Theresa could distinctly feel the man’s lips, tongue, and teeth ravaging her sensitive nipple with reckless abandon.
This was the first time she had ever been treated . Her untouched nipples, never before stimulated or caressed, hardened almost instantly under the assault.
She bit her lower lip, refusing to let any shameful sounds escape. But then, Hattie lowered her head as well, taking Theresa’s other tender nipple into her mouth.
"Hattie, you—oh—ah—!"
Assaulted from both sides at once, Theresa’s eyes flew wide open. A soft moan slipped past her lips before she could stop it. Horrified by the lewd sound, she clenched her teeth and looked down—only to see the man in priestly robes and the woman in a nun’s habit, their saintly attire a stark contrast to their actions, each suckling at her breasts like infants.
The overwhelming visual and physical stimulation made her brow furrow deeper as she instinctively fought against the pleasure surging through her chest.
"Don’t panic. This is a necessary part of the process."
Sophia had climbed onto the bed at some point, whispering soothing words into Theresa’s ear. Sephera leaned over her shoulder from behind, watching with a smile as the two feasted on Theresa’s breasts.
"That’s right! Before you returned, Master, Hattie was the only one who got to enjoy this treatment. She’s been dying to try it on someone else for ages. Won’t you indulge her?"
Theresa gasped faintly, her body already responding to their ministrations. The crotch of her black cotton panties was visibly damp.
"I don’t... have any milk to... oh—"
Unconsciously, her thighs clamped together, rubbing against the fabric of her panties as an unfamiliar itch spread through her body, demanding relief.
Below, Ruth hooked her thumbs under the band of Theresa’s soaked panties, dragging them down in a deliberate show. Her lush thighs, generous hips, the small patch of soft golden hair at her mound—all came uncovered, the slit at the center nearly hidden by trembling, clamped thighs.
The most revered and saintly nun now lay completely naked—the only one in the room stripped bare while the others remained fully clothed, their solemn garments heightening the tension in the air.
Ekta and Andny lifted Theresa’s thighs, spreading them apart. Sophia supported her back, guiding her to lie down on the bed. Charles released her nipple from his mouth, only for Sephera to immediately take his place, ensuring the stimulation never ceased.
The brief interruption made Theresa glance down, but Sephera had coveted her breasts for far too long. Resigned, Theresa closed her eyes and let herself relax, surrendering to the witches’ attentions—
A shock surged from her lower body. Theresa arched, legs clapping together but unable to close—and then realized someone’s head was trapped between her trembling thighs. She looked down, past the crowns of Hattie and Sephera, to see the man burying his face between her legs, tongue swirling and toying with her hypersensitive clit.
"No, please—you can’t, oh—"
Her words faded as Sophia swooped in, sealing Theresa’s lips in a deep, hungry kiss, driving her own tongue between them, swallowing all protest.
Ekta and Andny each held one of Theresa’s feet, pressing her thighs apart and baring her to Charles’s skilled, devouring tongue. He wasted nothing, flicking and teasing her clit with expertise, the tip of his thick cock already oozing as he knelt between her legs.
Helpless beneath Sophia’s kiss, Theresa whimpered incoherently, her hips bucking as a sweet, sticky flow of arousal welled from her slit. She was slick, her entire body exposed in readiness, and the sight—sweet nun splayed and needy for the coven—was enough to make Charles’s cock twitch and thicken even more. He focused his tongue, stoking spasms that rippled all the way up her trembling spine.
It was all part of the plan—the tongue’s submission, not the fingertips, a show of humility and worship for Theresa, the night’s living icon. The effect was immediate and complete.
At Charles’s unspoken command, Ruth, the only one still idle, moved forward. With a smooth motion, she undid his trousers, freeing his thick, veined cock. It leapt out, glistening and throbbing with urgent need.
Hattie, Sephera, and Sophia each let go, the hungry mouths drawing away at last, giving Theresa a moment’s dazed reprieve after her very first shattering climax. Her clouded eyes barely focused, a touch resentful, she gazed at the man responsible for tonight’s transgressions.
She saw, poised at her entrance, the swollen shaft of pure, thick sin—Charles’s cock, flushed and massive, pressing against her sacred hymen. The intensity brought her sharply back.
"No!" she pleaded, shaking her head and pressing her palm to Charles’s belly, halting him. Her mind recoiled, overwhelmed: "I can’t do it, please—get out!"
This was no mere nun’s coy refusal—this was the most powerful witch of the monastery. If truly angered, she could unleash power enough to slay Charles where he stood.
For a breathless instant, the room froze. All the witches gazed at Charles, waiting for a command—ready to restrain Theresa by force if the plan failed.
But, in the next heartbeat, Sephera broke the silence with a tranquil smile. "Still frightened, dearest Master? Are you not ready yet? That’s all right—let me demonstrate for you. Maybe, when you see how wonderful it is, you’ll feel differently."
She twisted around, crawling above Theresa, her head buried between Theresa’s voluptuous breasts. Her hips arched high, knees digging into the bed, her soft rear swaying with invitation. "Priest, let’s show our Master how much pleasure there is in this."
With practiced elegance, Charles lifted the hem of Sephera’s habit. She wore nothing beneath—the bare, glistening lips between her thighs shimmered with desire. Charles didn’t hesitate; he aligned his thick cock with her slick entrance. He eased in for just a moment—then slammed in the entire length with a single, forceful thrust.
Theresa watched, transfixed. Above her, Sephera closed her eyes, a blissful moan bubbling from her throat as her breasts jiggled over Theresa’s face. Charles’s hips pistoned, the shockwaves shuddering through Sephera’s frame and sending rhythmic tremors across the mattress.
The air was filled with the sound of flesh clapping on flesh, wild and ecstatic, a staccato symphony of primal passion.
Tonight, the sky outside was starless and moonless—clouds choked off even the faintest glimmer of silver. In the harbor city of Liberl, darkness reigned. In the squalid South Harbor District, artificial lights were scarcer still—a blessing for thieves but a curse for honest, hard-working folk.
For Nidalee, it was perfect.
Cloaked in shadow, she trailed her prey, scenting magic on the night air. She transformed into a sleek leopard—a predator unbound by law, racing swift as wind through twisted alleys, making her way to the South Harbor District.
The trail drew her to this place, this monastery. Her senses tingled with the proximity of her quarry. Vaulting the three-meter wall in a single fluid leap, she landed silently inside and stalked closer. Her flaring nostrils picked up not only her target, but others—one, two, three... seven people, all clustered in a single room.
Not ideal—too many witnesses. It would complicate the strike.
First, observe. See what he’s doing, then decide the next move.
With this in mind, Nidalee—now a sleek leopard—padded forward silently. Her massive forepaws settled on the windowsill as she raised her head gradually, peering inside.
Then, her pupils contracted violently.
Inside, Charles—naked—clutched a girl in a nun’s habit, exposing her thighs and torso. Lifting her easily in his arms, he thrust into her from the front. The girl’s head lolled back, supported by another’s arms. Two delicate fingers toyed with her reddened nipples, making them bounce and harden with each frantic thrust.
The pleasure was written on the girl’s features, but not a sound escaped her lips—for a third girl was sealing her mouth in a ferocious, passionate kiss.
Across the room, a curvaceous, naked woman covered her gaping mouth, stunned by the spectacle. Next to her, two more nuns in black habits—bare-thighed and half-naked—lay sprawled in a daze, lips parted in the afterglow, their bodies glistening with perspiration and ecstasy. One was Sephera—Nidalee’s acquaintance.
This was madness. Why would such wanton scenes unfold in a place said to be sacred—a haven for pious souls and holy rites?
Nidalee trembled, certain she must be dreaming. Yet everything was too vivid, too intoxicating. The beautiful nuns, their blissful cries of pleasure—it pulverized her composure, warped everything she’d ever learned of city and church.
No, this could not be real.
And yet she stared, cheeks burning, unable to look away. What postures! What cries! Her own heart thundered inside her chest as desire began to pulse through her veins.
Just—one—more—look. Just one more, and then I’ll go...
Shapeshifting back to her human form, Nidalee found a more comfortable position outside the window, blushing and wide-eyed, unable to tear herself away from the spectacle within.
And inside that fevered room, Theresa reeled. She watched, hand clamped over her mouth, as one by one, the witches—Sephera, Hattie, Ekta, Andny—were taken by Charles and succumbing rapidly, overcome by the dual assault of cock and tongue. One by one, they shuddered in rapture, collapsing boneless to the bed.
Is this really what my sisters do when I’m not here?
Surely not... No, it was utterly terrifying.
She eyed Andny, who grinned from ear to ear in delirious afterglow, and helpless confusion ate away at Theresa’s resolve.
Can it be that blissful? Truly that wonderful?
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