Banquet Time (2)
"Mmm♪ Mm-hmm♩"
Ariel finished her bath and toweled herself dry, a tune rising unbidden from her throat as her plump backside swayed of its own accord.
Wiggle, wiggle.
Still dancing that little hip-shimmy, she climbed the stairs to the bedroom.
To savor the finest of banquets, the conditions had to be perfect.
Favorite food. An empty stomach. The right atmosphere.
Favorite food: the cheap erotica Clea had gifted her, already waiting on the bedside.
Empty stomach: she had been holding off on touching herself for days, all for the sake of a more exquisite pleasure. Her soft, pliant pussy had gone days without a taste of bliss, and it was starving.
Atmosphere: Lowen was out, leaving her alone in the cathedral. She could moan as loud as she wanted, finger herself as deep as she wanted — no one to catch her, no one to mind.
Which made today not merely the optimal conditions for a banquet, but the absolute best.
Ariel flung herself onto the bed. The towel wrapped around her body peeled away like fruit skin, baring the pale flesh beneath. The mattress bounced, and her breasts bounced with it — soft, heavy swells whose rose-pink areolae and nipples traced fox-like curves through the air.
"Haah…"
Before the main course, she treated herself to an appetizer, kneading her own chest. She pressed those flour-dough-soft breasts — each larger than her palm — flat, stretched them, squeezed them hard in her fists.
"Hauu… nn…"
Just fondling her breasts was enough to make her lower belly clench with hunger. She whimpered sweetly, rubbing her thighs together. When her fingertips brushed her nipples, the areolae swelled taut and the buds stiffened until they stood out in sharp, unmistakable relief.
She cupped one breast in both hands and brought it to her mouth. Just as she always did, she teased the hardened tip with her tongue, kissed the areola, and began suckling with practiced ease — slurp, suck, slurp. For most people, nursing on their own chest like an infant was impossible or at least extremely difficult. Ariel's breasts were large enough to make the difficult look easy.
"Mm… churp… suck…"
Every time she suckled and rubbed her thighs together, a ticklish shiver spread through her groin.
"Pwah…"
When she pulled her mouth free, a long thread of saliva stretched between her lips and her nipple.
She was warmed up enough.
Ariel crawled on all fours to the edge of the bed and pulled the book out from underneath.
"Ehehe… this is it, this is the one…♡"
Clutching the book to her chest, she settled back against the headboard and prepared to read.
She swallowed hard, then turned the page.
The Saintess spread her labia with both hands and fluttered her honey-dripping hole for her Master.
It was quite the opening.
Picking up from the previous volume, it began with the Saintess spreading her pussy as wide as it would go, honey dripping in fat drops as she begged her Master for his cock. She fluttered her entrance like a goldfish, rolled her hips in vulgar little circles, and pleaded — only for her Master to crush her pussy underfoot and heap her with humiliating abuse.
"Wow… woooow… this is so dirty…"
Ariel marveled at every line, sinking deeper into the book.
In the grip of a powerful orgasm, the Saintess clamped her thighs shut. In that instant, her Master — who had been fondling her entrance with his fingers — scowled and slapped her pussy hard. Her sweet, keening scream rang out, and she apologized over and over as he spanked her there again and again. Yet her face was radiant with the rapture of one who had glimpsed some ultimate truth.
Excitement flooded her skull until the room spun. Her heart hammered so hard she was winded, as if she had just sprinted a race.
She didn't understand it. How could anyone call pain pleasure and enjoy it?
Ariel spread her legs wide. A warm, sweet scent rose in a soft wave. Her plump outer lips, which had been pressed shut, parted slightly to reveal the inner folds. She boldly slapped her own pussy with her open palm.
— Smack!
"Ngh…!"
It only hurt.
Pain was pain. Pleasure was pleasure. They were entirely different things, and Ariel could not understand the Saintess in the book.
"A book is just a book…"
She stroked her soft, yielding pussy and kept turning the pages.
The Saintess lifted her red-handprinted ass high and reached back to spread her cheeks. The thick flesh of her buttocks pulled outward, stretching her anal wrinkles into a long, clear line, while her pussy — overflowing with honey — gaped wide open. Her Master worked a thumb into her anus, then drove his cock into her cunt. The Saintess let out a stupid, broken cry — "Nnghoooh!" — and climaxed from the mere act of being filled.
She rubbed her inner lips with her fingers and teased her clitoris. The swollen bud peeled free of its hood and stood out in a firm little peak.
"Ha-eung… hnn…"
Ariel projected herself into the Saintess on the page. She imagined herself used like a tool, moaning in ridiculous, broken gasps — "Ook! Hok! Hok!"
Then a sudden image flashed through her mind, and her whole body went rigid.
"Hweh?"
Her already-wide pupils blew even wider.
"W-w-what did I just think…"
The Ariel of her imagination. A sow moaning, "Master, I love it! Ook! Ong!" — a creature that had discarded her humanity. And the one ravaging that sow was none other than Lowen.
She had imagined herself being mercilessly taken by him — by that forearm-thick cock of his.
"W-what impure thoughts…!"
Guilt. The sin of having such filthy fantasies about gentle Lowen.
"Ahh… Bishop Lowen, I'm so sorry…"
But for a Saintess who was meant to do good to commit something wicked was like a lifelong vegetarian tasting, for the first time, meat dripping with juices — a shock so intense it rewired the brain, and every bit as addictive.
Having cast the roles in her head, Ariel kept reading.
Lowen used Ariel's pussy like a tool. The hymen that had once been a symbol of purity had been torn to shreds long ago — beyond even divine power to restore — and the inside of her passage had reshaped itself to the mold of Lowen's cock. She was no longer a woman chosen by God. She was nothing more than a female who would spend the rest of her life fluttering her cunt for Lowen's cock alone.
"Haaaang… hhk…!"
The hand that had been rolling her clitoris parted her petals and began wriggling inward.
She felt his cock swell. Ariel knew instinctively that Lowen's climax was near. "Please… hok… d-don't… ook… don't come inside meee…!" she cried. But Lowen spanked her rear as if to silence her and yanked her hair.
— Squelch. Squelch-squelch.
The inside of Ariel's passage was slick with honey. Every time her middle finger scraped along the ridges of her walls, her womb dribbled more fluid.
"Haa… nn… hnn…"
Her sweet, broken breathing brushed against the turning pages.
Lowen's thrusts quickened. That club of a cock battered the back of Ariel's cervix without mercy. Whenever the head jammed against the mouth of her womb and crushed it for an instant, she screamed and bucked her hips. It was climax after climax. Even when her mind half-fled and her eyes rolled back, Lowen's cock showed no intention of stopping until he came.
— Squish. Squish. Squish.
Clear fluid ran down between Ariel's thighs. On the white bedsheet, gray stains spread outward like a map.
"Haaa… I-I'm a bad Saintess… hnn… nn…"
Apologies slipped out of her without thought. She knew that masturbating — and spinning such vulgar fantasies — was a sin for a Saintess. But once she had tasted the sweetness of transgression and the sharp thrill of taboo, no amount of apology could wash it away.
Lowen buried himself to the hilt and came. Thick seed flooded Ariel's womb and pushed up through her fallopian tubes, invading as far as the eggs themselves. She felt it — the end of the present and the beginning of the future. Tears spilled at the heat rolling inside her womb. But a loose, blissful smile spread across her face.
A hot, ticklish heat fluttered through her lower belly. Ariel clamped her trembling thighs tight and jerked her hips in a spasm. The gentle pleasure that had been building transformed all at once into a towering wave and crashed over her.
"Aheuuung…! Oggh…!"
A tingling orgasm bloomed hollowly through her groin, and a cool, electric sensation raced up her spine to prickle at the crown of her head.
"Hauk… ha… heuuh……"
Ariel panted, flushed and dazed. Strength drained from her body, and her clenched thighs fell open again.
When his cock popped free, Ariel's body toppled forward. She grinned with her ass still raised. Every time she smiled, seed dripped from her pussy in fat drops. It was rapturous. No — beyond rapture. This sensation was as wondrous as the first time she had heard the voice of God. As the seed poured out of her in long, thick ropes, Ariel murmured to herself.
"……Not enough."
She had only finished a single chapter. Five more remained. She couldn't stop here. More than that, her body still craved pleasure — sharper, more intense pleasure.
"There's got to be a better way… ah…!"
A method for even more intense pleasure seemed to strike her, and light flashed in Ariel's eyes.
"O Lord of Light, please forgive this lewd Saintess… and… Bishop Lowen, I'm so sorry for all the trouble my stupid, dirty self keeps causing you…"
Hands folded in prayer, Ariel knelt in her favorite place of all: the confessional.
A narrow space barely large enough for one person. The calm of dim lighting. The delicious sense of sin in committing wrongs in the very place meant for confessing them.
Not that she had chosen the confessional purely as a method for greater pleasure. The confessional was only a bonus. The real secret lay in what she was wearing.
Ariel had on one of Lowen's oversized shirts. The hem hung to her knees like a dress, and the long sleeves had been rolled several times just so her hands could poke free. Every button was fastened, but the fabric clung so snugly to her chest that the shape of her stiff nipples stood out in perfect relief.
"Sniff… sniff-sniff…"
She could smell Lowen on the shirt. A comforting woody scent, threaded through with the masculine tang of sweat. Wearing his shirt, breathing in his scent — it felt almost as if he were holding her.
She propped the book open for easy reading, leaned her back against the wall, and half-reclined on the confessional floor. Then she brought out her secret weapon for true intensity and carefully raised it to her nose.
A pair of Lowen's underwear, taken from the laundry basket.
"Sss… haaaa…"
She drew the scent deep into her lungs and exhaled in pure bliss. A thick smell bloomed through her sense of smell. Fainter than when she had taken him in directly, but unmistakably the scent of Lowen's cock — that beast of a cock she had suckled and nuzzled against her soft cheeks.
She had no idea when Lowen might return. But the switch was already flipped, and Ariel turned to the next chapter of her erotica.