The chamber stank of sex and ruin. Sweat clung to the stone walls like mildew, and the floor was still slick with the mingling juices of broken maids and defiled elders. Somewhere nearby, Elira whimpered softly, face-down in a puddle of her own shame, legs spread, twitching in the aftermath of Rinni and Yoru's abuse.
Allen didn't spare her a glance.
He was busy lounging on his throne of quivering, sobbing maidflesh—half-conscious girls whose bodies still trembled with the aftershocks of cursed itching leaf and hours of being used as his living seat.
Fina lay across his lap like a lazy predator, her hair a wild halo of tangled silver, her tongue flicking lazily across the sticky skin of his cock.
She hadn't spoken in minutes. Just purred and licked, dragging her warm tongue from base to tip, letting his shaft throb against her cheek as she admired it like a sacred idol. But now, she paused, chin resting just above his balls, her breath hot and curious.
