The chamber door creaked wider.
The soft slither of scales echoed in the humid silence. A hush fell over what remained of the once-proud priestess cohort—now broken, cum-leaking dolls sprawled like ritual offerings. Their tongues hung out, tails twitching, pussies still pulsing from Allen's merciless conquest.
And through that door glided her.
She was massive.
Tall and regal, with pale green scales edged in gold, her body was wrapped in layer upon layer of ceremonial silk—though barely enough to hide the generous curves beneath. Her hips were wide, matronly, her breasts huge and bound by golden clasps shaped like open jaws. Tribal piercings ran down her arms, her thighs, and even her slit—glimpsed beneath the sheer drapes, pierced with sacred rings that jingled faintly with every step.
Her eyes glowed like molten amber.
And they locked on Allen.
