Witch Monastery

"Whew..."

Only now did Charles finally dare let out a long breath, relaxing as he savored the heat, softness, and tightness of Hattie’s body wrapped around him.

His hips moved slowly back and forth, his thick cock sliding in and out of Hattie, their mingled juices making their joining place echo with wet, sticky sounds.

Hattie consciously kept her breathing in check, trying not to let the battle nuns hear her. But the tingling waves of pleasure flooded her mind, making her scalp prickle and dragging soft moans from her throat no matter how hard she tried to hold them back.

Both of them were slipping deeper into the rhythm. Charles’s lower abdomen kept smacking into Hattie’s rounded ass; their slick juices ran in thin rivulets down her thighs, every slap of flesh ringing out crisp and clear.

Her hanging breasts swung in time, those pink nipples tracing soft arcs in the air—utterly mesmerizing.

Just as Charles was about to speed up and drive Hattie to her first climax of the night, Anno suddenly rolled over on the bed.

She’d been facing the wall before, but with that one careless turn, she ended up facing them head‑on. If she woke up, the moment she opened her eyes she’d see exactly what the two of them were doing in this room.

Charles froze mid‑thrust. His heart lurched, cold sweat breaking out across his forehead. A dozen panicked thoughts flashed through his mind—what if she realized he was gone, what if she had a nightmare and bolted awake...

Bottom line, if she opened her eyes right now, she’d have ironclad proof of him and Hattie going at it.

"Master..."

Hattie twisted her head to look back at him, eyes hazy, breath coming fast, wordlessly urging him to keep going.

Charles took a deep breath, then gently helped her straighten up and whispered, "Let’s go outside—to the sea. Don’t you like doing it in the water?"

He’d chickened out. No matter how badly his body burned, the thought that Anno could wake at any second to the sound of their frantic movements and Hattie’s loud moans piled so much pressure on him he just couldn’t keep going.

Seeing his expression, Hattie smiled faintly. There was calculation in her eyes, but she also knew better than to push too hard. Tonight had already been a major breakthrough.

She slowly leaned forward, letting his thick cock slip from her body for now, then turned, cupped his face in both hands, rose on tiptoe, and kissed him lightly on the lips. "Okay. Let’s go to the deck."

Hand in hand, they slipped out, Hattie not even bothering to put her habit back on. They crept downstairs and out to the foredeck.

The white moon still hung high above, casting silver ripples across the sea. Hattie stood naked at the bow, moonlight cloaking her in a gauzy sheen, like some sea‑born goddess.

The cool sea breeze stirred the faint down between her legs. Clutching Charles’s hand, she closed her eyes, drinking in the humid salt in the air, absolutely content.

"Master," she whispered, "let’s do it right here."

Charles blinked. "Not going down into the water?"

Hattie’s smile softened. "No need. This is perfect."

She braced her hands on the rail and bent over again, lifting her ass high, slipping right back into the same posture she’d used to receive his "blessing" before.

Charles didn’t argue. He took hold of her generous hips and, guided by the slick wetness he’d already stirred up inside her, slowly pushed his thick cock back in—

"Ah—!"

This time, Hattie didn’t have to hold back. She threw back her snow‑white neck and, against the sea breeze and under the moon, let out a ringing cry.

Charles started thrusting in earnest. With all their earlier foreplay, it didn’t take him long to hit his stride. His hips snapped forward faster and faster, his body slamming into her ass with sharp, percussive smacks, sending ripples of white flesh shivering across her soft, round backside.

With no Anno to worry about, he focused on holding back his own release, panting hard as he drove into her. Hattie screamed and moaned without restraint, letting her voice ride the wind far out over the waves, not caring in the least if she woke any of the sleeping nuns.

Pleasure crashed through her mind until her thoughts went nearly blank. Every part of her body felt weak and boneless with bliss. Finally, her knees buckled, and she collapsed to the deck.

Feeling the hot rush inside her, Charles knew she’d just climaxed. He didn’t rush after her. After waiting a moment, he knelt behind her, grabbed her waist, and slid back in.

He still held his own release in check, continuing to pound into Hattie, driving her to the brink over and over. She melted under him, dying and coming back to life again and again, riding wave after wave of ecstasy.

Only when she hit her fourth peak, utterly spent and limp as a puddle, did Charles finally let go and release himself inside her.

Even after that, his body still had plenty of energy left. He scooped the witch into his arms, carried her back to her room, and tucked the already sleeping Hattie into bed before nervously making his way back to his own cabin.

Out on the deck, he’d lost himself in the moment, completely forgetting how late it was. Now that the haze had cleared, he realized it was deep into the night. He had no idea if his long absence had led to any... complications in his room.

Thankfully, when he eased the door open, he found Anno lying flat on her back again, breathing slow and steady. Clearly she was still dead asleep, no sign she’d woken at any point.

He breathed a long sigh of relief, shut the door quietly, slipped into bed beside her, and slowly closed his eyes.

The next morning.

Anno woke early. Opening her eyes, she felt utterly refreshed, body and mind both clear and light. She glanced at the clock on the wall, then turned her head to see Charles still sound asleep beside her.

She leaned over to give him a soft kiss on the lips, then murmured, "Get up, lazybones. The sun’s already on your butt."

Charles opened his eyes to see her smiling at him in the morning light, big blue eyes bright and beautiful.

And she didn’t seem to have noticed anything off.

He let out a long breath and nodded. "Yeah. I’m up."

They got out of bed together, dressed, washed up, ate breakfast, and then headed out to the deck to get some air and soak up the still‑gentle morning sun.

They hadn’t gone far before they spotted a slender silhouette already standing at the bow. Thin wrappings clung to her graceful figure, showing off every full curve beneath.

It was no one else but the Mummy they’d rescued—Madam Fatima.

Seeing that completely uncovered figure, Anno’s nose twitched. She secretly tightened her grip on Charles’s hand, a flicker of jealousy in her chest.

In that moment, she abruptly realized the real reason she’d never felt threatened by Hattie, Theresa, or even Willo was that they all wore loose habits that hid their figures from top to bottom.

Fatima, on the other hand, left nothing to the imagination. Her generous, high, rounded hips were right there on full display, the line of her cleft barely concealed—clearly dressed this way on purpose, practically begging men to stare.

A little spike of irritation flared in Anno’s heart. Just then, Fatima sensed them approaching. She turned and dipped her head politely. "Good morning, Lady Anno, Mr. Charles."

Charles nodded back. Anno smoothed down her expression, forcing a polite smile. "Good morning, Madam Fatima."

She strode up beside her, doing her best to act casual as she struck up conversation. "Did you sleep well last night? You look like you’re in great spirits today."

That was true enough. For the past two days, aside from fighting, Fatima had spent all her time sealed in her sarcophagus, never even stepping outside for a look.

Today, she’d come out on her own to stand on deck and watch the sea—which meant her energy had recovered significantly.

Anno had no idea whether that was good or bad news when it came to an undead, but seeing a comrade who’d fought by their side looking livelier today, she couldn’t help feeling genuinely happy for her.

Fatima’s answer, however, threw a bit of cold water on the mood. "Of course not. I am, after all, merely an undead."

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