Chapter 778 - 777 - Church Ground is a Mess

Chapter 778: Chapter 777 - Church Ground is a Mess

"Indeed, my Lord." Her voice was strained. Her fingers worked her tits — pulling, squeezing, the nipples distended. "Saintess Olivia said — kneading my tits when the Lord is entering would help me endure. Would help me enjoy."

I chuckled. Pinched her clit.

She orgasmed.

The scream was immediate — a high, piercing sound that echoed off the shelves. Her pussy clamped down on the head of my cock with crushing force. Her body convulsed — back arching, legs kicking, small tits heaving. Her pussy squirted — a thin, hot stream hitting my stomach, running down my shaft.

"AAANGH~!! My Lord — HAAANGH~!!"

Her walls rippled. The contraction was so strong that it pulled me deeper — my cock sliding in another inch, the hymen stretching but not yet breaking. She was shaking. Crying. Laughing. All at once.

I pushed. Through the orgasm. Through the clenching. Through the hymen.

It tore.

She screamed again — louder, rawer, the sound of a woman whose body was being fundamentally altered. Blood appeared — thin, red, mixing with her juices, coating my shaft. I was three inches in. Her pussy was gripping me so tightly that I could feel her pulse through the walls.

"Ah — it hurts — it hurts — my Lord — AAANGH~!!"

I looked down. Her pussy was a ring of stretched flesh around my cock. The blood — virgin blood — was bright against her pale skin. Her small body was trembling violently, her small tits jiggling with each shake, her fingers still clawing at her own nipples.

I pulled out. Slowly. The suction was incredible — her pussy gripping me, the walls dragging along my shaft, reluctant to release. I pulled all the way out. The head emerged with a wet pop. Blood and juices dripped from the tip.

I looked at Mira. Held up my cock — bloody, wet, hard. "She was a virgin."

"Indeed," Helena confirmed. "She was."

I turned back to Mirin. She lay there — legs spread, pussy gaping, blood trickling from her entrance, her small chest heaving. Her eyes were on me. Still devoted. Still burning. Still worshiping.

"More?" I asked.

"Please, my Lord." Her voice was a whisper. "More."

I slammed.

Pah PAH!

"HIEEENGH~!!"

I drove in — five inches, six, seven. Her pussy stretched around me, the walls parting, the blood lubricating the passage. I could see her belly distend — the outline of my cock visible beneath her skin, pushing past her belly button. She screamed. Her hands left her tits and grabbed my arms — her fingers digging into my skin, her nails leaving crescent marks.

"AAANGH~!! It’s — OUNGH~!! — too deep — HAAANGH~!! — my Lord — AH~!! — I can feel it — OUNGH~!! — in my stomach — HIEEENGH~!!"

I grabbed her. Pulled her up. Folded her in half — her knees beside her ears, her small body compressed beneath me. The mating press. My cock went deeper. Eight inches. Nine. Her pussy was making sounds — wet, obscene, slurping sounds that echoed off the shelves.

Pah Pah Pah Pah PAAAH!

"YES — OUNGH~!! — my Lord — HAAANGH~!! — I am — AH~!! — yours — HIEEENGH~!! — break me — OUNGH~!! — use me — AAANGH~!!"

I reached sideways. Found Rosalind — still unconscious, her thick body splayed on the cot. I pulled her closer. Found her breast — heavy, full, the nipple still leaking milk. I latched on. Sucked. The milk hit my tongue — sweet, warm, thick. I swallowed. My body responded — the healing, the regeneration, the energy restoration. My cock hardened further inside Mirin. Another inch. She screamed.

’His cock is inside my womb — I can feel it — the head — it’s pushing past my cervix — it’s — I’m being remade — I’m being made his —’

Her thoughts flooded through the bond. Chaotic. Overwhelmed. Joyful. I could feel her body — the pain, yes, but beneath it, the pleasure. The overwhelming, all-consuming pleasure of a body that had been prepared for this. That had been trained for this. That had been taught — by Olivia, by the sermons, by the blessings — that this was the highest calling.

I fucked her harder.

Pah Pah Pah Pah Pah Pah PAAAH!

"AAANGH~!! HAAANGH~!! OUNGH~!! HIEEENGH~!! MY LORD — YES — AH~!! — MORE — OUNGH~!! — I AM YOURS — HAAANGH~!! — YOUR VESSEL — YOUR WORSHIPPER — AAANGH~!!"

I pulled out. Flipped her. Face down. Her small ass in the air — barely there, barely a handful, but the visual of her bent over, her pussy red and swollen and dripping blood, was devastating. I slammed back in.

Pah Pah PAH!

"OUNGH~!! — different — HAAANGH~!! — deeper — AH~!! — my Lord — HIEEENGH~!!"

I grabbed her hips. Fucked her like a slut. She was a virgin — had been a virgin, minutes ago — but she was moaning like a woman who had been fucked a thousand times. Her pussy was clenching, rippling, the walls massaging my cock with the instinctive expertise of a body designed for this purpose.

"Olivia is hard on her," I said, thrusting between words.

"Indeed," Mira said. "Indeed she is."

I slammed. Harder. Mirin’s face was pressed into the cot, her glasses askew, her ponytail a mess. Her small body was being driven forward with each impact, the cot scraping across the floor. Her pussy was a mess of blood and juice and cum — the frothy white mixing with the red, dripping down her thighs.

"Master — OUNGH~!! — I am — HAAANGH~!! — I am going to — AH~!! — again — HIEEENGH~!! — I’m cumming — AAANGH~!!"

She squirted. Again. The spray hit my thighs, the cot, the floor. Her pussy clamped down — crushing force, the walls contracting in rapid pulses. I felt my own orgasm building — the pressure in my balls, the tightening in my spine.

I slammed. Deep. All ten inches. Her belly distended. She screamed — a raw, broken sound that dissolved into a whimper. I came.

Thick. Hot. Massive. Rope after rope pumping into her — filling her, the heat spreading through her core. Her walls milked me — every contraction drawing more seed, her body converting it to energy with the efficiency of a system designed for it. I could feel her body change — the skin warming, the pussy tightening, the walls slickening further.

I pulled out. She gasped. Her hand went to her pussy — covering it, her fingers pressing over the entrance, her teeth clenched.

"I will not let Lord’s seed fall," she said. Her voice was firm. Devout. The voice of a woman protecting a sacrament.

I sighed. Looked at her. Her small body, curled on the cot, her hand over her pussy, her small tits heaving, her face covered in tears and drool and sweat. Devoted. Completely, utterly devoted.

A system window appeared:

[IMPREGNATED: Commoner — Mirin Thorne. Apothecary Apprentice. Status: Fertile. Conception: Confirmed.]

I read it. Nodded. Looked at Mira.

"Where is Olivia right now?"

Mira tilted her head. "The church. She must be there. Training other women."

I stood. My cock — still half-hard, slick with blood and cum — swung between my thighs. I looked at the room. Rosalind unconscious on the cot, her thick body leaking. Mirin curled up beside her, hand over her pussy, eyes worshiping me. Mira and Helena by the door. Elara hovering nearby, her pink wings fluttering.

I vanished.

Not walked. Not flew. Vanished — teleportation, the spatial folding that had brought me to the mansion earlier. The room disappeared. The herb-scented air was replaced by the cool night breeze of the open sky. I materialized in the air above the town, hovering, my tail swaying, my horns glowing.

The church.

It was new — built in the seven days I’d been gone. A stone structure, modest but well-crafted, standing at the intersection of two main streets. Enchanted windows glowed with soft golden light. The doors were carved with symbols I didn’t recognize — Olivia’s design, probably. A small crowd of women milled around outside, some entering, some leaving, some standing in clusters and whispering.

I descended. Landed on the church steps.

And stopped.

’!’

’The... fuck?’