Witch Monastery

Malena smiled. "Relax. This isn’t my first time raising kids. No matter how hard it gets, how bad can it really be? It’s not going to be worse than the last two years."

Charles smiled as well. "Isn’t the whole point of me being around to make sure it doesn’t have to be that hard for you?"

Malena’s smile deepened. She lowered her head, resting her forehead lightly against his shoulder, and murmured, "No need. You don’t know the first thing about raising kids. If you stuck to me all day, you’d just get in the way."

"Just focus on your own stuff. As long as you have time to come see your daughter, I don’t really need anything else."

Charles slid one arm around her, pulling her close. A warm, contented feeling spread through his chest, something calm and hard to put into words.

In front of them, Guinevere finally finished feeding and let Malena’s nipple slip from her mouth. Her eyes stayed closed, but her breathing was smoothing out.

She’d been able to open her eyes for months now, but Charles had bad timing this visit. The little girl had decided to go right to sleep once she was full and didn’t spare her father a single glance.

Humming a lullaby under her breath, Malena gently rocked Guinevere until her breathing turned completely even. Then she laid the baby down in the cradle beside the bed, tucked the quilt around her, and turned to Charles. "There’s something I wanted to talk over with you."

Charles’s expression shifted. "Go on. Got an idea?"

"It’s like this," Malena said. "Following your concepts, over this past year or so, I’ve designed at least a hundred different outfits."

"To be honest, Charles, you really are a genius. I have no idea how your brain can hold that many cute clothes..."

Charles looked away, a bit guilty. "Ah... it just comes in little flashes of inspiration. Actually putting them down as blueprints, that’s your credit, Malena. It’s mainly because your sense of aesthetics is so good..."

He did feel guilty—because all those outfits he’d "had her design": the teacher uniforms, nurse uniforms, stewardess uniforms, skintight leather, bunny suits, one‑piece black tights, full stockings, garter belts, thigh‑highs, leg rings, on and on... none of them were some sudden "inspiration" he’d cooked up out of thin air.

They all came straight from his previous life, from the countless works he’d ogled back then.

After transmigrating into this world, all the pretty outfits he’d seen in his old days had completely vanished from his sight here, which honestly left him feeling pretty regretful. So now and then, chatting idly with Malena, he just couldn’t help but drop a few "ideas" and ask her to try designing them.

And Malena really had the talent for it. She didn’t just turn his ideas into reality; she fused them with her own taste and kept putting out variants that surprised him every time, stoking a fire in his chest that refused to burn out.

Hearing him say that, Malena chuckled, pride swelling in her heart at being recognized. She shifted sideways to lean against his shoulder and said softly, "Anyway, if these clothes only stay with us, or just circulate in this tiny corner of South Harbor District, that’s a total waste."

"In fact, I’ve poked around a bit. People from other districts are already buying from us, then reselling them at a markup to folks who really like them—and all that profit in between goes straight into their pockets. We don’t see a single coin of it."

She sniffed faintly, irritation written clear across her face. "How can we just let them take our work and run around making money off it like that?"

Charles nodded; he completely understood how she felt. "Yeah, I agree. So what are you planning? Open branch shops in the other districts?"

Malena shook her head. "No. That’s too much work—hiring so many people, moving them all around. It’s inefficient, and I don’t want that hassle."

She lifted her chin, a rare, proud gleam in her eyes. "They should be the ones coming to me. They should be the ones asking me what the price is for these outfits."

Charles inclined his head slightly. For the first time, he really saw the air of a noble’s daughter in her—the attitude that should’ve come with her birth. "That’s a better idea than mine. So, what are you going to do?"

Malena leaned closer and dropped her voice. "I want to put on a fashion show. Big scale, big hype—ideally, we lure in a few nobles too."

"Then we hire some models to walk the runway in the outfits you designed, and use that to make a name for our brand."

"What do you think of that plan?"

Charles nodded. "Not bad. Sounds doable. You have a venue in mind yet?"

Malena thought for a moment, then suddenly said, "Didn’t the Cassalanter Family go under? Their theater used to belong to my family. Who owns it now?"

Charles rubbed his chin. "I honestly haven’t kept track. And hey, don’t say it like that—the Cassalanters aren’t completely wiped out yet. That theater now... I’ll ask around. I remember they sold off a lot of things to pay their debts, so... hmm..."

He looked down at Malena. "If I buy that theater back and hand it over to you, do you think you can run it?"

As he spoke, a new idea flashed through his mind. "Oh—and the fuss from before has mostly died down. If you’re willing, I can hand the White Swans Ballet Company, and even the atonement nuns, over to you to command as well."

He really didn’t understand the arts. Keeping those resources in his own hands just meant wasting them. Better to give them to Malena to manage—they’d burn much brighter that way.

Malena’s eyes lit up. "Yes, please. Those girls are all great material..."

Her excitement built as she scooted over to his side, wrapped an arm around his shoulder, and said, "Sweetheart, we..."

Charles glanced over at Lisa and saw that the little girl’s breathing was even—she’d probably already fallen asleep.

He gently laid her down on the bed and pulled the little quilt over her, then bowed his head and buried his face in Malena’s chest, tugging her clothes aside. "Alright, the little ones are all asleep. That means it’s our time now."

As he spoke, one hand closed over the huge breasts that had swelled even fuller these last two months from constant nursing. He kneaded lightly twice, and sweet milk immediately beaded at her nipples.

Malena pressed her lips together in a soft laugh. "You’re already a big lord, and you’re still fighting your own daughter for milk."

Charles pouted, knowing she was teasing and not taking offense. "Training all day wears me out. I need to top up my nutrition at night."

He opened his mouth and took one dark red nipple between his lips.

"Mmm..."

A low hum slipped from Malena’s throat as her breathing grew heavier. Charles wasn’t just sucking—he licked, nibbled, and teased her in every way he knew, stirring her desire with practiced techniques.

Her heart was full of anticipation. After giving birth, she’d gone more than a month without making love with him for health reasons.

Now he was back, they’d finally caught such a perfect moment together, and she had no intention of letting it go to waste.

She reached for his clothes, unfastening them as she responded to his touches. Her dexterous little hand wrapped around the angry dragon rearing up below his waist and began to stroke him slowly.

A short while later, thoroughly warmed up, Malena got to her feet, braced her hands on the wall, bent forward, and pushed her ass back, naturally settling into the most comfortable posture to receive him.

Charles gripped her waist, aligned himself with the entrance to her garden, and drove his thick cock straight in.

"Oh..."

A satisfied moan bubbled from Malena’s throat. A crisp rhythm of flesh‑on‑flesh impacts followed, her massive chest swinging back and forth in time with each thrust, endlessly enticing.

They lost themselves in each other’s bodies, in the shared ecstasy, forgetting time and ignoring everything around them. 仪j笼壹思无氿死就岜q}un

So neither of them noticed that behind them, Lisa—who’d "fallen asleep" earlier—had at some point quietly opened her eyes. Her blue pupils glittered with excited light as she watched, tense and curious, taking everything in...

A long while later, after they’d already gone through several positions, Charles finally unleashed himself inside Malena. Then he helped her limp, boneless body back onto the bed, tucked her in with a quilt, and placed a light farewell kiss on her lips.

Only then did he turn and stride out of the room.

He still had another appointment to make tonight—other business to take care of.

Meanwhile, elsewhere.

"Mmm..."

In a dark cell, only a few braziers cast enough light to faintly reveal the surroundings. In the shadows, a woman in a loose, horizontally striped prison shirt lay on a narrow cot, clothes pushed up as she used her own fingertips to soothe her aching, famished body.

She wore only the prison shirt on her upper body; her lower half was completely bare, two snow‑white thighs exposed to the air. At the moment, the hem of the shirt was hitched up, baring her toned lower abdomen and firm, high breasts.

Looking closely, her lower belly was actually marked with a pink womb‑shaped sigil. The hair around her triangle was shaved clean, her full, athletic white thighs parted, and her slick, glistening secret garden revealed without restraint.

One of her hands cupped her breasts, teasing the pink, swollen peaks at the tips; the other slid between her legs, clumsily tormenting another pair of engorged, overly sensitive "nipples" of flesh.

She was defiling her own body to feed her desire.

The woman was, of course, Sulpharlo.

Ever since she’d been taken out of that lonely pocket world, Charles had kept her locked in this dungeon for some time now.

During that period, sometimes it was Charles, sometimes it was other nuns—but whoever came, they were all equally wicked. Whenever they came down, they’d tie her up and blaspheme her body with fingers or some other tool.

She’d experienced every manner of toy: thick tentacles, vibrating spheres, tingling potions, ice‑cold candles, even some bizarre, nameless worms that had been pressed against her body more than once, sending her into one climax after another until she could barely think.

And every time she peaked, they’d keep going—writing those strange sigils on her thighs as a mark of shame.

As the visits piled up, at the very least, Sulpharlo had grown less mortified by them scribbling on her. She calmly accepted their desecration—had even started to enjoy the pleasure it brought.

The main reason was that, alongside the shame, there was a sliver of comfort at the bottom of her heart: at least when they were tormenting her, they were also willing to talk, to bicker, to casually drop little bits of news about the outside world, tell her how Malena and her Dark Angels were doing.

That feeling of having company was still better than months of absolute silence in a featureless white world. Having tasted companionship again, she even began to look forward to the nuns’ visits—wondering what new information they might bring next time.

The problem was, she could clearly feel that they were coming to toy with her body less and less.

At first, Charles had happily pushed her to climax three times in a row. After a few days, it dropped to twice. By now, they only let her peak once, then stopped cold, leaving her full of emptiness and need before turning on their heels and leaving!

Her body had been riled up so badly it was impossible for that need to just die off. On top of that, whenever she dozed off under the weight of exhausted desire, she’d dream she was reveling with a whole crowd of nuns...

Finally, after being ground down by that double torment of body and soul, Sulpharlo couldn’t hold back anymore. She started defiling herself with her own hands.

She tried to mimic Charles’s motions, and those of the nuns, touching herself over and over on her most sensitive spots, hoping to bring herself any kind of release.

But the moment she tried it herself, she realized just how skilled Charles and the nuns really were. A light touch from them carried her straight to the peak.

Now that she had to do it alone, not only were the feelings limited and dull, her clumsy touches actually hurt.

The more she touched herself, the worse she felt. The worse she felt, the emptier she became. The emptier she felt, the more eager she was to relieve it—and the more she wanted to keep touching herself...

Caught in that vicious spiral, she felt like she was on the verge of losing her mind.

Click—

The cell gate suddenly opened, and a silhouette came down the stairs. Snapped out of her agony spiral, Sulpharlo turned her head to look, and saw Charles standing in the doorway, looking at her in surprised silence.

Sulpharlo froze for an instant. Then a tidal wave of shame and fury surged up, and she glared at him, voice shaking with rage. "What are you here for this time?!"

Her tone wasn’t just angry—it was soaked with the wronged frustration of someone denied what they desperately craved.

She was about to be driven insane. Her body was screaming for caresses, but Charles and the nuns’ superb skills had already spoiled her horrifically—her threshold for pleasure had climbed so high that she couldn’t satisfy herself at all.

Thinking of the torment she’d endured these past days, her eyes stung wet at the corners.

At the doorway, taking in Sulpharlo’s disheveled clothes, flushed face, aggrieved expression, and even those threatening tears, Charles understood that the fruit he’d planted himself was finally starting to sprout.

That meant it was time to take the next step.

"Obviously, I’m here to punish you, Sulpharlo," he said, stepping inside and walking over to press her shoulders down. "Don’t think about running."

He gave her a gentle push and toppled the fallen angel back onto the cot. Her physical endurance should have far surpassed his, but right now, Sulpharlo had no will to fight back at all.

His hand slid beneath her clothes and immediately found that the secret garden there had already flooded its banks.

"Get out!"

Sulpharlo ground her teeth and still didn’t resist. The chains at her wrists and ankles had long since been removed, but she was smart enough not to lash out. "I don’t need you!"

She lifted a leg, her bare, tender, snow‑white foot pushing weakly at his thigh, as if to kick him away, but there was no real strength behind it, so it did next to nothing.

And a heartbeat later, Charles’s middle finger pressed right against that swollen knot of flesh at her lower lips.

"Ah—"

A jolt of electricity ran through the fallen angel from head to toe. Intense, tingling pleasure flooded her mind, making every limb go limp.

No matter what her mouth said, her body had long since fallen utterly in love with that sensation. The moment he touched her, her strength vanished.

One of Charles’s hands teased her soaked lower lips; the other climbed up to her chest, massaging that springy, full breast and rolling the engorged "grape" at the tip between his fingers.

Excitement roared up through Sulpharlo’s spirit. Her fallen angel’s body couldn’t stop itself from twisting back and forth. "Oh... oh..."

She trembled, and just as she was about to crest, Charles’s hands suddenly left her. The pleasure ebbed away like a receding tide, and Sulpharlo felt her mind teeter on the edge of madness. "No—"

There was a trace of pleading in her voice now; based on experience, whenever he pulled away like this, Charles would leave.

Torn apart by need, she couldn’t stop herself from begging. But unexpectedly, this time, something different happened. As if answering her silent cry, Charles’s hands settled back down on her body, and he started teasing her again—

"Oh... oh—"

She panted, that athletic waist of hers bucking on its own to meet his touch. Her mind went blank; she barely had the space to wonder why he’d always chosen to leave before, and why he was staying now instead.

She had no energy left for that. She only wanted her body’s gnawing hunger to finally be fed.

She moaned and responded to him, and very soon, despair hit her again—because his movements were unbelievably slow this time. So slow it felt like scratching through a boot, a faint tickle that did nothing to ease her thirst.

"Faster..."

The plea slipped from her throat on its own. "Faster, please..."

Charles’s brows rose. "Are you... begging me?"

Shock jolted through Sulpharlo. She’d actually begged a man for something like this. But before she could recover, Charles abruptly sped up, and a roaring wave of pleasure smashed through her flimsy rational defenses, dragging a helpless cry from her lips. "Ah—"

This was what she’d been craving. She was about to hit the summit—only for Charles to pull away again at that exact moment.

A crushing emptiness hit her like a tsunami, nearly obliterating her will. She dropped her head, her voice thick with tears. "What do you even want?!"

She’d been pushed to the brink. At this point, she’d probably accept whatever he did.

But Charles wasn’t planning to claim her tonight. Seeing the look in her eyes, he shook his head slightly. "I don’t want anything, Sulpharlo."

"It’s just... you’ve been cooped up here for so long. Always in the dungeon, never seeing the sun. It’s pitiful, really."

"So why don’t we go out for a walk tonight?"

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