The Long Walk Back
"You must be tired, so please take your time."
Just as Ervan had said, Serina was forcing her trembling legs onward, one labored step after another, the fatigue of those long hours finally claiming her body. Even in their usual lessons her strength would sometimes drain away and leave her unable to walk for a while — but the sacred union they had only just finished had carried the full brunt of his violence, and her body was in no state for words. On top of that, the position she herself had volunteered to demand of him burned through far more stamina than she had anticipated.
If she had known the road back would feel this endless, she never would have asked for it.
No — before that, forgetting that this priest had such a keen appreciation for rear-entry positions had been the truly grave mistake. Thanks to that request she seemed to have won at least a sliver of Ervan's favor, so in the end it had served her well enough, but what came after had been anything but pleasant.
Serina recalled the moment she had been impaled on his cock in a position she had never seen or heard of in her life. Face pressed to the floor, hips alone thrust up — that much she had done a few times before, and it had been bearable. But when both her legs were lifted while she held that pose, her upper body folded clean over, and suffocating pain followed in waves. It had been an ordeal grueling enough that she genuinely had to wonder which would claim her first: the cock driven so deep it wrecked her from within, or the breath crushed from her lungs beneath the weight pinning her breasts.
"If walking is difficult, you may take my arm."
"...........Yes. I'll impose on you, then."
Serina, who looked as though she might collapse at any moment, wound her arm through his and pressed herself close. She had put her robe back on, but the fabric was so sheer that the touch was nearly indistinguishable from bare skin against bare skin. Because of that, she found herself thinking that crawling would honestly have been the lesser torment.
They had coupled for two hours without pause. Setting the special position aside, she had rocked against him again and again with her back or her chest pressed to his body — so it was hardly surprising that merely touching him now made her body answer in kind.
Serina licked her parched lips.
Her body still wanted him. Only now, with her arousal almost fully settled, could she afford to feel revulsion — but if she were exposed to that searing heat once more, it was obvious she would sink in an instant into a female craving cock. However firm her purpose, once pleasure drowned her she would forget even her reason for enduring — the need to avoid being cast out by the Order — and want nothing more than to be blissfully, exquisitely ruined.
Serina let out a deep sigh at the thought of her own weakness.
Is she nervous?
Ervan looked down at her face in silence. Through the arm buried against her chest he could feel a faint tremor, and the beat of her heart — a touch too quick — seemed to report her condition all on its own. Watching her closely, he decided she didn't look frightened. If he recalled the last image of Serina sprawled across the grass, half-conscious, then this reaction most likely came from the anxiety that the sacred union might begin again.
Suddenly curious to confirm something, Ervan came to an abrupt halt.
"What's the matter... hyaah?!"
He caught the hem of her robe and drew it up to her waist, baring her groin entirely. Without even needing to bend down, he could see with perfect clarity the thin, transparent strand dangling long from her drenched sex.
Serina, her head bowed in shame, knew her own body was drooling — and so the base, savoring smile on Ervan's face struck her as utterly terrifying. Because if he asked whether she wanted to do it again, she would nod without a moment's hesitation and reach for his cock.
"There's no need to be tense. I'm only trying to make things comfortable for you, Lady Saintess."
Fortunately, the words she dreaded never came. What she did have to admit was that her situation had turned dire — because those words meant he intended to tease her until she went into heat.
"Yes....... ahh, nnh."
Still unable to stand without leaning on Ervan, she hugged his arm tighter, her face flushing red, while he bent slightly at the waist and let his hand wander at its leisure. He spread his fingers against her sex and began slowly to part the drenched seam. With a wet, squelching sound, their mingled fluids dripped down between the opened folds.
Watching it, Ervan could no longer be bothered to hide what he was thinking. Whenever the act drew near, she was always made new again. And so — toying with a saintess while he spilled his seed into the pussy of a virgin who had never known the sacred act — that, to Ervan, was one of those rare pleasures nothing in the world could replace.
"Ahh, p-priest... please, no more... aahng!"
When he drove his fingers deep with a broad grin, her whole body flinched and her thighs clenched tight. Ervan did not stop his fingers; he lifted his head and studied Serina instead. Her arms still wrapped around him, her flushed expression — all of it laid out in plain view. Best of all was the fact that she didn't avert her eyes. Even now she was sending him looks of open pleading. Barely ten minutes ago this woman had been shrieking that she couldn't take any more, screaming at him to stop — and now she was telling him, all over again, that she wanted to be ravished. She was so desperate that rubbing her own groin wasn't enough; she had wedged his arm between her breasts and was rocking her body against it.
Where in any of this did she look like the saintess who embodied purity? Even the street whores who spread their legs for a handful of coins would have had to bow before this saintess's lust. Of course, he wasn't blaming her for her baseness. After all, it had been Ervan himself who broke her to this state.
"Ahhn, ah......."
And it was also Ervan who had resolved to keep breaking her until she wanted a man of her own will. When he finally withdrew his fingers and tidied her robe as though nothing at all had happened, Serina swallowed again and again, looking bereft.
He opened his mouth a few seconds later.
"Lady Saintess. Please hold out just a little longer, until we reach the cathedral."
"......Yes."
Wearing an expression laden with arousal and anxiety in equal measure, Serina followed after him. He found it deeply gratifying that matters were proceeding so smoothly. The saintess called Serina, who could adapt even to rape, was for all practical purposes a woman so irredeemably lewd that, given the chance, she would spend the whole day rocking her hips in search of cock. He knew that fact well — it was why he had brought her here, just the two of them, to teach her pleasures beyond her capacity to endure. Once this day was over, she would come to believe she could handle even that.
"Khan Monastery?"
When Ervan mentioned the morning schedule, Serina's eyes went wide, utterly unprepared for it. He gave a small, smiling glance.
"Yes. The bishops of that monastery are scheduled to stop by the cathedral this morning to pay their respects to you, Lady Saintess."
"Ah. I see."
Ervan watched her expression change in an instant. Fear — and anticipation. The moment her eyes met his, Serina flinched and dropped her gaze. It was the reaction of a girl caught out in her secret, her legs gone weak beneath her — and it was precisely the reaction Ervan had been hoping for. He exulted inwardly. This, at last, was the attitude the saintess Serina ought to have shown from the very start. What he had wanted was the surfacing of pure desire, faithful to instinct — not emotions wrung out under the pressure of force. Only then would she stop trying, by whatever means necessary, to hear the Goddess's voice. A defiant saintess had never been needed. That was why he had permitted the hero and the Order's dogs in heat to have her — and yet, for all that correction, the stigmata had dimmed. What sense did that make? And so this saintess's role could end only one of two ways: driven to the edge of the cliff to die as she was, or recovering the stigmata. It was time she was told as much.
Thirty minutes later, the two of them had returned to the Order and were taking a brief rest in Serina's room.
"Priest."
Ervan, leaning against one wall, lifted his head. Serina, fresh from her shower and dressed in formal vestments, sat perched on the edge of the bed, her eyes fixed on him.
Ervan approached without a word and reached out a hand toward her chest.
"Hah."
"You're not wearing anything underneath?"
"No... it didn't seem... ahh, necessary......."
Since those who would ravish her in turn were surely waiting anyway — did she intend to stroll about at her ease, swinging those enormous tits? As the desire to torment this sly little saintess rippled through him, his cock swelled rigid and thrust out against the fabric.
Kneading her breasts, Ervan studied the change in her faintly flushed expression with careful attention. Before long her gaze squirmed, then slid slowly downward — and stayed fixed there for a long moment.
A brief silence fell. The sound of Serina swallowing rang out with perfect clarity, while the two hands folded demurely on her knees kept twitching, tapping restlessly against them. The unease showing through could not have been plainer. She was afraid the words do you want to? might leave Ervan's mouth — and at the same time, afraid that when this silence finally broke, the words I want to would leave her own.
She was trembling, quite clearly, with that fear. Either outcome, it was obvious, would be the worst possible one for her.