Blasphemous Grace - Chapter 64

But to Delonas, bound upon the altar directly in its gaze, it was merely another pair of eyes. Moreover, true to its name, nearly every priest and paladin in the temple was present. The altar stood highest, so she could not see their faces—but they could see everything. Not only her reactions, but her very core, spread open by the chains forcing her knees apart upon the altar.

—Clank!

However much she wished to close her legs, the chains around her ankles forbade it. She wanted to pull down her indoor gown, already hiked above her belly, but her wrists were also bound to either side.

Thus, the Grand Assembly began.

—Boom!

As the bell tolled, low murmurs of prayer began to fill the chamber. The prayers seemed not to follow any set text; each voice recited something different. Amidst the incomprehensible litany, Delonas could barely make out the words of the presiding priest.

“Lord Ephina always grants fitting rewards to his faithful devotees.”

She no longer wished to acknowledge it, nor to understand—but she did. The reward they spoke of was, undoubtedly, her. Even in her restricted vision, she could clearly see the men’s swelling arousal. Again, today… Tears fell.

No matter how many times, by how many, she was violated—she could never grow accustomed. When they took her, they seemed to no longer regard her as human. Merely a tool. A vessel for sating lust. Whether she fainted or lost her mind, so long as her body stimulated and gripped them, they would ravage her completely until sated. Today would be no different.

And she—she would shake her head in shame, then, overcome by instinct, would cry out.

‘Please…!’

‘Take me… harder.’

She could not believe she had uttered such words. When Beakin fell and she was captured, when she was first violated in the bath—whether this was dream or reality, the damage to her spirit was absolute. Thus, she had resolved inwardly: no matter what befell her, she would not break. But—

‘Aahk!’

—screaming like an animal in pleasure as she was taken, crying out and rocking her hips—could she still claim she had not lost herself?

She bit her lip. Today, at least, she swore, I will not give them what they want.

“And this reward,” the priest intoned, “may be received only by the most faithful among us—His Holiness the Pope.”

Her eyes flew open. What?

—Thud. Thud.

Footsteps approached. No. Straining to lift her head, she saw a man settling between her legs. Below the altar, between her knees—truly, it was the golden-haired one. Ian. His expression was unclear; the violet divine power permeated the air like mist.

“Today, only His Holiness shall receive the fitting reward.”

“Goddess Ephina!”

The priests chanted Ephina’s name like madmen. And onto the altar, Ian ascended.

“……!”

Though the prayer service provided ample illumination, strangely, his face remained obscured. A thick, violet mist, almost breathable, prevented her from seeing him.

—Thump.

His firm arms braced on either side of her face. His legs pressed forward, lifting and supporting her spread thighs.

—Clank!

The chains around her ankles rattled.

“Release her,”

Ian’s voice commanded from above her. Instantly, priests moved in unison, unbinding the iron from her ankles. But trapped now between his legs, Delonas could not stir.

“The god shall witness this union,” intoned the presiding priest.

She bit her lip. Ian’s priestly robes draped long, almost veiling her body. Through the open front of his vestments, she glimpsed his form—his solid chest exposed where several buttons hung loose.

Delonas could not bring herself to look downward. But she understood now what was to come. One of the hands braced beside her face descended—

—Click.

—the sound of a buckle releasing. Between the priestly robes that draped down, half-veiling her body, the heat of their two forms seemed trapped together.

“Haah.”

A hot breath spilled over her.

“……!”

Delonas strained to see his face—still obscured. His exhales seemed somehow hunted, urgent. Or perhaps… they reminded her of her own labored breaths when her body burned. But she was in no position for concern.

The hand of Ian—whom she had believed was different from the other priests—roughly seized her b****t.