Just what the hell is she doing right now?
Pressing a man’s underwear—of all things—against her nose and inhaling the scent?
Like someone trapped in a burning house desperately covering their nose with a towel to survive, she was burying her face in a man’s panties and sucking in his musk!
She, Christia Saintshield!
"Snnnfffff, haaaah... Snnnnnffff—! Haaah..."
’’What a weird smell...! Is this... the smell of a male...? Just as the books said, it’s undeniably filthy...!’’
It was an overpowering smell. Do all men smell like this?
Picking it up on a whim was one thing. But Christia herself couldn’t understand why she was sniffing it like this.
Why was she burying her nose in these panties, inhaling desperately as if it were her only lifeline? Not just once, but repeatedly, even at this very moment, performing such a depraved act?
But then.
"Hnn... nnghh...?!"
Her left hand. The hand that had darted down to torment her virgin cunt just moments before she grabbed the underwear. The moment her fingertips slid past her neatly groomed silver pubic hair and touched the wet slickness leaking from the small, tightly shut crack...
"Snnnnnnnnnniiiffff!! Haaaaaaah...!!"
Christia found herself inhaling that pungent stench once again.
"Why... Isn’t this the smell of a male, the unmistakably foul scent of a male beast?! The books said it smells like chestnut flowers, but this... Snnniuffff... This is far more potent than floooowers...!"
According to subversive literature, the crotch of a virile male smells of fragrant chestnut flowers. But the stench currently forcing its way into her nostrils was definitely not that..
"Sweat... I can’t identify exactly what else, but it’s a mixed odor... Snnnnfff... Why is this filthy smell so unique, so distinct...?!"
Surprisingly, there was no smell of stale urine.
She had certainly expected the ammonia reek of piss to be included. But no matter how deep she inhaled, again and again, she couldn’t find a trace of it.
Was she disappointed? No, never.
If it had smelled of piss, perhaps the physiological disgust would have allowed her to detach herself from this strange anxiety that made it feel impossible to pull away.
Should she call it regrettable?
Or perhaps...
"Snnnfffff, haaaah... Snnnff, haaaah...!"
Perhaps it was better that she could keep smelling it.
"It shouldn’t be... good... This must be the smell of a man’s... s-semen...! How can I, a Crusader serving the Saintess, do such a depraved... Hnnngh...!"
Christia flinched as she felt the slippery mucous coating her left hand, then buried her nose into the fabric again.
This time, she wasn’t trying to pull away. She pressed the panties firmly against her face, breathing softly as if savoring a fine wine.
Did she have a change of heart in that short moment?
No, she simply realized something.
The moment she touched her pussy and the male scent filled her nose, she understood why the Goddess had left this man’s underwear for her.
"Right... This was the Goddess’s guidance... It’s only for a moment, but... Snnnnnnffff!!!!!T-This smell... It’s making me forget the scent of the Saintess’s l-love juices... It’s pushing the smell of the Saintess’s violets out of my brain..."
The moment the scent of Violet’s juices faded from her nose and mind, her body was already moving.
Fight barbarians with barbarians. Fight poison with poison.
’Just as the saying goes, the Goddess reveals that to conquer the scent of a flower, one must use a stronger flower!’
If she had dared to twitch her pussy at the sight of the Saintess trembling pitifully in her arms, if she had remembered the taste and scent of her juices and gone into heat because of that... then she must overwrite it with the stronger scent of a male beast while fondling her pussy.
Of course, it was still a disgraceful act for a Crusader.
But it was a hundred, a thousand times better than groping her own cunt because she was horny for the Saintess’s scent. The Goddess had given her these male panties to correct the twisted providence of a woman lusting after another woman.
Christia began to believe that this terrible stench, this filthy and lewd smell of dried cum, was truly the guidance bestowed upon her by the Goddess.
And finally, as her fumbling hand slid past her urethra and touched her vaginal opening...
"Haaah... Not... in here...! I mustn’t go inside here... If I stick my finger in... Snnnff... Haaah..."
Christia shook her head desperately. But then, the image of Violet flashed in her mind, causing her to take another deep breath.
’No. Sooner or later, the Saintess will come to me for the same reason.’
As far as she knew, when a Saintess receives a revelation, she records those memories in a crystal ball. It is to leave historical data for future Saintesses, showing that such revelations occurred at such times.
That meant Violet would watch the revelations she saw today over and over again. A revelation that made her own private parts throb just from a fleeting glance.
If it were the Saintess, a devout believer incomparably more pious than herself, she would watch the revelation—the video of a platinum-blonde slut fucking Orcs in public—countless times to interpret its meaning.
That meant today’s incident would surely happen again and again...
’If merely comforting the area around the vulva was enough to relieve it, I would ask for nothing more, but...’
What if a time comes when that isn’t enough? Violet would surely come to find Christia. Because to her, the most reliable person, her only big sister, was Christia.
Because of some absurd misconception that Christia would know how to cool the heat of her body.
But if that time comes and she says something like, ’I don’t know either,’ would Violet say, ’Okay, that’s too bad,’ and give up? Absolutely not.
Right now, Violet was essentially in the state of a teenage boy bursting with sexual curiosity.
There was a high possibility she would get curious about her own pussy and try all sorts of things.
Moreover, since she didn’t even know the function of her own sex organ, what if she shoved something inside and lost her purity...?!
"It has to be me... I’m the only one who can teach the Saintess how to control herself from sexual pleasure...!"
Overcome it with faith? That wasn’t entirely nonsense.
But the Saintess had only recently become an adult and was mentally immature, making her incredibly vulnerable to curiosity and such desires.
Even clergy who had served the Goddess for decades were recorded in history as having fallen to greed and lust, eventually being executed. Telling a Saintess who just came of age to overcome this with faith was easier said than done.
It was like telling a toddler who just started walking to perform a somersault instead of running.
But despite all these flowery excuses, the biggest reason she had to finger her pussy right now was—
"My privates... My p-pussy... is begging for stronger stimulation...!"
Because of the Saintess’s love juices—because she had actually tasted them—and because of the absurd visual, olfactory, and gustatory stimulation of wringing out Violet’s nectar like fruit juice...
Her body, already more mature than the Saintess’s, had advanced several steps further and was craving stimulation far greater than what she could offer.
That was why, even if she wanted to control it, she couldn’t. Her hand was moving on its own.
Simply smelling a man’s semen like this wasn’t enough to calm her body.
After all, the act itself was intended to overwrite the scent of the Saintess that her body remembered, not to calm her body down.
The only difference was between ’fingering her pussy while horny for the Saintess’s scent’ and ’fingering her pussy while smelling a man.’ That was all.
She didn’t want to choose either, but if she had to pick one here?
"Snnnnghh, Nnnnnghhh...?!"
Squelch.
Christia didn’t hesitate. Inhaling the male scent, she carefully pushed her finger into her vaginal opening.
Into the pure, virgin cunt that was just beginning to dampen, a place that, like Violet’s, had never allowed entry to anyone.
"Snnnnfff... Is this... Is this my private part...? It’s tight... gripping so hard... it’s hard to move... Haaaah... It’s d-difficult, buuuuut..."
Sch... lick!
"Puhaaa... Haa... Snnnffff... Haa..."
Just one small movement of her finger, and Christia’s body, which had been curled up until now, unraveled. She rolled over, exposing her belly to the ceiling, lying flat on her back.
"Snnnnfff... Hah, what am I... Haaaah... What am I doing...? A Crusader... a Commander... smelling a man’s scent and fingering her own cunnnt...!"
Guilt surged just thinking about it, but she couldn’t stop.
This smell entering her nostrils right now, this strange scent that wasn’t unpleasant—it was the guidance directly bestowed by the Goddess.
Perhaps giving her this smelly object after showing the Saintess such a revelation was the Goddess’s arrangement—an arrangement a mere mortal could never dare to fathom—predicting all of this so she could guide the Saintess down the right path!
To keep herself from falling into twisted providence, and to keep the Saintess from falling into the wrong path.
Yes, this is the guidance the Goddess has given me, a new mission. Christia decided to accept her interpretation of the Goddess’s will and not reject it.
"Snnnff, Kuaaah... Pussy... I only put a finger in my pussy, but it feels this electrifying...?!"
As she changed her mindset, the finger wriggling inside her cunt began to slide up and down her vaginal ridges more aggressively.
"Snnnnnffff, Haaah— Snnnffff, Hnnngh—?"
As if to prove that her revulsion to the filthy smell had vanished, she pressed the panties over her nose with her hand like a mask, ensuring they wouldn’t slip away.
Schlick-Schlick.
The wet sound of a female in heat began to grow louder.
As proof, droplets of fluid began to leak from the pussy that was devouring her finger. Christia slowly bucked her hips, crying out as if her instincts had taken over.
"Haaaah... I-I’m cumming... Smelling a man’s cum scent... fingering my pussy... I’m cumming...!"
At that moment, in the Saintess’s room, the silhouette of a four-legged beast spraying water from between its legs was cast against the wall.
Meanwhile, in the Crusader Commander room, the moonlight illuminated the silhouette of a taut bow, trembling with its tongue hanging out.