Chapter 203: Sceptre of seed(18+)
By the time dawn cracked over the new capital—its skyline now etched with smoke, passion, and a very audible thumping from the throne room—the beastkin elders had already arrived.
Not with robes and pride like last time. This time, they came barefoot and bowed, with their daughters in chains. Not the heavy kind—no, Allen didn’t need metal to bind someone. These girls were shackled in ribbon, lace, and shame. Their eyes were painted in hopeful humiliation. Every step jingled with bells attached to nipple clamps, or woven into the decorative strings tied between their thighs. Foxkin, rabbitkin, and even a rare lioness hybrid—all offered up with downcast gazes and quivering inner thighs. It was submission as diplomacy. And Allen? He was ready to negotiate.
The temple was ready too.
Where once had stood an ivory shrine to the gods, now rose a towering obsidian cathedral. Carved straight from the bones of the old faith and glazed in oils, cum, and defiance, it was a sanctuary reimagined. The altar was no longer for bloodless prayers—it was where Fina now bent trembling maidens backward over plush crimson cushions, scrawling degrading symbols on their bellies in glowing ink. Rinni danced between pews, snapping her fingers at kneeling nuns-turned-sluts, her voice chiming: "Open wider! He doesn’t like half-assed offerings!"
Allen entered last, flanked by two temple guards who used to be knight-priestesses. Now, they were bare-chested, blades sheathed, dripping with arousal, marked by thick bands of ink that read "Temple Bitch" across their ribcages.
The crowd quieted. Lustful, reverent silence.
Allen walked straight up the aisle, boots clicking. A line of beastkin girls kneeled on the sides, backs arched, lips parted, their holes already lubed and fluttering from anticipation. Some wept—not from fear, but from joy. One rabbitkin whispered, "I prayed he’d take me in my sleep. This is better."
He stopped before the main altar. Yssira was already splayed across it, her stomach swollen with last night’s seed, her eyes glazed and mouth open in a silent, endless moan. Fina stood beside her, gently brushing her hair, whispering "You did good, my Queen," while sliding a plug into her used ass.
Allen spoke, loud enough to shake the stone pillars.
"The gods demanded virgin sacrifice. I offer corruption instead."
A wave of moaning approval echoed through the cathedral. Bodies pressed forward. Whimpers. Wet smacks. The floor became slick with leaking arousal from dozens of beastkin and nobles desperate to be seen.
He pointed to the lioness hybrid—tall, toned, with golden eyes blazing. "You," he said. "Name."