CHAPTER 166: BINDING BLOOD

Allen sat upon his throne, the seat still damp with sacred fluids, and his breath had only just begun to even out when the silence shifted. It wasn’t sound that changed—no clang of armor, no scuffle of feet—but a pressure in the air. Like someone had knocked on the temple walls from the inside. His girls were still splayed around him—some collapsed in the throes of aftershocks, others swaying, overstimulated but desperate for more. The air was thick with sweat and sex and power. But underneath it all... there was something older watching.

He didn’t rise, not yet. His fingers flexed along the armrest as the golden glow from the womb chamber behind him pulsed once, then again. The Core still rested there, filled with his seed, glowing with the warmth of divine pregnancy—but even she seemed to be holding her breath. Because something was coming. Not from outside. From beneath. From beneath her.

A wet sound echoed through the chamber. Slow. Slithering. Then a hiss—low, feminine, trembling with hate and hunger.

The floor in front of Allen split.

Not cracked. Split—like a cunt parting for the first time.

What rose from it wasn’t a woman, not entirely. She had the shape of one—a tall, regal thing wrapped in shadow, her arms covered in scales like midnight armor, her hips wide and built for worship—but her face held no mercy. Her eyes were pits of molten red, her lips curved into a knowing sneer, and behind her trailed something like a tail—or a spine, stripped and still twitching.

She walked forward, each step making the temple moan beneath her. Allen didn’t blink.

"You shouldn’t exist," she whispered. Her voice cracked with age and fury. "You shouldn’t be."

Allen tilted his head lazily. "And yet, here I am. Balls empty. Temple full. What now?"

She snarled. Not with rage, but with want. Her body betrayed her—the way her thighs twitched, the way her claws flexed, the way her nostrils flared at the scent of sex thick on him. She was ancient, yes, but bound to the same rules all things feminine were now bound to in this desecrated place: his presence was law, and her body would obey it before her mind did.

"I am Seraxa," she spat. "The original priestess. The first blood-womb of the divine. I was buried because I would not breed with the gods. I chose the blade over the altar. I—"

Allen stood.

And Seraxa shuddered.

His cock was hard again. Of course it was. It pulsed with the rhythm of the temple now, responding not just to lust, but to challenge. To resistance. He stepped down from the throne and the stone trembled with each footfall. The goddesses and beastkin parted silently, like they already knew what would happen. Like they wanted to witness it.

Seraxa hissed again, retreating one step—but her body betrayed her, fluids beginning to drip down her scaled inner thighs, steaming as they hit the floor. She shook her head. "No. You will not do to me what you’ve done to them. I am not some vessel. I—"

He was in front of her in a blink.

His hand seized her jaw.

Her eyes widened as his thumb pressed past her lips, forcing her to taste his thumb soaked in his own divine cum, still fresh from the Core. Her body sagged against him, knees bending, thighs squeezing together. Her tail coiled and thrashed.

"You’re not a vessel?" he growled into her ear, voice soft and cruel. "Bitch, your womb’s been aching since the gods sealed you away. You’ve just been waiting for someone worthy to split it open."

And then he bent her.

Right there—threw her over the edge of the broken altar, her scaled ass high and twitching, her folds already glistening like molten glass. He didn’t need to tease her. She didn’t deserve it. He rammed into her in one long, brutal thrust, and Seraxa screamed—a deep, gurgling sound like an ancient curse being fucked out of existence.

The temple exploded in light again.

Waves of red energy poured out from where their hips met, her ancient cunt spasming wildly around his cock, trying to milk him, break him, claim him—but it was too late. Allen fucked her like a man who had rewritten the laws of creation with his balls. He gripped her tail like reins, used it to slam her back against him with every thrust, and her claws scraped the altar until sparks flew.

Goddesses moaned around them, caught in the rhythm. The beastkin girls began to cum again, some collapsing in twitching heaps as the power rolled over them. The Core moaned from beneath the earth, her belly glowing.

Seraxa’s words had become broken sobs. "No—no—no I won’t—won’t—can’t—"

"Yes," Allen growled, dragging her up by her neck, forcing her back against his chest, still impaled on his cock. "You already did."

And he came inside her. Not just a flood—a rupture. His cum slammed into her womb like a meteor crashing into a dying star, and Seraxa’s scream shattered the last of the ceiling’s carvings. Her body seized. Her tail coiled around his waist. Her belly bloated instantly, pulsing with red light.

Allen held her there until the tremors stopped, until the final drops spilled from her stretched cunt and down her trembling legs.

He let her drop.

She knelt before him, head bowed, chest heaving, muttering fragments of devotion through her ruined lips.

"I serve... I serve... I—belong... I belong to you"

Allen turned back to the throne.

Behind him, Seraxa crawled.

Not because he told her to. Because she needed to.

Because whatever blood-bound curse she once carried had been fucked out of her and replaced with something deeper. Something thicker. Something permanent.

Cum.

As he sat again, the Core’s glow flared one last time.

New life was taking root.

And Allen? He leaned back, arms spread, cock still twitching, and watched the goddesses kneel.

The next ritual would begin at dawn.