Just This Once
The timing could not have been more unfortunate.
Setting aside for the moment just how dangerous things had been a little while ago—simply wandering this world was a dangerous affair in itself. Ordinary people born into this world almost never left the place where they lived.
…It grows after the ritual is finished at a pilgrimage site.
Even if Ciela had been a truly devout believer, doubt would have taken root at that. Wasn't the timing far too strange? It had been quiet, then the instant the ritual ended, it had sprouted.
Quite apart from that, it seemed best to resolve the matter quickly. Judging by the way the Saintess was bent over awkwardly at the waist, she would never be able to mount a horse like that. Now that the situation had been dealt with, those keeping watch near the stockade would have noticed some change. If the Hero and Saintess who had gone to handle the problem did not reappear, they might well come looking, fearing something had gone wrong.
Showing them the Saintess in that state did not seem a wise choice. Frankly, even to Ciela—whose worldview was already strange by the standards of this place—it looked bizarre. Would even the Saintess herself find it hard to bear? She might well decide “witch” and come at her with torches first.
In any case, Ciela swallowed a sigh of relief.
I told her last time how to handle it… so it should be fine, right?
Of course, that did not mean it was good for the Saintess to masturbate outdoors, but the situation left no choice. Better to take care of it outside than to make a triumphant return with her manhood standing stiff. She could not have done that anyway. How were they supposed to ride a horse together with that standing so rigidly?
“Saintess, I told you last time how to do it. Just do it the same way.”
“U-uh, okay.”
Assuming she would manage on her own, Ciela deliberately averted her eyes from the Saintess and approached the tethered horse. Or perhaps it was less that she trusted the Saintess to handle it and more that she was reluctant to let strange thoughts rise unbidden. She shook her head hard, banishing the notions that had begun to crawl up, and checked the horse’s condition. It was a truly admirable creature, still standing firm even after such a major incident—though being tied up may have had something to do with why it hadn’t fled.
Confirming the horse was unharmed, Ciela untied the waterskin from its saddle. It felt a little late, but the Saintess ought to wash her hands. A thoroughly modern notion, yet what else was she to do when the contents were what they were?
…Without hand sanitizer it might not mean much.
Thinking such things, she returned to the Saintess—and involuntarily flinched to a stop.
“U-uhh…”
The Saintess had already hiked up her skirts, baring pure white thighs. But between those soft-looking thighs stood something that truly did not belong there: a vicious pillar thick with bulging veins, a swollen glans whose tip alone peeked from beneath its foreskin, and clear fluid dripping steadily down. No matter how many times she looked, it was something that should never have been on the Saintess’s body—and certainly never out in the open like this.
The Saintess held her skirts with one hand and fumbled to touch it with the other, still hopelessly clumsy. As a former man, Ciela found herself fretting over how long it would take her to finish like that.
Well, it isn’t supposed to be there on a woman in the first place.
That much was only natural… but this was no time to dawdle. At any moment the others might come searching for the Saintess and Hero who had failed to return.
“It seems you need… some help, Saintess.”
“Umm, H-Hero… sorry.”
“…It’s nothing.”
Telling herself it could not be helped, Ciela stepped right up to her. She had the Saintess lean back against a tree; her own body cast a shadow across the smaller frame—there was that much difference in build. Even so, the presence of the thing grown on the Saintess’s lower half remained crushingly heavy. She swallowed dryly from sheer nervous tension.
If I just help with my hand like last time…
Thinking that, she set down the waterskin and peeled off her gloves.
“…Ah.”
Pain arrived belatedly; she frowned. She had thought the injury serious, and sure enough her palm was split, blood seeping out.
“Hero, a-are you okay…?”
“I’m fine.”
Even if the thing would vanish once finished, she could not very well turn the Saintess’s member into a blood-smeared mess. And given that it was a place of direct contact with mucous membrane, being covered in blood seemed… less than ideal. Helping by some other means was the only sensible course.
If my hands won’t work…
Older memories surfaced one after another—every method of dealing with a penis she had ever encountered through various media. Hands, breasts, thighs, and more; all sorts of body parts flashed through her mind, along with a number of slightly lewd outfits and other things utterly useless at the moment. But if she had to name what she could actually do right now, very little remained. One was the hole that had opened in place of her own penis; the other was the hole of her mouth.
The former brought an immediate surge of revulsion and fear. Even to someone with her knowledge, the thing rising from the Saintess’s lower body was… honestly quite large. Whether something like that could even fit inside a person was open to question. She had never put one in, nor had one put into her. It was the sort of thing she had fretted over as a child; to claim she felt no vague dread would have been a lie. So in the end, only the mouth was left. Her bleeding hands were unusable, and the other options fell away for similar reasons.
Ciela glanced downward. The penis stood curved stiffly upward, thick with accumulated lust; the Saintess’s pure-white hand hovered awkwardly over the veined pillar. Clear juice ran in sticky rivulets, and a fishy smell rose strongly. Ciela swallowed without meaning to.
Putting it where it was originally meant to go would hardly be easy either—but solving it with her mouth did not look simple. The fishy odor made revulsion rise first. Then a tiny spark of a thought brushed through her mind.
…The flower tea steeped in my palm.
That had increased her holy power. Then who could say whether taking something that had come from the Saintess’s body into her mouth might not increase it even more? With the holy power the flower tea had given her, she had managed to get through today alive. That had not been the sort of attack one could simply stop by pointing a sword. In short, she had been lucky.
But was there any guarantee something like this would not happen at the next pilgrimage site? Could she count on luck to save her then as well? Even if she stayed more alert and better prepared, fundamentally her holy power needed to grow if safety was to be assured. And right now, standing erect below, was something that might just solve that problem. Whether it truly would, she could not know… but she had to try, didn’t she? As the Hero charged with protecting the Saintess, so that the Saintess could finish her pilgrimage safely and so that something like today would never again harm people.
It could not be helped. Trying something was the right course. Since she would spend the rest of her life in this world anyway, this was the proper way.
Ciela finished steeling herself and spoke in a low voice.
“…Saintess.”
“U-uh.”
“It seems difficult to help with my hands, so I intend to help you another way. So… even if I look a little strange, please don’t be startled… and just let it out the way you did last time.”
“Okay. Hero, I trust you.”
“…Yes. And please don’t speak of this to anyone else. It’s a special… situation, after all.”
“Okay.”
“…G-good. Then…”
When it came time to actually do it, her body trembled—but what choice was there? The best she could do was resolve to finish before the others arrived, no matter how late it already was.
Ciela knelt on the ground. It was not the posture of a holy knight receiving investiture, but one of both knees planted firmly, somehow humiliating… yet because the other party was the Saintess, it did not feel humiliating. In truth, the glans now hovering right before her nose was far more so.
From the tip of the glans peeking out of its foreskin, clear juice kept streaming down. Something like a fishy night-bloom scent drifted thickly. Consciously trying not to breathe through her nose, Ciela opened the waterskin she had set on the ground and rinsed her mouth.
Gurgle, gurgle…
“Ptoo…”
Whether it meant anything she could not say… but she still had to care, didn’t she? As she spat the water, she had the odd impression that the Saintess’s member twitched upward. Startled by the sound of spitting, perhaps. Maybe so.
Having finished preparing herself while spitting the water, Ciela neatly clasped her blood-seeping hands and opened her mouth toward the glans. Then she carefully brought her lips to it.
“Euk…!”
The swollen glans pressed against her lips, flaunting its heat. The already abundant fluid quickly made them glisten. The Saintess seemed startled and swallowed a breath, but—true to the Hero’s request—she suppressed it and gripped her skirts tightly.
…The Saintess seems flustered too.
Thank goodness. I’m not the only one who finds this strange. Feeling a measure of relief, Ciela carefully took the Saintess’s member into her mouth. Her movements, to be honest… were clumsy. There was no trace of the near-artful physical control she had displayed while freely swinging a sword from horseback. She held the glans—foreskin and all—inside her mouth, yet it would not stay fixed and kept slipping free. The glans that popped out was coated in her saliva and the juice it had produced. That slick glans pressed against her cheek, mashed her nose, and blasted the fishy smell. The Saintess’s fluid smeared thickly across her face as if marking territory.
“Haa… haa…”
Clumsiness was only natural. No matter how much she knew in her head, having never actually done it, skill would have been the strange thing. Even so, knowledge let her decide her next move. She eventually recognized that she would have to take more of it in. Squeezing her eyes shut, she extended her tongue toward the glans aimed at her lips—almost as if kissing it.
“Chup…”
“Hik…!”
Then she pushed her face forward and slipped her tongue between glans and foreskin. In her estimation, a glans was something that felt better once it was freed from its sheath like this. Shame and revulsion flooded her at the first-time sensation, but she crushed them down hard.
Gulp, gulp.
Meanwhile the juice soaking her face slid down her throat. It seemed as though her holy power might be reacting inside her body—or perhaps not—yet there was at least a sensation of growing warm.
And then Ciela fully swallowed the swollen glans into her mouth. That alone filled it completely. Even her tongue was pinned beneath the hot glans and could scarcely move. No longer able to breathe through her mouth alone, air naturally entered through her nose.
“…Eup.”
Naturally the fishy smell flooded her head. Before she knew it the glans was brushing the entrance of her throat and a faint gag rose.
W-why is it so big.
She found herself thinking how easily the characters in all those media managed to put things like this in their mouths. But she, too, had to manage somehow; even if she could not take it deep into her throat, she needed to move it at least a little for the Saintess to finish. Taking comfort in the warmth that felt like holy power filling her, she slowly rocked her head back and forth while barely wriggling the tongue crushed beneath the glans.
“Chub… chup… chueup…”
“Ng, ah, heuut…”
Each time, the mushroom-like flared head of the glans scraped the roof of her mouth with a rough drag. Pleasure seemed to shoot through the Saintess; strength entered the hand gripping her skirts. Ciela’s tongue, having found a little room, wandered over the glans as it slid in and out. She did not want to taste what her tongue was transmitting, yet breathing through her nose left her no choice. As expected it was fishy, with a strange flavor like licking damp skin.
Whenever the Saintess’s member slipped free of her lips, the veins jutting along the shaft pushed past them as it emerged. Her saliva and the clear juice mixed into foam. Foam flying every which way not only soaked Ciela’s face but also her clothes and the bottom of her armor. It was as good as having her whole body territory-marked, yet that fact did not register in her mind just then—she was desperately shaking her head in an effort to make the Saintess finish even a little faster.
It was only the level of holding just the glans like a giant candy and licking it, yet just as Ciela was unskilled, the Saintess was equally vulnerable to this kind of pleasure. Soon the ejaculation sensation she had felt last time came rushing in: a feeling as though something were bubbling and boiling somewhere deep in her lower body.
“U-hh, kuh…”
“Tseup, tseup… tsup…”
The Saintess thought she ought to say something, but her mind was hazy. It was somehow, somehow very different from when she had moved her hand together with the Hero. Saliva spilled from her mouth without her noticing, and strength flooded her whole body. Without even realizing it, she thrust her hips forward and pressed her back hard against the tree as though trying to embed herself in it.
“Eup!?”
The glans that had been sliding precariously at the entrance of her throat finally slammed deep into Ciela’s throat. The instant she felt her breath cut off—something began surging up the Saintess’s shaft in thick pulses.
“A-ah… a.”
“Keup! Keurup! Eup! Heub!”
From the tip of the glans, white jelly-like clumps of semen that had climbed the pillar spurted out. The thick jets clung stickily to Ciela’s throat, then mixed with her saliva, thinned, and slid down with gulping swallows. She might have half expected it, yet the sheer volume pouring into her throat far beyond anticipation left her flustered. Even so she had no choice but to swallow desperately. Otherwise it felt as though her airway would be blocked and she would die.
Gulp, gulp, gulp.
Ciela’s throat kept bobbing as it accepted the fishy, sticky fluid. With the considerable amount, some eventually refluxed; fishy smell and stickiness reached her nose as well. A thick, prolonged ejaculation almost like urination. But there was an end. Soon the spent member was pulled free of her mouth. A long white thread stretched between her and it as though they were still connected.
“Cough, cough, kek, keheuk.”
“H-Hero, a-are you okay?”
“Haa… haa… haa…”
Ciela spat rough breaths onto the ground and fought for air. Mixed liquid of every sort kept dripping from her mouth. She had no leisure to answer the Saintess’s question—nor to check whether it had filled her holy power—because voices were already calling from a distance.
— Saintess! Hero!
— Surely something’s wrong—
Ciela immediately seized hold of her wits and stood.
“S-Saintess. L-let’s prepare to mount the horse.”
“Uh, okay? Uh… b-but.”
“Th-there’s no time. Please go to the horse first.”
“U-okay.”
Sending the Saintess—who had already dropped her skirts—ahead of her, Ciela poured every last drop from the waterskin over herself. Some she held in her mouth and then spat onto the ground. Even so her mouth remained sticky. The fishy smell kept rising. In the media she had seen, there had apparently been characters who claimed this tasted good.
…Eating this stuff and calling it delicious is a real crazy character setting.
She absolutely could not agree.
“…Damn it.”
First priority was getting out of this place, this situation. Checking anything else could wait. And even if things had gone exactly as she hoped—she felt no particular desire to do it again. Her throat felt thick and raw.