Trash Can of Sins
Schlick.
"Haah, aahh... haaahhh...!"
It was nothing more than two fingers pushing inside me, scraping along my walls. And yet my body was already ruled by pleasure. At some point my back had arched clean over until it pressed against the bare floor, and even that ice-cold touch could do nothing to reach me.
Even knowing full well that the longer I kept at it — caressing myself, driving the pleasure on — the deeper my torment would grow, I could not stop the hand stirring inside my cunt, or the other clutching and wrenching at my breast. I had been whipped into such heat that even pleasure laced with agony had to be accepted, an arousal I could no longer endure.
The more the fingers lodged between my legs — splayed wide in an M — worked inside me, the more my body writhed and coiled, hips lifting along a spine bent past its limit. Toes curled tight, head thrown back with my eyes half-rolled: each of these was a brushstroke in the picture the onlookers saw, enough to paint me as nothing more than a wretched, vulgar bitch in heat. From all around came the wet, slick sounds of men stroking themselves as they watched me spread so wide my crotch might tear.
"Nnghh! Hyaaah! Hyaanghh...!"
But that wasn't the problem. Whether the holy rite was growing stronger by the moment, no matter how many times I came, my body only burned hotter. Like the heat forced upon me, the orgasms sweeping through me refused to stop churning out their waves of pleasure.
Each time a finger tapped against my inner wall, a jet of fluid gushed out. When the two fingers alternated, sliding back and forth, my vision blurred in an instant and a trembling I couldn't bear came crashing down on me. When I blacked out for a moment and forced my eyes open again, there I still was — jamming my fingers into my cunt and stirring them around.
As if this body, this mind... had stopped being mine. As if I would go mad just like this.
And so.
"Hyaangh, nngh, hyaaanghh...!"
By the time those bishops began taking turns violating me, I had already become a frail little girl.
Goddess, Goddess, Goddess, Goddess, Goddess...
A girl who poured endless devotion upon her one and only Goddess, who had always watched over her with love. A girl who hated loneliness so much that she wanted to live her whole life surrounded by people. That ordinary life was my greatest happiness — that was who I was, beneath the mask of the Saintess called Serina.
I wasn't mature in the least. I had never become an adult. All I ever did was whine and cling, begging not to be left alone. Because I couldn't bear to be cast aside, I played the Saintess. Not once — not ever — had I truly wished for their wellbeing. Unable to erase the lonely girl I used to be, I had lived every moment of my life putting myself first.
Is that why the Goddess abandoned me? Is that why she sent down this ordeal?
Goddess, Goddess...
"Haaanghh!"
The moment I felt lukewarm fluid pour in deep, my upper body jolted and a stream sprayed from my cunt, tilted up as far as it would go. Even as my raised hips sank back down, the trembling wouldn't subside. I could feel my buttocks and lower back growing damp — and mixed in was a warmth far too hot to be mere arousal.
Had I wet myself again?
"You needn't worry yourself, Saintess. We shall see to every unclean thing ourselves."
At the bishop's word, light wrapped around my body in an instant, and the unpleasant sensation was gone. In its place, that familiar heat raised its head once more.
"So all you need do, Saintess, is admit your fault and attend faithfully to your duties until this hour is over."
There was no doubt the rite had taken hold of me again. It felt as though a fire had been kindled in my lower belly, and the moment that heat spread to the crown of my head, my thoughts grew simple. I couldn't fall any deeper than this — and out of that, a desperate need to clutch at any straw was born.
"Nngh... Go...dess... hah... haah..."
I called for her. Once again, there was no answer.
"Should you not be praying all the more earnestly than that?!"
"Hyah! Ah, hah, G-Go...Goddess... dess...!"
And still, they refused to acknowledge how hard I was struggling.
This time my body was flipped over. My legs were stretched out straight, and a massive frame settled over me.
"Hik?! Hyaaah!"
A cock even harder than the last man's slammed into me in a single thrust, and the pistoning began at once. My breath caught in my throat, and the will to survive surged up. Desperately, I stretched both hands forward.
"Uuugghh..."
As if I might live if I could just crawl along the floor. I clawed at it until my nails nearly tore free, trying to drag my body after them.
"It seems the Saintess must first be taught the proper posture for receiving her education."
"Ugh, nngh, hyaaanghh!"
Were they trying to kill me? By now the countless hands upon my body, all carrying the same fever, were roaming over me — and every single touch seemed to whip my heat higher. With my mind burning away, the instant the man pinning me down finished, my consciousness scattered entirely. When that huge body finally withdrew, what remained was me — limbs sprawled every which way, body flopping like a fish.
"Heghh... ugh... hehh..."
"I do hope you'll try harder. Unless you'd care for a taste of that slime."
It was the beginning of hell.
For two days and nights I was gang-raped without pause, day and night alike. The horrific memories of the baptism ceremony were dredged up and relived — then painted over with memories of a present even more horrific. Every time I passed out and came to, the hour and the position had changed.
"Hah, ha! Ah! Hik, hik!"
One man hoisted me up to face him and pounded his cock into me. Another worked my mouth and my cunt at once from front and back, dragging my head around without mercy. Every time I lost consciousness, or my calls for the Goddess grew visibly fewer, the intensity of the rite was ratcheted up a little more. And I had to have that pleasure carved deep into my mind, branded there so it would never fade.
Ten times. Twenty. The more rounds of coupling I had to endure, the more often I collapsed foaming at the mouth. If a mirror had been anywhere nearby, perhaps I would have stared, dumbfounded, at the wreck looking back at me. In all that time, I never once managed to swallow properly. Perhaps it would be more accurate to say that I was dead. Little of it stayed with me.
Hair snapping off strand by strand. Tears streaming down my face. The sickening sensation of the semen filling me to the brim being forced back up. And there was a question that had grown enormous.
".........?"
Now, abandoned in the great hall after the assault had finally ended, this was what I was thinking. Something was wrong. Why had things turned out this way? I had done everything I could. Then why — why in the world?
Since the baptism ceremony until this very day, I had embraced hundreds of men. Men even came from other regions just to have a taste of me. Every day I smiled for them and spread my legs, because that was what they wanted. And yet... why...
.....................
".........Saintess?"
".....................ah."
Something was wrong. Since when had I started thinking like this? Why had I come to hate Lean — one man — more than the whole of the Order? It was true that Lean had made me suffer. But had this Order ever once made things easy for me? No. Of course it hadn't. It was absurd to weigh one man against an uncountable mass in the first place. So why had I chosen to accept violations like these with a smile?
"Sa...int...ess..."
".....................ah."
I remembered. This was not the first time. It had been done to me countless times since the baptism — even worse than this.
Face-down on the floor, I lifted my head.
"Have you come back to yourself?"
I looked up at Ervan, my eyes brimming with questions.
"What... what have you... done to me?"
"Whatever do you mean?"
"This... this isn't the first time... is it. For me, this isn't... the first time..."
A vile smile spread across Ervan's face.
"Has your memory returned? How remarkable. To think you could overcome the holy rite the Cardinal so painstakingly wove around you."
I could feel my expression hardening, fast. Memories bored their way deep into my skull and began to play like a film reel. A body pickled in aphrodisiacs, layered with a rite that forced me into heat. In that state, the gang rapes had carried on like this for a week straight. And even after that, the drugs and the rite never once left my body.
That body, grown so sensitive that the slightest brush of a hand was enough — locked away in a solitary cell. Limbs bound in iron chains. I doubt I hold a more horrific memory than that. No one came to violate me, and I — defiant, back then — cursed myself for it. I thrashed about all day long. I screamed, over and over, begging them, please, rape me. I repeated that for a whole month. Until I prostrated myself at their feet of my own accord.
My body, my mind — they had been thoroughly dyed in them. I was already broken. Because...
"Then I take it you remember exactly how the Confession Rite proceeds?"
...what had utterly snapped my will was never what happened in that cell.
"Now then, let us be on our way. Everyone is waiting for the Confession Rite."
"I-I won't! I said no! Nngh!"
As Ervan dragged me along by the leash, the month I had endured began to replay itself. In that vast hall where the Confession Rite was held, before the eyes of everyone gathered there, I was made into a sinner. What those who came to confess their sins wanted was to scrub away whatever had stained their hearts — and what was used for their purification were the holes attached to my body. I was nothing more than a slave of this Order. A worthless trash can, made to receive everyone's sins with my whole body.
"Aah, hyaangh, nngh, hyaaanghh!"
In the end, I simply wept and wept — dragged, limp, toward the sinners waiting for me. I did nothing but cry, and cry.