The Lewd Saintess (3)
Sneaking glances.
Ariel, who had changed into a dress, wiped the dust from the window while repeatedly peeking at Lowen.
How could he possibly stay so calm?
Lowen leisurely swept the chapel with a broom, cleaning as if he had all the time in the world.
Just as he had sworn, it seemed he had truly forgotten everything.
“Eek!”
While she kept sneaking looks, their eyes met.
Ariel jumped in fright, ducked behind a chair, covered her head, and curled into a ball.
Not that it would do her any good.
“Just what are you trying to do…?”
Wearing a dubious expression, Lowen set the broom aside and walked over to the chair where Ariel was hiding.
“Knock knock.”
Making the sound of a knock with his mouth, Lowen looked down at the crown of her head.
“Saintess, you’ve been glancing at me for quite a while. Do you have something you wish to say?”
Ariel shook her head vigorously from side to side.
“Ah, no… It’s not that I have anything particular to say…”
She had resolved to repair that disastrous first impression, yet the awkwardness was killing her.
It wasn’t as if her communication skills were lacking. Exaggerating only a little, she regularly faced tens of thousands of believers; even complete strangers usually warmed to her in no time. But with Lowen it was different. Before she could ever show him the benevolent face of a Saintess, he had already seen her sobbing and masturbating. Approaching him now felt impossible.
He’s definitely thinking I’m a filthy slut.
Even though he swore an oath, he’s probably using the sight of me touching myself as fuel for all sorts of wild fantasies.
He’s smiling like a gentle sheep right now, but when night falls he might turn into a wolf and come for me.
While I’m asleep he’ll bind my arms and legs and ravage every precious place.
He’ll force my legs open and violate me until my womb is stuffed full and my belly bulges.
Ariel’s imagination took flight. Picturing herself being thoroughly, messily defiled, she swallowed hard, saliva thick in her throat.
It was all because of that erotic novel she had chanced upon a few months earlier while visiting a monastery. That book had been another world entirely—far more stimulating than the first one she had obtained, intense enough to leave her dizzy.
If the first volume had mainly been about conveying knowledge, the second was steeped in dark, humid lust. Sensual, violent, treating the heroine like a breeding sow—completely abnormal content. And Ariel had fallen headlong into it.
To the point that her hobby had become reading the book while her fingers wandered between her legs, murmuring, “Who would actually enjoy being forced? Novels are just novels, after all.”
It was ironic how she kept insisting it wasn’t normal even as her desire answered so honestly.
What on earth am I thinking?!
Still crouched and curled up, Ariel shook her head hard the moment she realized how thoroughly the Saintess’s purity was being soiled. It hadn’t even been an hour since she had resolved to keep her distance from lust.
“I’m crazy…! Completely crazy…!”
A lewd demon was nesting inside her skull. She thumped her own head with her fists, then prayed silently and hummed a hymn until the heat of her desire cooled.
“Saintess?”
Lowen had been watching her eccentric display from above.
“Ah…!”
Sunk so deep in the swamp of fantasy, she had completely forgotten he was there.
“A-after the window… where else can I help?”
She hastily changed the subject, desperate to paper over the fact that she had been thinking filthy thoughts.
“Hmm…”
Looking down at her as if something felt off, Lowen swept his gaze around the room.
“I appreciate your willingness to help… but before that, I would prefer you finish wiping the window.”
The glass was still thick with dust. Only a few half-hearted swipes of the rag had left faint trails; nothing was actually clean. She had been moving her arms listlessly the whole time, far more focused on gauging Lowen’s reaction than on the work itself.
“Ah…! I-I’ll wipe it right away!”
Ariel sprang to her feet and set to work on the window.
“Ugh…! Grrr…!”
It was a tall, vertical pane. No matter how far she stretched her arms, no matter how high she rose onto her tiptoes, no matter how she hopped and flailed the rag, the short-statured Ariel simply could not reach the top.
“Haa… It’s too high.”
She looked around for something she could use as a stepstool. And right then—
“Kya?!”
Her body floated upward. Her hands could now reach the top of the window, yet her feet no longer touched the floor. Startled, she twisted around to look behind her.
“This way you can wipe it, can’t you?”
Lowen had wrapped his arms around her curving waist and lifted her clean off the ground.
“Hwaaa… hwaang…”
Those firm forearms locked tightly around her soft waist. Even though he held her gently, the pressure still sank into her pliant flesh.
“W-what are you doing…?!”
It was the first time a man had ever embraced her. Another person’s body heat seeped into her skin. She even imagined she could feel Lowen’s breath near her hips. A soft flush bloomed across both her cheeks.
“It looked as though your arms couldn’t reach.”
Ariel kicked her legs uselessly. For a pure virgin whose heart was already hammering just from a man’s arms around her waist, the stimulation was far too much.
“P-put me down…!”
For Lowen, this was simply his own way of trying to grow closer to her. He believed the best method for quickly closing an awkward distance was cooperation. Nothing narrowed the gap between two people quite like accomplishing a task together.
“But to wipe the window properly, I believe this is necessary.”
“You could just bring a chair…!”
“I intended to, yet I saw nothing suitable.”
It was true. The only seats in the chapel were the long pews that filled the hall. He could have moved one if asked, but it would have been a bother. More importantly, hauling furniture had nothing to do with cooperation, so he had chosen to lift Ariel instead.
“Please don’t worry about me. I may not look it, but I am quite confident in my strength.”
“It’s not that I’m worried about Bishop Lowen…!”
“Then…?”
“I-it’s embarrassing…!”
Lowen tilted his head, genuinely puzzled about what there was to be embarrassed over.
“Pardon? Embarrassing?”
“Uh… my butt… my butt is right in front of Bishop Lowen’s face…!”
Exactly as she said, her plump, well-fleshed backside sat directly before Lowen’s eyes.
Objectively speaking, it was a truly spankable rear. A palm striking it would produce a wonderfully crisp smack; thrusting into it would let the soft cushion of her cheeks rebound deliciously against a man’s lower abdomen. With that broad pelvis that could be gripped like handles, her lower body was practically optimized for taking someone from behind.
Yet the man who had that very backside right in front of him was thinking nothing of the sort.
“Yes? Is that something one ought to feel embarrassed about?”
Lowen asked the question as if he truly did not understand.
“Uuuu…”
Faced with his completely indifferent reaction, Ariel felt like the only idiot fretting and blushing over nothing.
“I will handle the remaining windows, so please at least finish this one, Saintess.”
“Yes… all right…”
Body rigid with tension, Ariel began wiping the glass again.
I’m so stupid.
He’s not thinking anything at all, yet I’m the only one flustered.
I feel pathetic for twisting every little thing into something lewd.
Even if her backside was completely exposed, his words and manner made it clear enough that he was not the sort of man who would do anything strange. She did not even need to use her ability to read his emotions; she could simply feel what he was thinking. At the very least she was certain he was no natural-born pervert who would bury his nose between her cheeks and start licking.
“Sigh…”
Ariel let out a long breath, as if scolding her own oversensitive self, and continued cleaning the window.
“Um… isn’t it heavy…?”
Still wiping the upper pane, she asked carefully. She knew perfectly well that she was heavy for her short height. No matter how much milk she drank, she never grew taller—only her breasts swelled like a dairy cow’s. Even when she fasted, her stomach might flatten, yet the flesh clinging to her hips and thighs never budged, so she carried a fair amount of weight.
“Not heavy in the slightest.”
No matter how full her chest or how generously padded her rear, to Lowen—who treated high-intensity strength training as a daily routine—she felt truly light.
“I believe this is precisely when one uses the phrase ‘light as a feather.’”
“F-feather… that’s far too much exaggeration… ehehe…”
“It really is light.”
Contrary to all her fretting, Lowen’s calm insistence that she weighed nothing made Ariel break into a sheepish, delighted grin.
“Even if you say such sweet things, nothing’s going to come of it, you know.”
She began wiping the window with renewed vigor. The squeaking of the cloth against glass sketched a lively little melody, as if a puppy were dancing a waltz.
And right then—
Something descended from the ceiling and came to a stop directly in front of Ariel’s face.
“Huh?”
She froze mid-wipe and focused on the thing hanging before her.
A black arthropod with eight legs. A spider, swaying on its thread as though it meant to land on the tip of her nose.
“Kyaaaa!”
Utterly helpless against anything with too many legs, Ariel screamed and jerked upward.
“I hate spiders!”
Her thrashing sent Lowen rocking left and right. He tried to keep his balance as best he could, but when her body suddenly pitched forward he chose to fall backward rather than let her be hurt.
Thud.
“Saintess, are you unhurt?”
“Y-yes…”
“I’m glad to hear it.”
Tears still glistened in Ariel’s eyes—all because of one single spider. She lifted her head to apologize… and then her breath hitched as her entire body went rigid.
Their faces were a hair’s breadth from kissing. Their breaths mingled in the narrow space between them. Lowen gazed down at her with a gentle smile.
They were pressed flush against each other. Ariel’s large breasts squashed firmly into Lowen’s solid chest; only a thin layer of cloth separated their stomachs.
And more than that—
“Haang…!”
A soft, coquettish whimper slipped out before she could stop it. She clapped a hand over her mouth at once.
Her skirt had been flipped up. Lowen’s large hand was still clamped tightly around one plump cheek of her backside. Her underwear had been half-pulled down and now hung loosely across her hips. Cool air slipped between her spread cheeks and brushed teasingly over her rear entrance. On top of everything, Lowen’s thigh was wedged between her legs, lightly pressing against the soft folds of her sex.
Was this some divine prank?
“L-Lowen Bishop… your hand… your hand…!”
“Yes?”
“Your hand…!”
Only then did Lowen realize he was still gripping her backside.
“Ah… my apologies.”
He released the pleasantly soft flesh of her rear and carefully eased her to the side.
“N-no… it was an accident that happened while you were trying to protect me…”
A strange atmosphere hung over the chapel. Ariel hurriedly tugged her half-fallen underwear back into place. The soft fabric covering her sex felt faintly damp, but that had to be her imagination.
Yeah. Definitely just my imagination.
“Saintess, I will finish the remaining cleaning. You may go upstairs and rest if you wish.”
“No… I said I would help…”
In silence the two of them resumed their work. Lowen wiped the windows while Ariel dusted the pews.