The Succubus, The Priest, and His Fall Into Lustful Heat - Chapter 65
The scent of Payne’s essence, the tantalizing sounds of his moans, and the steamy atmosphere of the bathhouse—all of it slowly dulled Ashtel’s senses.
She blinked slowly a few times, her fingers trailing down to touch herself. Normally, she wasn’t fond of self-pleasure, but knowing that just behind the wall, Payne was likely shaking his c-ck with desire provided some comfort.
And today, she had Carmen’s tool with her.
“Phew…”
Ashtel fumbled in her pocket and pulled out a long, thick di-do.
It was a dark, violet hue, reminiscent of the night sky in the demon realm. The moment she gripped its handle, the magic di-do began to change shape, as if it was alive.
She had been worried about smuggling it into Medialle, especially after Duvalkan mentioned random inspections, but fortunately, there had been no checks this time, allowing her to bring it along.
If they had checked it one more time, she would have just left it at home….
“Ha.”
Ashtel’s thoughts came to a halt the moment the blunt end of the di-do pressed against her damp entrance.
Leaning against the wall, she glanced around cautiously, then began to slowly rub the tool against her slick opening. True to its demonic origin, the instant it touched her liquid, the di-do heated up, wriggling and vibrating in response.
Ashtel’s knees drew together and then splayed open, trembling with anticipation.
“Mm, hng, ugh…”
It had been so long since she had felt anything like this.
‘It feels so good.’
A succubus’s body is highly sensitive—vulnerable, reactive, and easily overwhelmed. Contact with another being would quickly stir excitement and cause sweet, involuntary moans to escape her lips. Carmen’s di-do, when pressed against her, produced a similar effect.
The tip of the di-do transformed, writhing and reshaping itself, while the warm, slippery flesh around it was firmly massaged and circled. It even slipped between the folds, caressing her as though it was licking every inch.
All Ashtel had to do was hold it in place, and she found herself crying out, going limp as the pleasure overtook her. Her legs spread wide, her hands frantically kneading her chest over her clothes, while her eyes squeezed shut, fully immersed in the sensual bliss.
But perhaps because she was so engrossed, the world around her began to fade into the background.
Ashtel continued to let out a long, soft moan, oblivious to the fact that Payne’s groans had stopped. But when the door creaked open, she snapped her head up.
“…”
“…Oh.”
Payne, his face flushed a deep red, stood there staring at her, his lower half modestly covered by his long priestly robes. He seemed frozen in place, utterly shocked by what he was seeing.
It felt as if a bucket of cold water had been dumped over Ashtel’s head.
“Were you… just now… doing this here…?”
“It’s not what it looks like!”
But what else could it be? There was no misunderstanding the situation. Ashtel was clearly in the middle of pleasuring herself—with a rather large and conspicuous di-do, no less!
“T-this isn’t… I mean…”
At first, Payne couldn’t believe his eyes. Drawn by the sound of soft, sweet moans and the unmistakable scent of something deeply sensual, he had found himself approaching the bathhouse door.
The only person who could possibly be making those sounds nearby was Ashtel. Could it really be her making those desperate, aching noises?
Curiosity and a surge of lust overwhelmed his reason. He opened the door, and there she was—a sight that completely defied belief.
Ashtel had hiked up her skirt, revealing pale legs, and was rubbing something between her thighs. She was moaning softly, biting her lip as she writhed, one hand caressing her own chest, her hips lifting rhythmically in search of pleasure.
She was pleasuring herself. Just like he often did.
“Don’t… look…”
How could he not look?
Payne was utterly transfixed, unable to take his gaze away from Ashtel. His heart raced, sending pulses of heat straight to his g***n, where he felt himself dangerously close to release. His jaw clenched, and just as he was about to regain his composure, the di-do in Ashtel’s hand buzzed loudly, making her gasp and let out a sharp, breathy cry.
It was overwhelming. The sight was so explicit, so e****c, that it completely overpowered his thoughts.
“…Miss Maid.”
He managed to speak, but nothing more came out. Meanwhile, Ashtel was too panicked to respond coherently.
‘Oh no, what do I do?!’
Succubi hated the idea of self-pleasure.
It wasn’t that they despised it, but rather they found it shameful. For them, it was a point of pride to select their prey, hunt them, and delightfully drain them of their essence.
But now, she was reduced to this—using a toy because she had no proper prey to satiate her hunger.
‘And that’s me Ashtel Asti!’
