Witch Monastery

Anno closed her eyes and whispered, "Come in."

As soon as the words left her mouth, her face flared red. She turned her head sharply to the side, unable to look at him any longer.

Charles chuckled softly. He grabbed a pillow from the bedside and slid it under her lower abdomen, lifting her hips so her ass stuck up higher. Her damp garden’s entrance tipped up as well, angling her just right for him.

Then he guided the head of his slick, saliva‑wet thick cock to that narrow slit, pried apart her closed petals, and pushed his weight down, driving himself in—

"Mmm—"

As the emptiness inside her was filled by her lover, a long, breathless moan slipped from Anno’s throat.

Charles slid a hand beneath her upper body, kneading that springy pair of jade‑smooth breasts as his hips began to move, slowly thrusting in and out of her.

He felt Anno’s body closing in on him from every side. Even with how wet her passage was, that tight channel and all its tiny ridges did their best to hold him back, giving him heavy resistance with every stroke.

The pressure only made his satisfaction swell. It made him want to pound harder, drive deeper, conquer her completely. His thrusts grew stronger, every push and pull splashing slick heat around them. His pace quickened, his hips slapping against Anno’s ass, sending ripples through that plump, upturned flesh—indecently erotic to watch.

Under Charles’s practiced, skillful assault, Anno quickly hit her first peak. She turned her head back toward him, eyes hazy, lips parted as if parched, thirst written all over her expression.

Charles bent down and claimed her mouth, kissing her deeply. With their bodies locked together, above and below, he sent her straight into the heights of bliss.

After a long while, their lips parted. Charles paused, letting her catch her breath. Then he tugged the pillow away and had her roll over, lying on her back to face him.

He lifted one of her legs onto his shoulder, opening her completely, then plunged into her again.

A seductive moan escaped her as they merged once more.

He had no idea how much time passed. In that second position, Anno reached another crest, then finally sagged in utter contentment, spent.

Charles, meanwhile, didn’t hold back—he released himself deep inside her, right at her core.

Only then did they return to a normal position. Anno curled her arms around his neck, her face shining with satisfaction. Watching the same contentment mirrored on his features, the words tumbled out of her before she could stop them. "Good thing I can go with you to Bharata this time, or else..."

Halfway through, she realized how that sounded. She clamped her mouth shut, cheeks burning scarlet.

Charles smiled and lightly flicked her little nose. "Or else what? Go on, finish."

Anno shook her head over and over, refusing to say another word. Of course he knew exactly what she’d been thinking, and mischief sparked in his chest. "Honestly, even with you coming along, we’re going to have to keep it down. You scream so loud every time—what if your coworkers hear us on the ship?"

Anno flushed with shame and anger, clawing at his arm in protest. Charles didn’t let it slide—he retaliated by digging his fingers into her ticklish spots, under her arms and along the soft flesh at her hips, making her squirm as they horsed around.

Their team to Bharata with Anno wasn’t made up of full Blackstaff Tower mages, but other spellcasters from Force Grey: a draconic bloodline warlock, a moon‑domain cleric, and a tragedy college bard.

According to Anno, they were rising stars in Force Grey—each had earned major credit during last year’s demon crisis, which was why they’d been chosen for this mission.

Even so, Anno didn’t know them well. They were just nodding acquaintances at best. She’d poured almost all her energy into training a reliable force of battle nuns, leaving little time for socializing with colleagues.

But that didn’t make Charles’s teasing any easier to brush off. Just picturing herself and Charles on the ship to Bharata, her cries of pleasure echoing through the thin bulkheads for coworkers she barely knew to hear... Anno’s skin prickled with heat. Mortification roiled through her, and she pounded his chest with her fists. "You’re not allowed to make fun of me!"

Charles just laughed, playing with her a bit longer. Eventually, exhaustion caught up with her. She didn’t fight it—after a few heavy blinks, her eyes slid shut. Clinging to his arm, she drifted into a deep sleep.

She slept; Charles did not. Only when her breathing turned slow and even did he slowly turn his head and call softly toward the underside of the bed. "You can come out now."

A pink‑haired head peeked out, a mischievous smile on her face. It was, of course, Sephera.

Tonight she’d hidden under Charles’s bed again. This time, though, she hadn’t spent the whole time pounding the floor in tortured frustration—she’d spent it getting herself in the mood.

Tonight, she was going to try what Hattie had already done.

Sephera was still in her nun’s habit, but she’d come prepared—there was nothing at all underneath.

A smug smile tugged at her lips as she slid up onto the mattress, pushing Charles onto his back and straddling him. She shot a provocative glance at the sleeping Anno, her expression gaining a sharper, taunting edge.

Ever since that one night back from the ship, Hattie had told them everything about Anno’s little quirk: once she fell asleep, she slept so deeply not even an earthquake could wake her. The witches had heard rumors before, but never dared test if it was truly impossible to rouse her.

Now that Hattie’s live experiment had confirmed Anno really wouldn’t wake, the witches had all gotten bold. They each wanted to try the wildest thrill—doing it with Charles right next to Anno, in front of her, even if she was unconscious.

Sephera tugged open the front of her nun’s habit, revealing a pair of small, perfect breasts that fit neatly into one hand. She guided Charles’s palm up to cup her chest, her eyes sultry, lips curving as she murmured, "I thought you two were gonna chat a while longer."

Charles shook his head with a smile. He didn’t know her exact plans for tonight, but his system map had already told him a witch was hiding under his bed. "Nah. Anno keeps a pretty regular schedule. Once she gets off, she crashes fast—she doesn’t stay awake long."

He squeezed a little, savoring the feel of that petite softness in his hand. Knowing for certain Anno wouldn’t wake up had made him bolder. His old hesitation faded, and he stopped worrying she might suddenly open her eyes. He’d begun to allow the nuns to indulge in more daring games.

Like now—he was more than willing to push the edge.

Sephera didn’t waste any more time. After listening under the bed for so long, she’d been on the verge of breaking, teasing herself with her fingertips until she was half out of her mind.

Her body was more than ready; her garden’s entrance was slick and parted, like a starving mouth begging to be fed.

She settled onto Charles’s waist, lifted her hips, set his thick cock upright, and slowly sank down—

"Oh—"

Her slim lips parted on a soft sigh. Even though his thick cock had filled her countless times by now, every new attempt made that sheer length a challenge to take down to the base.

Every inch deeper she went, the resistance grew stronger—and each extra bit only magnified the pleasure.

Her tight tunnel stretched around that massive invader, her whole body already trembling with relief and bliss, and yet there was still a good portion of him left outside—

"Mmm—"

In the end, she ground her teeth, putting every bit of strength into it. A broken, tearful moan spilled from her throat as she finally took that last thick inch into herself.

"Ah..."

A low, utterly satisfied groan slipped from Charles as well. No matter how many times he experienced it, the witches’ tightness was always the ultimate test of his will.

Especially moments like this—when his thick cock pushed into the very deepest part of her, the press and squeeze around him was so intense that the slightest slip in focus would make him want to surrender on the spot.

He kneaded Sephera’s tender breasts, fingertips savoring the fine, delicate texture as a smile played at the corners of his mouth. Sephera smiled back, a fine sheen of sweat already glistening on her brow.

"Master~" she breathed. "Can you tell... I’ve gotten a bit bigger?"

She meant her chest. Tall and leggy, with a slim waist and a sweetly rounded ass, she still couldn’t help feeling overshadowed any time she stood next to Hattie—her modest bust made her feel like all her other charms vanished in comparison, robbing her of confidence to compete for Charles’s attention.

She’d been trying everything she could think of, chasing rumors and miracle cures like a desperate patient. So far, the results had been... underwhelming.

Charles kept kneading her chest. Honestly, he didn’t feel much difference—it was all the same familiar shape in his hands.

But seeing the hope in her eyes, he didn’t have the heart to crush it. He nodded instead. "Feels like the sensation’s gotten even better."

He never answered the question head‑on, but it was more than enough to boost Sephera’s spirits. Her eyes lit with excitement, and her hips began a slow, rolling sway. "I knew it—hard work really does pay off."

"Just you wait, Master. One day I’ll be as big as Eldest Sister too, mm..."

Full of ambition, she said it while keeping her upper body steady to make it easier for him to fondle her. Only her lower back and pelvis moved—her practiced, flexible hips rolling back and forth in a smooth rhythm.

Charles didn’t have to thrust at all; the changing pressure on his thick cock was more than enough. The pleasure came in waves, surging through his mind one after another.

Of course, the effect wasn’t one‑sided. Sephera’s own tight passage, stretched wide around him, was lined with sensitive ridges that slid and dragged against his length with every motion.

Tingling pleasure spread through her body. The witch’s gaze grew hazy, her ivory‑pale cheeks flushed crimson—she was clearly about to crest.

She bent down and caught his wrist, guiding his hand upward. Then she stuck out her forked tongue and licked his fingertip, slow and lingering, kissing all the way down into his palm.

Her eyes went smoky with want, like a hungry viper begging to be fed.

"Whew..."

Charles answered her cue. His hips started to move too, small but powerful thrusts that perfectly met her rolling motions and magnified her pleasure.

Their pace built, and soon the soft bed began to rock beneath them. The frame let out faint creaks, as if providing a rhythm to their lovemaking.

Beside Charles, Anno suddenly rolled over, turning to face them. He didn’t pause. He kept moving in sync with Sephera.

He knew her body well, knew her state, knew this was the critical moment. Just a little more pressure and she’d go over.

"Ah..."

The venomous witch let out a sharp, shuddering cry and collapsed forward, crumpling onto his chest. Charles felt the rush of heat from her core and knew she’d arrived. He leaned up, ready to seal her first climax with a fierce kiss—only to see her suddenly turn away and press her lips against Anno’s instead.

In her sleep, Anno mumbled faintly, almost as if kissing her back. Sephera’s whole body shook, every muscle tightening with wild excitement. Her passage clamped hard down around his thick cock, dragging him with her into release.

He stared at the witch, honestly surprised. He hadn’t expected that even in Anno’s presence—though the paladin was fast asleep—the thrill of it would push Sephera to such a high.

A long time later, once the rush passed, Sephera’s mind finally cleared. She drew away from Anno’s lips and slumped into Charles’s arms with a lazy smile. "Master, I’ve wanted to do that for ages."

"I really wonder what kind of face Anno would make if she saw you and us reveling like this..."

She spoke with wicked delight, already picturing Anno’s future expression. Charles gave her ass a light squeeze. "It’s not time yet. For her right now, it’s still way too early to accept all this."

Sephera closed her eyes, then pushed out her lower lip in a small pout. "Can’t help it. I’m just jealous."

"She gets to go out with you every time. Like this trip—you’ll be gone for half a year. And for those six months, we won’t get to do anything with you..."

A hint of grievance crept into her voice. Charles stroked her hair and sighed. "I’m sorry, Sephera."

He hugged her closer. "We’ve got a long road ahead—one hundred years, a thousand, ten thousand."

"But right now, we’re still too weak. If we want that future, we have to put up with some time apart."

There was guilt in his tone. Sephera leaned up and kissed his cheek. "I just hope everything goes smoothly for you this time, Master."

Charles caressed her soft body, then suddenly said, "Since you girls aren’t coming with me, why don’t we have some fun before I leave?"

Sephera’s eyes lit up. "Master, you mean...?"

"Come on. We’re going to Hattie’s room," Charles said. He wrapped a bath towel around his waist, pulled the quilt up over Anno, and tugged Sephera along. "We’ll call Sophia, Ruth, Andny—everyone who’s not going to Bharata."

"Starting tonight, all the way until we depart, we’re getting together every day."

As he spoke, Sephera threw on her clothes, eyes sparkling. "Yes! Andny, you hear that? Go tell the others, everyone to Hattie’s room!"

On his ear, a tiny worm nodded. A moment later, the message was in the ears of every witch staying behind.

...

Meanwhile, in another room—the battle nuns’ dormitory.

Lying on her soft, wide bed, Nymeria stared up at the ceiling, eyes wide open. Sleep wouldn’t come.

Normally, her heart was simple. She never took anything too seriously. No matter how bad things got, a few bites of something tasty would dissolve every cloud into sunshine, and she’d drop off happy and full.

Tonight, though, the precocious elf maiden finally had something heavy enough to keep her awake.

She was thinking about Charles.

Ever since that day in the sea—since that sudden hug while she was in her swimsuit—she’d felt something inside her wake up.

She longed to be closer to him—to talk, to hug, especially to feel his skin against hers, his warmth and heat.

But every time the thought surfaced, a primal terror clenched around her heart: she was an elf, he a human; she was still young, and her lifespan dwarfed his; and, most importantly, he already had a lover...

She had no idea what to do, so she ran. Avoidance was the only way she knew to smother the feelings.

But that couldn’t last forever. Everything boiled over earlier that day when Charles confronted her, leading to the first sleepless night of her life.

What should I do?

She didn’t know. Confusion swam in her eyes.

"Ah..."

On the other bed, a battle nun yawned, then swung her legs out from under the covers. In pajamas and slippers, rubbing her eyes, she padded toward the door.

Out of habit, she glanced over and saw Nymeria still awake, eyes wide and bright, clearly nowhere near sleep.

"Instructor, you’re still up?" she asked, now fully alert.

Nymeria pouted. "I can’t sleep."

"Stomach trouble?" the nun asked.

Nymeria turned her head away. "No."

The nun chuckled. "Then you’ve got something on your mind. Tell me?"

Nymeria shook her head and looked off, her face clouded with rare worry. The nun quickly realized her own rank didn’t really give her the authority to counsel her instructor—it was unlikely anything she said would carry much weight.

So she tried a different angle. "Then maybe try the Priest? Uh, he’s probably still awake right now..."

At that, a sly little smile crept across her face.

Nymeria ducked her head under the quilt. "No. It’s about him—how could I go ask him?"

The nun instantly had a rough idea what was going on.

Honestly, they’d all had similar thoughts, from time to time.

After a moment, she said, "Then how about you talk to Hattie? She’s probably still up, at this hour."

"Tell her you’ve got something on your mind, and ask to sleep over. Once you’re in bed and whispering, you can spill everything—won’t that be easier?"

Her words hit home. Nymeria rolled over, hesitated, then finally gritted her teeth and swung her legs out of bed. "Alright, I’ll go find Hattie!"

The nun smiled and headed off to the bathroom. Nymeria straightened out her silver silk pajamas, slid her feet into her slippers, and quietly cracked the dorm door, slipping out into the hall.

She knew where Hattie’s room was; it wasn’t hard to find. Before long, she stood before the door.

The night was still and silent—no sound from within. Nymeria bit her lower lip, worried she’d be disturbing Hattie’s sleep.

But the knot of tension and confusion in her chest wouldn’t let her wait any longer. In the end, she clenched her teeth, pushed the door open—and stepped in.

~~~

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