In the flickering violet light of the throne room, the air felt electric, charged by the humming power of the Tainted Grail. I stood over the pedestal, my hand resting on the Wife-Stealing Rod. Through the silver-serpent carvings of the artifact, I could feel the distance to the Capital dissolving. The sensations of the healers in the infirmary—their clinical, cold hands checking Elara's feverish pulse—were being filtered through the blood-link and translated into raw, pulsating jolts of desire.
I looked down at the base of my throne. Sarah was already there, kneeling in the shadows. Since I had broken Marcus, she had become the perfect vessel. She wore only the black iron collar and a transparent mesh that did nothing to hide the deep flush of her skin. Her breasts heaved with every shallow breath, her nipples hard and dark against the mesh.
"Master," she whispered, her voice a wet, needy rasp. Her eyes were glazed, the pupils blown out until the blue of her irises was almost gone. "I can feel her... the Priestess. She's burning, Julian. Let me show you how much better the fire feels when it's real."
I didn't waste time with words. I grabbed her by her blonde hair, tilting her head back to expose the pale, sweat-slicked column of her throat, and hauled her up. I bent her roughly over the arm of the throne, her legs spread wide, her backside positioned directly in front of the Tainted Grail so she was forced to watch Elara's blood swirl in the glass.
I unbuckled my belt, the metallic click echoing in the silent hall. When I entered her, I did it with a savage, unrelenting force. Sarah let out a loud, vulgar cry that wasn't a protest, but a total, carnal surrender. Her hands clawed at the stone of the throne, her fingernails scraping against the rock as I drove into her.
"Watch her, Sarah," I commanded, my voice dropping to a predatory growl. "Watch her feel every inch of this."
The sound of our bodies colliding—a rhythmic, wet, and heavy slapping—echoed off the obsidian walls. I watched the Grail pulse with every thrust. Miles away, in the quiet of the Cathedral, Elara's body would be arching off her bed in a phantom climax. Every time I buried myself deep into Sarah, feeling the tight, hot friction of her walls, I knew Elara was feeling the same phantom weight, her own "pure" body betraying her with a sudden, violent gush of moisture.
Sarah's head thrashed against the silk of the throne arm, her moans becoming incoherent shrieks of pleasure. I reached around, my hands digging into her hips, leaving deep, red marks on her pale flesh. She surged back against me, her body shaking as she neared the edge.
"Yes! Yes, Julian! Take it all!" she shrieked, her voice echoing through the link.
I didn't hold back. I poured everything into her, a hot, heavy release that made Sarah's entire body go rigid before she collapsed into a shivering heap of spent pleasure at my feet. Through the Grail, I felt the sharp, psychic spike of Elara's final, forced climax—a moment of pure, unholy ecstasy that would leave her shattered and hollow.
Sarah looked up at me, her face a mask of total, mindless adoration, a string of saliva trailing from her bottom lip.
[Sarah's Loyalty: 68%]
[Perk Active: Absolute Submission]