Once the command was given, Charles and the witches sprang into action, preparing for the grand revelry. Their tasks included notifying Theresa, procuring necessary tools, and—most crucially—arranging the prelude, contingency plans, and the precise strategies and techniques required to purify the Archwitch.
Even back in the South Harbor District, neither Charles nor the witches had a moment's rest. This was the night of their fateful battle—though the battle itself might prove… unconventionally pleasurable.
The Next Night.
Seated on the massive eight-person bed in Hattie's room, Theresa, clad in an opulent white nun's robe, fidgeted nervously. Beside her, Sephera, dressed in a black nun's habit, looked every bit the eager handmaiden, her arm linked with Theresa's, a radiant smile on her face.
Noticing Theresa's unease, Sephera leaned in and whispered teasingly, "So, even the invincible Eldest Sister has something that frightens her?"
Theresa forced a smile. "Not fear… just nerves."
Though her power likely surpassed that of all six witches combined, this was still her first time—how could she not be tense?
Yet beneath the anxiety, a flicker of anticipation stirred. What kind of man could inspire such fervent praise from Hattie, Sophia, and even Sephera?
The night before, when Ruth and Sephera had returned to the monastery, Theresa had questioned them. Ruth admitted the man was "too delicious to kill" and had been kept as a pet, while Sephera claimed she had been "seduced by Hattie and Ruth's schemes to escape my sharp tongue—and in a moment of weakness, I succumbed."
Amid the bickering, Theresa had pieced together the truth. She didn't blame her sisters—if anything, their stories had only sharpened her curiosity.
What kind of man could ensnare an entire monastery of witches, making them abandon restraint?
She didn't know. The mere thought of what was to come sent her heart racing.
After a pause, she suddenly wavered. "Sephera… maybe we should postpone this until tomorrow?"
Sephera blinked, her long lashes fluttering. "Huh? Why? Everything's already prepared!"
"Tonight, I arranged for a gang to kidnap Malena's daughter and… violate her in front of her," Theresa admitted, her breath quickening, cheeks flushing. "I wanted to observe how humans couple. I know the basics, but not the… details."
"So, I thought I'd study first… then participate, to avoid mistakes…"
Sephera's face fell, but dissuading Theresa was child's play for her. "But Malena's ordeal won't be anything like yours! She'll suffer multiple men, violence, humiliation—while here, we and that man will serve you with devotion, ensuring only pleasure. How could the two compare?"
Seeing Theresa's hesitation, she pressed further. "That filthy spectacle of human sin would only pollute your eyes, Eldest Sister. Why not indulge in true ecstasy tonight, then tomorrow… savor the bitter fruit of their suffering?"
With a coaxing smile, she added, "Don't worry—we were all nervous our first time too. It's simpler than you think!"
Those words shattered Theresa's last resistance. "…Very well. Proceed as planned."
Sephera let out a quiet breath of relief—but then, her heart clenched with worry for the slum widow and her daughter.
Please, let tonight go smoothly. There might still be time to prevent a tragedy.
As she steeled herself, Theresa, now fully resolved, suddenly chuckled. "Sephera, you little rogue. Since when did you learn to keep secrets from me? Something like this, and you didn't tell me immediately?"
Sephera laughed softly, looping her arm around Theresa's with practiced ease. "Well... I was embarrassed too! Since you didn't ask, I couldn't bring myself to say it."
She swayed Theresa's arm playfully, pleading. "Master, forgive me? I promise I won't hide anything next time."
It was her usual tactic. Whenever she made a mistake—like accidentally poisoning Theresa's summoned feast in a fit of temper—this was how she defused the witch's anger. And as always, Theresa's reprimand stayed verbal. This time, the matter was trivial anyway.
"See that you don't," Theresa said, though her tone held no real reproach. "If anything like this happens again, you must tell me at once."
Sephera nodded eagerly, her demeanor obedient. As she spoke, the door slowly creaked open, revealing Charles clad in black priest's robes, flanked on either side by Hattie and Ruth as they stepped into the room.
Behind them, Sophia, Ekta, and Andny followed closely, their heads bowed and cheeks faintly flushed—as if already envisioning what was to come that night.
Theresa's eyes gleamed the moment she caught sight of his delicate features and snow-white hair.
He truly is beautiful… and his aura is utterly captivating. I want to tear open his flesh and devour his soul right now…
Yet, the moment she remembered he was merely a lowly human—and that she would have to do such things with him—a flicker of revulsion twisted within her.
Her thoughts churned until the man stepped forward, his voice laced with unmistakable unease: "It's an honor to meet you. I am Theresa, Abbess of the Monastery of Life."
"I am Charles, a priest recently assigned here upon Sister Hattie's recommendation…"
He recited his fabricated identity with practiced ease, hands clasped tightly before his chest, his tension palpable. Theresa couldn't help but smirk. "You seem nervous. Why? Haven't you done this countless times before?"
Her cheeks warmed slightly, but she forced herself to voice the first indecent remark of the evening: "Besides, you've already had your way with their bodies—turned them into your playthings over and over, haven't you?"
Behind her, Hattie stifled a giggle behind her small hand. Ruth turned away, her face burning with embarrassment. Sephera buried her face in Theresa's shoulder as if too ashamed to look. Sophia maintained a composed smile, though her own cheeks were flushed. Ekta and Andny hid behind the others, unwilling to face reality.
Charles, meanwhile, cursed inwardly. Yes, I've done this before—but you could crush us all with your strength. Of course I'm nervous!
"But… I've heard tales of your deeds," he said, lowering his head, voice trembling. "You've saved countless lives in the South Harbor District from suffering and disease. I've always admired you—worshipped you, even. And now, to think I would be the one to…"
He played the role of the awestruck supplicant perfectly—a calculated part of the plan.
Theresa chuckled. "No need for such reverence. Strip away the titles, and I'm just an ordinary woman."
Then, as she inhaled Charles' scent up close, her gaze grew rigid with hunger. "Now, come closer. Let me feel what makes your body so… captivating."
Obediently, Charles sat beside her. The unfamiliar masculine presence sent an odd thrill through Theresa—one she didn't entirely dislike.
If I don't think about him being human… maybe this won't be so unbearable.
Recalling Sephera's advice, she closed her pale green eyes, yielding completely—an unspoken invitation.
Sephera gave Charles a subtle nod. Steeling himself, he took Theresa's hand and slipped an arm around her shoulders.
Theresa stiffened briefly before relaxing. Then, leaning in, Charles exhaled softly against her ear.
A visible shiver ran through her. Her posture melted, and she sagged against him.
Success.
The witches exhaled in silent relief. Their original plan had called for Charles to whisper sweet nothings—"I love you" and the like—words that always sent them into a frenzy, ready to pounce on him.
But Charles had vetoed the idea. Theresa and I share no emotional bond. Any false sentiment might backfire. Physical stimulation alone will be more effective.
Enter her body, not her heart.
With Theresa responding as hoped, Charles proceeded. He turned her face toward his, brushing his cheek against hers in slow, teasing friction—"whispering against her ear, skin against skin"—to heighten her senses.
With Theresa responding as hoped, Charles proceeded. He turned her face toward his, brushing his cheek against hers in slow, teasing friction—"whispering against her ear, skin against skin"—to heighten her senses.
Theresa stood taller than him, over six feet, so when she leaned into him, their heights aligned perfectly.
The High Nun isn't just powerful—she's built like a goddess. Voluptuous, overwhelming… impossible to resist.
As his ministrations continued, Theresa's arms slid around his waist. Seizing the moment, Charles finally pressed his lips to hers.
"Mmm?"
Theresa's beautiful brows furrowed as Charles's lips met hers. The memory of his human identity flickered in her mind, stirring a flicker of disgust—but then she recalled the undeniable purity in his aura. Suppressing her distaste, she allowed him to continue.
Yet, like most experiencing their first kiss, she kept her silver teeth tightly sealed, refusing him even an inch of entry.
Noticing this, Sephera exchanged a glance with the other witches. After a silent confirmation, she slithered onto the bed like a little snake, circling behind Theresa. Her hands slipped beneath the nun's habit and seized Theresa's ample breasts—fuller even than Hattie's!
"Mmmph—!"
Theresa's eyes flew open in shock, her gasp giving Charles the opening he needed. His tongue slipped past her defenses, brushing against her delicate one.
"Mmm?!"
Like a bolt of lightning, Theresa recoiled, breaking the kiss. She twisted to glare at the venomous witch still kneading her breasts, her voice trembling. "Sephera! What are you doing?"
"Only what must be done,Master," Sephera purred. "Tonight is your first time. That makes you the sole protagonist."
"And we, your supporting cast, must ensure you're properly attended to. Isn't that right?"
Theresa's breath hitched. Every fiber of her being rebelled against such intimacy, yet she had no rebuttal.
Then Hattie and Sophia closed in from either side, offering encouraging smiles before reaching to peel away her nun's habit.
Ekta and Andny joined in, stripping off her boots and stockings. Theresa tensed, resisting instinctively—but remembering the night's purpose, she stifled the urge to flee. The witches' hands worked deftly, shedding her outer garments.
Soon, the pristine white habit—symbol of her holy station—lay discarded. Beneath, her skin glowed like fresh milk under the chandelier's light. Her boots and stockings followed, revealing slender, rosy feet so delicate they dazzled the eye.
Now, the Nun wore only a black lace demi-cup bra and matching panties, the fabric sheer and sinfully alluring. Sephera's hands still roamed beneath the bra's cups, her fingertips toying mercilessly with the soft flesh within—heightening the scene's raw sensuality.
Nearly bare before the coven, Theresa instinctively clamped her thighs together and crossed her arms over her chest. But Hattie and Sophia remained relentless. They tugged the bra's slender straps down her smooth shoulders, letting the entire garment slither lower, catching on her forearms. Half-concealed, half-revealed—she was more tempting than ever.
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