Wrongdoing (4)
She couldn’t understand it.
The idea of taking pain and calling it pleasure.
Of the saintess in those books, the one who went into ecstasy while her master slapped her pussy over and over.
“Hic?!”
Lowen’s palm cracked against Ariel’s bottom in a rapid series of smacks.
“Ah—it hurts… kyaah…!”
Tears welled thickly at the corners of her eyes.
Every strike felt as if the flesh itself might split open. The sharp, wet slap of skin on skin rang out, stamping cold pain into her cheeks before the heat bloomed and spread.
—Smack! Smack! Smack!
She screamed and twisted, but Lowen’s discipline showed no sign of stopping. Perhaps everything he had been holding back had finally exploded. His merciless palm seemed determined to burst her shameless, inviting backside.
“Haang…!”
The cries of pain melted into sweet, drawn-out whimpers. As the sting layered thicker and hotter across her throbbing rear, Ariel kicked her legs uselessly and clenched her teeth. For a fleeting moment her mind felt sucked into a pure white void.
“Saintess, if you have done wrong, you must say so properly.”
Lowen kneaded the flushed, scarlet flesh of her bottom. The springy, yielding give of it felt delicious under his hand.
“I-I’m sorry… I’m sorry… hic…”
Her backside felt as though it were melting. Ariel looked up at him with wet, glistening eyes, voice thick with tears. That expression only stoked the sadism he usually kept buried.
Some people felt the urge to torment when something irritated them; rarer still were those who, faced with something fragile and adorable, felt the opposite of protectiveness—an overwhelming desire to make it sob. Ariel’s kicked-puppy look planted something twisted and hungry in Lowen’s chest.
What was done was done. Stopping now would not put the spilled water back in the cup. Whether he ended it here or continued, the fact remained that he had spanked the Saintess’s bare bottom. So Lowen decided to enjoy the situation a little longer.
“Very good. But your heart still seems lacking.”
He patted the soft cheeks that molded so perfectly to his palm, then raised his hand high again, ready to bring it down hard.
“You will apologize diligently.”
Lowen brought his palm down with force.
A wet smack of flesh splitting open, and Ariel’s hips jerked.
“Higik…! I-I’m sorry… I’m so sorry…!”
Her vision flooded white. With every strike the blankness swelled, threatening to swallow her pupils whole. Her head felt light, as if her brain were dissolving, and the whitened world slowly returned to color.
“Heuk… ha… haeu….”
Silver stars burst like water droplets before her eyes. Her bottom clenched and released in frantic rhythm. The heavy knot coiled low in her belly sent warning tremors of collapse, her whole body shuddering.
—Smack!!
The heaviest pain yet branded itself into her hypersensitive flesh.
“Aung… huk… heugeueung…!”
Ariel clamped her thighs together as if holding back the urge to pee and rolled her hips in tiny, desperate twitches. Both hands covered her face; she held her breath. Her tightly curled toes announced that she was enduring something immense.
“You forgot to say you were sorry.”
Lowen seized a generous handful of her plump bottom, squeezed hard, then struck again.
“I-I’m sorryyy…! Haa… haaaang……”
She arched her back and trembled from the thighs up. She knew this feeling intimately. It was exactly the same as the climax that came when she rubbed her clitoris to the edge.
“Keuhk… heu… hek…”
She gasped for air, drowning in an afterglow longer and deeper than usual. Endorphins flooded her system. To survive the pain that felt ready to split her open, her brain drenched her in its own narcotics. Her head spun; a dazed smile tugged at her lips.
Now she understood.
This was what pleasure through pain meant.
This. Exactly this feeling.
“Ha…… What in the world am I even doing…”
Lowen, who had been stacking satisfaction with every springy smack, suddenly felt the mood crash. The situation—disciplining the Saintess—was ironic even if she had asked for it herself.
“We’ll stop here. Have you properly reflected?”
He gently stroked the handprint-reddened cheeks of her bottom.
“Haung… hu… haa….”
Whether she couldn’t hear him or simply couldn’t answer, Ariel only breathed, limp and spent. Half-lidded eyes. Breath hitching between parted lips that let a thread of saliva slip free. She brought her hands together.
“Lord of… Lord of Light…”
And she began to pray.
She must be offering prayer to God in repentance for her sins, Lowen thought, and decided to wait quietly until she finished.
Still… my self-control was lacking too.
He looked at her bottom. It was stained the way pink cherry blossoms might scatter across a white snowfield—shaped and colored like a perfectly ripe peach. Seeing the swollen flesh that looked ready to bleed made guilt rise, yet the satisfaction of conquest still left him buzzing.
“Grant me strength……”
Ariel’s prayer ended.
“Saintess, now—”
He couldn’t move. His body had gone numb, as if poison were spreading through every limb.
“Bishop Lowen… I’m sorry.”
Ariel crawled up from her position and stood before him. Her heavy, generous breasts sat high and firm, never sagging. The pink nipples crowning them were tightly swollen; the areolas puffed outward. He had only a moment to admire those love-filled breasts before something else seized his gaze.
The stigma engraved on Ariel’s lower belly was glowing pink.
“I don’t know how Bishop Lowen feels… but I… I’m still lacking…”
She met his eyes with the dazed, unfocused look of a female in heat.
“S-Saintess? What do you intend to do?”
Instinct screamed danger; Lowen’s voice trembled slightly.
“I want to serve Bishop Lowen… and atone more thoroughly…”
Ariel sank to her knees between his legs and looked up at him.
“Saintess, I don’t know what you’re thinking, but stop.”
“No. I have to do this.”
“I have already forgiven everything. My anger is gone as well.”
“Leave it to me. I’ll relieve whatever’s built up inside Bishop Lowen.”
Built up? What exactly?
Ariel undid his belt and pushed his clerical robes upward. He tried to resist, but his body refused every command. The sensation of her skin and body heat was vivid, yet he could not move a muscle.
“You won’t be able to move because of the Prayer of Paralysis.”
Originally it was a protective magic the Saintess used to defend her own body—spreading divine power into a barrier that paralyzed anyone who entered it. Ariel had simply turned that barrier on Lowen.
“If I don’t do it this way… Bishop Lowen will just refuse again…”
She yanked his underclothes down in one motion.
“Wow…”
A heavy shadow fell across Ariel’s face. She had seen it before, but Lowen’s cock was truly enormous. She marveled at the rigid, fully erect length.
“Bishop Lowen, you just enjoy yourself.”
She looked up at him from beneath his cock. The sight was obscenely erotic. Resting his shaft along the bridge of her nose while gazing upward sent a powerful rush of conquest through him. And the prettier the face below, the greater that feeling grew. The image of Ariel’s small, lovely face cradling his cock delivered pure mental pleasure.
“Just for today… pour all of Bishop Lowen’s desire onto me.”
Ariel smiled with gentle benevolence. The sunset light streaming through the window only deepened that kindness. If not for the cock resting against her face, it would have been the ideal smile of a perfect Saintess.
Lowen gave up. He had resistance to poisons, but this was no poison. He had no means of escaping Ariel’s overwhelming divine power.
Fine. As long as they didn’t have sex. As long as her hymen stayed intact, he would accept her service.
“Very well. I will follow the Saintess’s will.”
Ariel unfurled the dirty novels stored in her mind like a scroll. The most devoted service a woman could offer a man was, of course, taking his cock into her mouth and sucking it. But she had already done that last time. If she was going to be selfish, she wanted to try something new.
Yes!
A brilliant idea flashed. After fellatio came the next stage: irrumatio—swallowing the cock all the way into the throat and using the mouth for rough, intense sex.
She wrapped her hand around Lowen’s shaft.
“Haeu… hu…”
Hot breath trailed down his cock and tickled his balls. Recalling what she had done before, Ariel pressed a kiss to the head and carefully, devotedly kneaded his testicles.
“Heh…”
Lowen could only laugh under his breath. Her technique was still clumsy, yet the sincere care in every touch felt wonderful. Brothel whores had fondled him only to wring out pleasure; Ariel caressed his cock with the pure intention of serving.
“Haum…”
She took the swollen glans into her mouth. Hot, soft, trembling heat. Her plump tongue cradled the head while both cheeks closed around it.
“Chyuup… jjop-jjop…”
She sucked so hard her cheeks hollowed, drawing out the precum that had gathered at the tip of his urethra. It tasted salty, like seawater. After sampling it, Ariel began to move her head slowly—forward, then back. Each motion made the breasts trapped between her arms sway gently.
“Keuhk…. keheuk…”
His cock pushed deeper into her mouth. She hadn’t even taken half, yet the head was already prodding her soft palate; she gagged and furrowed her brow. Every retch tightened her throat around the glans, delivering sharp, intense pleasure.
“Saintess, don’t force yourself.”
Mouth stretched wide around his cock, Ariel looked up at him. Tears trembled in her eyes, but she put strength into them and refused. She planted both hands on Lowen’s thighs and forcibly pulled her head forward, swallowing more of him.
“Kkeuheuk…! Keok! Eukkeuk…!”
Her jaw felt ready to dislocate. Waves of nausea rolled through her; she couldn’t breathe. It was torment, yet she kept drawing his cock deeper into her throat. Simply swallowing wasn’t enough to give pleasure. She needed to roll her tongue over the head, suck with wet sounds, or bob her head so the shaft rubbed against the soft lining of her throat. But for Lowen, merely watching her small head take in his thick cock was already pure pleasure.
She managed half and could go no farther, pulling free with a wet slide.
“Kuhe… keuheuk… cough! Cough…! Cough…!”
Thick saliva stretched in long, sticky threads and dripped onto her breasts.
“I-I’m sorry… this time… cough… I’ll take it all… heu…”
Her throat ached as if she had been punched, but Ariel vowed she would swallow every last inch of Lowen’s cock. The determination was touching, yet he had no desire to force something impossible.
“Saintess, wait a moment. I would like you to do something else.”
Lowen, cock still glistening with her spit, made a different request.