As Long as It Takes
The first man left, and the next settled into place beneath me. He was a touch shorter than the one before, but in thickness he could hold his own against Bishop Ervan. Gulp. When that rigidly engorged cock brushed against my navel, I swallowed without meaning to.
Perhaps he had sensed I was expecting it, at least a little — he sent a signal to those around us, and my arms were set free.
"Saintess. Would you turn yourself around for me?"
Ah. So this one enjoys taking me from behind, too.
Quietly turning myself over, I braced both hands against the bedding, sank to my knees, and pushed my hips back as far as they would go.
"I'd like your hips a little lower, if you please."
"...Like this?"
I arranged myself as best I could, but apparently it wasn't to his liking; he pressed down firmly on my back.
"Ah—ahhn!"
Without a moment's warning, his cock drove inside me. My pussy had repaired itself in an instant, but everything within my channel remained exactly as it had been. Soaked in my own arousal, he advanced without hindrance — and yet my passage, restored to its original narrowness, was forced wide open all over again, and a tearing pain came flooding in.
"Hngh — far tighter than I expected. Does it hurt terribly?"
"It— it hurts... you're too big... hiihk!"
"You'll adjust in no time!"
He clearly despised doing anything halfway. The cock burrowing into me without mercy pressed deep against my innermost walls, then tore free in a single stroke. So desperate was he to pound into me that he drew his hips back until only the head remained before ramming the full length home, and every thrust made my whole body lurch.
"Ahn, haahn!"
Slap, slap — my flesh collided with his thighs, and a stinging heat bloomed across my rear as though I'd been struck hard.
About thirty seconds in, my upper body had collapsed entirely forward. With my chest and face crushed into the covers, I still wanted to endure it like this, so I clung to the bedding with everything I had.
"Let me make this easier on you!"
"Heeh?!"
He seized both my hands. Just as Ervan had done, he hauled my arms back behind me and began driving his hips.
"Hahk, hnngh, ah!"
My spine bent deep and my bared breasts swayed without respite, and I could feel it, unmistakably, how the heat around us shifted. By now they must have grown certain of it — that even with no restraints at all, they could ravish me in whatever position they pleased. They were all so worked up at the thought of devouring me that one of them had already spilled his precious seed all over the floor. Not that it was any loss I should have mourned.
"Hah, hik, hik, hah."
Unfortunately, this beast of a position had flipped my own switch as well. I wasn't supposed to learn this... not from the very beginning... It felt so good that the thought this is dangerous, far too dangerous rose unbidden, and every time he plunged into me from behind, my mind threatened to scatter like smoke.
"Ahhk — Saintess, you're absolutely drenched!"
How much must I have gushed for a man so absorbed in hammering into me to say something like that? Except it was the plain truth, so I wasn't even embarrassed anymore. Sooner or later, whether with this man or the next one, or the one after him, it would come to light on its own. I was a lewd little saintess who sprayed the instant a cock filled her.
Ah — thank goodness, thanks to the Goddess, that my pussy at least stays as good as new. If it had ever darkened and stretched out of shape, would they still be treasuring me like this? No — they'd have treated me as an onahole to use a few times and toss, fucked me until I broke, then thrown me out with the trash.
"Uuheeeh..."
Maybe that was why, face buried in the covers as I was, I felt relieved. The priest who had just emptied himself and slipped free of me stroked my hips tenderly, offered a word of thanks, and took his leave. Was this something I could wrap up neatly and call joy? Even if the whole world called it lunacy, I found I wanted to believe it. Even like this — posing gracelessly, nothing on display but my upturned rear.
"Saintess. I'll be in your care."
"Hahhk!"
"Do tell me if anything feels uncomfortable."
"N-heeht...! Hnngh!"
The man who had eased his way into me so carefully was letting me know, wordlessly, that he was watching over how I held up. Ah. Right. This feels less like joy, and more like hope. If this was all it took, I could endure it — a month, no, years of it. I hoped our Goddess was watching me like this, and smiling.
"Priest. Look at me, please."
Serina undid the priest's belt and drew out his cock. She took it into her mouth in one swallow, and as she worked her lips and lifted her gaze upward, the priest — his cheeks flushed pink — stroked her hair.
"Hnngh. Saintess. May I go a little harder?"
"Mmph?"
His hand slid toward the back of her skull, and Serina, catching his meaning at once, hastily clasped both hands behind her back. Taking it as her silent signal, the priest pinned her head in both hands and began snapping his hips.
"Mmph, hnngh!"
Pained moans spilled from her lips, but after ten seconds or so they changed — giving way to lewd, wet sounds, as though she were drawing him in of her own accord.
"Hnnk, schlop, chuuup."
She sucked him with wholehearted devotion, and it undid him utterly; the priest lasted not even a minute before his hips trembled and he spent himself. The sound of her gulping down the seed poured straight into her throat carried through the room, shamelessly clear.
Before long he withdrew and looked down at Serina.
"Kehck, kehk..."
Whether her breath had been stolen from her, her face scarlet, she coughed again and again. And before her, yet another stiffened cock was presented.
"Ah."
Serina did not refuse. She scrambled onto the bed, settled back comfortably, and lifted both legs straight up into the air. The priest clambered up in haste, and she raised her hips slightly to make it easy for him to peel her panties away.
"You may leave them hooked on my ankle."
By now, it seemed, she had awakened even to the art of coaxing a man's heart. Her underthings, soaked with the arousal that had leaked from her during the fellatio moments before, dangled from her ankle, fluttering.
"Mm, haht."
Serina accepted the man into her, and Ervan — watching the whole procession from beside the door — wore an expression of no small satisfaction.
More than twenty men a day. Serina received their lust without pause for night or day. Ervan knew exactly why the knocking at her door never ceased. Every one of them said the same thing: that lying with the other sisters — any who were not the Saintess — left them far from satisfied. It was only natural. Those women had been split open on Cardinal Frye's monstrous cock until their insides gaped, until they even tore. And so it was hardly strange that all their attention should converge upon a single woman — the saintess coupling before Ervan's very eyes, the very woman whom even that fastidious cardinal had visited nearly every day for her first month.
And what manner of man was this Order's cardinal? A husk of an old body whose sole redeeming feature hung between his legs, a man who would not deign to glance at any woman past thirty. Yet he possessed a member so wondrous it drove women to madness, and in his frenzy to find one who could take all of it, he had devoured the maidenhood of countless women. Nor did it end there. He would share a woman's bed for days on end, but let her channel loosen even slightly and his interest cut off at once — never to return. Within the Order, women who would spread their legs at his mere summons were scattered everywhere, so such cruelty cost him nothing.
That, too, was why the Order gathered in orphans. They were brainwashed into devotion to the Order alone — for the lust of one cardinal — and raised into sisters. All those painstaking labors had been rendered pale and meaningless by the arrival of a single saintess. Her physical gifts had certainly played their part, but they could never outweigh a beauty that lost nothing of its shine wherever it stood. A body one might truly believe had been carved from jewel; that alone said everything. Even Ervan thought that had it not been for his true purpose, he might have revealed a possessiveness toward her much like the Hero's own.
But unlike the cardinal and every other priest of this place, Ervan was not blinded by lust — and that was precisely why the education of the saintess could rest in his hands alone, as it did now. In the fifteen years he had lingered here, he had never once mingled flesh with any sister. Which meant the saintess called Serina had, for all intents and purposes, taken his first — and the cardinal, who knew that history, regarded his coupling with her purely as a facet of her training.
So Ervan was nothing like Cardinal Frye, who raved drunk on desire. For the sake of his purpose, he believed, giving up the saintess would cost him nothing at all. That was why he had handed her over to the Hero as well. What good would it do, even if she broke? It was enough that her stigmata revived intact. Ervan thought of the Hero and let out a short, scornful laugh. That blockhead Lean, so besotted with the saintess that he lent out the Holy Sword entire — still brimming with the Hero's power — was something he had never once foreseen. In truth, thanks to her, he had gathered divine power enough to replicate the Holy Sword; from where Ervan stood, the saintess might as well have been his savior.
"Ahn, ahn, hnngh, haahn!"
Which meant that, listening to that sweet chorus of moans, hiding his amusement was simply impossible. With a look of placid contentment, he watched Serina — hips tilted high, spurting her arousal.