Receptacle of Sins
All day long, I thrashed and fought. I screamed and screamed, begging them to please rape me. I repeated that for an entire month. Until I was groveling at their feet of my own accord.
My body, my mind — both had been thoroughly dyed by them. I was already ruined.
Because.
"Then I take it you remember full well how the Confession Rite proceeds?"
What had utterly snapped my will was never something confined to that solitary cell.
"Now, let us be moving along, shall we? Everyone is waiting for the Confession Rite."
"I-I ha-hate it! I said no! Hnngh!"
As she was dragged along by the leash Ervan had yanked taut, the month she had endured began to replay itself in her mind.
Before the eyes of everyone seated in that vast hall where the Confession Rite was held, she had to become the sinner. What those who came to confess their sins wanted was to have whatever had stained their hearts scrubbed spotless, and what would be used for their purification was the hole between her legs. She was, for all intents and purposes, a slave of this Order — a worthless trash bin made to take every last one of their sins into her body.
"Aah, aahh, hic, huaaaaah!"
In the end, she simply wept. Wept without end, as she was dragged, limp, toward the sinners waiting for her. She just sobbed and sobbed.
"Saintess. I will give you one minute. You will need time to compose yourself — so prepare to receive them."
With those words from Ervan, Serina was cast into the middle of the wide stage.
Right up until the moment she entered this space, she had been sobbing pitifully and thrashing as Ervan dragged her along by the leash. But the instant she collapsed with her hands braced against the stage, her resistance stopped as abruptly as a child's crying that cuts off mid-wail. Tears still slid down her face and dripped to the floor, yet what remained was no longer the defiance that had brimmed with rebellion — only a girl gone endlessly, utterly listless.
At the very least, Serina was that certain of her own condition. She had been listless ever since she came to this Order, and even as she fell without end, what she had feared above all was the long fall that had taken place here. That was why, even when she lost every memory of what had happened in this hall of penance, her body and mind had held on to it in the form of trauma — and why she had resolved to serve as an obedient Saintess.
Returned to the space where countless nightmare-like atrocities had been committed against her, Serina could no longer summon a shred of defiance. Remembering every moment painted over with pain called up a fear that cut to the bone. What would happen from now on, what would become of her — and then what punishment would follow, and the one after that. She knew it all.
She looked at the chair placed right beside her. It was shaped exactly like the gynecologist's chair that used to make the rounds on the internet. The only difference was that the stirrups holding the legs aloft were fitted with restraint straps.
The moment she took in the sight, the whole chain of events that had thoroughly broken the Saintess called Serina flashed through her mind and swiftly faded away. As the forgotten sensations stirred back to life, even the last ember of her resistance guttered out. Perhaps at any other time things would have been different, but she knew now that they liked it all the more when the Serina of this place cursed and wailed and fought back. Didn't that simply mean it was easy to torment the sinner called Serina without a twinge of guilt?
She gave up on resisting altogether.
"··················"
Her head was lifted, limp and unresisting. On the stage prepared for her, Serina stared blankly at the enormous curtain that hid what lay ahead. Only when that curtain was drawn aside to either side would the Confession Rite truly begin.
The pressure was suffocating. Even so, fainting from asphyxiation was hardly a good option — her state of mind would mean nothing to them at all. She had blacked out like that countless times before, and not once had it quenched their desires. If anything, they had only violated her with greater fervor, eager to lavish her with more pain and more pleasure. For her, once she stepped into this space, no such thing as an escape had ever existed. The only way to end it was to see off every guest who came looking for her.
"Eeek?!"
Serina whipped her head around with a start at Ervan, who had nudged her from right beside her.
"Now then, up you get. Your time is up."
Hauled upright by both shoulders under Ervan's grip, Serina was seated in the chair.
"You need only lie back and make yourself comfortable, as you did before."
When her body stayed rigid and would not move, Ervan pressed firmly down on her chest until she lay fully back, then spread her legs and settled them onto the stirrups at either side. He strapped her ankles down in short order, then addressed her.
"The participants have already been placed under an illusion-type holy rite, so you may proceed at your ease. Once they leave this space, they will not even remember that they coupled with a nun. They will recall only that they washed away their sins through a nun whose faces they never saw — which is to say, Saintess, all that remains for you is to offer the Goddess your boundless gratitude and restore your stigmata. Do you understand?"
Even now, he was mindful of the Order's image. She had just been gang-raped not long before; the collar was still fastened around her neck; and though semen had spilled from her in streams as she was dragged here, she was still full inside. Anyone who pressed down on her lower belly would be treated to the sight of it gushing out — and yet he did not want it known that the woman spreading her legs in this place was the Order's own Saintess.
Within the Order, using nuns as receptacles for semen was ordinary practice, but should word of it ever slip beyond these walls, it could become a very serious problem. And she was no ordinary nun — if it were known to be the Saintess herself, the city of Aileum, which moved at the heart of the Letan Church, might well be thrown into upheaval.
At the sheer, senseless conduct of men who knew all of that perfectly well, Serina felt nausea climb up her throat. And yet she swallowed and accepted reality all the same. It was not as though this Order had only just begun committing such madness — where would one even begin counting the days?
And so Serina let those revolting words pass in one ear and out the other, and Ervan, for his part, did not wait for an answer. When he raised his arm and swept it through the air in a slow circle, the curtain drew gradually aside, and before long every man who had been waiting for her stood revealed.
Serina tilted her head slightly forward and stared straight ahead. Roughly a hundred people, by her guess, sat in rows of chairs, all of them gazing up at her on the stage.
The cruelty of it seemed to gnaw at her reason. Serina clapped both hands over her mouth. She had very nearly screamed at the countless eyes fixed upon her.
The assembly had held its silence all this while.
"As you can see, she is a heretic — but the Order has chosen to grant even this wayward believer a chance. First, you will observe until the moment this believer becomes capable of offering a proper prayer through this correction; after that, I shall give you your time to confess your sins."
It was the kind of announcement that made her blood run cold no matter how many times she heard it. She, who had wanted even a sliver of comfort and had come to think of the men violating her as mere masturbation aids, would here become the aid herself — the exact inversion. She would become, in the very words she had once held in her heart, a living onahole. And a heretic, branded for defying the Order's will, no less.
Which meant that the Serina of this moment, no longer a Saintess but one nun among many, had been assigned the role of becoming fine material for their pleasure. Once they had torn through this nun's flesh and spent themselves to their hearts' content, the very relief of it would let them console themselves that their sins had been washed away.
And so, from this moment on, Serina could not hurl a single curse at the countless people about to violate her. Because, as Ervan had said, those who requested the Confession Rite had not come here seeking to rape her. At least within this moment, there was scarcely a soul who would walk out of this space bearing the sin of having ravished an innocent woman.
Serina felt her heart grow heavier than it had ever been. To be raped, and yet be unable to hold even a flicker of resentment — where in the world was there a plight more wretched? All she could do was pray that this time, they would violate her a little more gently than the last. Though with Serina about to appear in their eyes as a nun harboring impure thoughts, no one would be granting her such mercy.
Serina clenched her teeth.
"··················Huh?"
It lasted only five seconds or so. When the rolling of wheels that had been droning on for some time came to a halt, Serina's eyes flew wide open.
Mounted on the table against which Ervan had been leaning was a long rod, and fixed to the tip of that rod was a dildo the size of the cardinal's cock.
Gulp. She seemed to have swallowed without meaning to.
Staring at the dildo aimed at her crotch, Serina forgot how to breathe for a long moment. Whether some holy rite had been laid upon it or not, the rod could be seen vibrating at intervals.
"Did that startle you?"
"Wh-what on earth is that·········?"
"It appears you were not listening properly to a word I said, Saintess."
She recalled what Ervan had told her. He had said, quite clearly, that the gang rape from before would be a mere taste of what came after. Hadn't that been referring to this Confession Rite?
Serina wondered — but Ervan offered no answer. In an instant his hand closed around the rod and moved toward her, and the glans touched her slit almost at once.
Serina, certain it would be driven inside then and there, opened her tightly shut eyes and looked down when nothing happened. From the glans rubbing against her folds, she felt a heat as though it belonged to a living man.
"Do you know why I granted you that minute to gather your thoughts, Saintess?"