The stone walls of the sacred chamber glistened now—not from divine energy, but from sweat, cum, and the sticky juices of spent priestesses. The glowing runes had dimmed, pulsing in lazy afterglow as if drunk on the sex-fueled rituals they'd just borne witness to.
Allen stood in the center of it all.
Naked.
Spent.
And yet…
Still hard.
Barely a moment passed after the last lizardgirl collapsed—moaning, oozing, her legs shaking like leaves in a storm—before the next wave arrived.
Tap. Tap. Tap.
Footsteps again.
Soft. Nervous. Urgent.
Another door opened—this one smaller, hidden behind an old ceremonial curtain—and three more lizardwomen stepped in, clutching scrolls and relics to their scaled chests.
Scholars.
Acolytes.
But their eyes… wide, dilated, wet.
They'd heard it all.
Seen the glow under the door. Heard the screams, the begging, the divine howls of orgasmic surrender.
