Silenced Curses
"I-it's good! Ngh, ah—hnnngh!"
The pleasure that swept through him was about what he had anticipated, yet thrashing helplessly within it, unable to master the violent trembling of his own body, was only natural in its own right.
It was thick enough that gathering his wits was a struggle.
"Haah, ah, haa..."
Ervan kept up his long release as though determined to spew out everything he had been holding back until now.
When the cock that had been throbbing deep inside her for so long was finally drawn out, semen came gushing from her pussy in a rush.
"...Haahh..."
She shivered delicately beneath the hands stroking over her.
"You have endured a great deal. Rest well now. I shall call upon you again tomorrow morning, Saintess."
Serina simply lay where she was on the bed, unmoving.
Soon Ervan slipped out of the room, and even after an hour had passed, she was doing nothing but breathing — empty, meaningless breaths.
She ached to stop them, to press down on her own throat and simply die. But only tears came, because she did not trust herself to carry even that through. Because it seemed she would only end up half-crippled, degraded into their plaything, more wretched than ever. Because she was afraid she would not manage to die completely.
Even amid all this, it was she herself who was frightened of such a thing.
She could only despise how pathetic she was.
A whole week had already passed since the baptism ceremony. Yet nothing had changed. There was still no hope in sight, and gasping beneath pleasure had become simply her everyday.
That was all.
Even in ordinary life, I had never been the sort to keep profanity on my lips.
Quite the opposite, in fact. I used to believe that nothing dragged a person's character down faster than curses spat out of habit.
"...Fuck."
But there was no helping what burst out of me like a reflex all the same.
Still, considering how peculiar my circumstances were, it seemed less than wise to keep swallowing it back even when I was alone, so I settled on simply lowering my voice.
If anyone passing through the corridor happened to hear me cursing, they would undoubtedly come storming in, claiming they had to "discipline" me all over again.
They had delivered their beatings as a message: they had no wish to hear ugly words from the mouth of a noble saintess.
Had it been ordinary violence, I might have borne it — but these men, at least, were the type to make good on the words they uttered.
Perhaps they judged that while I might resist, my education was coming along all the same — because, abiding by the cardinal's order that violence be forbidden, they tormented me sexually instead.
The trouble came today.
I was already being pounded from front and back, half dead from it, and when some bastard began pawing at my asshole, coveting it, I finally lost control and bit down on the cock in my mouth — hard enough to tear.
I shouldn't have.
"I never dreamed you could be so reckless, Saintess. To think that one who knows full well the resurrection wrought by the Holy Sword depends upon the light could rise to nothing more than the notion of biting a cock to pieces."
A bleeding cock had lain there unmistakably on the floor — yet the moment I glanced away and lifted my head, there it was again, the same cock, grown anew.
In the end, nothing had changed.
I was violated, on and on without end.
"It seems you are in need of special correction today."
A new punishment was added.
They bound my limbs to a cross-shaped wooden board, left me strapped down and naked, and used their holy law to work me into heat past all limits.
And then they did nothing at all. They only watched.
The effect was staggering.
Within mere minutes, cold sweat had begun to sheet my whole body, and just as wetness was finally trickling down from below, a cock was pushed in against me.
It hung at a distance where the least flick of my tongue would touch it, wafting its lewd scent toward me, and every time I heard my own heart hammering, I sank into an excitement that stole my breath away.
I kept wanting to sniff at the air and drink in that smell.
I wanted to cram it into my mouth and suck on it like candy.
And tangled up with those wants was the wish that it would churn my dripping pussy to pieces — the whole mess of it swirled through my head until I was dizzy.
The heat pouring out of me set my body blazing, and I felt as though I might lose my mind.
That was when it began — the moment they started to touch me.
"Nghaaah, haahnn, nnngh!"
Hands caressed my thighs and pinched; a nipple hauled taut was finally released.
They did nothing beyond that.
No doubt they hoped that even this, once I grew used to it, I would come to find delicious.
It took all of about an hour for that hope to bear fruit.
"...Pl... plea... please..."
In the end, I broke.
"Saintess. Might you ask a little more courteously?"
"...F, fuck me."
"I'm afraid you will have to be more specific."
"P-please fuck Serina's pussy! I'm begging you... haangh!"
The restraints fell away before the words had even left my mouth.
Men threw themselves onto me where I'd been flung onto the floor, one after another.
Each time a cock drove in to the hilt and dragged back out, I came, spraying.
Soon the pistoning turned relentless, and I could no longer even guess how many climaxes could be stacked atop one another.
Once they stacked past five, I could no longer stay sane.
"Haaagh, nnngh, AAAAAAAGH!!!"
All I did was howl like a beast as I was violated.
So of course, in the face of violence that had become my everyday, my instincts refused to spit out curses.
"Fuck... you bastards..."
And of course, it was equally a matter of course that I had to crush that refusal and force my mouth to move anyway.
Because I was the one who had lived with curses that didn't suit my lips, all to hold on to what remained of my manhood.
Only that way did it seem I could keep hold of myself even before the hero called Lean — so I had repeated it here like a habit, too.
And so, for a while, a dazed confusion clouded me.
I didn't want to be punished like that ever again.
For that, I would have to forbid myself to swear.
This mouth of mine should hold nothing but polite words, offered up for everyone's sake.
So I had to choose to ration it out as much as I could, even in my own room.
That was possible. It was not a hard thing.
Cowed as I was, a mere two weeks after the baptism, I had at least stopped letting curses pass my lips in front of the priests.
Only, worry crept in after it.
Grant their demands one by one, and they would only come back with demands more outrageous still. That much was certain.
What comes after this?
I was simply afraid.
They would not leave me be.
In the end they would strip me bare and turn me into a bitch that wanted nothing in this world but cock.
They would drag me all the way down into a female in heat and make me live out my days as the Order's holy slave.
...I have to hold on. Holding on is all I can do. Until, someday, a way out of this comes.
Another two weeks passed.
Glancing around the hall I had long since grown used to, I stood up straight before the men seated in a row in front of me.
"Is everyone here?"
"Yes. You may begin whenever you are ready."
Soon two of them came up to me and stripped my clothes away.
"Saintess?"
"...Yes."
Reflexively, I drew away the hands I had raised to cover my chest and groin.
I could see the cocks of the men watching my naked body twitch.
"Please, take good care of me, priests."
With my hands folded respectfully at my lower belly, I dipped my head in a small bow — and the first man laid me down on the floor.
At the baptism it had been a bone-chilling stretch of bare floor; now a plush quilt covered the whole of it.
Though when someone climbed onto me and lowered his body, the fear still closed my throat so tight my breath caught.
"Ahhk."
But I only had to endure it for a moment.
The pain was always brief, and the pleasure was long.
"Ngh, ugh, ah."
Today, too, the heat seemed to build far more quickly.
Perhaps because the man who had strung me up on the cross and tortured me last time was my first partner today.
I was already so wound up that my body was shaking.
"Haah, ah, hee, hik."
And even so, there I was, coming apart after only a few thrusts.
Measured against before, it was a leap and a half forward.
In the very beginning, it had taken me a full week just to adjust to one man.
Even being raped by Lean all day long, I had had no other choice.
With the small hole this body came with, taking a male organ had been sheer agony, and a day or two of coupling seemed nowhere near enough to grow used to the pain of being scraped out inside — it had felt close to impossible.
And yet there had been a moment when my body adapted.
Take the same thing in every single day, be touched by the same hands, have your mouth defiled by the same lips and tongue — it would be stranger if your body failed to remember it.
Do you know what it is like to catch the scent of one man's body clinging to every inch of you?
It was not the scent of a beloved woman. I — a man — could find on this body the traces of the man who had raped me.
I could feel that revulsion devouring even my mind, and still I endured, and endured again, clinging to hope and hope alone.
And this — this was the answer I was given.
A saintess who was to remain inside the Order and take in the priests' lust.
For the past month, every time I tried to sleep, I had put questions to the Goddess.
Did any of this make sense at all — was this what she meant to hand me now, telling me to adapt, after I had prayed in every moment and been faithful to my duty as her saintess?
What the hell did she want from me?
The men came at me in assigned order, one after another — was I meant to memorize each of their faces, the shapes of their cocks, the feel of their hands, their tongues, their lips, their scent, and rehearse it all night after night like recitation?
Was that what she'd forced me to spend my whole life as a noble saintess for — just to set me to this?
She gave me no answer this time either, and the meaning of that silence was self-evident.
Because the answer I had to choose was already decided.