Witch Monastery

More white light surged, completely enveloping Sadako's body. In just seconds, all the radiance vanished. Whether it was because this female ghost was too feeble or because his purification abilities had grown stronger with the monastery's upgrade, the end result was the same: the female ghost beneath Charles grew utterly docile, lying motionless under his weight, ready for him to do as he pleased.

Seeing this, a mischievous spark ignited in Charles' heart.

He didn't know which ghost she truly was, but here, in his dream, she wore Sadako's form—a version of Sadako with such a luscious figure. He wondered if he might ever have a dream like this again…

As the thought crossed his mind, he released Sadako's wrists. She didn't resist, not anymore. Boldly, his hand slipped beneath the kimono, parting the collar with little courtesy. Sadako's tender body trembled; her head turned as if in bashful surrender.

By then, Charles' hands were already full, cupping those ample, impossibly soft breasts. They overflowed between his fingers as he kneaded and teased, the sensation indescribable, like silk and velvet molded into flesh. Each gentle squeeze made her body arch underneath him—a purely involuntary response. The more he played, the more Sadako's composure wavered, her waist writhing in anxious anticipation, yet her wrists remained limp, surrender given without struggle.

He grew greedy. Pulling the kimono lower, he bared her slender collarbones, her smooth shoulders, the deep valley between her breasts—those proud, gravity-defiant orbs, so full and tempting. His fingers left no marks, despite his enthusiasm, as if the dreamy flesh had been sculpted just for pleasure. It was all fantasy, of course, but he didn't care. Now, enchanted by the sight, he bent low and took one flushed nipple in his mouth.

Sadako's back arched sharply, a gasp escaping as he drew her deep into his mouth. Lips and tongue worked skillfully—he played her, teased her, using his teeth and hungry suckling, the ghostly woman squirming and gasping in shocked delight at being treated this way for the first time. Charles relished the trembling, the heat, sensing how power was utterly his in this fantasy. Something in him pitied her—such gorgeous breasts, yet with nothing to feed on… Or so he thought, until, almost reflexively, he drew on her harder, and was rewarded with a sudden rush of hot, sweet liquid—an impossible, creamy nectar flooding his tongue.

He blinked up at her, shocked. Sadako wouldn't meet his gaze, her face turned away, a silent blush heating her ghostly cheeks. She accepted everything—his hunger, his desire—and gave him all he demanded. Now understanding perfectly what the dream would allow, Charles began to experiment: a gentle squeeze on the other breast produced a bead of rich, pale milk, which glistened at the tip before dripping down. His grin widened; so many delicious possibilities.

He shifted her, pulling her on top of himself as he reclined onto the sofa. With an inviting smirk, he spread his arms: "Feed me." Even though Sadako quivered with embarrassment, she acquiesced, carefully stripping away his pajamas and undergarments, her delicate hands protecting his skin from the scrape of her pointed nails. When his thick cock sprang free, slapping heavily against her hair, she was momentarily startled, withdrawing before gathering up her courage and reaching for it—a new adventure for her, her soft hand stroking him timidly up and down.

She leaned forward, letting those heavy breasts sway above his face. Her nipples, already swollen and oozing sweet milk, brushed against his lips. Charles sucked greedily, relishing the taste and heat, while Sadako, trembling with a potent mix of shame and arousal, stroked his cock more confidently, squeezing and exploring its length with both hands.

Charles surrendered to the sensation—the hot ache of Sadako's hand working over his shaft, a perfect counterpoint to the sweet, wet teasing at his lips. He moaned into her flesh, clutching her round, full hips and thighs, guiding her down until his fingers pressed in, parting her lush folds to seek her heat. Two fingers slid inside with a wanton ease; Sadako gasped and shuddered, a stream of her milk squirting onto his tongue as she convulsed, her hips grinding helplessly against his touch. The wet heat around his fingers grew wilder as he explored, her pussy soaking, clenching, desperate for more. The other nipple dripped with milk, running down her breast in rivulets as Charles licked her clean; each new squeeze brought more.

He could wait no longer. Withdrawing his fingers, he licked the last drop of milk from her breast and flipped her onto her knees. Sadako moaned helplessly as he bound her arms behind her with a conjured strip of red silk and tied one ankle high, forcing her to lean, her body exposed—her swollen breasts pulling toward the floor, the cleft between her thighs spread open, every inch on display. Her cheeks glowed with humiliation, but she never once tried to escape.

With a satisfied grunt, Charles took her waist, positioned himself, and pressed forward. The thick head of his cock parted her wet pussy slowly, inch by agonizing inch, until she engulfed him, her body squeezing around him in needy welcome. Charles growled, thrusting fully forward until his hips met hers. He paused, savoring the sensation; Sadako's muscles clamped down hungrily, milking him for every inch. He pulled almost all the way out, then slammed home again, harder and deeper each time. Sadako's cries rose with every stroke—sweet, broken, pleading—for him to go faster, harder. Her breasts bounced wildly, milk leaking and spraying as Charles pounded into her. With every thrust, his balls slapped her slick thighs; the sound filled the room. He reached up, squeezing a milk-heavy breast, drawing more cream from her, forcing it to spray down her stomach and onto his cock, mixing with the wetness pouring out of her.

His pace quickened, the slap of flesh growing rougher, more urgent. Charles felt the heat building—his whole body tightening, Sadako's fluttering moans driving him to the edge. A low snarl escaped him as he bottomed out inside her, grinding against her trembling hips. Sadako shuddered, her body tensing, clenching around him. Liquid gushed from her pussy. He threw his head back, groaning, and erupted within her—pouring himself out until he felt dizzy, pleasure overwhelming him. Sadako felt it too; her body squeezed every drop out of him, milk streaming with every pulse, painting his belly and hers.

Exhausted, Charles let her down gently, cradling her trembling body. He kissed her neck, her cheeks, licking the milk and sweat from her skin, soothing her with soft touches—tending her as she whimpered, her breathing heavy, small aftershocks making her muscles jump and twitch. He leaned down, lapping up the last drops from between her legs, then wrapped her in his arms and whispered comfort until her breathing slowed and her shivers faded.

The world began to dissolve. The elaborate bindings, the shameful display—they blurred, faded at the edges. Charles felt himself drifting, senses dulling, and realized he was waking.

—

In reality, morning light crept through the windows. On the other side of the bed, Ruth sat upright, her face grave. Sephera stirred, her usual mischief absent, both witches exchanging wary glances over Charles' sleeping form.

"Sister, why are you up so early?" Sephera's tone was unusually serious, devoid of her usual taunts.

"I had a nightmare," Ruth replied, her features stern. "I dreamt our secrets were uncovered by Theresa; she defeated all of us, even Master."

"Fortunately, right at the end, I realized it was just someone preying on my deepest fears. I turned the dream around, saved Master, and took Theresa apart."

"In the end, she vanished in a blaze of white light before I woke."

Sephera nodded. "I had a similar nightmare, and saw through the same spell. But I couldn't bring myself to kill Sister Theresa—she raised me. So I just revived Master and everyone, healed them, and we all took turns tormenting her until she fainted."

She smiled wryly. "Still ended with her vanishing in light."

They both shivered. "If we were both hit with nightmares… then Master…"

Sephera crossed the room and pressed her hand gently to Charles' shoulder, her voice as soft as a caress. "Master, wake up…"

Back in the dream, Sadako stood naked in the room, blindfolded and gagged, arms tied above her head, balanced on one leg. Huge breasts dangled, each capped with a transparent milking cup nearly full of creamy ghost milk. Her hips thrust high, her white flesh trembling with every vibration of the pulsing sex machine set deep in her wet, stretched pussy, buzzing as it drew gush after gush of slippery nectar from her core.

Charles lounged on the sofa, sipping a glass filled to the brim with Sadako's fresh, sweet milk—so fragrant, so rich that he closed his eyes, savoring. If only he could taste something like this in real life… But he knew it was only a dream, a fantasy conjured by his mind.

He glanced over at Sadako as she convulsed in helpless pleasure, her body writhing against her bonds, breasts leaking anew into their jars as her pussy gushed another wild stream around the pumping toy. Wry amusement curled his lips. "What a pathetic female ghost you are," he said, and, conjuring a brush and inkwell from thin air, painted another bold line across her jiggling ass—preparing her for the next game he had in mind.

That shadow flashed and vanished, but Charles immediately recognized who it was.

It was Sephera.

Hearing her seductive voice, memories rushed back in.

Ah, yes, they were in the mountains above Rubble District, inside the Rockseeker's Outpost.

So, it really was time to wake up.

With that thought, his whole dream vision dissolved: the decadent parlor, the helpless, debauched Sadako—everything faded away.

Dream-world Charles felt consciousness slip away, while in reality, his eyelids fluttered open.

The first thing he saw were Ruth and Sephera, one on each side, their faces hovering anxiously over him, their eyes full of worry and concern.

The moment he woke, both witches immediately spoke up, voices urgent and synchronized.

"Master, did you dream last night? What did you dream about?"

Charlies' eyes were still foggy with confusion. He frowned, searching his memory, but finally shook his head, "I can't remember. I almost never recall my dreams. As soon as I wake, they're gone."

It was a habit that had persisted throughout his life: maybe his dreams were vivid, but he'd only ever remember that he had dreamed—rarely a single detail survived more than a second or two.

"But, I suppose it was a nightmare…" His brow creased as he caught their worried glances, "Hiss… All I know is, I didn't wake up halfway through, and it felt like the nightmare went on for a very, very long time…"

He looked at the two women, voice thick with confusion, "Why do you ask? Did you two have nightmares as well?"

The two witches then took turns recounting their own bad dreams. When they finished, Sephera's face grew grave, "If all three of us suffered nightmares, this is no coincidence. We must have been attacked!"

"It's likely the one who assaulted us is also the culprit who slaughtered that whole goblin warren yesterday," Ruth agreed, anxiety deepening in her expression. She glanced at Charles, "Sephera and I are strong enough to protect ourselves from mental attacks like that, but Master… How is your condition, Master?"

Sephera paused in thought, her tongue flicking seductively over her lips. "Perhaps, we should conduct a full examination of Master's body, just to make sure his vitality wasn't siphoned away by that evil bastard."

Charles blinked, just a touch of anticipation stirring in his chest. "And—how should we check?"

Sephera paused in thought, her tongue flicking seductively over her lips. "Perhaps, we should conduct a full examination of Master's body, just to make sure his vitality wasn't siphoned away by that evil bastard."

Charles blinked, just a touch of anticipation stirring in his chest. "And—how should we check?"

"Like this," Sephera replied smoothly, her bifurcated tongue gliding wetly over her lips as her hips rolled, lithe as a serpent as she slithered down beneath the covers.

"You—!" Ruth's exquisite eyes widened in outrage and disbelief—she hadn't expected this 'examination' to be so… hands-on. But Charles only smirked, shifting to give Sephera more room. The cool air under the sheets grew suddenly hot as Sephera's tongue began to trace slow, lazy circles over his bare skin.

Her mouth trailed down his chest, nipping and tasting, until her lips met the base of his cock. Charles let out a low, approving hum as that notorious tongue flicked and curled over his thick shaft, spreading pre-cum in slow, shining strokes.

Sephera's golden pupils glinted up at him in mischief. Her tongue parted, forking to trail one tip along the sensitive vein beneath and the other around the flared head, swirling patiently.

She drew his swollen cock into her mouth, inch by inch, until her cheeks were bulging, and began to suck and lap with obscene, expert enthusiasm. Her hands massaged his balls, squeezing and rolling them gently, coaxing another spurt of pre-cum from the tip.

Meanwhile, Charles caught Ruth's expression—shy, envious, hungry, her cheeks burning with arousal. He reached for her, pulled her into his arms, and kissed her deeply, his tongue plunging between her lips, devouring her whimpers. His hand slipped under her robe, cupping her soft breast, teasing her nipple until it stood taut beneath his palm.

Ruth shuddered as Charles' fingers pinched and toyed with her nipples, his kisses growing rougher, wetter, leaving her gasping, panting for more. Her thighs parted instinctively, hips rocking against him, begging for the friction—anything to relieve that growing, aching need between her legs.

Beneath the covers, Sephera devoured Charles' cock, mouth gliding up and down, tongue swirling, lips sealing tight as she bobbed faster, daring him with every skillful move. She moaned around his thickness, the vibration making him grunt, hips starting to buck. Her hands never stopped: one fondled his balls, the other slipped lower, trailing her own slick heat over his thighs as she pleasured herself, dripping wet.

Charles watched Ruth lose herself—her body arching into his touch, one hand buried in his hair, the other guiding his hand down to her bare slit, slick and burning for him. He slipped two thick fingers inside, causing her to convulse, gasping his name as he thrust gently, curling his fingers to rub along her sensitive walls.

The sheets became a tangle of limbs and heat. Ruth whimpered into his mouth, her cunt clenching desperately around his fingers. Charles' cock throbbed under Sephera's relentless assault—her throat swallowing around him, tongue flattening as she sucked in greedy, relentless spurts. He wrestled free a breast from Ruth's robe, latching onto her nipple, sucking it, biting until she cried out and nearly clawed his back.

The pleasure built impossibly high. Charles' hips jerked, his cock swelling as the first wave of orgasm surged through him. Sephera sensed it, deepening her hold on him—the head of his cock buried in her throat. With a groan, his thick cock erupted, shooting creamy, hot cum down her gullet. Sephera moaned, swallowing every pulse, licking him clean with that devilish serpent-tongue, never spilling a drop.

At the same time, Ruth climaxed under his hand and mouth—her body bucking, cunt squeezing his fingers as she writhed, shuddering in his arms, her nails raking his shoulder.

For long minutes, the only sounds in the room were panting breaths and muffled, wanton moans. Aftercare unfolded like a ritual: Sephera daintily dabbing the corners of her lips with a handkerchief, then leaned up to deliver a cum-laced kiss to Ruth, who—blushing, trembling—licked the trace from Sephera's lips, moaning softly as she tasted Charles' seed mixed with their own arousal.

They collapsed into the sheets, Charles holding them both, caressing and soothing, his cock softening but still sticky with Sephera's saliva and the last traces of Ruth's climax.

Half an hour later, Sephera, having finished swallowing every last drop, smiled with satisfaction. "It's confirmed—Master's vitality wasn't drained in the least. Whatever spell or raid was attempted last night, he triumphed over it."

Charles exhaled, finally relaxing his grip on Ruth, whose chest still heaved from the aftershocks. He stood, stretching.

"In that case, the one who tried to snare us in nightmares is powerless against us," he declared. "Let's not waste any more time on them. We've work to do."

With nothing lost, they thought no more of the would-be attacker. The three of them rose, dressed, and shared a leisurely breakfast before heading to the guild-hall. There, they submitted their application and began seeking out intel on the local hobgoblin warlord from both the townsfolk and adventurers who made their living here.

No one noticed, in the splendid sunlight, the faint pink light pulsing from the ring wrapped around Charles' left hand…

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