Allen didn't speak again. He didn't need to. The temple understood him now—not as a man, not even as a king, but as a force of nature. His breath was law. His cum was scripture. The garden below Kashet had bloomed for him, and it would not rest until every inch of it had been seeded.
The next priestess whimpered when he bent her over the slick altar, her hands slipping across its moaning surface as her knees buckled. The tendrils wrapped around her ankles without prompting, hoisting her hips in the air like an offering. Her cunt was already wet, clenching around nothing as she waited, trembling. Allen gripped her waist and slammed into her with no warning, his veiny cock punching into her depths as she screamed into the sticky air.
