Witch's Embrace

"The Witch's Convent" by DaoistaHADNk

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After a long time, when the sun was already starting to set in the west, Hawthorne finally exploded out of Die's body.

They returned to a sitting position, with Die slumped against him like a puddle of mud. Hawthorne continued to gently knead and toy with her soft breasts while returning to the topic, asking, "Die, what do you think about me advancing to the 'Spellblade' occupation?"

The Spellblade is an occupation that can only be advanced to by Warlocks who have formed pacts with mysterious entities from the Shadow Abyss. They use the shadow powers granted by their overlords to create powerful magical black blades for attacks or to form hexed armor for protection, making it an occupation suitable for both distance and melee combat.

Upon hearing the series of Warlock advanced occupations that Die mentioned, Hawthorne had already set his sights on the "Spellblade" and began planning his future occupational path.

Die lay weakly against his chest, allowing his large hand to freely explore her body. After a moment's thought, she also had her own reflections on this question: "The Spellblade is indeed an excellent advanced occupation, but why doesn't Master choose the training methods related to 'Old One Overlord'?"

Then she innocently provided her reasoning: "Master must understand that we witches are born from the flaws of the rules of the material world, mixed with chaotic magical power from beyond. Essentially, we are closer to those incomprehensible Old One Overlords and could better utilize their methods to enhance Master's power…"

Hawthorne's expression remained unchanged: "Because it's not good enough."

Die was instantly taken aback: "Not good? What does that mean? "

"Ah, that's not what I mean." Hawthorne let out a slight sigh, then began to express his meaning in a way the witches could understand: "What I mean by 'not good enough' is that this advanced occupation still has quite a bit of room for optimization…"

Die looked even more surprised: "Ah?"

She had read countless memories from Warlocks but had never heard of such an idea.

Is the power granted by the Old One Overlord... weak?

She didn't understand; she had never done any statistics in this regard. To this, Hawthorne sincerely nodded: "Yes, in short, I can't choose it."

Old One Overlord Warlocks are recognized alongside Trickster Priests, Earth Druids, Four Symbols Monks, Cunning Rogues, Gravity Mages, and Arcane Cannoneers as an occupation that can quickly help new players improve their understanding of the game, operational skills, mental resilience, and stress tolerance. It is also a common choice for experienced players to showcase their game skills and understanding.

So one can imagine what the situation is like for the Old One Overlord Warlocks.

Although the reality of this other world is certainly different from the game, the witches are not the truly powerful Old One Overlords, so how much power can they really provide for themselves?

Thus, Hawthorne would rather die than choose this advanced occupation.

When there are better options available, why would he want to try this occupation at all?

However, Die surely didn't understand this. Seeing her Master's resolute attitude, she could only show a look of regret and then gently nodded: "Alright, then next, I will teach Master how to advance to become a Spellblade…"

Her expression was serious, and looking at her face, the desires that Hawthorne had just calmed down suddenly stirred once more.

What a beautiful girl she is...

With that thought, he lowered his head and gently kissed her red, soft lips. Die was caught off guard, her body stiffening, a surprised moan escaping her throat: "Mmm..."

However, she soon relaxed, wrapping her arms around his shoulders in return, and began to respond. Hawthorne tasted her mouth uninhibitedly, his hands, hidden beneath her nun's garb, growing even bolder, roaming freely over her naked body.

Die's body trembled slightly. She shyly opened her mouth, allowing his hot tongue to invade, surging back and forth within her.

Her little tongue responded clumsily, attempting to entwine with Hawthorne's, but was quickly overwhelmed, its sweet nectar plundered by him, completely captured by his passionate kiss.

After a long time, just as Die's body began to spasm, almost suffocating, Hawthorne finally released her lips, slowly pulling away, leaving a bright, lustful thread hanging in the air.

"Master..." Die breathed, her eyes hazy. She could feel Hawthorne's hand already touching her most sensitive and delicate spot...

Hawthorne smiled; after such a battle, surviving and even reaping such rewards, his desire burned fiercely within him, easily rekindled.

Not getting to fully release on Die, he won't be able to focus on studying and working for the entire day.

"Die, is your physical condition pretty much recovered?" he suddenly asked.

Die paused for a moment, even though she was panting heavily, she still nodded forcefully: "Yes, Master wants to..."

"Mm." Hawthorne nodded, "Come, sit on top and move yourself."

As he said that, he leaned back against the chair backrest, hips lowered, in a semi-reclined posture, ready to receive her service.

Immediately, Die's delicate body stiffened slightly: "Ah? You mean..."

Hawthorne's mouth curled into a slight smile, he looked up and gently kissed her cheek, then caressed her long, raven-black hair, encouraging her, "Come on, go for it!"

Die's face instantly flushed scarlet, but as Master's order cannot be disobeyed, she eventually let out a weak, mosquito-like "Mm."

After that, she slowly reached her small hands into her clothes. Throughout, she did not remove her black Nun Garb, still in her usual solemn and sacred attire, so the Nun robe naturally draped down, covering both her and Hawthorne's lower bodies.

This reduced Die's sense of shame, but also prevented her from seeing the true situation down there, so she could only slowly grope with her small hands, searching for the huge thing that was about to enter her body...

When her fingertips touched that hard and scorching object, her small hands immediately retreated like a startled deer.

But facing Hawthorne's gaze, she could only take a deep breath, muster up her courage again, and with trembling fingers, slowly grasped that symbol of life, straightened it, then pushed off the ground with her feet, gradually raising her hips sitting on Hawthorne's thigh.

Her whole body moved forward, her other hand also reached into the Nun Garb, past the small patch of grass above the garden, finding her already moist entrance...

This was the first time she touched her own spot, instantly becoming too shy to open her eyes. She took a deep breath, as if making up her mind, aligning herself with Hawthorne, then slowly lowered down—

"Mmn—Ugh—!"

Her willow-like eyebrows slightly furrowed, although half an hour ago she was being forcefully pounded on the desk by Hawthorne, her delicate body still could not fully adapt to the intrusion of the foreign object.

But she continued to try, using her fingers to guide Hawthorne's direction, while letting her body, following the direction of that shaft, continue to descend—

When she exerted her utmost effort to have Hawthorne fully sheathed inside her, a slightly numb sensation radiated from the point of connection, making the bones in her entire leg start to itch.

Her toes even curled involuntarily, grabbing the ground, trying to use this method to alleviate the strange sensation, but it was essentially futile: "Master..."

"Ah..."

Hawthorne let out a satisfied sigh, his hands still groping and caressing her soft, ample breasts under the Nun Garb, teasing the buds: "Begin."

Die lowered her head, closed her eyes, enduring the shame, her delicate waist starting to sway clumsily back and forth: "Ugh, ah, ah..."

With each movement, an alluring moan would emanate from her small mouth, echoing continuously within this study.

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