Every time she masturbated she felt it—the warm, faintly sweet, fishy scent of her own juices was unpleasant and yet so addictive that she kept wanting another breath.
After savoring the smell for a long while, Ariel slipped her hand between her plump thighs.
Damp heat met the back of her hand.
The mere brush of contact made her entrance twitch.
“Haang… hnn…”
Turning her back to Lowen, she lay on the bed and began to knead her pussy.
It was soft and springy, like a marshmallow just beginning to melt.
Every time she squeezed the tender young flesh, strength gathered in her waist and her body twisted restlessly.
She gently parted the closed petals and rolled the little round bean between her fingers.
“Ah… hnnn… mmm…”
Under her touch the bean slowly swelled and hardened.
It was only a speck of her body, yet stimulating that tiny thing made her tremble as if her entire self were being dominated.
A little more pressure, and honey spilled between the petals, glistening down her thighs.
“Hngk… euk…”
Afraid the moans would keep spilling out, she flipped over and buried her face in the pillow.
No matter how deeply Lowen slept, someone else might still come by.
The Prayer of Sleep put every living thing within a certain range to rest at the moment it was cast, but it had no effect on anyone outside that area. If someone happened to pass nearby, they would hear her sounds.
“Eup… hup… mmm…”
Ariel raised her plump bottom high while keeping her face buried in the pillow.
From anyone else’s viewpoint the pose would have looked truly ridiculous.
Fluid dripped steadily between her spread legs, and the pink little hole nestled between her cheeks clenched every time she touched her pussy.
“Hngk…!”
She slid a finger between the petals and pushed it into the winding passage of her vagina.
The mere insertion brought a light climax.
As if her body had grown especially vulnerable to pleasure, every inner fold felt more sensitive than usual.
Squish.
“Habuuu…”
Just curling her finger and lightly scraping the walls sent shivers cascading down her thighs.
A tingling, electric pleasure seized her lower half.
Her buttocks tensed; her toes curled and flexed.
As the waves of sensation crashed through her like electric shocks, Ariel bit down on the pillowcase and stifled her moans.
Inwardly she prayed.
Forgive me.
Please forgive this foolish little lamb blinded by pleasure.
Hide the moonlight behind the clouds and close Your eyes that watch the world—just for this one day.
“Hngk…! Ung…!”
Her hips shuddered violently.
The finger roaming inside her stilled.
Panting, Ariel leisurely savored the pleasure that raced up and down her spine.
“I-it’s not enough……”
Ordinarily that climax would have left her fully satisfied and ready for deep sleep, yet the heat in her womb refused to cool.
If anything it burned hotter, craving even greater pleasure.
She wriggled her finger again and thrust into herself once more.
She came and came, yet the pleasure remained frustratingly incomplete.
I need stronger stimulation.
I need bigger pleasure.
Wiping the long, spider-silk strands of juices from her thighs, Ariel looked around.
“Uuu…”
Then she spotted something that could fill the hollow ache.
“Forgive me… forgive me…”
She rose unsteadily.
The wetness soaking her crotch dripped onto the floor in fat drops.
She headed for the sofa—where Lowen slept.
“I-I’m sorry…”
She took his hand.
Large, firm, the tendons standing out clearly.
Ariel nestled that masculine hand between her legs.
“Haut…!”
The mere touch of another person’s hand against her most private place sent shivers racing through her.
She pressed her pussy firmly against the back of his hand.
Soft flesh squashed and molded around it.
Lowering her hips, she began to rock her waist slowly back and forth.
“Ha… haak… hnn…”
Her heart pounded wildly.
Even the slightest movement left her breathless, as if she were high in the mountains with too little oxygen.
The sheer depravity of rubbing her sex against a sleeping man’s hand drove her excitement to a fever pitch.
Squish, squelch…
The wet sound of her slick folds grinding against his hand.
Her hips, which had started slow, grew bolder and faster until she was shaking them hard.
She looked exactly like a beast in heat thrusting at empty air.
“I-I’m filthy… hngk… so… f-filthy… ang…♡”
Ariel herself knew exactly how she looked and despised herself for it.
Yet her waist would not stop.
Rubbing her clitoris and entrance against that hard hand felt better than she had ever imagined.
“B-Bishop Lowen… you mustn’t… open your eyes… never… hngk…!”
Still grinding lewdly, she lifted his middle finger and slowly pushed it into her vagina.
“It’s going in… Bishop Lowen’s finger… i-it’s going inside me…”
It reached places her own fingers never could.
The sensation of a foreign object buried deep in her belly felt like exploring an unknown world.
With his finger still buried inside her, Ariel stood awkwardly and began to bounce her hips.
Squelch… squelchhh…
Because her insides were so flooded with juices, even small movements produced thick, obscene wet sounds.
Clutching his forearm, she kept rocking her bottom while watching his face for any reaction.
Because of the Prayer of Sleep he would not wake for at least five hours.
Still, variables existed; he might open his eyes while she was moving like this.
“Uung… hak… hnn…”
The tempo of her hips quickened.
Her full breasts bounced up and down.
The violent motion must have unhooked her bra; her breasts spilled free and swayed heavily.
With one hand she gathered the swinging mounds against her chest.
Her nipples, stiff and erect, pushed visibly against the fabric of her nun’s habit.
“Ang… haang… nn… nn…!”
Pinching the nipples of the breasts she cradled, she rolled her hips even more vulgarly, more obscenely.
Squelch, squelch, squelch, squelch…
The wet sounds of her finger-fucking filled the entire room.
“Haaaang… hnn… eup…”
Ariel reached a rapturous climax.
Her legs trembled; her thighs convulsed and shook.
She barely had time to savor the afterglow before a stream of fluid poured over Lowen’s hand, already soaked with her juices.
Leaning forward, she rested against his arm and caught her breath.
“Hnnn… th-this is too… ha…”
Silver sparks flickered before her eyes.
The heat that had raged in her womb finally seemed satisfied and began to cool.
Her body went limp and heavy; the aftermath of climax made her eyelids droop.
Schlick.
She pulled Lowen’s finger free.
A long, milky strand of her fluids stretched between them like a sticky thread.
Ariel wiped between her legs with a handkerchief.
While cleaning herself, a new thought surfaced.
A filthy thought.
Something closer to curiosity—or raw desire.
Suddenly she wanted to see a real male organ.
A man was right in front of her, sunk in deep sleep.
“J-just for a second… if I only take a look… that should be okay, right…?”
Rationalizing, she loosened the belt at Lowen’s waist.
Her mind was already a wreck of lust.
Even though reason knew she must not do this, the instinctive craving to see a man’s cock surged up unbidden.
She had only ever seen illustrations in books; the real thing was something else entirely.
“I’m sorry… Bishop Lowen… I’m truly sorry…”
Just as she was about to pull his trousers down—
Clatter!
The sound of someone moving outside the room dashed cold water over Ariel’s lust-fogged mind.
“……”
She nearly let out a squeak. Clamping both hands over her mouth, she carefully cracked the door and peered out.
There, prowling like a thief, was the boy who had once thrown stones at the cathedral windows—Ban.