Witch Monastery

Beneath the scriptorium window, Hattie and the other two concealed their presence, eavesdropping intently. Soon, they heard Sophia's serious, composed voice from inside:

"The training method for Agonizing Blast isn't particularly difficult. However, if I recall correctly, Master has chosen the Pact of the Blade?"

"In that case, why doesn't Master directly train the Pact of the Blade's exclusive Eldritch Invocation, 'Thirsting Blade', instead of prioritizing this one first?"

Then came Charles' faint reply:

"Because I don't have a decent weapon, Sophia. Look—right now, the only magical weapon I have is that Storm Warhammer we seized last night. And this thing's too short for me to wield properly. Don't you agree?"

"So, for now, we'll focus on learning Agonizing Blast. As for melee combat methods… we can consider those later."

"Mm, understood…" Sophia's voice was softer now.

Outside the window, the three women deflated in disappointment. Ruth sighed.

"Master's clearly entered his learning state. When he's like this, his mind won't wander, and he won't stop until he's exhausted."

She knew this better than anyone—after all, for the past week, she'd spent every morning with Charles in the kitchen, him learning magic, her crunching statistical tables, working nonstop without pause.

But there was one thing she didn't mention:

That once Charles did tire, he'd unceremoniously push her head down and make her kneel before him…

The memory made her mouth water and her pulse quicken.

Hattie sighed too.

"I thought Master wanted to claim Sophia in the kitchen or scriptorium—to give her a completely different kind of first experience."

"Turns out, what Master cares about most is his own strength and growth, not comfort or pleasure…"

"And that's precisely what makes him extraordinary!" Sephera marveled. "It seems none of us truly understood Master's priorities."

"Let's call this bet a draw, then?"

Hattie nodded. "Fine. We've wasted enough time already. Let's get back to work."

"Agreed." Sephera straightened. "We'll visit the nearby residents. After last night's events, panic must be spreading—this is the perfect time to buy up the surrounding land at the lowest possible price…"

With that settled, the three departed, gathering the other witches to attend to their respective tasks.

However, they who had not dared to look into the scriptorium from the window from beginning to end had no idea that Sophia was now sitting on Charles' thighs, her face flushed as blood, allowing his big hands to reach under her nun's habit and plaything with her delicate body at will!

Charles' hands showed no restraint, his thick fingers kneading the delicate slope of her shoulders, tracing the elegant arch of her spine before cupping the full swell of her breasts. His palms reveled in the intoxicating warmth of her skin, the way her flesh yielded beneath his touch like the finest silk. The contrast between her cool composure and the heat radiating from her body drove him wild with desire.

Ah, Sophia - this woman was like crystalline spring water given human form, her sweetness intoxicating in its purity.

Where Hattie embodied the tempestuous ocean's untamed fury, Sophia flowed like a mountain stream - clear, refreshing, and infinitely precious. Their flavors differed as night from day, yet both intoxicated him beyond reason.

"Oh... Master..."

Sophia's words dissolved into breathless gasps as Charles' rough fingertips found the hardened peaks of her breasts. His thick cock pressed insistently against her thigh through the fabric of his trousers, its substantial length and girth promising both pleasure and challenge for her untouched body.

Her breasts fitted perfectly in his palms - neither overwhelmingly large like Hattie's nor petite like Ruth's. They were crafted by the gods themselves for his hands alone, the rosy nipples stiffening beautifully beneath his expert manipulation.

"Ah...!"

When his fingers pinched the engorged peaks, Sophia collapsed against his chest with a shuddering cry. The unfamiliar sensations overwhelmed her, her virgin body responding with instinctive urgency despite her nervousness. Charles smirked as her hips gave an involuntary jerk, grinding against the rigid outline of his arousal.

Between teasing her sensitive nipples and tracing circles along her quivering abdomen, Charles continued his questioning: "By the way, Sophia, how much do you know about the advancement methods for a warlock's Improved Class? Tell me everything."

A warlock's Improved Class is determined by their patron's nature, granted as early as level one: such as The Archfey Patron Warlock, The Fiend Patron Warlock, The Great Old One Patron, The Elemental Lord Patron, and so forth...

But Charles' patron was Hattie - who neither possessed the Master's extensive Knowledge nor understood proper Training methods. Thus, he only received the warlock's basic Class Features.

While Charles initially felt pity about this, he later realized these traits simply corresponded to specialized Training Methods. With the proper Knowledge, he could still train himself into an Improved Class.

That's why he now eagerly anticipated whether Sophia's vast repository of Knowledge might contain these methods.

"I...I'll try to recall..."

Beads of sweat glistened on Sophia's forehead as she struggled to concentrate. Charles intensified his ministrations, rolling both nipples between thumb and forefinger while his other hand slipped lower to trace the delicate folds hidden beneath her habit. Her small mouth formed perfect 'O's with each surprised gasp.

After thoroughly exploring her breasts, Charles nuzzled aside her hair to nip at her earlobe, grinning when she jerked in his arms. His hands journeyed downward, kneading the plush curves of her backside before slipping between her thighs to discover her slick heat. Sophia's breath came in ragged bursts, but she persevered through her arousal.

"There are many methods..." she panted. "The Elder Ones... elemental lords... fiendish pacts... and the Hexblade... ahhhh—!"

Her explanation shattered into a scream as Charles' wicked fingers found her swollen clit. The sudden assault made her back arch violently, her inner walls clenching around the two fingers he'd slid inside her dripping passage. He crooked them mercilessly against that secret spot that made witches lose their minds, his thumb maintaining relentless pressure on her throbbing bud.

"Master—!"

Sophia's entire body convulsed as her orgasm ripped through her, her silken walls milking his invading digits. Charles watched in fascination as her juices gushed over his hand - the more powerful the witch, it seemed, the more intensely her body responded. What a delightful discovery.

Withdrawing his glistening fingers, Charles flipped Sophia onto the desk. Her wimple tumbled free, releasing a cascade of ebony hair that spilled across the polished wood in stark contrast to her pale skin. Face down and trembling, she felt her skirts being shoved up to her waist, exposing her plump rear and glistening sex to Charles' hungry gaze.

Understanding what came next, the obedient Sophia arched her back, raising her hips in shameless invitation. Her slick folds glistened, already preparing for his thick cock's invasion.

Charles groaned at the sight, his heavy length springing free from its confines. The broad head nudged against her entrance, stretching her virgin passage impossibly wide as he pushed inside.

"Nnngh—!"

Sophia's nails scraped the desk as her body was breached, tears spilling down her cheeks from the overwhelming stretch. Charles paused, allowing her tight channel to adjust to his girth before beginning a slow, deep rhythm.

The slap of flesh against flesh filled the scriptorium as Charles gripped Sophia's hips, driving into her with increasing force. Each thrust buried him to the hilt, her inner walls fluttering around his shaft in helpless pleasure. Sophia's cries grew louder, her body yielding beautifully to his possession.

When her second climax approached, Charles wrapped one arm around her waist, his other hand finding her clit again. Three firm circles against the sensitive nub had her shattering around him, her convulsions pulling him over the edge.

With a guttural groan, Charles emptied himself deep inside her, his thick cock pulsing as he marked her as his. They collapsed together, Sophia's well-used body still twitching with aftershocks as his seed trickled from her well-fucked passage.

They returned to their seated posture, with Charles holding the limp, boneless Sophia against him. One hand continued kneading and toying with her soft breasts as he returned to the main topic:

"Sophia, what do you think about me advancing into the 'Hexblade' class?"

The Hexblade - a class only attainable by warlocks who contract with mysterious entities from the Shadowfell. They wield shadowy power bestowed by their patron, forging magical dark blades for offense or Armor of Hexes for defense, making them versatile in both ranged and melee combat.

When Sophia listed the warlock Improved Classes she knew, Charles had immediately set his sights on "Hexblade" and begun planning his class progression.

Sophia lay weakly against his chest, enduring his blasphemous hands as she considered the question carefully:

"Hexblade is indeed an excellent Improved Class... but why wouldn't Master choose 'The Great Old One Patron' training methods instead?"

With naive innocence, she explained her reasoning: "As Master surely knows, we witches are born from cracks in the material world's rules, blended with chaotic magic from beyond. Fundamentally, we're closer to those incomprehensible Great Old Ones and better suited to harness their methods to enhance Master's power..."

Charles deadpanned: "Because it's trash."

Sophia blinked in shock: "Trash? What does that mean?"

"No, that's not what I meant," Charles sighed, rephrasing for witch comprehension. "When I say 'trash,' I mean this Improved Class... well, has significant room for optimization..."

Sophia looked even more bewildered: "What?"

Having read countless warlock memories, she'd never encountered this perspective.

Was The Great Old One Patron... actually weak?

She didn't know - she'd never compiled statistics on this. Charles nodded earnestly: "Yes. In any case, I would never choose it."

The Great Old One Patron warlock stood alongside Trickery Clerics, Land Druids, Four Elements Monks, Mastermind Rogues, Graviturgy Wizards, and Artillerists as legendary classes known to swiftly enhance new players' game comprehension, technical skills, mental fortitude and pressure resistance - while simultaneously being experts' preferred choice to showcase their mastery.

This spoke volumes about what kind of class The Great Old One Patron warlock truly was.

While this Different World surely differed from games, the witches weren't actual Great Old Ones either - how much power could they really grant?

Thus, Charles refused to consider this Improved Class.

With clearly superior options available, why gamble on this one?

Naturally, Sophia remained mostly oblivious to these nuances. Seeing her Master's resolve, she could only sigh pityingly before acquiescing:

"Very well... Then I shall begin teaching Master how to advance as a Hexblade..."

Her voice was steady, but as Charles studied her focused demeanor, the embers of desire flared anew.

Gods, she's exquisite.

Without warning, he seized her chin and crushed his lips against hers. Sophia gasped into his mouth, her body stiffening as a muffled whimper escaped her throat—"Wuh—!"

Yet she yielded almost instantly, her arms winding around his shoulders as she reciprocated. Charles dominated the kiss, his tongue plunging deep to savor the honeyed warmth of her mouth. Beneath the loose fabric of her nun's habit, his hands roamed freely, tracing the dip of her waist, the swell of her bare breasts, the trembling heat between her thighs.

Sophia shuddered, her lips parting wider in submission. Her tongue met his with clumsy eagerness, only to be overwhelmed—every flicker of resistance devoured, every drop of sweetness stolen. A silver strand of saliva bridged their mouths when he finally pulled away, leaving her breathless and dazed.

"Master…"

Her plea dissolved into a moan as his thumb found her clit, circling the swollen nub with deliberate pressure.

Charles smirked. After surviving the battle and reaping such…rewarding spoils, his cock throbbed with relentless need. If he didn't bury himself inside her now, focus would be impossible.

"Your stamina has recovered, hasn't it?" he murmured, though her heaving chest and flushed skin betrayed her exhaustion.

Sophia bit her lip but nodded. "Y-Yes. Do you wish to…?"

"Mm." He reclined in the chair, spreading his thighs. "Ride me."

Her breath hitched. "E-Eh? You mean—?"

His palm cradled her cheek, thumb brushing the damp corner of her mouth. "You can do it."

A scarlet blush burned to the roots of her hair, yet obedience won out. With a trembling whisper—"As you command."—her fingers crept beneath the habit's folds. The fabric draped like a curtain over their joined laps, shielding her modesty but obscuring her movements.

Her touch against his thick cock sent her jerking back with a startled gasp. But under Charles' expectant gaze, she steeled herself. One hand guided his rigid length upright while the other parted her own slick folds, positioning him at her entrance.

A sharp inhale—then she sank down.

"Nnh—! Hah…!" Her back arched as he stretched her, inch by relentless inch. Even after their earlier coupling, her body resisted, clenching around him in tight, fluttering pulses. Her toes curled against the floor, thighs quaking as she took him to the hilt.

Charles groaned, kneading her breasts through the habit, pinching her nipples until they pebbled. "Move."

Teeth buried in her lower lip, Sophia obeyed. Her hips rocked tentatively at first, each shallow thrust wringing a whimper from her throat. "Ah… Ahhn…!"

But soon, the rhythm deepened. Her inner walls gripped him like a velvet vise, milking his cock with every rise and fall. Charles watched, enthralled, as her saintly facade fractured—eyelids fluttering, lips glistening, the habit's fabric clinging to her sweat-sheened skin.

"Faster."

A sob escaped her, but she complied, bouncing harder now, her ass slapping against his thighs. The scriptorium filled with the lewd chorus of their joining—skin on skin, her choked cries, the wet squelch of his shaft pistoning into her dripping cunt.

Charles gripped her hips, driving upward to meet her. "You're mine, Sophia. Mine."

"Y-Yes! Master, I'm—! Ah—!" Her scream shattered as her climax ripped through her, her pussy convulsing around him in erratic spasms.

The sight undid him. With a growl, he slammed her down one final time, his cock pulsing as he emptied himself inside her. Hot seed flooded her depths, Sophia mewling weakly at the scalding rush.

Spent, she collapsed against his chest, her habit rumpled, her body trembling. Charles stroked her hair, pressing a kiss to her forehead as his softening length slipped free, trailing streaks of their mingled release down her thighs.

"Great."