The mood shifted like a candle flame in a breeze.

Liliana straightened in her chair, cupping her wineglass in both hands like it might keep her from unraveling completely. The blush still clung to her cheeks like fever, but her golden eyes had sharpened with purpose.

V leaned forward, crossing one leg over the other with feline grace. Her gaze pinned the High Priestess in place. Then she pulled out a black box and pushed it across the table. The lock popped open the next second.

The lock popped open with a soft click, and the black box opened like a whisper—a reverent hush falling over the moment as if even the air held its breath.

Liliana leaned in. Her hands trembled, just slightly. Her golden eyes widened. What she saw was not what she expected… but it made complete sense.

Inside, nestled in velvet as dark as sin, lay two golden keys.

Its bow was shaped like a pair of spread thighs—elegant, divine, and provocatively inviting. Between them, where mortal modesty would veil, sat a gem—a tiny polished pink crystal, pulsing faintly with divine energy. It gleamed like a heartbeat. Like a divine clit, alive with Morgana’s essence. It throbbed with warm light, as if it knew it was being admired.

The shaft of the key was thick, veined like flesh, unmistakably a cock in mid-thrust, gilded and graceful, angling upward as if trying to nestle itself between those eternal thighs. The craftsmanship was absurdly detailed—each vein, each curve, lovingly rendered as if by a mad sculptor who worshipped desire itself.

Or just one horny goddess.

And at the base—where ordinary keys would end in simple notches—this one ended in a glorious pair of golden balls, polished to a mirror sheen. The entire key radiated lewd divinity, unrepentant in its obscenity, holy in its vulgarity.

“…” Liliana stared, speechless.

Her lips parted. Her fingers hovered over the key like a pilgrim before a sacred relic, unsure if she was allowed to touch it, or if doing so would awaken something inside her she couldn’t put back to sleep.

“…This is…” she breathed, voice barely audible. “Is this the key to the holy temple?”

“Yes.” V nodded, calm and unapologetic. “Morgana’s design, not mine.”

“Of course it is.” Liliana swallowed thickly.

She reached out—hesitated—then finally picked it up. The moment her skin touched gold, she shuddered. A sharp gasp left her lips. The key was warm, throbbing, alive with subtle divine pulses, as if Morgana’s heartbeat still echoed through it.

“By the stars…” Liliana whispered, cradling it gently in her palms. “It’s… beautiful.”

“Beautiful?” V tilted her head, amused. “Most would call it obscene.”

“It is obscene,” Liliana said, her voice shaking with awe. “Obscene… and utterly sacred.”

The priestess couldn’t look away. Her thumb traced over the pulsing pink gem between the thighs. The moment she did, a soft moan escaped her lips—unbidden, raw, and deeply shamed. Her thighs pressed together under the table, heart pounding, already regretting the fact that she chose not to use the skill her goddess bestowed on her.

Despite having the skill ‘Futanarization’, Liliana, in her spare time, chose not to use her goddess’s gift. Instead, she used the lower version of it that she obtained from the ritual.

The feeling of having her own cock and balls deep inside her womb was… such a turn-on that she couldn’t help masturbating day in and day out, sometimes cumming inside her own vagina from a simple walk across her room. And the night wasn’t safe either; her imagination would do wonders when she touched herself.

And right now her cock is slowly waking up and making itself present, it started pressing against her leather pants with a fierce bulge.

“I see.” V crossed her legs a little more, knowing full well that Liliana wanted more than to just touch Morgana’s gift.

“Can you tell me about the nobles of this kingdom?” V asked, changing the topic. “Mother told me to find a few desperate nobles who will jump in joy from having her ‘Love’ and the benefits her temple offers.”

…

After thirty minutes of sharing information, V had a good understanding of the inner court of nobles in this country. Her first target was a middle-class noble. The duke was 44 years old and his wife was 35; both wanted to have a baby, but unfortunately, due to a certain incident, the wife was unable to carry a child. Both of them married for love, so the husband never considered marrying another noble girl, but they were desperate for an heir, or they would risk all of the family properties falling into the hands of the crown.

‘Morgana would be able to heal the woman, maybe even impregnate her personally,’ V thought, smiling a bit at her inner comment.

“Thank you, Liliana.”

V stood with a liquid grace, every motion deliberate and feline, her crimson eyes lingering for a moment on the High Priestess’s trembling hands still cradling the key like a divine embryo.

The priestess followed, rising slowly—legs slightly stiff, thighs pressed together as though she feared what might escape if they parted.

“My mission with you is over,” V said, brushing a lock of silver hair over her shoulder. “You’re free to take the keys and pay Mother a visit.”

Liliana looked up, eyes hazy, golden irises still flickering with lingering divine fire. Her lips were parted, her chest rising and falling in shallow breaths. The weight of the key in her palm seemed to root her in place, like it had fused with something deeper—something she’d kept buried beneath robes, in a prison of flesh.

“I will,” she whispered. “I’ll visit… soon.”

“I’m sure you will.” V’s lip twitched.

“!!!”Liliana flushed. Again.

But this time, she didn’t shy away. Instead, she smiled. It was soft, reverent—tinged with that rarest of expressions: gratitude. The kind born not from duty or doctrine, but from a secret, personal liberation. One that smelled of sweat, wine, and her goddess’s sacred depravity.

V turned to leave, the inn’s fireplace casting tall shadows that danced behind her. Her long coat trailed behind like a silken tail. She paused at the door, one hand on the handle, her back to the priestess.

“Oh,” she said casually, “you’d better relieve yourself before leaving the room, people will notice.”

Of course, V knew about the thing between Liliana’s legs; she sensed it the moment she entered the room, and besides, she could smell the arousal of the priestess like a full-bloomed flower. And since Morgana wanted this woman to be inside her temple, of course, she would have a cock of her own…

V turned the handle and opened the door just slightly, her eyes reflecting like deep pools of blood in the gloom.

“Don’t forget to lock the door before pleasuring yourself.”

With that simple last warning, she shut the door with an echoing thud—a decisive punctuation that reverberated with the weight of finality. V glided down the hall, leaving silence in her wake.

“…” Liliana stood motionless.

The click of the closing door still echoed in her ears, reverberating through her bones like a bell tolling the end of something sacred—or the beginning of something profane.

She stared at the key in her trembling hands before swiftly putting it back in the box next to the other one and throwing the box in her storage ring.

Her legs wobbled slightly as she stepped away, as if the strength had been drawn out of her bones. She touched her face. It burned. She touched her chest. It heaved. Then, without another word, she crossed the room and turned the lock.

Click.

Alone.

Completely, divinely, shamefully alone.

She sagged against the door for a breathless moment, her hand still resting on the handle as though she might change her mind, chase after V, beg her to stay for no reason. But she didn’t.

Instead, she unbuckled her belt with a slow, shivering motion. Her fingers moved clumsily, almost reverently, as she peeled the leather down and freed the throbbing pillar that had been growing thicker by the second.

Her cock sprang free like a prisoner released from chains, red and glistening at the tip, smeared with precum that shimmered like liquid starlight. The moment the cool air touched it, she whimpered—a raw, broken sound she couldn’t suppress.

She wrapped her hand around the shaft. Just the heat of her fingers, sliding up the veiny pillar, was enough to make her legs weak.

….

While Liliana was busy stroking her massive cock, V took a little stroll in the city. The evening was quiet and warm, and being a daywalker, sunlight wasn’t a problem. And like she heard before, Vandor was truly a kingdom ruled by xenophobes and fanatic religious beliefs.

Everything reflected that deep hatred. From the buildings, carved with judgmental angels wielding golden swords, to the statues of saints whose eyes seemed to follow her every move with quiet disdain. Even the streetlamps, shaped like spears of radiant flame, cast cold light rather than warmth.

And let’s not forget the holy hymns.

They echoed through the streets like chains dragged across stone—melodies once meant to uplift, now heavy with imposed purity. A choir of children sang under the watchful gaze of armored clerics, their faces blank with devotion or fear—it was hard to tell which. Their robes were spotless. Their hearts were likely not.

“Sigh… This kingdom really needs a good ass-fucking.”

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Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep