Ready and Willing
A brief silence fell.
The sound of Serina swallowing rang out vividly as her hands, folded demurely in her lap, squirmed and twitched against her knees. Her anxiety could not have been clearer.
She was afraid Ervan might ask whether she wanted it — and, at the same time, afraid that when this silence finally broke, her own mouth would be the one to say that she did.
She was plainly trembling with dread. Either outcome spelled the worst possible result for her, and she knew it.
What Ervan had in store, of course, was something else entirely. With a Saintess who slipped into heat the moment you teased her even a little, savoring her like this — flushed and fidgeting, unable to sit still — was nothing more than a small diversion to relieve the tedium of the moment. He could taste her whenever he pleased. What mattered to him now was setting the Saintess's heart at ease.
"Yes. If you receive them in so charming a pose, Saintess, I assure you every last one of them will be delighted. Why, even I found myself admiring your thorough preparation."
He drew the hand from her breast and stepped back a single pace. Once more, disappointment bloomed across Serina's face — though only briefly. For as she herself had guessed, the pleasure this room withheld would be hers in full the moment she stepped beyond that door.
"Is there anything else you wish to ask?"
"There is one thing... Are the bishops of Khan Monastery kind men?"
"Of course. Every one of them will respect you and follow your lead."
Serina's expression shifted, ever so subtly.
"......Will the Hero be coming as well?"
Only then was Ervan's curiosity satisfied. He had been wondering what on earth could unsettle a Saintess who sat swollen with anticipation even on the eve of a gang rape.
"Saintess, you need not worry about the Hero. A letter is being prepared to the effect that we cannot cooperate with the arrest of Knight Lartel. Moreover, now that the matter of the demons who attacked Vegatin has been concluded, the Hero has no choice but to return to the kingdom. Even if he does come back, it will be months from now."
When Ervan's hand came to rest on her shoulder, Serina's chin was gently lifted, and their eyes met.
"Though of course — that is only if you give your very best to the duty you have undertaken."
He flashed a smile.
"Well then. Are you ready?"
My steps weren't all that heavy. It's just that I'm walking there on my own two feet — toward a place where priests, bloodshot-eyed with the urge to devour me out of their hatred for that man the Hero, are waiting.
The priest walking beside me seems to have glimpsed my mind, perhaps: that I, whose pussy was stroked until I burned for it, am harboring anticipation for what awaits. That's what has my feelings so tangled.
I need my stigmata restored, which means I need the Goddess's acknowledgment. Until then, wanting nothing to do with pain and suffering, I chose to appeal to them with my body. They adored the lewd flesh I carry, and so long as I indulged their tastes, everything fit together perfectly.
Though honestly, I don't know how much longer I can keep that line of thinking intact. Maybe it's because I've grown far too accustomed to a woman's pleasure. After a few climaxes, there's a me who loses her mind, rocking her hips and crying out — because it feels too good — begging them to fuck me harder, to go deeper, all the way inside. Lately I keep catching myself screaming exactly like that.
When I push this door open with my own hands and step inside, I can't even be sure what expression I'll wear. It's simply strange. I'll be standing before men who informed me — just as at my baptism ceremony — that they meant to rape me as a group, and if I were normal, I should be paralyzed with terror, choking back sobs.
"Saintess Serina. You may enter."
The moment naked male bodies came into view through the open door, what welled up in me was a fluttering, pounding thrill. Perhaps that's only natural. They won't hurt me. They'll take me in their arms one at a time, each waiting his turn. All I have to do is lie quietly in their embrace, rock my body, and savor the pleasure.
I stood in the center of the hall. At the far end waited the broad bed the Order had prepared. When I bowed my head to them all in greeting, the dozen or so bishops lined up before me soon began returning the courtesy one by one, each fondling his erect cock as he did.
I hadn't even undressed yet, and already the loins of the priests watching me strained and twitched, rapture written across their faces. They were swallowing so greedily that I could hear the gulps from several of them at once.
I understand exactly how they feel. The men of this Order had fucked me nearly every other day, while these ones alone had been unable to drive their cocks into me — for no reason but that they were stationed far away. Small wonder they're already leaking precum. Honestly, this body of mine is tailor-made to drive men wild.
..................
Have I gone wrong in the head? I might be raped from now until I black out, and all I can do is smile — unnaturally, absurdly.
Ah, that must be it. These men may rape me, but they'll treasure me — they'll handle me with such care that I never break. ...Yeah. That's right. That one thing is enough for me. I'm a coward who can't even manage to die and hates being hurt. That's why I'm a pervert who can't feel shame over things like this, who's already drooling all over herself.
How many times will I come undone this time? What if it feels so good I die? Ah — ah, that's right. I'd forgotten something important. She might miss seeing what a fine job I do.
When I was staying in that peaceful village, I prayed every morning with the Goddess in my thoughts. Now I call to mind that gracious being, just as I did then.
Goddess, I can do well again — I know I can. So I won't beg you for anything just yet. Instead, please watch over me as I serve the priests, and forgive my rudeness of the past. You understand, don't you?
The relief settles in. Why did I never realize this before? They are followers of the Light, worshippers of the Goddess just as I am — and I was the one who hurled curses at them. Of course it came to this.
Bending forward at the waist, I caught the hem of my holy vestment and lifted it. I bit down on the fabric, stepped back, and perched myself on the edge of the bed. Kicking off my shoes, I eased my legs apart into an M — and my neatly folded pussy was bared to every eye in the room.
"Dear priests. Please, take good care of me."
Grinning, I spread my buttocks wide with both hands.
Three of them lunged at me at once. Beasts stripped of all reason, wearing human skins, reached out their hands. The instant my limbs were seized I flinched, helpless to stop it — because this was not the gang rape I had offered my body up for. Revulsion flooded in all at once, my mouth fell open, and I came within a breath of screaming. I must have been shedding tears of fear, because a callus-hardened hand wiped the corners of my eyes, then slowly drew away.
"Are you alright?"
That had been a hasty judgment on my part. The middle-aged priest who had mounted me was more the gentleman than his looks suggested. Even as he ground his cock against my lower belly, he smoothed my tangled hair with a touch that was anything but rough.
"Saintess. May I put it in?"
That one question — asking for my consent — moved something in me. I am not doing this for money, the way women who sell their bodies do. I simply chose, of my own will, to spread my legs for the men who rape me, because I cannot bear rape that hurts. And so I wanted to be respected as a person. I did not want to be fucked like an onahole, meant to be used once and discarded, in a coupling that only tormented and pained me. I wanted to give myself to someone who would treat me preciously and keep me from breaking for a long, long time — because pleasure attended by suffering did nothing but eat away at my heart and drive me mad.
My limbs are still not free to move. My legs are pried apart whether I like it or not, and I must receive this man's cock. He came here to rape me. That reality would never change — not ever.
"Yes. Please, come in."
Even so, I managed a bright smile. Of course. I am the Saintess who exists to relieve their lust. Any man of the Order may take me. Escape is impossible — by my own strength, or through another's. The first has taught me that the only answer is suicide, and the second is nothing but a dream, for no one will ever think to rescue me. And so, I will smile.
"Ah, hahk—!"
"Saintess, Saintess, Saintess."
Calling for me with such aching need, this priest rocks his hips — and through him, I will carry this wonderful feeling on and on.
"Hah, hahh, aahng."
I hate the pain of resisting and being struck for it; I don't want to deny reality until it drives me mad; and for a coward who flinches from everything, what more can I do than this? If I want to live, this is what it takes. There they are — that many men waiting, desperate to bury themselves in my little hole. If things went wrong, any of them might beat me half to death the way Lean did. So while they're being civilized about it, setting turns and lining up like this, shouldn't I spread myself obediently?
"Hhaah, hahh."
Rationalizing it like this makes it a little easier to bear. Try a little harder, and I think I can fix my mind on the pleasure alone — before long, I may even manage to see those cocks as nothing more than my own personal dildos.
"Y-you may... come in... now..."