The Saintess Turned Sex Slave

A man with striking blond hair and blue eyes couldn't contain his anger and shouted, "What in the world are you talking about?!" Crash! As he slammed the table, it split clean in half. "Brother Yohan, what has you so enraged?"

The man's name was Yohan Runfield. He was the older brother of Beatrice Runfield, who had once been the Saintess of the Hero Party. Orphans since childhood, they had been taken in by the Church and walked the paths of a Holy Knight and Saintess respectively. Currently, Yohan had come to the distant kingdom of Ishtar from the Stein Empire to oppose the Demon Army. Not just him—the entire Holy Knight Order of the Church had relocated. This was because Ishtar had suffered devastating damage from the demon race. "They say the Church headquarters has been attacked. By the Demon Army, no less!"

"Wh-what...?"

The priest's face hardened. He too had been dispatched from the Church headquarters. "The Demon Army? But how? They should be completely occupied fighting us here in Ishtar right now."

Two of the remaining three Heavenly Kings of the Demon Army were in Ishtar. The last one had reportedly suffered severe injuries as well. Naturally, it was difficult to guess who could be leading them. The priest pressed the messenger for answers, his tone almost accusatory—his own family was at the Church. "What's the damage report? Those left at the Church won't be able to stand against the Demon Army!"

"I couldn't get exact details. I left immediately to deliver the news when the attack began..."

The messenger bowed his head, at a complete loss for words. "I'll go inform the Knight Commander. We must turn the army back at once."

"Brother Yohan..."

The priest immediately grabbed Yohan's arm. Though he too was worried about the Church, they currently had critical duties here in Ishtar. "Let go. Do you think I won't cut you down?"

With a sigh, the priest finally released his grip. He knew. Yohan and his sister Beatrice had entered the Church as children. Naturally, having no parents, their bond was exceptionally strong. He could vividly recall Yohan's joyful face just days ago when he'd received a letter saying Beatrice had left the Hero Party and returned. There was no stopping him now. "I'll go with you then."

In the end, they headed to the Knight Commander's quarters. Was it fortunate? The area outside the commander's lodgings was already packed with clergy who'd gathered like them—all who'd left family behind at the Church. "Saint! You must revise the strategy!"

"If you won't change plans, then at least let me return to the Church!"

The Saint was massaging his temples. This was ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠an extremely difficult position for him too. Even if they pressed forward now, the soldiers' morale had already collapsed. But choosing to turn back would surely mean abandoning Ishtar to the demons. Caught between a rock and a hard place with no easy choices, the Saint finally reached a decision. "We can't turn back now. Instead, we'll divide the forces."

Splitting the army would undoubtedly mean losing their previous advantageous position. But pushing forward blindly wasn't an option either. "I'll go! Make me the vanguard!"

"No, I should go!"

The Saint's head throbbed as they all clamored to lead. Then—"Saint, may I be the one to go?"

The voice that shook the assembly belonged to Yohan Runfield, the young man who'd risen to the rank of Paladin despite his age. The Saint's eyes gleamed. 'Yohan... Now there's someone we can trust.'

His skills were exceptional and his reputation sterling. He was precisely the caliber of leader needed to command the troops. "Brother Yohan, can you lead this force?"

"Yes, of course."

Yohan's eyes blazed like flames. "Then, Brother Yohan, would you select those who will accompany you personally?"

It was only right to accommodate him as much as possible. Those going to defend the Church needed to be a select few elites. "Hey, Yohan! Choose me! My wife is still there!"

"I have a younger sibling remaining in the Church too!"

"My father, who can't even walk on his own, is at the Church. Yohan!"

‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠

After a brief deliberation, Yohan formed a small elite unit of just ten members. Though a mere ten in number, they were all paladins who could be called one-man armies against the demon race. Leaving Ishtar behind, they set off toward the Church. ***

"Hey, sex slave."

"......Why are you calling me?"

"Using informal speech?"

"Why... are you calling me...?"

At my summons, Beatrice flushed red. It seemed she still wasn't accustomed to being called a sex slave. "Come to think of it, for a sex slave, the clothes you wear are quite inappropriate, don't you think?"

Beatrice was dressed in the priests' uniform. But I knew. Just what kind of indecent undergarments she wore beneath that uniform. Moreover, stripping her out of it was also a tremendous hassle. Though she was a sex slave, she wasn't easy to use as I pleased. "Then...?"

"How about you just walk around naked? You're a sex slave anyway, aren't you?"

"Eeek! Th-that's...!"

The saintess looked on the verge of tears. For a moment, I felt the urge to make her cry, but I brushed it aside for now. "Too much, then?"

"Please... have mercy on me..."

I pondered for a while. What ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠would be the best way? At that moment, Ria's image came to mind. The uniquely indecent attire of a succubus—if I dressed Beatrice like that, wouldn't she be able to properly fulfill her role as a sex slave? I immediately fetched a pair of scissors. Snip, snip. "Wh-what are you doing...?"

I began cutting Beatrice's priestly robes here and there. Before long, a rather indecent-looking outfit lay before us. "Put it on."

"This...?"

Beatrice gasped in horror. It was the kind of outfit even a back-alley prostitute wouldn't wear. "Don't want to? Would you rather walk around naked for the rest of your life?"

"......"

Given the choice between wearing absolutely nothing and at least having some semblance of clothing, Beatrice chose the latter. "It suits you well."

The outfit was so revealing that even her panty strings were clearly visible—it barely qualified as clothing at all. Could something like that even be called clothes?

"This is too much... How could you make me wear something like this...?"

Beatrice crouched down, bending her legs in a futile attempt to cover herself. Once she had it on, the side slits were the least of her problems. The chest area was practically cut open, exposing even the underside of her breasts, and the parts left uncovered far outweighed what little the "garment" concealed.

Should I make her wear a garter belt too?

I genuinely considered it but decided to save that for later. Right now, something more important demanded my attention.

Seeing her in that outfit got me worked up.

She was pretty, and her ample chest was a work of art. Staring at that body again, my lower half began to stir. But there was still a 2% deficiency—I wasn't quite ready to plunge in yet.

The foreplay was still lacking.

"Hey, sex slave."

"...Yes?"

Beatrice was still desperately trying to cover herself.

"From what I saw, you seemed pretty into masturbating."

"N-No! That's a misunderstanding!"

"Whatever. Do it in front of me."

"Wh-What?!"

"Didn't hear me? Do what you usually do—go at that pussy hard. It's not like you haven't done it all the time anyway."

"......"

Beatrice fell silent for a moment. Her face twisted into a miserable expression.

"Face gone stiff? Don't wanna be a sex slave?"

If she refused, she'd die. Beatrice forced a smile.

"N-No, that's not it..."

Even a blind man could see how forced and awkward that smile was, but I let it slide.

"Good. Then hurry up and get to it."

Eventually, Beatrice pulled down her panties. Slowly, her fingers began to trace around her crotch. It was quite different from what I'd imagined.

Thought she'd go at it like a total slut.

If left like this, she'd just keep rubbing lazily until the end. That wouldn't be any fun to watch.

I immediately grabbed a strand of her pubic hair and yanked it with all my might. The force was strong enough to rip it right out.

"Ugh!"

"Do it properly. If you half-ass it, I'll pluck every last one."

"...Yes."

Only then did Beatrice's fingers start moving faster. She had been slacking off.

"How often do you usually masturbate?"

Squelch.

The lewd sound of slick arousal was downright filthy.

"Nnngh... I-I don't usually do it that often..."

"Usually? So you've been doing it a lot lately?"

"Twice a day... or so..."

"Damn, you're a slave to your own lust."

"Before, it was only once or twice a month... Nngh!"

Even as she spoke, her fingers worked furiously at her slit. The way she gushed fluids made it seem like she'd already climaxed once.

"Then let me ask again. How do you usually do it? Just fingers?"

"I-I used my fingers too, but mostly... that..."

Blushing furiously, Beatrice pointed at the vibrator lying discarded on the floor. It was a tool crafted by dwarven engineering.

"Then let me ask you this—which feels better? That dildo or my cock?"

"......O-Of course your cock. A dildo is nothing compared to it."

"Yeah? Then you must be enjoying being my sex slave, huh?"

For a moment, Beatrice clenched her teeth. Just because she'd been fucked once didn't ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠mean she'd completely submitted yet.

"Not answering?"

But I wasn't about to sit idle either. I immediately seized her nipple and squeezed hard.

If she wanted a battle of wills, I was more than happy to oblige.