Episode 54

Rosanna straddled Kyle once more, spreading apart the torn edges of his cassock.

His body was untouched—flawless, unscarred, almost sacred in its purity. Yet, despite his theological training, he was built like a soldier. How did a man who spent his days in prayer develop a body so sculpted? His skin stretched over firm, well-defined muscles, a perfect taper from broad shoulders to a lean waist.

Admiration flickered in her eyes before curiosity took over. Her hands roamed, tracing the ridges of his chest. Her fingers slid between the firm planes, drifting downward. When she reached his abdomen, she kneaded the muscle like dough, palms pressing against the defined ridges of his abs.

Kyle twitched beneath her touch, his hands flinching in panic before weakly grabbing her wrists.

“S-Stop. Stop it.”

“You asked me to help.”

“I thought— I thought you meant to stop—hngh…”

Trembling, Kyle tried to push himself up, bracing his weight on one arm. His resistance was admirable. He was yielding but not completely, submissive yet not easily broken.

It made her all the more eager.

“Did I do something wrong?”

“No. Why?”

“You said this was wrong, but here you are… drowning in shame.”

“That’s not…”

Even with his thoughts muddled, Kyle saw the truth—she had chosen this place for a reason. She wanted to break him here.

“If you’re wondering why, I’ll tell you.”

Rosanna tilted his chin, turning his face toward the crucifix mounted on the wall behind the altar.

“It had to be here. Because He has to watch.”

Kyle’s breath hitched.

She leaned in, whispering against his ear, her voice dripping with something both intoxicating and cruel.

“I want Him to see the moment I take you.”

His head turned slowly, as if wound by a broken mechanism, his gaze returning to her in shock.

Who is this woman before me?

Kyle felt as though the Rosanna before him and the Rosanna he had come to care for were two entirely different people.

Yes, she had always been headstrong, assertive, even selfish—but not like this. Never had she been so forceful, so cruelly determined to break him. She had never pushed him to the point of despair. But now, she was forcing him into an act of blasphemy, stripping away his dignity, dragging him into sacrilege with her.

He should have been furious. He should have resisted.

But he didn’t.

He had already given his heart to Rosanna.

Somewhere in the depths of his twisted logic, he wondered if this was his fault. Had he done something to deserve this? Was this punishment? If so, then perhaps he should endure it. Perhaps he should suffer under her hands, because it was his failure that had led her to this.

Then Rosanna touched him, and his resolve crumbled.

“You belong to me now.”

Her voice lilted like a song, sweet and hypnotic.

“This is how it has to be—so that you’ll never serve your god again. Endings should be decisive, don’t you think?”

Tonight was an initiation. A ritual to mark the birth of something new—a bond that would bind them irrevocably. It was the ceremony of an attachment doll coming to life.

And it was also the death of Basilio, the seminarian.

After tonight, Kyle would never return. His body would no longer belong to the clergy, his soul irreparably tainted. Once he surrendered beneath the cross, he could never stand before it again.

Perhaps Kyle understood this too, because he had fallen silent.

“You chose me, Kyle.”

Her lips curved, her voice weaving a spell around him.

“And so I will claim you.”

Then she lunged.

Her arms looped around his neck like a noose as she crushed her lips against his. The sharp taste of blood flooded her senses, and for a moment, she felt a divine ecstasy, as if tasting the nectar of the gods.

So sweet.

It was barely a drop, yet it was enough to intoxicate her.

Starved for more, she sucked at his lips, deepening the kiss with greedy fervor. Kyle stumbled backward, collapsing onto the pew, his body yielding beneath her weight.

His scent, the warmth of his skin, the sublime taste of his blood—it all lured her deeper into her frenzy. She slid her tongue against his, curling around his, swallowing whatever mixed saliva passed between them. Even his spit is sweet.

It was perfect.

But then—Kyle resisted.

His body squirmed beneath hers, struggling weakly to escape.

Annoyance flickered through her. How dare he ruin this?

As punishment for disrupting her pleasure, she yanked away from his lips and grabbed both his wrists, pinning them above his head against the wooden bench.

“Be good, Kyle.”

Her voice was velvety soft, but the command was absolute.

“Stay still.”

Her gaze lingered on him, debating whether she should tie him down completely. But as her body pressed into his, she felt it—his arousal.

Despite his protests, despite his struggles, his body wanted this.

A slow, knowing smile spread across her lips.

He was hers.

And tonight, he would come to understand that fully.

Kyle’s chest stiffened, his nipples hardening. When Rosanna teased one between her fingers, his hips jerked involuntarily. His resistance wasn’t strong—especially with the weight of her body pinning his lower half down.

“Please… ah…”

Rosanna felt him twitch beneath her. Curious, she reached down to gauge his state and found that he was already at his limit—fully stiff, as if he were about to burst.

“I see. I’ll make you feel better.”

Undoing the fastenings of his lower garments, she freed him from the constraint, wrapping her fingers around the heated length. As she stroked him, her fingertips glided over the sensitive tip, making Kyle’s brow furrow deeply. His large hands clenched into fists before gripping the edge of the pew, knuckles turning white.

Rosanna moved her hand faster, using the slickness pooling at the tip to aid her rhythm. Kyle’s lips trembled, as though he were desperately trying to suppress his voice. Whether it was from pleasure or humiliation, his eyes grew glassy.

“Please… Rosanna… please…”

His breathless murmurs, fragmented and pleading, dissolved beneath the wet sounds of friction.

Kyle’s thoughts were in complete disarray.

How had things come to this? How had he fallen so far?

And yet—his heart pounded wildly, not just in fear, but in anticipation. A sinful, unspoken longing—the kind that even confession could never absolve.

“You’re distracted. I’m serving you with my own hands, you know.”

A sharp jolt made Kyle gasp and arch his back. Rosanna had pinched his nipple, sending a sudden wave of sensation through him. But that wasn’t the end of her punishment. Her firm, relentless strokes nearly overwhelmed him, pushing him to the edge.

The contrast was almost absurd—a noblewoman, high-born and refined, engaging in something so improper. He had never even done this to himself before, never indulged in such crude desires. And yet, she was doing it to him, touching him in ways he couldn’t comprehend, couldn’t resist.

He should stop this. He had to stop this—before it was too late.

Just as he opened his mouth to protest, Rosanna let out a sharp gasp of her own.

While tending to him, she had also touched herself, losing herself in the heat of the moment. The sight of her—her fingers grazing her own skin, her expression hazy with pleasure—was unbearably intoxicating.

Kyle couldn’t look away.

She was disheveled, utterly lost in desire, and yet… she was still breathtaking.

Their voices tangled together, rising and falling in mismatched harmony. And then, with a deep, shuddering sigh, Kyle spilled over, tension draining from his body. Sweat beaded on his forehead, his breathing ragged from the release.

Rosanna inhaled deeply, reveling in the lingering scent of his body. Then, with curious amusement, she lifted her fingers, now stained with his essence, and licked them.

“Why would you—? That’s disgusting!”

“I was curious. It doesn’t taste like anything. What should it taste like?”

“…How would I know?”

Kyle exhaled shakily, still struggling to steady himself. His hair clung damply to his forehead, tears pricked at the corners of his eyes from the overwhelming sensations, and his skin was flushed a deep crimson.

Laid bare and defenseless, he looked utterly ruined.

Rosanna gazed down at him and knew—this was love.

Raymond, who had claimed she didn’t understand love, was wrong. Vlad, who had acted as if he alone knew what love was, was wrong.

What else could this feeling be? The overwhelming desire to possess Kyle completely—to claim every inch of his skin, every drop of his blood as her own—this was her way of loving.

And so, tonight, she would have him entirely. Just as planned.

But Kyle, without even lingering in the moment, was already pulling up his pants, hastily sitting up.

“What are you doing?”

“It’s over, isn’t it? You got what you wanted….”

His voice carried resentment. He didn’t bother to hide his discomfort with what had just transpired in the chapel. But to Rosanna, even that was nothing more than an adorable rebellion.

“Who said it was over?”

She tugged down the loose neckline of her dress. As the fabric slipped off her shoulders, the soft swell of her chest was revealed.

Kyle’s eyes widened in alarm, and he quickly averted his gaze.

“T-This is something you’re supposed to do after marriage! Put your clothes back on!”

Rosanna burst into laughter.

“Marriage? There’s no need to tie ourselves to outdated traditions. That’s just a hollow ritual. We should live according to our desires.”

“I like following traditions.”

He hadn’t planned to confess this way—so awkwardly, so desperately—but it spilled out anyway.

He had come today to tell her that he had found a new dream. That he wanted to propose, to marry her properly, to have their names recorded in a family registry and build a life together. He wanted to love her in the most conventional, human way possible. His voice wavered as he spoke, emotions welling up.

Rosanna quickly understood what he truly meant.

He was saying that sharing a bed should be the last step. That right now, it was too soon. That it went against the customs and beliefs he had always held.

She let out a quiet, disbelieving chuckle.

“My thoughts are different.”

“……”

“You want to hold me. Right now.”

“I can control myself… if you just put your clothes back on.”

“Oh? But you’re already hard just from seeing my chest.”

Kyle flinched. His body had, indeed, reacted on its own. The fabric of his trousers was visibly strained.

“It’s not just any woman—it’s you, Rosanna.”

As soon as the words left his lips, he groaned and ran a hand over his face, clearly embarrassed.

“Please stop testing me. I know I’ve been indecisive, and I’ve made you upset… I already told Bishop Johann I’m giving it up. If you want, I’ll even leave the seminary before graduation. So please—if we keep going like this, I’ll feel like some… some animal in heat.”

His frustration was obvious, but the shame twisting his expression only made Rosanna more entertained.

She wanted to tease him more.

“So you’re saying I’ve been acting like an animal in heat?”

“What? No! That’s not what I—”

“I only want to be close to you… because I like you so much… because I want to be one with you….”

She trailed off, lowering her head—partly to sell the act, but mostly to conceal the smirk tugging at her lips.