The Book of Lucia, Chapter II - Oblatio Incendia

[Lightman]

Madeline could admit that, despite all the formidable strength Chastity possessed, the softer, more yielding side of her was undeniably compelling. As Chastity squirmed and thrashed against her, the supple skin, the curves and musculature working in tandem, created an irresistible allure that drew Madeline in even deeper.

Her hips rolled over Chastity’s dangerous thigh, grinding against the powerful quadricep. Madeline kissed her with a hunger that felt almost primal, her body craving more of the nun’s intoxicating presence, and this was without them even being stripped naked. She could only imagine the unparalleled sensations that awaited them.

Madeline’s fingers, having long since mapped the intricate landscape of Chastity’s inner world, now curled, angled, and thrust with precision against the very spot that made the nun shudder and cry out. Any novice could mindlessly pump fingers inside someone, but such a crude approach lacked the finesse Madeline prized. She considered herself among the elite in her craft, and Chastity, demanding and responsive, deserved nothing less than the same meticulous attention. It was only a matter of time, and soon, Chastity broke. A passionate howl was swallowed by Madeline’s mouth as she shuddered through her climax.

Madeline relished the warm wetness spurting over her hand, taking extra care to prolong the blissful sensation with her fingers, milking every last tremor from Chastity’s body until she felt it could give no more. The brunette could feel the moment Chastity's nails released her skin, leaving marks in their wake. Then, slowly, almost reluctantly, her fingers pulled out. Madeline broke the kiss, pulling away just enough to lick her fingers, savouring the sweet ambrosia.

It was then that her emerald eyes, dark with satisfied predation, met Chastity’s. It was a look akin to a shark, having smelled blood.

Madeline would allow Chastity to fall back to the wooden floor with a graceful, unresisting slump. Then, with a fluid movement of her hips, Madeline slid upwards, her own crotch meeting Chastity’s, no doubt still tingling from the afterglow. The English Rose didn’t hesitate, giving no quarter. Her hand gripped one of Chastity’s legs, pulling it tightly towards her as she began to roll and buck her hips against the nun’s, humping away with deep, raw lust and hunger.

Madeline was not done.

[BlackAkuma]

There was an eerie precision in the way Madeline moved. While most would say that sex and fighting were wholly different enterprises, Sister Chastity would contend that they were far more alike than many would admit, and the creature above her - this wild, lusty, dangerous thing - was perfect proof of that.

Madeline had the grace of a peerless of a martial artist. That control, the sureness of body that only comes from years, even decades, of rigorous training. As she made furious love to Sister Chastity, she enjoyed total mastery of herself at all times. She was not some unthinking lover, merely pouring out pleasure at random, but a calculated, cunning predator of pleasure. Her every movement was designed to put her foes down with pleasure, to give them so much of what they wanted that they didn’t know what to do with it.

There was art, there. To dominate with pain was simple and crude, but to turn someone’s own desires against them was a rare talent, something that could not be easily taught in any dojo. She had taken Sister Chastity apart masterfully.

And she was not done.

Sister Chastity saw that look in Madeline’s eyes, that visceral hunger, and she breathed deep in preparation for what was surely coming. The woman came over her, seized her leg, moved into position and began to take her own pleasure now, driving into the nun’s softness at a growing pace. Helpless beneath her, Sister Chastity threw her head back so hard that her habit nearly came off, as the sensations flooded a body that was already awash with them.

”Oh yes, yes-” Sister Chastity tried to squirm free from beneath Madeline, grunting through her moans at the effort, but there was little she could do from this angle - her bones were weakened, the position was poor, and the Briton seemed to grow stronger with each passing moment. Suddenly, here gameplan was becoming achingly clear…

[Lightman]

Whenever an outsider looked down upon the hentai division, they inevitably dismissed it as merely “sex.” Yet, anyone in the division knew, sex and sexfighting were two profoundly different enterprises. Proper sex involved adapting to a partner’s needs and desires, with a shared climax as the ultimate goal. That, of course, could be fantastic.

But sexfighting was not about being considerate. It was a sport in its purest, most brutal form. Testing one’s own limits, about asserting superiority. It was about power. The power to orchestrate a woman’s orgasm meticulously against her will, just as she sought to do the same to you. The one capable of such mastery could not only claim the title of “better woman” but also hold undeniable control over the loser. Beyond that, it reflected the primal struggle inherent in nature, a disharmonious unity where two combatants merged in a fierce contest for dominance. Even if a match began amicably, it often ended with a serious rival. Wild, hard, and undeniably wet, the mixture of sexual stimulation and competition in this division was unparalleled in its intensity and physical demands.

This was precisely why Madeline had manoeuvred into this position. While Chastity had indeed climaxed twice to Madeline’s zero, there was an inherent fairness to their current dynamic, a mutual danger that offered a legitimate way to determine the true superior combatant. In any sport, regulations ensure a level playing field. Twenty-two footballers played with the same ball; athletes sprinted on equally long tracks; fencers wielded identical sabres. If one side held an unfair advantage, the legitimacy of the rules evaporated. Here, however, both combatants wielded the same weapon: their own bodies. Stimulated simultaneously, evenly, and with the same intensity. There was no aid, no external advantage. The only thing that counted was who could withstand the arousal the longest, who could maintain control over their own body, without succumbing to the inevitable climax.

Madeline’s body moved with a sureness of control that stemmed from years, even decades, of rigorous training. While riding the nun, she remained completely in control of herself, acting not as a passion-blinded lover but as a shrewd and calculating seeker of pleasure. Each movement overwhelmed Chastity with sensation, to drown her in what she desired most, stripping her of her will. The English Rose clung to Chastity’s leg, not as hard as Chastity’s bodyscissors, but with an unwavering grip, occasionally planting a demanding kiss upon the calf and foot. Her crotch smacked, pounded, and ground against the nun’s with a venereal, Uranian fury. The heat between them blazed wildly, threatening to consume them both. The blonde nun struggled to squirm away, but the brunette held on close, adjusting just as Chastity tried to find reprieve.

“Don’t you dare.”

Madeline was oppressive, just as she could be in pure grappling, allowing no quarter, even as her own arousal spiked and rose to a fever pitch.“Hahh…uhhh…ahh…ahhhhh…” Madeline grunted, a primal sound of exertion and burgeoning desire. She panted, her breath coming in ragged gasps against Chastity’s skin. Her entire being focused on the singular, exquisite threshold she approached. Her orgasm was coming, closer and closer, a tidal wave threatening to break over her, yet she fought to hold it, to ride just on its edge, to deny herself the ultimate release even as she drove Chastity to her own. This was the ultimate test. The ultimate power.

[BlackAkuma]

Was there such a thing as too much pleasure?

Sister Chastity often mused such things, as she rode her opponents to torrential orgasms and left them begging for more. She had always been fascinated with the way pleasure affected the human mind, how it could force those who were usually so rational into the most absurd acts. It had a way of melting the mind that pain couldn't quite match, of degrading thoughts and eroding reason. And the wonderful thing was that, unlike pain, those under the spell of pleasure would only ask for more and more and more, like a drug they had grown addicted to.

It was a weapon that she had grown adept at using, but there was no such thing as complete mastery of any art. There was always more to learn, and as Sister Chastity lay beneath Madeline’s thrusting form, she received another education.

Her attempts to move away from Madeline and seek some relief were promptly shut down, not just by her inexorable grip, but with her demanding words. It was as if their connection gave her dominion over Sister Chastity’s body, as if she could not be denied in her commands. Sister Chastity was pacified almost immediately, left to writhe and squirm below, her body twisting about like a livewire.

What came next was inevitable. Even with all the pleasure she had received so far, Sister Chastity’s orgasm was as raw and raucous as if she were wholly fresh, pure bliss traveling through her system. Her cries bounced across the wall, and she hammered the wooden floor as the pleasure took her again, leaving her to buck about beneath Madeline, slapping their pussies together so quickly that the sound could’ve been mistaken for applause.

Sister Chastity’s body deflated once more as she reached her height, sinking down below Madeline. Her breath was ragged as sweat seeped through her clothing, pooling beneath her, some of it slipping through the floorboards. Her eyes were a haze, vacant and unmoving, as if she had ascended to some higher plane for a moment. Perhaps she had.

”I…you…” She stretched her arm out and pointed towards the far corner of the room, at a loose floorboard, slightly lifted, as if it had been pulled up and imperfectly back down. So slight that it wouldn’t have been noticed unless someone had drawn attention to it.

[Lightman]

There was an old saying about excess, about how even the finest indulgence could become overwhelming when pushed too far. Too much of a good thing, or something like that.

Many who venture into the world of Hentai seem to arrive untested in the art of endurance, not merely skill. While the ability to deliver pleasure was paramount, countless competitors, who are accustomed to “first to cum” rules, lacked the stamina for sustained engagement. Unlike pain, pleasure often left one craving more, a paradoxical dissatisfaction despite the euphoric bliss. Hentai Submission, Hentai Endurance, or Hentai KO formats demanded not just skill, but an unwavering ability to last, to go the distance through multiple rounds of intense stimulation. It was a test of the body’s capacity to withstand escalating waves of pleasure without succumbing.

Madeline couldn’t be sure if Chastity had been tested in this arena, but the blonde nun was now receiving a masterclass, an undeniable showing of whether she could keep her head above water or would drown, helplessly, in the surging tides of sensation.

At this precise moment, Chastity seemed destined for the latter. Madeline bucked and humped like a woman possessed, grinding away until that pussy yielded once more. To any unseen observers, the ferocity of Madeline’s tribadism would suggest she was set to be as undone as Chastity. Yet, deep within, the English Rose maintained her competitive drive, resisting her own impending climax. It’s a passionate, internal struggle against the seemingly unstoppable, an intoxicating challenge Madeline craved and savoured.

The English Rose knew it was only a matter of time until Chastity broke again, and break she did. A raw, raucous cry of sapphic bliss tore from Chastity, her body spasming and bucking beneath the brunette, a herald of her surrender. Madeline let the release sweep over her, a wave of profound pleasure washing through her as she, too, let out a visceral cry of sexual triumph. Her nails, digging into the soft flesh of Chastity’s leg, clinched hard as she allowed a guttural sound, a mix of hot moan and primal growl, to escape her lips.

As soon as her own orgasm subsided, Madeline ceased the bucking motion of her hips. Her chest heaved, her hair falling back from her face as she looked down at her opponent. Chastity’s eyes were vacant, her body slick with sweat, but her murmured words and the frantic pointing hand caught Madeline’s attention. At first, the English Rose was unsure what the nun was trying to indicate, but her gaze eventually landed on the far corner of the room: a slightly displaced floorboard. It was an ingenious hiding place, subtle enough that Madeline, even with her trained eye, might have missed it without guidance.

A low chuckle, barely audible, escaped Madeline’s lips. Then it grew louder, and Madeline laughed. Her hand then shot out, gripping the blonde mane of Chastity, roughly yanking her head up until their faces were inches apart.

Madeline’s demeanour shifted in an instant, her laughter replaced by an intense, almost predatory stillness. “Do you honestly think I care about some fucking key?” Her hands now gripped Chastity’s head, her fiery emerald eyes boring into the nun’s still dazed blue ones. Madeline snarled, her voice a low, dangerous rumble. “Did you honestly think this is the end of it, just because you say so? I decide when this is done, and let me assure you, I am not done with you yet. And your rules never said I had to leave, so guess what? You are stuck here with me, whether you like it or not. You can run, you can hide, you can plead and pray for mercy all you like, but neither your gods nor man will save you now.” She held that gaze, unflinching, her presence dominant and undeniable.

“Do you understand? You. Are. Mine.”

[BlackAkuma]

It was wild, it was lustful, it was insane. The noises between the two of them seemed like suited for LAW and more like something you would expect on the Discovery Channel.

It wasn’t just Sister Chastity’s sounds, either. She and Madeline came together for a sinful sonnet, the sound of their lust meeting in the air as they both indulged in their most carnal cravings. The woman’s British brogue mingled with the nun’s Austrian tones, and the two came together for something that could only be described as heavenly - a sweet song, one that made the rafters quake.

It went on and on and on, and when it finally subsided, Sister Chastity lay beneath her foe, utterly spent. It was all she could do to point the way towards the key, giving Madeline the victory she thought she desired. What more could there be gained? The victory was hers.

She learned, to her dismay - or, possible her thrill - that this was not the case.

Sister Chastity gasped - a shocked, scandalous noise - as her hair was yanked and she found her face within inches of the English Rose, so close that her hot breath spread across her face with every word she spoke. Though her face showed fear, her eyes showed something wilder, more intense, as they locked on with Madeline’s once again, sharing in the same intensity.

A challenge? A dare? It was hard to say. But as Madeline spoke and made her intentions plain, Sister Chastity quivered, her breathing grew faster and her lips sucked in lungfuls of air. She wilted in Madeline’s embrace, as if she were giving it all over the Briton, a slave to her will. Within this room, at this moment, there was only one to be worshipped and feared.

”I understand. I. Am. Yours” She panted the words out more than she spoke them. ”Do your worst. Show me your darkest side.”

Sister Chastity’s tongue slipped out and sought Madeline’s lip with a timid touch, as if to tempt her into bridging that gap with a kiss. Her hand came to the woman’s bare thigh and pressed against it, feeling the muscle, the power contained within. The gap between them was so thin now, the sweltering heat could be felt between them, the taste of their breath lingered in their nostrils, and a palpable tension threatened to spill over at any moment.

Something was about to happen. Something glorious.

[Lightman]

For a moment, Madeline stared at nothing but Sister Chastity’s eyes. There’s a lot of information you can get from the human body. Much as people claim to be good at not telling too much, the body has a way of doing so. It was something Madeline picked up as tool for hentai battles, one that showed well what the opponent is thinking, feeling, or perhaps hiding something. The body tends not to lie.

Though Madeline paid more attention to those cerulean eyes. There was always something about them, the way they grew wild and fiery at certain points, from wanting to crush something between those thighs to now as she stares right at Madeline. Perhaps daring her, or perhaps hungry for something. Nevertheless, Chastity gave her answer, and there was understanding between them.

“Good.”

As Chastity’s tongue darted towards her lips, the English Rose caught it gently between her teeth. Not enough to harm, but enough to halt the gesture and remind the nun of something important. “You do not set the terms. I do.”

With a decisive motion, Madeline released Chastity’s tongue and rose to her feet, pulling the nun along by her blonde locks. It balanced along the line of cruel and unyielding, guiding the nun rather than dragging her fully. Though there was no mistaking that resistance would not be entertained. The nun’s body would follow, whether willingly or not, drawn along by the quiet authority radiating from the English Rose. The room seemed smaller as they moved.

Madeline’s gaze had already settled on their destination. Along the far wall, half-hidden in shadow, hung an arrangement that felt almost ceremonial in its presentation. Implements of discipline and indulgence rested there in careful order, each one polished, maintained, and waiting.

Ropes, thick and coiled. Whips, slender and menacing. Floggers, with their multi-tailed ends that leave a broader sting. A heavy cane, robust and unforgiving, with sharp, focused discipline. Each implement, crude yet exquisitely crafted, perfectly suited the macabre charm of the chamber. So many choices, all promising different depths of sensation.

Madeline paused before them. For a moment, she simply looked, and then her hand moved. She selected the paddle. It was solid; its surface lacquered to a glossy finish that caught what little light the room offered. The weight of it sat comfortably in her grasp, balanced, deliberate. Both ornamental and functional. Rather appropriate.

Behind her, she released Chastity’s hair at last, though the absence of that hold did not grant freedom. The space between them remained charged, controlled entirely by Madeline’s presence. “Up.” The English Rose’s gaze, now sharp and commanding, fixed on the bewildered nun. “Face the wall.”

If Chastity hesitated, if her dazed mind moved too slowly, Madeline intended to leave no doubt. With a swift, powerful motion, she brought the paddle down, not on Chastity, but against the rough stone wall, directly next to the nun’s head. The smack echoed through the confined space, a loud, sharp crack that resonated with authority; the sound alone delivered a precise, undeniable message.

Do not make me repeat myself.

[BlackAkuma]

”What the actual fuck is she doing?”

Sister Lucia had returned from her private moments in the bathroom to find Sister Prudence stewing over the cell phone, gazing on it with no small amount of disapproval. It was not hard to ascertain why, either. When they set this scheme in motion, she had a vision of how things would go. While she did not expect Sister Chastity to prevail against Madeline, knowing her to be a highly skilled opponent, she had expected the Englishwoman to be worn down, to be withered and weakened. She knew what their sister’s legs were capable of. She had witnessed their sister making grown men cry like little schoolgirls with those legs.

That was not happening here. While it did not appear that Sister Chastity had lost yet - Madeline had not escaped the room - to call this a competition would make a farce of the term. Not only was Sister Chastity not in a position of control, but the scene unfolding before them almost seemed consensual, as if they weren’t even fighting at all. They could’ve been two lovers, exploring obscure but blasphemous pranks.

Not what she had in mind, no, but neither did Sister Lucia want their vanguard smashing into the room and breaking up the proceedings, as amusing as that would be. ”Calm yourself, sister.” She put a hand on Prudence’s shoulders. ”This is all for the benefit, you will see. Sister Chastity not only strikes the mind, but the heart. Such wounds do not easily show.”

”Yeah, well, you can’t pin her heart for a three-count or get an orgasm out of it.” Sister Prudence grumbled, tossed the phone to Sister Lucia, and stormed off with her arms folded. [color=#80000FF]”I’m going to catering, call me if you need me.”[/color]

Sister Lucia dismissed the already-dismissed woman with a single wave, then brought all of her focus back to the match, where Madeline was currently leading Sister Chastity about like a dog. The grip of her hair was tight and unflinching, so much so that she doubted her sister could pull away if she wanted to - and she doubted she would want to, ever. The woman seemed compliant, shaking her hips from side to side as she crawled along the floor, not unlike the serpent of old.

She stopped in front of the wall and inspected, like a craftsman selecting his tools, scanning over them with a refined, patient eye, before she settle on the paddle - a crude, plain, but powerful instrument. Sister Lucia shuddered to think what such an implement would do to a body if properly applied, but she knew she need not imagine for much longer.

At Madeline’s command, she rose and found her way to the wall, sulking towards it like a shamed schoolchild about to receive her discipline. There was hesitation for a moment, a slowed step, but the Briton got her moving again with a warning shot and a barked order, hurrying her about like a shepard with her flock. With hands to the wall, she leaned forward and presented her ass, round and plump as it was, to be spanked. She dared a quick, sheepish glance over her shoulder, one that showed fear and lust and excitement all at once, before she turned back again.

Sister Lucia conceded; it made for quite a striking scene. WIthout thinking, her hand made its way to her breast and began to gently rub away, before she regained control of herself and straightened up, flushing her mind clean of such vile thoughts.

They said the Lord worked in mysterious ways. So, too, did the Devil, apparently.

[Lightman]

At the sharp crack of the paddle against the wall, Chastity sprang to attention, moving with alacrity and haste. Just as Madeline expected. The Enigmatic Nun rose, turning swiftly to face the rough stone, her hands resting flat against it, her plump backside presented with an almost practised deference. No fumbling uncertainty, nor need for instruction. She knew the position.

Madeline watched, a satisfied smirk playing on her lips. Chastity risked a brief, shy, fleeting glance over her shoulder, and that did not escape her. Fear lingered there, yes, but it was entangled with something far less innocent. Anticipation. Curiosity. Perhaps even eagerness.

Madeline did not indulge in it. The paddle lifted, but it wouldn’t be to strike, but to guide. Its polished edge tilted beneath Chastity’s chin, firm enough to halt that wandering gaze and return it to the wall where it belonged. "Eyes forward." Its touch was controlled and deliberate, serving as a silent correction instead of punishment.

For a moment, she held her there, studying the line of her posture, the set of her shoulders, the tension coiled beneath the surface. There was something almost artistic in it, as though she were shaping more than simply positioning.

With a soft, almost predatory grace, Madeline drew the paddle away from Chastity’s chin. It traced a slow, deliberate line over the nun’s skin, from the nape of her neck, down the length of her spine, a whisper of wood against flesh, before coming to rest with a soft tap against her tailbone. Madeline then moved, her bare feet silent on the wooden floor, circling behind the waiting figure.

The paddle found its way between Chastity’s powerful thighs, pressing its lacquered corner directly against the sopping crotch. The intimacy of the gesture was absolute and undeniable. Madeline leaned in, her voice a low murmur, a coil of silk and steel.

“Now. Confess.” Madeline commanded, her breath warm against Chastity’s ear. “Confess your sin.”

Before Chastity could utter a word or even comprehend the question, Madeline swung the paddle. She was sharp, decisive with the swing, seeking to break the silence with a resounding crack.

[BlackAkuma]

So many people played at control and dominance. They would dip their toes into on occasion. Like a pair of well-worn shoes that might not fit right, they would put them on whenever they needed it. To boss aroumd some employees at their job, or to order some hapless waitresses at their favorite restaurant. Perhaps a little BDSM in the bedroom, to spice up their love life. Cheap toys and flimsy ropes that would get used once or twice and never see the light of day again.

Madeline was not one such person, however, and Sister Chastity could hear that in her authoritative voice, as she spoke with a powerful ease, as if this play came as natural to her as breathing. She moved Sister Chastity’s face back into place with the lightest touch, moving her as if she were nothing more than a puppet on a string.

Sister Chastity’s breathing quickened, her heart raced, beats of sweat drove down her neck and pooled on her breasts. Even in the dull quiet of the room, she could scarcely detect the woman moving behind her, her footfalls so light that even the creaking wood barely registered them. A crack here, a whine there. Or was it merely the room settling? She couldn't be sure. For a moment, it seemed like the woman had spirited her way out of the room, flown away by some dark magic.

The feel of wood against her thighs told her that wasn’t so. Sister Chastity shuddered and sighed, a noise somewhere between ecstasy and shock, as the paddle found her pussy and sent electric bursts traveling through her skin. Madeline’s voice cut through the silence, sharper than any whip, and Sister Chastity opened her mouth to answer without hesitation.


But not fast enough. Down came the paddle. Here came the pain.

Sister Chastity’s cry come out, a rapturous and powerful shriek that shook the raptors, only matched by teh sound the strike itself made. Her back arched and her body quivered, and for a moment she seemed liable to fall to her knees, but she resumed her place soon enough and stood with quaking legs.

”I do confess.” She breathed deep, sagged against the wall, but presented her backside for another strike. ”I am a creature of low cunning. I am driven towards not only pleasure, but also pain, and I am selfish in my thoughts and deeds. The voices bid me to do such wicked things, and I revel in their instructions, to my shame.”