Mistake (3)
Her forehead pressed flat against the floor.
Delicate, fern-like hands rested neatly beside her head.
A posture of submission. A posture of surrender. The posture of a high traitor begging the emperor for mercy.
Even someone with no self-worth would struggle to lower themselves this far — and yet Ariel was demonstrating it perfectly. Completely naked, no less.
Her breasts, crushed against the floorboards, spilled out to either side. Her peach-ripe bottom rose in a curve that stirred something primal. The soft flesh trapped between her womanly hips and her plump, taut thighs seized the eye and refused to let go.
Dear God…
Lowen made the sign of the cross and searched for some scrap of inner peace.
What in the world is this deranged Saintess doing?
The thought had barely formed when something she had once told him floated back to mind. She had claimed that when a Saintess offered a man her most sincere apology, the proper form was to press her forehead to the floor. It was absurd, abnormal knowledge by any measure — and yet Ariel seemed to revere the nonsense with absolute conviction.
This is what a Saintess is supposed to be…?
Lowen let out a long, heavy sigh.
"What exactly are you doing?"
Still flattened against the floor, Ariel trembled from the hips as she answered.
"I-I'm apologizing… Because of me… Bishop Lowen, your arm…"
Guilt was eating her alive. If she had simply stayed put in the cathedral, Lowen never would have had his arm shattered. The divine power that had erupted when she unleashed the Purification Blessing had miraculously restored it — but if it hadn't, he might have spent the rest of his life as a one-armed cripple. Every time the thought crossed her mind, it felt like a railroad spike driving into her chest.
"Because I'm… I'm such a pathetic Saintess… such a stupid Saintess… Bishop Lowen had to…"
Her voice shook. Part of it was the shame of lying naked on the floor — but the greater part was pure remorse.
"S-so… please step on my head…!"
Déjà vu.
No — this wasn't like something he had experienced. This was something he had experienced. Not long after arriving at the cathedral, Ariel had said the exact same thing, claiming it was her apology for being lazy.
I'm going to have to start her sex education over from scratch.
"Saintess, get up."
"No."
Ariel refused flatly.
"I'm staying like this until Bishop Lowen steps on my head…!"
Stubborn about the strangest things. That was how deep the guilt ran, apparently.
"Hah… It's true that my arm ended up that way because of you, Saintess."
Ariel hiccuped and shuddered through the shoulders.
"But that was my choice. I chose it to protect you."
"Even so…!"
"And you healed my arm yourself. That settles it."
Lowen casually flexed his perfectly intact right arm to prove the point.
"…No!"
Even with his arm whole again, the guilt in Ariel's heart refused to budge. The fact remained that she had gotten him hurt.
"I understand what you're saying, Bishop Lowen, but… I… I'm going to keep apologizing until you step on me…!"
She bowed her upper body even lower. Her breasts flattened further against the floor; her plump bottom lifted higher. From behind, both her front and rear entrances would have been on full, breathtaking display.
She was serious. She genuinely intended to stay like this until he stepped on her head.
"Very well."
Lowen raised the white flag. If Demian ever found out, he would call it blasphemy and try to execute him regardless of their old friendship — but if Lowen kept refusing, Ariel would simply remain naked on the floor until she received her forgiveness. The shame was of her own making, but that body kept drawing his eyes, and it was disastrous for his mental health.
"Pardon me for a moment."
He slipped off one shoe and gently set his foot on top of her small head.
"Hik…!"
The sudden weight on the back of her skull made Ariel jolt. Her heart hammered. Any normal person would have felt pure humiliation — but Ariel felt a sharp, electric rush of pleasure. She bit into the fruit of taboo, and sweet juice burst across her tongue.
He had only meant to rest his foot there for a second. Then Lowen thought better of it. This lewd Saintess kept tempting him, kept tormenting him — he wanted to give her at least a little sting of consequence. Since things had already gone this far, he pressed down harder on her head.
"Augh… B-Bishop Lowen…?"
As the pressure increased, Ariel tried to lift her face in surprise. A firm resistance pinned her forehead to the wooden floor. It hurt.
"Ugh… nngh…"
It wasn't really his inclination, but Lowen kept grinding his foot into her head as he spoke.
"Since I have the opportunity, I'll say this. You put me in an extremely difficult position in more ways than one, Saintess. You said you would curb your desires, and yet it never lasts three days. Did you think I wouldn't notice you sneaking off to comfort yourself at every chance? And last time — what exactly were you doing while wearing my shirt?"
He scolded her with a relatively mild dressing-down.
"Hauu… I-I'm so sorry…"
Her face was mashed into the floorboards, so he couldn't see it — but the corners of Ariel's mouth were twitching upward. The perverted Saintess was savoring every second. Being chewed out by Lowen while the back of her skull was kneaded under his foot set her heart thrashing wildly in her chest.
Yes — partly because she was a lewd deviant. But the larger reason was the aftermath of overusing her divine power. When a Saintess burned through too much of it, the craving for pleasure became nearly unbearable. The body grew hypersensitive; the mind went soft and hazy. Soft enough that a ridiculous act like this could flood her with taboo thrills and make her hips twitch.
"Hah… Excuse me."
After thoroughly berating her, Lowen finally lifted his foot from her head.
He could have gone further — could have told her she wasn't a Saintess but a Sex-tess — but he swallowed the words. He had an image to maintain as a bishop, and a vow to himself that he would become a new man.
"I've done as you asked. Please put some clothes on."
He brushed the dust from her hair with a few light pats.
"I'll be facing the door."
Lowen cooled the heat that had surged up in him and stood looking at the door. Behind him came the sound of Ariel rising. Footsteps. Then the soft noise of someone climbing onto the bed.
"Saintess, are you dressed?"
Instead of an answer, he heard only her ragged, panting breath.
"B-Bishop Lowen… please… turn this way…"
A prickle of foreboding ran through him. He hesitated, then slowly turned around.
"…"
Ariel was on the bed on all fours. Her pale, plump bottom — soft and white as a perfect rice cake — seized his gaze and held it.
"For all the trouble I caused you… please take that anger out on me."
The words alone might have sounded worthy of a Saintess, but—
"On your backside, you mean?"
Her ears flushed a charming red as she gave a tiny nod.
"When you do something wrong… y-you have to get your bottom spanked… so…"
Ariel dipped her waist and pushed her hips back. The rear view was pure sensuality. Between her thighs, in the triangular space they framed, a glimpse of her sex peeked into view.
Peace of mind… peace of mind… peace of mind…
Lowen made the sign of the cross again and again, like a priest enduring a succubus's temptation.
"So… so please spank my bottom…!"
This was killing him. The Saintess's temptation was devastatingly potent. He could feel his self-control cracking; the lust he had forced down was stirring back to life.
"Ah — no. That really isn't necessary."
The muscles in his throat had gone tight.
"I've been nothing but a spoiled child to you, Bishop Lowen. You need a way to let your anger out too… so please, just get it all out of your system today."
At first she had meant to end things with his forgiveness alone. But the earlier moment had flipped a switch inside her. If humiliation could give her pleasure, then pain should be able to as well — just like the books said. Under the noble pretext of relieving Lowen's stress, Ariel fully intended to indulge her own desires.
"Haa…"
He needed a cigarette. Lowen exhaled a long breath and scrubbed both hands down his dry face.
Ariel's allure wasn't only in her chest. The plump, generous bottom that flared from her childbearing hips was every bit as dangerous. He had had more than his fill of sex in the past — enough to sicken him of it — but he was still a man. If she hadn't been a Saintess, he would already have seized those hips. He would have driven into her deepest places until her eyes rolled back.
Saintess + sex = broken hymen = Lowen's death.
That formula alone kept him from ravaging the defenseless female laid out before him.
"Don't regret this."
He approached her. She was infuriating. Knowing full well she was a Saintess and still tempting him like this was maddening. For all he knew, she was enjoying it. She might be swaying that bottom on purpose, fully aware he couldn't take her. She played the clumsy puppy to his face — but behind his back, she might be a cunning little villainess.
He had once dealt with a woman like that. Everyone called her a living saint. Behind closed doors she trafficked illegal slaves and sold narcotics — a major player in the underworld. No one had known her true nature at the time. Even Lowen, when he first investigated her, had thought she really was as pure as they said.
Anyway.
"Lie across here."
He sat on the edge of the bed and patted his knee.
"Y-yes… yes…"
Obediently, Ariel crawled toward him on hands and knees. With every movement of her arms, her heavy breasts swung like pendulums. The plump, swollen nipples at their tips were especially hard to look away from.
She draped herself across his lap, belly down. The posture of a mother spanking a child for discipline. Spanking — both corporal punishment and a sexual act. What Lowen was about to do was discipline a hopelessly corrupted Saintess named Ariel.
"Saintess, you can still stop."
Ariel shook her head hard.
"No. If it can ease Bishop Lowen's anger… I will gladly offer this body as a sacrifice."
"Understood."
Lowen set a hand on her waist.
"Hyak…!"
The cold of his palm made her flinch and curl.
"Saintess, lower your hips for me."
"Ah… yes… it was cold, I couldn't help it…"
He pressed down on her waist and stroked her plump bottom.
"Hauuugh…"
At the caress, Ariel wriggled her toes and let out a trembling moan. Her breath came short and sharp — from the thought of being spanked. From the chance to discover whether pain could truly become pleasure. She curled around her hammering heart and poured every scrap of attention into her backside.
"Relax your bottom. Tensing up will only make it hurt more."
Lowen gave her cheeks a few light pats.
"Uuh… uuuh…"
He stroked that baby-soft skin for a long moment. Then he raised his arm high and brought his hand down on the bottom that practically begged for sadism.
Smack!
Even a light flick of the wrist produced a crisp, wet crack that rang through the room.
And then—
"Hnghh———?!"
Ariel's vision went white.