You're Superior - 3

The Holy Church enjoyed great popularity among the people of the continent.

Though its influence remained modest, it could expand its power as far as it wished if it ever truly set its mind to the task.

Yet if that power ever grew large enough, it would become a serious headache for anyone trying to run a kingdom.

From ancient times, the monarchs who had divided and ruled the continent had foreseen this danger. They periodically struck the Holy Church to keep it in check—sometimes with force, sometimes with coaxing, and sometimes by stirring up internal division.

Even when the Church’s reach was as small as it was now, the rule never changed. Beat them while you still can: that was the standing policy of every ruler.

Beatrix was no exception. Opportunities were meant to be seized the moment they appeared. Only one slightly ambiguous point still needed verification.

My belly’s already full of semen anyway.

Having filled herself to the brim with cum, Beatrix left the bedroom at once. Her swollen abdomen looked exactly as though she were carrying a child.

Albert listened to the entire plan, smiled with a bitter edge, and made no move to stop her. It was a dirty trick, yes—but not an inhuman one, he decided.

“Your Majesty? At this hour of the night…?”

The maid waiting outside the bedroom tilted her head in confusion. The maids took turns standing watch so they could answer a summons at any moment. That had been the original arrangement, at least. Lately, however, the post had become a front-row seat for listening to a man and woman mating and quietly touching themselves. Thanks to that, they no longer had to fight sleep just to stay on duty. Whether the arrangement was a blessing or a curse remained debatable.

Beatrix regarded the maid with a flat stare.

“The woman who stuck to the Saint’s side the whole time—do you remember her?”

“Pardon? Ah… yes, Your Majesty. I remember.”

What would have happened if she had claimed ignorance? The maid entertained a few vivid mental images and wisely answered that she did. The entire palace knew the Church folk who had arrived with the Saint who had set the whole kingdom buzzing; there was no chance of forgetting.

“I’m going to the reception room first. Bring that woman to me.”

In the middle of the night? The maid cocked her head inwardly, yet outwardly she simply bowed.

“As you command.”

Once the maid had gone, Beatrix herself set off toward the reception room. As a chamber meant for receiving guests, it was lavish and well-stocked—tea sets, cabinets full of leaves, a bed, sofas, a broad table. Beatrix seated herself at the table and waited.

Before long the maid returned with the guest in tow.

“You summoned me?”

Lily, the guest in question, dipped her head lightly as she entered. The maid closed the door quietly and waited outside; leaving her post without permission could easily earn her a flogging.

“Yes. Sit.”

“Thank you. Excuse me.”

What on earth could this be about at such an hour? Lily smoothed the collar she had hastily thrown on and took the seat opposite Beatrix.

What could she possibly want…?

She had done nothing wrong—only continued, as always, to spread the mercy of the gods. If that were a crime she would have been punished long ago. Startled yet determined to keep her composure, Lily drew a steady breath.

“First of all, I’m sorry for calling you so late. I have a few questions.”

An apology, at least. Lily curved her lips into a gentle arc.

“Of course. Please ask whatever you wish.”

“In return, you will answer without the slightest lie. If I so much as catch a whiff of deception, I can’t promise how I’ll react.”

I don’t care much for deceit.

Beatrix delivered the warning in a soft, almost languid voice. Lily swallowed dryly, the image of her own head rolling across the floor flashing through her mind.

“About the Saint. He’ll rise to the position of Pope someday, won’t he?”

Generation after generation, only those of exceptional holy power received the title of Saint, and those Saints almost always climbed high—cardinal at the very least. Lily shared the same expectation, yet she answered with care.

“I cannot give you a definite answer. The likelihood is high, but one never knows what ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠other talents the future may produce.”

“By then the current Saint will be old enough. That will do.”

Beatrix cut her off with finality. From Charlotte’s perspective the questions only grew more baffling, yet she dared not speak out of turn. Monarchs meddling in Church affairs was nothing new—yet the next question left her utterly rattled.

“You. You like that Saint of yours, don’t you?”

Beatrix folded her arms, gazing at Lily with half-lidded, knowing eyes. Suspicion alone was not enough; she needed proof. She had asked in order to obtain it—and the proof was already written across Lily’s face.

I was right.

Charlotte cleared her throat, then carefully opened her mouth.

“Well… he is younger than I, of course, yet as a fellow member of the faith he is someone worthy of respect. So when you say ‘like’…”

Lily let the sentence trail off, trying to blur the edges. At that exact moment several strands of beautiful golden hair drifted to the floor—Lily’s own hair.

“I told you what would happen if you tried to deceive me.”

There won’t be a second chance.

Beatrix withdrew her gaze from the severed locks and exhaled a languid sigh. This time her authority had taken only a few strands; next time it might take a neck. The blade carried that warning clearly.

I could die if I’m not careful.

Why was she doing this? Fear and confusion whirled through Lily’s head, yet she forced her breathing even and emptied her mind of panic.

“Why are you asking me this? Interfering even in personal feelings seems rather excessive, don’t you think…?”

Was answering a question with another question also a form of deceit? While Lily chewed on her tension, Beatrix replied.

“If my guess is correct, I believe I can help you.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“You want to devour that man. You want to make him yours. I’m offering to help you do it.”

The raw, unfiltered words tickled Lily’s ear and at the same time painted her mind pure white, freezing her in place. How? Since when? Unordered thoughts spun in chaos. Through that chaos the tyrant’s whispering voice burrowed into her ear.

“There is no doctrine that demands absolute chastity. Ordinary people marry and bear children. That means you can do the same with him.”

Why Lily still hesitated was a mild curiosity, but not an important one. All that mattered was that Lily claim Valentin for herself—and that Beatrix extract profit from ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠the process. She kept stoking Lily’s desire, confirming that her own reading had been correct. No one without real feelings would look this flustered.

“Why… why are you doing this to me?”

After a long silence Lily finally managed the words. Her voice shook badly.

“A Saint who is a strong candidate for Pope—you take him, and I take my share of the benefit.”

“…You mean to interfere in our internal affairs?”

Internal interference. Broadly speaking the phrase was not wrong, yet it did not fit perfectly either.

“Your mind works well. But I have no intention of meddling that deeply. I simply want you to adopt a policy of keeping the Church small—exactly as it is now—rather than expanding its influence.”

Depending on the Pope, someone might try to grow the faith. Chaos could follow. Beatrix preferred to eliminate that possibility in advance. The fewer headaches, the better.

“Is that truly all?”

Lily tilted her head, puzzled. She had expected to be told to turn the Saint into her personal slave and then puppet the entire Church. Instead she was receiving this strange, almost gentle pressure simply to remain small.

“That’s all. So—what will you do? If I help you, you can pluck that boy this very night.”

Beatrix stroked her swollen belly with open satisfaction and smiled. Lily’s gaze drifted inevitably to that rounded midriff.

“Right now this is full of Albert’s semen.”

You have no idea, do you?

The joy of filling your womb with the seed of the man you love.

“Semen…?”

Lily’s cheeks flushed as though they had been burned.

“Mm. Imagine it. Receiving the cum of the man you adore and cradling it inside your womb. How wonderful would that feel?”

Go on—say you want it right now. I’ll help you this very moment.

With absolute confidence Beatrix whispered like a devil, fanning Lily’s lust. She was not asking anyone to spit on doctrine. She was not urging anything truly wicked. All they needed to do was keep the Church modest and quiet, just as it was.

“I… I…”

Lily’s voice trembled harder. Her pupils darted, unable to find a place to rest—what people commonly called “eye-quake.” She might live an ascetic life, yet she was still human. Desire could never be completely crushed. Helping others and finding joy in it was itself a form of desire, after all.

“Follow my lead. Then that boy becomes yours—exactly the way you want him. And you will bear and raise a child from his seed.”

Beatrix disliked deceit. Therefore even when she tempted like a devil, every word she spoke was true. Or at least she believed it to be true. To Lily’s ears the words simply sounded sweet.

“I’ll ask one last time. What will you do?”

The final invitation hung in the air. Lily’s eyes darkened with wet, greedy lust.

So that he could stand unashamed before anyone.

That was the life Valentin aimed for, and he worked tirelessly toward it. His resolve to keep his purity pristine sprang from the same root. Neither lewd nor lost in carnal love, yet always ready to give ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠love—so that one day he might stand shoulder to shoulder with the Saints recorded in the history books.

Lily understood that heart well; that was why she had long wavered between desire and reason. If she simply threw herself upon him, she feared she would shatter his dream.

But the Charlotte of this moment had become nothing more than a beast intent on feeding its own hunger. Beatrix’s hand had shoved her reason off a cliff and ground it to dust.

Soundproofing magic already ringed the room where he slept, ensuring no moan or creak of bedframe would escape. Dressed only in a thin nightgown, Lily climbed onto the bed and drew close to the deeply sleeping Valentin. The long pilgrimage had left him thoroughly exhausted.

Rough feminine fingers peeled back the blanket and began to unfasten the pure white nightclothes that covered Valentin’s body. One button, then another. With every button freed, Lily’s excitement climbed higher. She possessed theoretical knowledge of the bed, yet she had never put any of it into practice. No wonder tension radiated from every line of her body.

“Mmh…”

Valentin mumbled in his sleep. Lily’s eyes flew wide with terror that he might wake that very second.

Beatrix’s flat voice rose in her mind, and Lily’s hands resumed their work. Nightclothes, underclothes—everything came off.

“Haaah…”

A heated moan slipped past Lily’s lips. Her eyes glittered. It was the first time she had seen that cute little cock since childhood, and the emotion of reuniting with it after so long left her overwhelmed.

Still, it’s bigger than when he was little.

Greed shone wetly in her gaze. How could a starving beast stop when meat dangled right in front of its nose? It would not stop until every scrap had been torn away and swallowed.

A Saint’s manhood was average, or perhaps a little below. At a glance it was far smaller than Albert’s, and there was no sign it would ever swell into anything dramatic. The balls, too, were merely ordinary.

Is it normally that small?

If Beatrix had been watching the scene she would have thought exactly that. Yet in Lily’s eyes every inch of him was wondrous. She felt no sense of lack—her only point of comparison was Valentin’s childhood self.

Lily swallowed dryly and stretched both hands toward the scrotum exactly as instructed. Her hands had been purified with holy power; there was nothing unclean about them.

Soft, faintly heavy flesh met her fingertips. Instantly her entire body shuddered. She was climaxing grandly from nothing more than the lightest touch of the tip of a ball.

Anyone who saw the sight would have shaken their head in disbelief.

“Ah.”

A good idea struck her. Beatrix walked straight down the corridor and back into the bedroom.

“Is the business finished?”

Albert, who had been sitting on the bed, rose as she entered. She had said she would be gone only a short while, so he had waited without falling asleep. The room was still thick with heat and the heavy scent of sex, yet to Beatrix it smelled sweeter than any perfume.

“Mm.”

“Shall we sleep right away, then? Or…?”

“No. I still want more. Just wait a moment.”

Beatrix cut herself off and squeezed out a thread of mana. A blue dewdrop of power clung to the tip of her index finger. With a light flick she sent the hanging droplet flying toward the far corner of the wall.

Plip.

The sound of a water drop landing was followed by a ripple that spread across the entire wall. Albert watched intently, then made a blank sound of surprise.

“Huh?”

The luxurious guest chamber, the bed, the sleeping Valentin, and Lily climbing over him—the entire pair was projected in vivid, living detail.

“How did you do that…?”

Albert tilted his head, baffled. First shared vision, then peeping, and now outright voyeurism. Even for magic, was something like this possible?

“I just sort of made it work. I thought it would be nice if we could watch like this.”

“Ah… right.”

Beatrix answered in her usual flat tone and settled beside him. Albert could only smile awkwardly and nod.

“Nngh…!”

A soft white hand gently wrapped around his cock; Albert half-closed his eyes and groaned. The moment the female’s skin touched him, the half-softened shaft began to swell and throb once more. Beatrix watched the reaction with open pride, then brought her lips to his ear and whispered in a shy little voice.

“Want to… do it while we compare?”