The Pious Priest’s Sinful Collection

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“What is the meaning of this, Sister Daphne?”

Daphne tried to flee from the gaze bearing down on her. Unfortunately, with both wrists restrained, all she could do was lower her head.

‘What do I do?’

As her chin dropped, she caught sight of her own clerical robe, bunched up high. Beneath it, her pale, exposed legs held not even a trace of the purity demanded of a priestess.

‘How did it come to this?’

And that wasn’t the worst of it. Lying between her splayed thighs, the imitation phallus — slick and glistening — betrayed every detail of its recent use.

‘Of all people, why did it have to be him…!’

She wanted to close her legs, to preserve some shred of dignity. And yet, clad in his immaculate clerical vestments, he sat squarely in her way, leaving her helplessly open.

She had checked this place. Repeatedly. An unused shed, long abandoned. For years, no one had stepped foot inside. She had swept it clean herself and had made it her own — a private sanctuary, shrouded in dust and silence.

And yet of all people to stumble upon it — him. Theodore Valentino.

‘What am I supposed to do now?’

Who was Theodore Valentino, after all?

He was said to be beloved by the gods — a man with silver hair like melted moonlight and eyes of radiant gold.

Endowed with immense divine power, he had become the youngest cardinal in history and was already being named as the likely successor to the papal throne.

And she had just been caught, with a s*x toy, by that man.

‘It’s over. I’m finished.’

Soon she would be branded a harlot, condemned for committing lewd, sacrilegious acts within the sacred grounds of the temple.

The faithful would whisper that they’d always suspected something.

The priests would sneer, saying she had been born under the wrong stars — three of them, no less, the mark of a temptress.

And the young novices she had trained with, those who once shared meals and prayers, would avert their eyes, all in the name of self-preservation.

All she had wanted was to relieve a persistent, maddening itch between her thighs.

“Answer me, Sister Daphne. I asked you what happened here.”

“…Kh—”

Cardinal Theodore nodded faintly toward the imitation phallus, still glistening as it lay between her legs.

Daphne squeezed her eyes shut and bit down hard on her lower lip.

“Sister Daphne.”

Even his low voice seemed to reverberate through her as he spoke her name.

It struck her ears and traveled down, blooming into a sharp, electric ache in her lower belly.

The muscles between her thighs clenched involuntarily, and she felt her shame pulse, exposed and twitching.

It was unbearable.

She wanted, at the very least, to pull her robes back down, to cover herself, to swipe that wretched little darling — no, damned little toy — out of his sight.

“Y-Your Eminence… could you perhaps let go of my hands, first?”

“Why? So you can shove me aside and run?”

“That’s not what…!”

Daphne lifted her head to protest, but the moment her eyes met his, the words died in her throat.

Beneath hair that shimmered faintly in the moonlight leaking through the crack in the door, his golden eyes burned cold and sharp.

His face was hidden in shadow, the moonlight at his back, but that searing gaze was unmistakable.

He looked angry. Or perhaps disappointed.

But beneath it all, the heat flickering in those eyes couldn’t have been her imagination.

‘Why… why is he looking at me like that?’

Daphne’s mind reeled. There was no way a cardinal, no less him, would look at her with anything like desire.

And yet… he was.

His gaze raked over her with a thoroughness that felt invasive, deliberate. It made her skin prickle.

Daphne hunched her shoulders.

A jolt ran through her lower half as her body clenched again, her opening twitching in shameful response, and the grip on her wrists suddenly tightened.

“Ngh…!”

“…!”

Her pained whimper seemed to jolt him. The pressure on her wrists eased, just barely. Even so, Daphne couldn’t break free. Years of temple training had strengthened her, but not enough to escape him.

‘What… what can I even say to explain this?’

How could she justify this to him of all people, with those unnervingly bright eyes watching her like that?

She was still scrambling for words when his voice came, low and unexpected, brushing over her like velvet.

“How long have you been suffering like this, Sister?”

“…What?”

Daphne blinked, wondering if she’d misheard.

Suffering? What suffering? She stared up at him with wide, bewildered eyes and saw, to her disbelief, the gentle curve of a smile at the corner of his lips.

“To endure the devil’s curse all on your own. You must have suffered greatly.”

“Um…”

“Otherwise, how could even Sister Daphne, born beneath the sign of the Three Stars, stoop to such lewd acts? Isn’t that so?”

The smile on his lips was delicate, almost as if it had been painted there. Too perfect. Too composed.

“But you needn’t worry any longer. Let me help you, Sister.”

“What? What do you…”

“I’m fully prepared to offer this body of mine if that’s what it takes to break the devil’s foul curse.”

That smile — so sweet, so polished — felt utterly out of place on his face. Daphne could only gape at him, her mind blank, helplessly drawn to the surreal beauty of his expression.

While she was still frozen, transfixed, Cardinal Theodore reached down and picked up the mock phallus from between her legs. The toy that had felt so large in her grasp looked dainty now in his.

His large frame leaned forward, casting a shadow over her. Daphne’s breath hitched. He brought the toy between her trembling legs, and with the serene, solemn face of a devout priest, he whispered:

“Let us begin the exorcism.”

His voice slid through the cramped shed like a snake, soft and deliberate.

Daphne’s turquoise eyes trembled, wide with disbelief.