You half-jogged along the rooftop, furtively glancing between the stone gargoyles perched at its edges. Your previous memories of this location were not yet firmly in the past, and one hand rested atop your weapon just in case. Upon reaching the doorway of the belltower, you immediately ducked into the darkness in relief. A sudden grandiose voice made you jump, knuckles whitening on your weapon’s handle.
“Greetings! I am Oswald of Carim…” He paused for a moment, seeing your frazzled face peering up at him. “Ah! We have met before. What dost thou desire, my friend? Thou appearest to be most perturbed. Hast thou perhaps committed… a sin?” The corners of his mouth split from a calculating smirk into a wide grin on utterance of this final word. Was he mocking you? You got the distinct impression that he would find any such predicament amusing. Redness crept into your face which you hoped he couldn’t see.

“I… no, not really. I-I mean… I just wanted to buy something! I didn’t mean to hurt him!”

He laughed, a startling sound which echoed off the cavernous walls of the belltower. Dozens of Oswalds cackled as you grit your teeth. “I understand,” he smirked knowingly, “It is only human to commit a sin…”

You felt compelled to elaborate, to defend yourself. “There’s a shopkeeper down in Undead Burg… hidden away. I was being chased by Hollows and I thought that I had found myself a place to hide! I was startled, and I… I cut him. I tried to explain but he wouldn’t listen! I don’t hurt the innocent! Only Hollows… or demons! I wouldn’t even really consider this a sin, just a simple mistake…” You trailed off, hoping that Oswald would not enact a harsh punishment for such an action. As if to illustrate your point, you fumbled with your belt clumsily. Taking your longsword from its scabbard, you placed it at your feet as a gesture of repentance. His eyes danced with amusement watching you stumble through your defence.

“I see…”

Oswald spoke calmly, rolling each carefully selected word around his mouth before uttering it. His unflappable manner was in stark contrast with your neurotic rambling. Despite the gravity of the situation, you found it all strangely disarming. Maybe even… charming? You gave your head a little shake to flick away such bothersome thoughts and tried to ignore your traitorous inner monologue.

“As thou knowest, it is my duty to assist…sinners…” Oswald made direct unwavering eye contact “…with their atonement. I have much experience with such things.” Suddenly, he was behind you, close enough for you to notice the warmth emanating from his body. You made a sort of strangled squeak which you poorly disguised as a cough.
“Be not afraid.” You knew instinctively that he was smirking as he said this and began to run through potential ‘atonements’ and what these might entail. He spoke softly, but there were undercurrents of…something. For some reason, your mind wasn’t as sharp as it should be. You supposed it was the embarrassment of having to confess in the first place. To have… sinned. If that was what it was. It wasn’t really a sin if it was an accident… was it? You were snapped out of your reverie when wiry, yet strong, hands suddenly encircled your wrists and placed them against the cold wall without explanation.

“H-huh!?” You stammered, eloquence utterly failing you. You twisted your head to try and look behind at Oswald, but one of his palms pressed to the back of your head imperiously. His other hand, to your utter shock, began unfastening your chest piece.
“Now, now. Be still and allow me to begin. Thou hast committed a sin and now… thou must atone.” For some reason, again, you complied. Your hands still pressed to the chilled walls, you shivered. The cool air ghosted over your newly exposed back. You fought the powerful urge to clasp your hands to your chest to retain modesty, though he surely could not see much of interest from this angle. You feel what could be the ghost of a gloved hand brush a reassuring thumb over your bare flesh, but before you can comprehend the motives of such an action, Oswald brings down the whip.

You scream, more in shock than in pain. As was your fate, you were no stranger to pain, nor even to death. To this, however? Absolutely. Startled surprise swiftly gave way to confusion and soreness. “Aghh… Oswald!?” You searched him for answers and received nothing but a dry chuckle in return. He brought down the whip again, and again. The sting began to set in with each successive lashing, and you were sure this would leave marks. It didn’t take long for you to feel overwhelmed. The pain was numb yet searing, and the position he had you in was taking its toll. You may be well-acquainted with pain but that didn't mean you had to embrace it with open arms and bared flesh. “G-gods! Oswald! S-stop this!” you cried out as a particularly cutting strike hit its mark. You intended it to be assertive, but your body quavered and so did your voice. He merely laughed again, but this time it was clear he was deriving enjoyment from this. The redness from earlier was creeping back to your face. Your knees trembled.

“Do I need to move on?” he enquired, smiling. “I would not want to impose any permanent damage. After all, this is simply an atonement, not a death sentence..." He chuckled to himself again and you couldn't help feeling that his laughter was entirely at your expense as he hooked a thumb through one of your belt loops. Instinctively you moved your legs together to hinder his progression. Quirking an eyebrow, Oswald questioned you wordlessly and his hands remained in place. You flustered at his iron grip, wondering just how many death sentences he had carried out. Hating the way the thought of it made you hot, you persevered.
"I don't want…" you trailed off, embarrassed to make the presumption as he had not confirmed his intentions in words, "I don't want it… there. That's… private." Cursing your lack of articulation in this moment, you glanced up at him, avoiding eye contact and blushing furiously. He gave you a calculating look that clearly stated that your wants had no place here. As though he could read your mind, the corner of his mouth quirked up again and his insistent fingers continued to work at the fabric of your trousers.

"I will not remove thine undergarments, thou shalt retain thy modesty… for now." Modesty!? You could scarcely recall a time wherein you felt less modest… Shirtless in an abandoned church tower, with not a companion nor a weapon within reach, at the mercy of an imposing stranger. Modest, indeed. A chill in the air swept across your exposed chest and you grit your teeth.
Oswald slid your trousers downwards and you repeated a nonsensical mantra in your head to remain grounded, breathing heavily through your nose as you tried not to imagine the scene unfolding, or the look in Oswald's eyes. Trousers pooled at your ankles like shackles, he seemed satisfied. You shuffled on the spot, burning with embarrassment at the knowledge that he could see so much of you, even if this was a purely, er, professional interaction. You tilted your head upwards and wordlessly thanked any deities listening that your simple underwear covered a decent amount.

When the whip struck the back of your thigh, tears sprung immediately to your eyes and you blinked hard to clear them. This was somehow even worse than before, and when he brought the weapon down again to bite at your legs you yowled. Despite your body's higher capacity for physical punishment, you were convinced your flesh was already beaten bloody. Breathing raggedly, in short gasps unconsciously timed with his strikes, you turned your head. "Oswald… how… long… ungh… h-how much… longer..?" you blinked purposefully again to clear your eyes, from sweat or tears you weren't sure.

He did not answer. The pain fast becoming all-consuming, you crouched and groped shakily for the comforting glow of your Estus Flask and brought it towards your face. Suddenly, an inhuman scream rent the air and the flask spun from your hand onto the floor where it clattered and rolled out of your reach. It took a moment for you to realise the scream was your own, as you stared in confusion down at the blood now dripping from your hand. Eyes wide, you turned your head as far as you could to stare at Oswald in horror. The toe of his boot rested on your flask. He smiled benignly, winding the bloodied whip through his gloved hand as crimson droplets fell from your aching fingers onto the cold stone floor.

"Do behave now…" he admonished. Chuckling airily, he tucked away the whip in his cloak and smiled down at you as though you had been having a casual conversation about the weather. Your eyes fell again to the flask which rested under his foot, precariously, like your current wellbeing. After a moment of stillness between you both which only served to fill you with greater dread, Oswald moved.

Moving jarringly quickly for an older fellow, Oswald dipped down and retrieved the golden flask. Cracking open the wax lid you had carefully fashioned at the previous bonfire, he brought it to his lips and began to drink. You let out a defeated whine but he appeared not to hear. Chugging more than was necessary, especially as you couldn't make out a single scratch on him, you watched as your precious supply of the healing liquid dwindled in his throat. "Please, Oswald… Please stop…" you pleaded with him, cradling your injured hand, but he was unmoved. Stepping out of your trousers entirely you tried again, voice cracking a little, "Oswald, please at least leave me some for my return journey?"
He definitely heard your pleas but they remained unanswered. If anything, the sound of you begging seemed to spur him on and he brought a gloved finger commandingly to your lips. Stupidly, you obeyed. Mouth closed, your mind was immediately overrun with foolish things. Things that made warmth pool in your stomach as though you had a sip of the Estus after all. The heady scent of leather hovered under your nose, and you tried to ignore the metallic undertones you knew to be blood. His finger was so close that you could lean forward and… and what? The mere thought of him touching your lips in any capacity made you violently embarrassed and you shook your head again as if to dislodge this errant thought.

Satisfied, Oswald bent to secure the empty Estus Flask back on your belt. Straightening up, he stared down at you with an unreadable expression. As you gazed up at him, you couldn't help but notice the faint orange glow still clinging to his lips, and a droplet threatening to fall down his angular chin. Devious thoughts raged through you like wildfire and you tried your best to recall the embarrassment of a few moments ago. The ache in your bones and howl of your torn flesh, however, seemed to overtake your mind in a primal urge for healing and you stumbled closer to the towering man in desperation. No fool, he swiftly captured your grasping hands and pressed them above you on the wall so you could do him no harm. This was not your intent, however, and you pushed forwards to capture his lips with your own. He froze, stunned, as you ran your tongue hungrily along his lip to claim the lingering Estus drops.

Even with such a small amount of the precious liquid saved, warmth spread from your throat to your stomach, then outwards to the tips of your toes. Still dangerously weak, you sighed and leaned bodily against the incredulous Oswald, disobedient hands still pinned above your head. You revelled in the shock evident on his face, which smoothed and turned to an expression you couldn't quite place. In the small scuffle, a long strand of white hair had escaped his helm and you thought about reaching out for it, stroking it… Blood pounded in your ears. The adrenaline of the kiss made your knees weak and your head swirl dizzily. Inhaling a shaking breath, the heady and dark scent of leather, iron and candle wax curled about your lungs. Your fingers clenched loosely around nothing, the backs of your hands still pinned to the wall. The wounds on your back throbbed where they had met with the wall, and with a surge of embarrassment you suddenly remembered your shirt lay discarded on the floor.

Cutting swiftly across your runaway thoughts with staggering force, Oswald dropped your hands as though he'd been burned and strode across the room to a small storage cupboard. Without any rummaging, he drew out a sturdy chair and dragged it over. Holding your arm across your bared chest in a vain attempt to wrest some control back from the situation, you watched him with trepidation. Silently, he grasped your injured hand and yanked you closer to him. Stumbling, pain flashed up into your arm like lightning and your knees threatened to buckle. Oswald sat, an intimidating figure even when seated, and you swallowed hard when your gaze met his.

Eyes wide, you squeaked in surprise as he roughly manhandled you across his lap. Surely you had done enough by now? You had cuts across your back and legs to prove that your sin had been duly atoned for. Was this additional punishment? You weren't sure how much longer you could take the bite of the whip without falling unconscious, especially with no Estus. The genuine danger of this situation flickered through your rushing stream of thought-panic, but you knew not what to do with it. His bizarre strength rendered you speechless once again as he pulled you easily out of your head by stripping you of your underwear and tossing them to the ground in one fluid motion. Candles flickered and shadows loomed tall and danced menacingly on the towering walls. You froze in dread, knowing that you were likely too weak to overpower him. Worse, knowing that he could see everything from this angle.

The humiliation was beyond anything you could have fathomed. Though you were both alone in the tower, being so fully exposed in front of this strange man left you deeply flustered. To your horror, it was not a solely unpleasant or unwelcome feeling. The more you dwelled on the image the two of you made, a strange intermingling of anticipation and fear left you lightheaded and pliant in his lap. You almost welcomed the lashing of the whip, as each strike in theory brought you closer to the completion of your atonement and thusly the situation at hand. However, it was not the whip that he chose this time.

You felt his leather-covered palm come down hard and collide with your backside with a loud smack that echoed up the tower. Incredulous, your mouth hung open as thoughts raced through your mind, falling over one another in their haste. He was… using his hand? After the first couple of strikes, you felt his gloved hand smooth across your exposed skin and it was all you could do not to make a desperate sound. Gods, what..? Your stomach flip-flopped and you scrunched your toes. He struck you a third time and you screwed up your face grimly to await the fourth stinging impact. However, it didn't come. The anticipation of his next action was playing with your nerves and causing tingling in places it definitely shouldn’t. Flagrantly lying to yourself, you reminded your inner monologue and treacherous body that it was simply a case of the strangeness of the situation getting to you. You were absolutely not waiting for his barbaric touch, the feeling of soft leather against your skin in stark contrast to his harsh actions... Praying he would hurry but knowing that asking for such would only hinder your situation, you cleared your throat and shuffled slightly in place as though to get comfortable in your precarious position. In doing so, you became shamefully aware of the sensation of your bared chest brushing against the fabric of his clothing. Your nipples formed sensitive peaks as they were stimulated, and you forced yourself to stop moving altogether. Suppressing an audible groan at the torturous feeling, you gave a small exhalation of need and fought the urge to cross your legs.

"And what, pray tell, do we have here..? Thou were to be punished, not to be enjoying thyself like a common whore." His usage of that word shocked you into stunned silence, unable to do anything but flush and shiver in useless protest as you felt soft leather stroke across your skin. "Well..?" Oswald probed, and you could no longer tell if he was smiling. Certainly couldn't bear to turn your head and find out. You settled for stoic silence, broken almost immediately with an embarrassing squeak the moment you felt a gloved finger run slowly across your opening and glide through the wetness there. Utterly floored, you bit down on your lip hard in an attempt to extinguish further irrational noises. Oswald, to your horror and exaltation, began stroking gently along the outer edges of your core, and a quiet moan caught in your throat. You bit down harder on your lip until you tasted blood.

"To think such a noble and righteous warrior as thyself would be so easily drawn back to the base lure of carnal sin… It is quite the marvel." Oswald punctuated each word where it would needle the most with sarcasm, velvet tone dripping with amusement. His deft fingers swirled rhythmically, tantalisingly, yet too maddeningly soft to grant any real relief. Your face reddened further at his dextrous touch, yet still you were silent. "I suppose it is only human after all…"
Part of you longed to cut him off, tell him to be quiet, beg him to stop this madness before it reached a point you couldn't come back from. In truth, each time he spoke it stoked the smouldering coals within you until passionate heat licked up your sides. Each teasing word had your head spinning. You thought you might perish if he continued, but were absolutely sure you would if he stopped.

"Look at me," he commanded, and with great effort you forced yourself to obey. You observed him reverently, anxiously, as one might observe a vengeful deity. Slowly, Oswald brought a slick-coated finger to his lips and sucked, twirling his tongue around the gloved digit, making a short “Hm…” of contentment. Whether this was in response to the taste or his performance, you weren't sure. Upon seeing your dazed expression, he removed the finger from his mouth with a pop and smiled wickedly. Heat flared again in the pit of your stomach, and you wondered if it wasn't hellfire.
"Perhaps… a slightly different approach would be beneficial," he purred, "Certain methods can bring us closer to the Goddess, assist us in conveying our, ah, prayers…"

You cried out as he, without warning, thrust two gloved fingers to the hilt in your waiting opening. Your entire body shuddered involuntarily, and you melted in his arms. The initial burn soon subsided and you were able to relax into the delicious rhythm he so generously provided. You were distantly aware of hearing your own voice mumbling unintelligibly in between shaking breaths. Moving his wrist with startling skill, he expertly drew responses from your willing body as any reticent thoughts crumbled away to ashes.

Oswald lowered his head, the long strand of white hair dangling down to your neck and tickling where it touched. You could feel the warmth of his breath playing along your neck and let out a tiny whimper of anticipation. "How very interesting… the sinner respondeth favourably to such activities…" he murmured, brushing his lips along the sensitive flesh of your neck while continuing to slowly pump his fingers in and out. "Ah… I… ahhhnn…" you moaned helplessly, your mind clouded and hazy as you tried to process the fact that he was nipping at your neck with eager teeth.

Moving his mouth to your ear, with a few sharp nips at its shell, he whispered threats, no, promises which only served to fuel your increasingly garbled litany of praises and half-formed pleas that you mumbled at the floor. You felt so gloriously full, and cared not if you fell apart by his hand. Allowing yourself to fall prey to his insistent ministrations, you moaned and writhed against him. "Do try to remain still…" Oswald chastised, but you could hear that he was smirking as he did so.
Raising his unoccupied hand once more, he resumed his earlier assault on your behind. Your walls clenched around him with each strike. The intense feeling was fast becoming overwhelming, and you trembled with pleasure and pain alike. Mercifully, he did not touch your wounds, but also did not hesitate to use more force than was strictly necessary to enact his wishes. It wasn't long before your rear burned as brightly as your face did, and you felt that you may never quite be the same as you were before you entered this tower.

Leaning down once again to whisper in your ear, and grasping a hand full of your hair at the roots, he breathed a single word: "Beg." Suddenly embarrassed, hesitant, you halted your incomprehensible utterings. You felt as though he must be able to feel your heart hammering in your chest, caged against his thighs.

Oswald, recognising your self-conscious reluctance, elaborated in a commanding tone. "Foolish little sinner, thou must beg for thy forgiveness. It is only through Velka's benevolence that thy misdoings may be righted." He smiled, an expression which only served to make him look more cruel. You gazed up at him pleadingly, his smile ever-present as he ceased his relentless motions momentarily. You trembled desperately at the loss of friction but he remained still, awaiting the completion of his order. Closing your eyes, you obeyed, beginning to stammer a barely-formed prayer to a goddess you had never addressed before. As you neared the end, stuttering and pathetic, Oswald cut you off with a low chuckle. "The Goddess listeneth not to just any undead… I am her vessel." Inclining his head, he paused meaningfully to allow you to absorb the meaning of his words. Embarrassed, you felt heat creep up to your cheeks and a defiant remnant of the person you were before… this… made you hesitate. He intended for you to speak his name… to beg him.

As he spoke, he curled his fingers in a beckoning motion, as though beckoning you towards the light. Screwing up your eyes, you could swear you saw stars collide and any inhibitions you may have held disintegrated in a burst of sparks. "Oh… Oh… Oswald…" you called out against your will, mumbling incomprehensibly again as you moved your hips in an attempt to gain more friction, more depth, just… more. He laughed, harshly, and provided. You heard your desperate voice echoing up the tower, where it broke free into the heavens. "Please… please…" you trailed off at one particularly delicious thrust and he gripped your hair tightly, demanding you continue.

Overwhelmed, tears gathered at the corners of your eyes, threatening to spill to the cold stone beneath. "P-please… f-forgive… me…" A gloved hand grasped your face and tilted it upwards, demanding access to your blush-reddened features, and you arched your back to comply. Oswald planted a chaste kiss on each of your trembling eyelids, lips capturing the salty tears as he did so. As he pulled back, you noticed his sharp tongue dart out to taste them, and shuddered at the sight.

"Oh… thou hast performed…admirably thus far. I believe we are reaching the conclusion of thine absolution…" He briefly sped up the movements of his wrist, ensuring he angled his fingers just-so to hit the sensitive bundle of nerves within. You gasped and stuttered, flushing at his praise and the insistent probing of his long fingers. With his other hand, he played across your sensitive outer areas, moving along your inner thighs, your lower back, stroking at any areas which provoked a reaction from your trembling body. Tension was coiling inside you and you felt as though you would fall into oblivion at any moment, whenever Oswald willed it, permitted it. You looked up at him, searchingly, pleading eyes meeting his wicked gaze. He focused on your most sensitive areas in a rhythm surely sent from the Gods themselves and you careened over the edge, thinking of nothing but the sinful accuracy of his accursed fingers. Your pulse thundered in your ears as you boiled over, babbling uselessly. Vaguely, you were aware of a hitch in Oswald’s breathing, but this could have simply been your imagination.

You trembled in the aftershocks, tearstained, laid bare in his lap as blood quietly oozed from wounds that were only just beginning to close over. Your backside ached where he had struck you, and you suddenly felt deeply tired. A gloved hand stroked your hair, thumbing at your flustered cheek. Glancing tentatively up at Oswald you expected a similar ruinous countenance to be reflected back at you, but this was not so. He seemed to barely be affected by the situation at all, smiling serenely down at you. If anything, he seemed more in control than ever before. You were suddenly hyperaware of the sensation of your complete nakedness against his clothed lap, realising that not even his gloves or helm had been removed for the act you had both partaken in. Another wave of humiliation washed over you as you wondered how many other foolish people he had sprawled out here previously, writhing and crying for their absolution. You shivered, beginning to feel the cold despite being held.

Unceremoniously, he relinquished his grip on you and allowed you to slide from his lap. Weakened knees meeting cold stone, you remained in place in shock. Smoothing his cloak, Oswald rose to his feet. As though noticing it for the first time, he reached for the loose strand of hair, tucking it back inside his helm. Running his eyes appraisingly across your kneeling and devastated form, he smiled widely and turned his back on you. Striding back to the position you found him in, he nudged your pile of clothing and empty flask towards you with his boot.

"Now...thou mayst return to Undead Burg, free of sin, to make all the purchases thou desirest. Do take care though…it is so awfully easy to make mistakes."