The Saintess Won't Break (2)

...By nature, Rosaria wasn't one to ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠regret things easily.

She always believed it was for the best, and she constantly ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠reaffirmed it.

And usually, it really was for the best.

Because she was always sincere and lived without falsehood.

Rosaria didn't regret things easily.

But now she felt just a little regret.

...She should have made an excuse and refused.

After all, Canaria would accept any refusal of hers. So if she had just said she didn't want to, that there was no need for it... if she had said that, things might have passed normally.

But the milk was already spilled,

and Canaria was earnestly trying to conquer her.

The very understanding of that intention made her flush with embarrassment.

But Rosaria did not wish to blush.

Be that as it may,

the bet had already begun.

*

The second day,

Canaria brought several handkerchiefs.

Then she sat Rosaria down in a chair.

"...Please tell me if it hurts."

So saying, Canaria bound her arms and legs to the chair. The action stirred an instinctive resistance in Rosaria.

...But since it was a bet, she simply accepted it.

She felt a moderate pressure that was not painful.

Even when she instinctively tried to move her arms and legs, they only caught.

Her body, still not fully healed, was frail, and with three handkerchiefs she was completely tied down and unable to move.

At the same time, a strange atmosphere arose from the situation.

"...Canaria?"

Rosaria was not used to this.

Because this behavior, so different from usual, had made her heart start pounding excessively. She was just about to speak to calm herself down—

Canaria sealed her lips without a word, covering Rosaria's mouth with her own. And then, without a word, she simply continued kissing her. Rosaria was embarrassed to exhale her heated breath. And the breath that Canaria sent into her lungs felt hotter than usual, as if it would burn her.

For about five minutes, there was no sound.

Only quiet breaths and strange moans echoed.

The moment Canaria pulled away, a thread of saliva stretched between them.

Rosaria's melted expression was reflected in her eyes. Breathing roughly, utterly melted.

It was the same kind of kiss as usual, but it came across differently. And the emotions born from that gap began to break her down.

"...It's strange."

Rosaria said in a trembling voice.

But Canaria didn't answer.

And, as before, she kissed her to block her words. Rosaria felt a sense of wrongness and tried to refuse it.

But her bound arms and legs couldn't carry out the act of refusal. Her limbs made dull thuds, unable to move. The chair shook faintly in time with her struggles.

At the same time, Canaria deepened the kiss.

Canaria kissed her, slipping her tongue inside.

Rosaria was flustered by the sudden sensation.

A short, stifled moan escaped her: 'Hgh—'. Tears even began to well up in her eyes.

The alien sensation born from the unusual situation. The pleasure of this unfamiliar flavor pressed upon her far too intensely.

At the same time, it was cold, as if goosebumps had risen along her spine.

Rosaria's whole body trembled faintly at that sensation.

And Canaria, noticing it, acted boldly.

Gently, she tenderly bit the tip of Rosaria's tongue.

As their mouths separated, a sound leaked out.

A flash of lightning went off in Rosaria's head from the sudden attack.

She moaned at the sensation as an electric current ran through her body.

A trembling moan, 'Haah...', echoed in the room.

At the same time, Canaria wore a satisfied expression.

She once again slipped her tongue inside, violating Rosaria with a kiss.

Soft, moist, and warm.

The kind of sensation she usually felt.

But the intensity was markedly different from usual.

A sensation where ten became twenty.

The inflated and twisted pleasure born from the situation—being toyed with while her hands and feet were bound—sent an electric current of an entirely different caliber through her body and mind.

Of course, that was not all.

Rosaria did not know it, but

there was a story Canaria knew.

Canaria had created a battlefield there that she was certain to win.

Soon, after finishing the second kiss, she looked at Rosaria.

She wore a completely dazed expression and her eyes were unfocused.

Breath hotter than usual touched her skin,

and bead-like tears and sweat began to trickle down.

"...Canaria, please tell me honestly."

And at the same time, Rosaria asked,

"What on earth... to me..."

She wanted to ask what she had done.

Because her body was heating up far beyond what she knew was normal, and the pleasure, magnified to this scale, was tormenting her. She wanted to ask if Canaria had done something improper, to learn the truth—

But to gloss it over, Canaria moved.

Canaria toyed with her tongue using her fingers.

Then, as if coiling around her, she kissed her cheek.

Rosaria's tongue couldn't move, so her sentences remained unfinished.

...And more than anything, this kind of skinship was awkward.

"Ah... ah... ia..."

She tried to call that name and ask her to stop.

But Canaria did not want that.

So she simply continued her actions.

...First, she gently kissed her cheek again.

A faint breath, as if it would melt her fingers, flowed out.

This time, she roughly bit the shell of her ear.

Rosaria's tongue writhed and her body trembled.

Soon, she softly licked inside her ear.

Rosaria started in surprise at the unfamiliar sensation.

A primal moan, not formed into a word, escaped her.

At the same time, her breath came out ragged,

and her body twisted this way and that in sync with Canaria's movements.

But Rosaria could do nothing.

Her bound arms and legs limited her actions.

Her tongue, held and toyed with, couldn't form words.

Even divine-power communication had long been blocked by Canaria's barrier.

Rosaria could express no will whatsoever.

...And that situation heightened the mood even further.

Both Canaria and Rosaria felt a peculiar sense of immorality.

The scene reflected in the mirror proved it.

Canaria wore a bitter smile.

Rosaria's face was colored by pleasure,

and most of all, her flushed cheeks betrayed any denial.

Immorality, shame, and ecstasy were captured in that mirror.

Soon Canaria stopped toying with her ear.

Finally, she bit the earlobe, leaving her proof there, and then moved her face to look at Rosaria's face—because she had been desperate to see it, to the point of madness.

'...I don't want to show it.'

Thinking that, Rosaria pulled roughly at her restraints.

She desperately wanted to hide her face.

But the handkerchief tying her hands, as expected, refused her.

Only the chair shook; her bound hands could not find freedom.

Canaria briefly savored the rattling shake.

Rosaria was desperate.

But things didn't go as she wished...

Finally, Canaria, having waited long enough, looked at that face.

"Ugh... uh-uh..."

There was Rosaria, her mouth open with her tongue held. Saliva that had embarrassingly dribbled down and tears that flowed over it harmoniously ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠decorated that pleasure-soaked face.

Even her melted face was ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠beautiful. Her heated cheeks were lovely, and even her collarbone, rising and falling with each ragged breath, looked desirable.

"...Rosaria."

After a long while, Canaria opened her mouth.

Then she tenderly licked from the lower part of her nape to the upper part. At that sensation, familiar yet different, Rosaria let out a young-sounding moan like a scream. Her saliva, unable to stay at the corner of her mouth as her tongue squirmed about, flowed evenly over the path traced by her tears.

Soon, Rosaria, realizing Canaria's intention, lifted her head and closed her mouth.

Because Rosaria did not wish to feel the shame brought on by the vulgar act of having her own dribbled saliva licked up.

But even that resistance was something that made Canaria burn.

After all, Rosaria, tied to the chair, would stay right here. Even if she resisted out of embarrassment, she couldn't escape from her. Rosaria, caught in a trap. Such meaningless resistance only made her appear more noble.

And Canaria felt an insane exaltation merely from watching her own Saintess—so lofty—begin to be dyed by the colors of the pleasure she herself had crafted.

It was somewhat sadistic, but... that was her way of loving. It was a kind of innate nature that wouldn't change, and regrettably, Rosaria simply loved even that part of her.

Canaria savored the two kinds of flowing saliva.

At that action, Rosaria's eyes wavered.

Shameful, but... somehow ticklish.

Canaria, reading that, let go of her hand and spoke.

"...You may be honest."

Her fingers had grown moist.

The cause, of course, was Rosaria's saliva.

Her sweetly sticky fingers glistened.

And that saliva had even soaked the ring on her ring finger.

Canaria instinctively kissed it.

The sound of a kiss from her lips was heard.

Rosaria was so flushed she couldn't even speak.

With a face painted with shame, she only watched.

Rosaria couldn't decide what to say.

She bit her lip and writhed this way and that.

Because the ticklish feeling in her lower abdomen was not relieved...

To somehow suppress it, she kept crossing and uncrossing her legs repeatedly.

But her bound ankles prevented her from relieving it.

Seeing Rosaria slightly tormented and gradually going mad, Canaria smiled with satisfaction and whispered softly into Rosaria's ear.

"...Shall we stop here for today?"

A short sigh, 'Ah...', was heard.

A sigh instinctively let out in relief that it was over.

But relief wasn't everything.

A faint regret was contained within it.

Of course, Rosaria did not realize its existence.

It was a creation of instincts beyond consciousness.

Because it was the same kind of utterance that came out without her knowing.

Rosaria did not know that regret.

But Canaria knew that regret...

and could guess which way the bet would turn.

And so, the second day passed with difficulty.