I Only Summon Villainesses

This plea… it hit different. It didn’t just break me; it rebuilt me from the inside out. Desire? Love? Pride? Hell, I couldn’t name it. All I knew was the instant, intoxicating feeling of it.

I snagged Lira, spinning her against the cold brick. My kiss slammed into her from behind, a raw, urgent thing. My hands dove between her thighs, fingers tracing the slick heat building at her core, coaxing soft, breathless moans from her.

I pulled her close, one hand already finding the swell of her breasts while the other eased inside her. The instant I inserted my dick, her eyes flew wide, a sharp yelp tearing from her throat.

For a beat, she looked like she was about to cry. Then, a breathless gasp: “Oh, fuck the gods… it’s so good. You’re so good.”

She twisted back, her lips finding mine in a desperate kiss, before turning away again, pressing into the wall. I gripped her hips, my gaze fixed on her arching ass. My thrusts slammed home, raw and deep. Each one sent a violent jolt through her, making her grip the wall tighter, her whole body trembling with every brutal forward motion.

“Yes, Master… yes, yes! Like that, awhh, fuck me, YES!”

Her moans became my rhythm.

Thump.

Thump.

Thump.

I yanked her hair back, tilting her head, my hand slamming down hard on her ass. Her cry ripped through the night, louder this time.

Somehow, the outside world faded. The distant rumble of street life, the occasional whinny of horses, the deep, resonant chime of the cathedral bell marking seven o’clock prayer – it all just became background noise. A perfect soundtrack to being lost in the moment.

We rode the wave for a long time. Bent over the wall, I fucked her harder and harder until her tongue lolled out, her breath coming in ragged gasps. Her legs threatened to give out, trembling uncontrollably, then the dam finally broke, a torrent of liquid heat pouring from her.

The biting cold of the alley finally drove us apart. But the game wasn’t over. I made Lira walk home with her panties in my pocket. She trotted beside me, eyes downcast giving the perfect picture of an obedient puppy until we reached her manor gates.

It was pure, unadulterated dominance. To bend a woman old enough to be my sister, without even breaking a sweat… It was potent!

And this was all thanks to my infinite stamina and dick that shifted size to the perfect requirement of any female genitalia. Perhaps this world… Yeah, maybe it was a good place to be after all.

I decided to stay and tore through Lira’s manor like a storm – the sitting room, her bedroom, the toilet, even the damn kitchen. It was a long, glorious night.”

***

Night had fallen. A scarred man crossed the white marble floor, his footsteps echoing through the surrounding whiteness. The place looked carved straight from divinity itself. At its center rose the tallest building in Aetheris Kingdom, its spires stabbing into the sky.

The man wore light armor—a silver chest plate and vambraces. He strode into the cathedral’s entrance, nodding at the paladins by the door.

Inside, warm golden light poured down from glittering chandeliers. Someone had tried their mortal best to capture heaven in craft.

He walked between rows of polished ash-wood benches. At the front, he took the nearest seat, pressed his palms together, and bowed his head in silent prayer.

A voice interrupted him.

“Knight Flint. You don’t strike me as a man of prayer.”

Flint raised his head. His one working eye opened.

“Wouldn’t hurt to try, would it?”

He watched the man settle beside him—white robes with golden threads and jeweled ornaments folding as he sat. The old priest had sparse white hair vanishing at the crown, eyes perpetually squinted to slits, eyebrows reduced to desperate dots. This was the same man who’d led the summoning event.

“So?” the priest asked.

“Lira Velan.”

Flint paused. He stared forward at the altar of the Eternal Sun.

“I’m not sure what their relationship is, but he’s been frequenting the Mercenary Guild. A lot. Past few weeks.”

The priest raised his kind face toward the altar. A massive sun insignia with seven rays dominated the wall—a golden statue beneath it holding scale and sword.

“Did you confirm contact with the Speed King?”

Flint shook his head. “Lira Velan seems close to him. Wild guess, but there’s a chance the Speed King’s training him personally.”

Silence. The priest tilted his head down, looking half-asleep.

“How bothersome…” He exhaled. “Thank you. I’ll fulfill my end of the bargain.”

Flint let out a sharp breath, relief washing over him. He started to stand, then hesitated. The priest’s eyes found him.

“The boy. What are you going to do to him? Why are you—no. Never mind that. But the boy.”

The Bishop smiled. “Why? Do you care?”

“You asked me to befriend him. Find out his secrets. I lost ten silvers doing my best. Even after he left the prison barracks, I kept at it. He checks on me, thinks we’re friends. How could I not care?”

“And has he shared his secrets?”

Flint’s voice dropped. “No. Which is why you shouldn’t do anything rash. Just let me—”

“Leave, Flint. Your job here is done.”

Flint hesitated. Then he stood and walked away in silence.

The priest exhaled, remaining in prayer position for a long while. Eventually he rose and climbed the vast curving stairs to the cathedral’s upper floor. Down the hallway, he reached a large room where a woman sat waiting.

She was a nun, blindfolded. Her legs were spread, and beneath her gown, someone knelt between them, servicing her while she sat perfectly still.

The priest stopped at the entrance.

“Cardinal Theresa. Must you do this… at least not with our Heroic spirit summoners.”

She tapped the young man beneath her. He emerged immediately—face flushed, sweating, grinning.

“How’d I do? Am I getting better?” The boy had brown hair.

The Cardinal looked at him like he was a mild annoyance. She sighed.

“You improved.”

She took his face in her hands and drew him close. Her lips hovered just before his. The otherworlder’s face went completely red.

“You know what would be even better? If you succeed tomorrow. Erase that F-rank.”

The otherworlder’s expression darkened, it became serious and determined.

“Of course. Don’t worry about that. Nobody wants that bastard gone more than I do.”