Cat Commotion (4)
When someone turns to fantasy for self-pleasure instead of relying on writing or illustrations, they usually end up substituting the faces of people they know.
"To think of Bishop Lowen..."
Just for a fleeting moment, Ariel had imagined presenting her rear to Lowen and being forced to take his cock.
A wave of self-loathing rose inside her.
It was nothing, really, yet she felt sorry for picturing that gentle man as some kind of beast.
But even as she despised herself and felt guilty toward Lowen, the spark that had fallen into her heart only fanned the fantasy hotter.
Saintess, that tight little pussy of yours is a true masterpiece.
The phantom voice echoed through her mind.
When the mercenaries had surrounded her with their filthy talk it had only disgusted her, yet hearing the same lewd words in Lowen's voice made her pulse race. Her masochistic streak stirred; her ears perked up, craving more. That soft, low baritone was so pleasant to listen to.
The heat building inside her shifted into pure sexual arousal, scorching her lower belly.
"Hnn... ahn... haah..."
Ariel let out pitiful little moans as she rubbed her thighs together.
The space between her legs itched and tingled.
No matter how she shifted her thighs or wriggled her hips, the ticklish sensation only grew worse.
Was this what torture felt like?
Like being locked in restraints that kept her neck and hands from moving while something as irritating as hemp bark was rubbed against her pussy or asshole—leaving her unable to scratch the itch until she went mad.
Even a faint brush of air made her thighs tremble and goosebumps race across her skin.
"Hah... haahk... w-what is this..."
None of it made sense.
Being wedged into this narrow gap in the wall was already baffling, but so was the way her lower belly kept clenching and throbbing with an excitement so fierce she could barely hold back from touching herself.
"Meow~"
The cat kept lapping at Ariel's breasts with its rough little tongue.
"Hnnk...?!"
Her hypersensitive body registered every stroke.
Her nipples swelled hard and tight.
She couldn't check right now, but her clit had surely stiffened and poked free of its hood as well.
Ariel tried desperately not to feel it.
Yet the more she focused on enduring, the more aware—and sensitive—she became.
"Hik!"
The instant she relaxed her breathing and let her guard down, a powerful wave crashed over her like a bursting bladder.
Eyes flying wide, Ariel clenched her lower belly and squeezed her thighs together.
But the fierce surge battered at the gates, demanding release.
She felt liquid trickle out in little spurts, soaking her underwear damp.
"Hauu... to be feeling it in a place like this..."
Shame.
The mortification of being stuck outdoors against a wall, aroused out of her mind.
It was so humiliating her head felt ready to explode—yet secretly, Ariel found it rather pleasant.
She refused to admit it to herself, but her perverted nature was beginning to open its eyes to something new.
And then—
"What on earth are you doing in a place like this?"
While she was still panting, Lowen's voice reached her, thick with disbelief.
"Bishop Lowen! Please help me! I'm stuck and I can't get out!"
Ariel kicked her legs frantically as she begged for help.
Looking at Ariel's rear wedged in the wall, Lowen felt a strong sense of déjà vu.
He had just seen that same backside moments earlier, and back in the days when he used to frequent brothels he had seen women who stuck only their lower halves through a wall for a so-called glory hole.
Her long skirt mercifully covered her underwear, yet the clinging fabric still outlined every plump curve of her ass and the lines of her panties. On top of that, whether it was urine or arousal fluid, liquid had run down her thighs and left wet stains on her knee-high socks.
"Should I call this a magnificent view? That's quite the lewd ass."
Clea, standing beside Lowen, admired Ariel's rear as she spoke.
"W-who's there...?"
At the unfamiliar voice, Ariel's buttocks clenched and her thighs drew tight.
"A witch I happened to meet in the alley. More importantly, how did you end up in such a state?"
Lowen sighed heavily. Ariel answered in a wilted, tearful voice.
"Uuu... I-I was trying to catch the cat... and my chest is too big... so I got stuck..."
Anyone who looked at Ariel could tell she was well-endowed, but who would have guessed her breasts were large enough to wedge her into a place like this?
"I'll try pulling from behind first."
Lowen placed his hands on Ariel's hips.
"B-be gentle... please..."
The line grated on him, but Lowen gripped her rear and began to pull.
"Hik! W-wait...! Haahn!"
The moment he took hold of her ass, Ariel bucked and flailed her legs.
Her body was so sensitive that the mere stimulus of being grabbed nearly made her cry out and climax on the spot.
"I asked you to be gentle...!"
She pouted for no good reason.
"I barely touched you."
"I... right now... my body isn't in a good state, so... please try not to stimulate me more than necessary..."
"Understood."
Lowen took hold of her pelvis like a pair of handles.
"It may still hurt a little, so please bear with it."
"Y-yes..."
Ariel steeled herself, clutched the cat tightly, and covered her mouth with both hands in case any shameful cries escaped.
"Here we go."
Lowen pulled on her hips.
"Hiiing———!"
It was milder than when he had grabbed her ass, yet the grip on her pelvis alone sent shivers racing up her spine and sparking across her scalp.
Ariel desperately clenched her lower belly and pressed her hands harder over her mouth.
"Hik...! Hmm... mmmph...!"
Her buttocks trembled violently.
Her tensed legs stretched straight, only her ankles fidgeting restlessly.
"Ugh... nngh...! Hhk...!"
Sounds of distress leaked from the other side of the wall.
Drip. Drip.
Droplets fell from between her thighs.
"Whoa... that's seriously cruel."
Clea, watching from the side, pulled a disgusted face and looked at Lowen.
"If anyone overheard, they'd think I was doing something wicked."
"Objectively speaking, grabbing a woman's hips in an alley and making her squirt is something wicked."
"I-I didn't squirt...!"
Clea trudged over beside Lowen and laid a hand on the wall.
"I'll help."
Light flashed between the brick seams.
One by one the bricks withdrew, widening the narrow gap.
Ariel's body began to emerge little by little until, all at once, the resistance vanished and she popped free. In the process her rear slammed into Lowen, and—as always—the two of them tumbled to the ground.
And then—
"Ah... aah..."
Ariel, face hovering right in front of Lowen's eyes, wore a grave expression with tears welling up as her hips twitched and trembled.
"Saintess?"
Ariel tried to stay composed, breathing hard, lips quivering.
"B-Bishop Lowen... hii... y-your hand..."
In the fall, Lowen had ended up firmly gripping her plump rear. That single stimulus had transformed into fierce pleasure that set her entire body ablaze.
Something similar had happened by accident before.
"Hik... aah......"
The difference this time was that Ariel, straddling Lowen, had already made a mess of herself.
"Saintess..."
Lowen looked at her with something like regret.
A hot circle of warmth spread across his lower half with a soft shaa.
His black clerical robes would hide any stain, but Ariel's white habit was surely turning gray by now.
A regrettable day was drawing to a close.
Thanks to Clea carefully explaining things to the little girl and offering compensation, the cat matter was settled cleanly.
"Finding the cat was good and all."
Clea, sipping tea in the parlor, leaned back against the sofa.
"But now I've got the problem of having found a woman I like in the process."
She tipped her head back and stared at the ceiling.
"Never thought it'd want the Saintess as its master."
She had tried to take the Absorbing Spirit Cat with her, yet the creature had taken a shine to Ariel and refused to leave.
Whenever Clea reached for it, it hissed and bared its claws.
She had tried to drag it away by force, only to end up bitten and scratched for her trouble.
"What do you think? The Absorbing Spirit Cat wants to make the Saintess its master."
The troubled expression from a moment ago vanished; Clea now wore a sly smile as she looked across at Lowen.
"Indeed."
Lowen answered listlessly.
The Absorbing Spirit Cat was a problem, but what worried him most was Ariel herself—who had thoroughly wet herself and was now shut away in her room, sunk in gloom.
All the way back to the cathedral she had kept her head bowed low.
Just like when they first met, she had muttered things like, "I should just die... when...? Today...? Or... tomorrow...?" The Saintess who was supposed to spread light through the world had instead been radiating a bleak darkness. Every time the villagers cast worried glances their way, Lowen had been busy making excuses.
How could he possibly tell them the truth—that the Saintess had squirted all over her bishop while sitting on top of him?
"Hah... In any case, I'd appreciate it if you kept quiet about today's events."
A merchant's mouth was a dangerous thing.
They were the sort who manufactured rumors and spread them like plague with their endless chatter.
"Of course. Consider it payment for finding the cat."
Clea sealed her lips with a zipper motion.
"But what am I to do? I don't have the cat with me right now."
She played coy, casually showing the scratched and bitten back of her hand.
"So I just need to bring the cat, correct?"
"I'd appreciate it."
Clea squinted and tossed him a wink.
"Understood. I was about to check on the Saintess's condition anyway..."
Lowen rose from his seat.
Before heading upstairs he stopped by the kitchen and gathered a few things to eat.
Thick hot chocolate, a fruit sandwich piled high with whipped cream.
Only things Ariel liked. With those in hand, Lowen made his way to her bedroom.
Her gloom never lasted long anyway.
A little sweet food would chase the storm clouds away and leave her bright again.
—Knock knock
He rapped softly on Ariel's door and spoke in a low voice.
"Saintess, it's Lowen."
He could sense her presence, yet no answer came.
"I'm coming in."
Assuming she was simply too dejected to reply, Lowen entered the bedroom.
A quilt rose in a rounded mound atop the bed.
"Saintess, you haven't even had dinner. Please try some of this."
He set the food on the table by the window and approached the bed.
"Saintess."
Lowen stroked the quilt gently and spoke in a soothing tone.
"Please cheer up. Everyone has times when they simply can't hold back. And when you look this downcast, it weighs on my heart. I start wondering whether I'm failing in my duty to care for you... whether I'm unworthy of protecting you... and I end up doubting myself."
Perhaps she felt the gentle touch; the quilt stirred and Ariel sat up.
"Sniff... B-Bishop Lowen..."
She lifted her tearful face.
"Saintess?"
The tender smile on Lowen's face instantly gave way to flustered shock.
"W-what do I do...?"
Atop the head of the tearful Ariel, a pair of adorable cat ears twitched.