The Pious Priest's Sinful Collection - Chapter 15
Ding—
Just then, the bell rang out five o’clock.
Without a moment’s hesitation, Daphne rose from her seat.
“Then I’ll take my leave now, Your Eminence. May the Father’s grace be eternal upon you.”
“…Yes. May the Father ’s grace be eternal upon you as well, Sister Daphne.”
The moment she stood, Theodore gave a small, strangely relieved nod. Daphne caught the expression and tucked it into her memory as she stepped out of the office.
* * *
It was that night.
Daphne walked through the pitch-dark forest without even a lantern in hand. There wasn’t a sliver of moonlight to be seen, but after ten years of wandering these woods like it was second nature, she had no trouble finding her way. The occasional hoot of an owl sounded more like a lullaby to her than a threat.
Snap.
“Eek.”
She only had to be careful not to break any branches. Leaving behind unnecessary traces could lead to her secret space being discovered and that would be a disaster.
The grounds of the Grand Temple, shaped like a massive key ring, were lined with marble statues all the way from the main gate to the entrance of the sanctuary. The angels with their horns raised to the heavens seemed placed to ensure that all who approached did so with reverence in their hearts.
In contrast, the grounds of the convent were small and oval-shaped. There were no marble statues here, and apart from the narrow path that led to the sanctuary, there were no routes connecting to the outside world.
The cloister was supposedly a place to offer solemn prayers to the Holy Spirit, which was why it maintained a strict and serene atmosphere. But in truth, for the past hundred years or so, it had served more as a cage without bars for the novice clergy undergoing spiritual training.
After all, the forest surrounding the cloister was dense and untouched by human hands.
‘Which means the fact that I found this place was nothing short of a miracle.’
Daphne mused as she stopped before an old wooden shed. No one from the temple would ever dream that there would be an abandoned shed hidden deep beyond the overgrown brush, far from the path connecting the Grand Temple. And they definitely didn’t know she’d swept it clean and claimed it as her personal hideout.
Creak.
When she opened the door, a faint scent of dust drifted past her face like a familiar caress. Pulling a match from her pocket, Daphne lit one of the candles resting on a shelf.
She’d discovered this place back when she was still struggling to adjust to life at the cloister.
On the surface, she had played the part of the quiet, diligent girl better than anyone. But back then, in her more naïve days, she often felt stifled by the life confined within the cloister — so different from the outside world, where she could’ve rolled through dirty alleyways if she wanted and no one would bat an eye.
The younger novices all went to sleep when the sun set, but Daphne, wide awake through the nights, had taken to sneaking into the forest, evading the watchful gaze of Isabella who, at the time, was still an ordinary priest.
She walked and walked, and when she caught the scent of dawn on the breeze, she’d quietly return to her quarters. It was during one of those nightly walks that she discovered the old shed hidden beneath a thicket.
It looked like it hadn’t been used in nearly a hundred years. Dust coated everything, but since the structure itself was still sound, she had swept, wiped, and dusted until it felt like something usable.
From that point on, Daphne kept its existence a secret. Whenever she needed solitude, she would come here.
As the pitch-black interior lit up with candlelight, the items on the shelf along the wall came into view — keepsakes she’d collected over the years.
There was the hair ribbon gifted by her very first young patient she nursed, the exchange letters she’d shyly traded with her fellow novices, and the clumsily embroidered handkerchief she’d stitched by hand. Little tokens of memory, lined up neatly in a row.
But the item that stood out the most was a smooth, sculpted imitation phallus.
“Hello, darling.”
Standing proudly at the center of the shelf, its base was thick, tapering upward into a slimmer tip. The top was carved to resemble the glans of an actual pxnxs, while the bottom featured a hole that acted as a makeshift handle.
Made of ivory, it was virtually unbreakable and far easier to maintain than wood — no need for oiling or polishing and convenient for both use and storage.
Daphne picked up the carved dxldo and rinsed the dust off with the water she’d brought.
