She moaned like prayer.
Back arched. Ankles chained. Hair soaked in sweat, clinging to her face like
wet silk. Her wrists were bound in black velvet rope, knotted by my own hand.
Her lips — once gagged — were now parted, whispering my name between gasps like
a sacred chant.
"Kael… again… please…"
High Priestess Seraya.
Virgin of the Celestial Order. Titled. Worshipped. Pure.
Now a trembling wreck of holy flesh beneath me, marked with bruises shaped
like fingers and thighs still shaking from the fifth orgasm I'd pulled out of
her before even entering her.
The chamber floor was slick. Her thighs stained red from the earlier bite of
ritual blades — an offering Veira had insisted upon.
But her blood wasn't the sacrifice.
Her submission was.
I stood behind her now, watching her crawl for the water bowl like a broken
swan, nude and glowing with shame.
"She was one of the Empire's untouchables," Veira said softly from the high
alcove. She sat on velvet pillows, sipping wine, watching us as a queen watches
her actors. "You made her into a relic of sin."
"She's not a relic," I replied, my voice low. "She's a temple. And I've
claimed it."
Seraya looked up at me then, her lips wet, eyes golden and burning.
"Do it again."
"You like begging now?" I asked, circling her. I dragged two fingers down
her spine.
"No," she said. "I like obeying."
That morning, the House of Vile Pleasures declared me the Rite
Champion. The nobles clapped from behind masks. The whores bowed. Even
Veira offered a toast in my name.
But nothing said power louder than what followed.
Veira handed me a blade — a curved ritual dagger forged from the bones of an
executed archmage.
"Your first sanctioned kill," she said. "A traitor priest who dared to
question your right to Seraya. He's chained in the sewer cells. You don't have
to torture him. But…"
"But?"
She smiled.
"It makes the soul bond stronger."
I descended the stone stairs with the dagger still warm in my palm.
Below the House, the sewers ran red with old filth. Rats scurried. Chains
clinked in the dark.
The priest was already naked, kneeling, blindfolded, hands bound.
"I served the gods," he wept. "I only asked questions…"
"Good," I said. "Keep asking them. Let them echo after I'm done."
He screamed, of course. They always do the first time.
But I didn't torture for pleasure. I did it because he wanted to be
forgiven — and I was done pretending to be a savior.
When I slid the blade into his gut and dragged it up, something in me unlocked.
Power pulsed in my chest.
The corpse beneath the arena laughed inside my bones.
"Well done," it whispered.
I returned to Veira covered in blood.
She didn't speak.
She pulled me into her lap and rode me on the throne, wild
and wordless, until the throne cracked beneath us.
Later that night, Seraya knelt in the garden pool. Her body was cleaned. Her
expression wasn't empty. It was focused.
I approached. She didn't look up.
"Am I still your temple?" she asked.
"No," I said. "You're my priestess now."
She smiled. Just once.
Then offered me her throat.
And I kissed it like I would a blade.
Prince Vaelen arrived at midnight.
He didn't knock.
Veira was asleep, draped over me, naked and dreaming.
Vaelen stepped into the chamber uninvited, wearing nothing but crimson silk
pants and a half-smile.
"Impressive work," he said. "But fucking your way through court only gets
you so far."
"Is this jealousy or foreplay?" I asked.
"Neither," he replied. "I'm here to offer you a deal."
I raised an eyebrow. "You? Offer me anything?"
He sat on the edge of the bed, brushing Veira's hair from her cheek.
"I'm next in line for the eastern throne. Veira's not my enemy. But she's in
my way. You, Kael… you could be anything."
"And what would I be to you?" I asked.He leaned close.
"My hound. My knife. My cock-sleeve. Depends how loyal you are."
I laughed. Hard. Then grabbed him by the throat and slammed him against the stone post of the
bed.
"I kneel for no man," I said.
He didn't flinch. He smiled.
"I was hoping you'd say that."
Later, in the sanctuary, Seraya laid naked on her back, her
wrists loose but her breath fast.
She watched me with wide eyes, pupils glowing faint gold.
"You've tasted sin," she whispered. "But you're not full yet."
"I'm never full."
She opened her legs.
"I'll help you starve slower."
As I moved above her, buried inside her again, the voice returned — not
whispering now, but chanting.
"More. More. Take. Break. Own. Rule."
My eyes rolled back.
And I saw it again — the throne of mouths, the skulls weeping flame, the
kingdom waiting in ruin. And me. Standing above it all. Crowned in bone. Smiling.