The Corrupted Saintess (2)
The waves of desire crashed over her without mercy.
Even the slightest slip of her guard was enough to be swept under and drown.
The Saintess, Ariel, had once stood firm against those storm-tossed waves of craving.
She had studied theology until her heart grew devout, and she had prayed until her spirit stayed pure. Even when strawberry cake made her mouth water, even when soft sunlight coaxed her toward a nap, she never gave in. Among the Seven Saintesses she was called the most devoted to God; the only desire she allowed herself was the desire to offer Him prayer.
And yet that same girl had crumbled beneath lust.
The trigger had been painfully simple.
Her mind had been so packed with stress that it began to hunger for any new stimulus. Before her spirit could fray completely, she went to the archive to steady herself with scripture—and there she saw them.
In the sacred archive, a man and a woman were joining their flesh.
A nun, spreading her own buttocks wide, her dripping hole fluttering open as long strands of slick stretched from it. A cardinal driving his cock into that wet, squelching entrance. The filthy slap of skin on skin rang through the stacks; even with a hand clamped over her mouth, the nun’s moans leaked out.
Ariel had known the basics of the act. Seeing it in the flesh was a shock, but once she told herself they were making love, she could almost understand.
What came next, however, was far more shocking.
The cardinal began spanking the nun’s ass with sharp, ringing smacks, then hooked an arm around her throat and choked her.
“Ghk—! Khh—!”
The nun’s face turned purple; Ariel thought she might die. Yet the woman’s eyes sparkled with pure rapture. She rocked her hips and urged the cardinal on, begging for more of his brutality.
That scene burned itself into Ariel’s mind. No amount of prayer, no purification of the heart, could scrub it away. The moment her thoughts wandered, the sounds replayed in perfect clarity. Murky water seeped into her pure white heart and left black stains. A bud that craved new thrills began to swell. She started hungering for filthy things that made her chest pound.
Alone in her bedroom she would stick her ass out into empty air and flutter her hole the way the nun had. She would squeeze her heavy, swaying breasts. She would chase sensation with her fingers against her sex. That was how she taught herself to masturbate—and how she fell into pleasure.
Like a monkey addicted to the act, she lost herself every night before bed. Caught in the waves of lust, Ariel slowly corrupted.
The peak came when she happened upon a book the nuns had been giggling over in secret. It was a volume of dense, graphic sex between men and women—everything from basic knowledge to specialized play like SM—complete with realistic illustrations of male genitalia. Through that book she learned a vast array of carnal lore. Night after night, buried under her blankets, she absorbed the filthy knowledge. The wet suck of her own mouth on her breasts, the frantic rub of her clit, the squelch of her fingers in her pussy—those sounds filled her bed every single night.
She sank deeper. True addiction set in the first time she tasted a female orgasm.
Fingers plunging into her cunt, lips latched onto her own nipple, a violent current raced up her spine and stabbed her brain; her hips bucked and she squirted. She could not forget that fierce climax or its aftershocks. With her small hands she ravaged her own tender body until she came again and again, thighs trembling, piss dribbling out of her. And so she became what she was now: a Saintess utterly defeated by lust. A corrupted Saintess.
Squelch… schlick-schlick…
In a corner bedroom on the cathedral’s second floor, Ariel was trying to calm her shame-trembling heart—by masturbating.
“Haaah… ahh…”
She had slipped a hand between her plump thighs and was fondling the pussy soaked through with her own juices. For the first time she had shown someone else this filthy sight. The humiliation was enough to shred her nerves, yet when she looked back on it her heart hammered with excitement. The sheer wrongness of a Saintess revealing what she must never reveal… Had she been a pervert from birth? The shame of being seen at climax twisted into arousal and made her fingers move even faster.
“Hngh… ahn… ang…!”
She was flinging slick in every direction, soaking the bedsheets, when—
Knock-knock.
The sound froze her solid.
“Saintess, I’m coming in.”
“W-wait a moment…!”
Ariel scrambled. She wiped the thick juices coating her palm onto her thigh and hastily straightened the room.
“Y-yes…! Come in…!”
The doorknob creaked. Lowen entered carrying a mug in one hand.
“W-what brings you…?”
Ariel was panting as if she had just sprinted. Her large breasts heaved. Both cheeks were flushed deep red and her long hair was a mess.
“What is that smell?”
Lowen sniffed the air. A thick, sweet-salty scent clung to his nose.
“Uuu… th-that’s…”
Ariel could not meet his eyes; hers darted everywhere.
“Ah.”
One look at her and Lowen knew exactly what the smell was. Had the habit been black he might have missed it, but white cloth made the evidence plain: the gray stains where her overflowing juices had soaked through.
“Looks like I walked in on you at a busy moment again.”
He turned his head and pointed toward her lower half.
“Huh?”
How did he know? Ariel followed his finger.
“Ah—”
A gray map was drawn across the fabric near her crotch, as if she had wet herself.
“Hngh…!”
She clapped both hands over the stain and hung her head. A tiny, mortified squeak seemed to rise from deep inside her body.
“Saintess, do you like chocolate?”
Watching her turn tomato-red once more, Lowen gave an awkward smile and tried to clear the air.
“Ah… yes… I like it…”
He brightened as though that were welcome news.
“Glad to hear it. Then preparing this was worth it.”
He held out the mug.
“This is…?”
“Hot chocolate. Drink it and you’ll feel better.”
She accepted the mug carefully with both hands. Melted chocolate stirred into warm milk, a lightly toasted marshmallow floating in the center, grated chocolate dusted on top.
“Wow… did you make this yourself?”
“I did. I have a sweet tooth, so I make things like this often.”
“May I drink it right away?”
“It’s hot, so blow on it first.”
Ariel puffed gently at the mug as sweet steam curled upward. The scent of chocolate alone seemed to melt across her tongue. Once it was cool enough not to burn, she took a sip.
“Mmmmh~! It’s delicious!”
The sugar hit so hard her whole body shivered.
“Haha. I’m glad you like it.”
“I could drink this for the rest of my life.”
“You flatter me.”
Until someone arrived from the Holy See, he had decided to take proper care of the Saintess. The first step was simply getting along. He had brought the hot chocolate both to soothe her and to close the distance between them.
“I’ll be cleaning the chapel. Call me if you need anything.”
“Sh-should I help too?”
“No need. Please rest, Saintess.”
At the door Lowen paused and looked back.
“And, Saintess.”
“Yes?”
“Having a strong libido is one thing, but overdoing it isn’t good for you.”
Ariel’s hair practically stood on end.
“I-it’s not—! Th-that’s not—!”
Without waiting for excuses, Lowen stepped out and shut the door.
“Uwaaaah!”
Ariel clutched her head and rolled across the bed. Their first meeting had already been a disaster, and before she could repair the impression she had shown him something even worse. They would be living together from now on—how was she supposed to face him day after day? Just thinking about it made her head ache.
She knelt on the mattress and clasped her hands.
“O God… forgive my wrongs… and keep me from temptation…”
She poured so much divine power into the prayer that light seemed to radiate from her body. Every time she masturbated she regretted it. The floating pleasure felt wonderful, yet it also felt like sin. Because she now knew that pleasure, she could not stop—even though she knew a Saintess sworn to keep her body pure must never do such things.
“All right!”
Finished praying, Ariel clenched both fists.
“Starting today, I quit!”
It was time to turn back from the wrong path. She had wandered freely for a whole year. She would treat it as a belated storm-and-stress period and lock her dignity as a Saintess even tighter. She would push out the murky water that had flooded her pure white heart and purify it once more.
“It’s not too late… Yes, it’s not too late.”
One of the reasons she had come here was precisely to cleanse her heart. Resting a mind worn thin by stress was part of it, but so was reflecting on the lewd woman she was becoming and reclaiming the image of a true Saintess. She had already masturbated the moment she arrived, but still—that was the purpose.
“Gulp, gulp.”
She drained the rest of the hot chocolate in greedy swallows.
“Pwah…”
She wiped the chocolate from the corner of her mouth with the back of her hand and stood.
“The first impression was the worst… but from now on I’ll fix things one by one…!”
Steeling herself, she left the room to help clean the chapel.
“Bishop Lowen, I’ll help with the cleaning!”
Down in the chapel she found Lowen, now changed into a black clerical habit, sweeping with a broom.
“Please rest, Saintess.”
“No! I really want to help! I insist!”
Ariel brimmed with enthusiasm. Lowen scratched his cheek, looking troubled.
“…Is it not allowed?”
She tipped her head and peered up at him.
“I’d be grateful for the help.”
“Then—!”
“But Saintess, perhaps you should change clothes first?”
“Change clothes?”
The snug fabric of her habit clung to every curve—her full breasts, the waist that flared into wide hips, the plump swell of her buttocks. That alone was not the problem. What made Lowen awkward was that she had come straight from her room, so the slick stains were still plainly visible.
“We’ll need to do laundry as well.”
“Ugh…”
All that blazing motivation snuffed out in an instant. Ariel fled upstairs in a fluster.
“Hah…”
Lowen watched the wet sheen still glistening on her backside and slowly shook his head.