FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

Fearful Priest 2

What is life when you are forced to help your sworn enemies?

“Wakey, wakey. Giving up so easily?”

Lyam opened his eyes, his body sore in so many ways. The lashes, the ropes, the abuse… It all formed a constellation of sores and pain underneath his white fur as he lay on the torture bed, unbound.

The ceiling still bore the runes above. Above, so was Geruhlon’s ugly face. His teeth glimmered, his satisfaction visible while Lyam looked at him… The Worgen felt like he couldn’t move at all, as if his strength had been drained.

Which might have been the case as his fur was matted with sweat and fluid, as he looked at the ceiling, at the runes… Then back to Geruhlon’s fingers, who danced close to his body before they went to his chest, to the fluff… to the meaty and slightly fat pectorals.

Lyam opened his mouth and then closed it, followed by his eyes as he took one sharp breath.

“Is it done?”

“Are you saying that because you hate my presence?” asked Geruhlon with that toothy grin, eager to mess with Lyam. The Priest endured the bruise to shake his hand, trying to deny it.

“No. Not at all,” he mumbled, his eyes half-closed. “I… I am.”

“You are?” asked the Doomguard, leaning forth until his sulfuric breath was all over the Worgen’s face.

“I can’t say. I… I need to rest,” mouthed Lyam.

The Demon stopped, then chuckled before raising his right hand up.

“But it is too late. This is the early morning, and you have your duties to tend to.”

Lyam’s eyes widened at the answer, and a jolt of nervous energy ran through him as he straightened up and sat on the torture bed… before he hissed at the pain from his sore body.

“It’s… It’s Dawn. Then… I- Light. I need-“

“You need to attend to your duties like you must do,” said Geruhlon, his hand on the Worgen Priest’s shoulder, squeezing it while leaning forward… ignoring how shaky Lyam was, or how tired he looked with the bags under his eyes. “But I couldn’t have you all night.”

No. Geruhlon had made it so. He’d pushed the Worgen to the edge, to the limit of the pain… To make it so that he would fall unconscious. But it wouldn’t be with such wounds that the Worgen would be in danger, no. Only incapable of fulfilling the rule of ‘Being used all night’. Lyam gulped, the saliva hard to swallow.

“So. Maybe I shall teach you a lesson,” said the Doomguard, his hand reaching for the Worgen’s posterior, cupping it, pressing and squeezing it until the Worgen’s eyes drifted and looked at the Demon’s groin, at that half-hard cock already sliding out of his sheath and dripping on the floor… On the soiled floor, covered with precum, cum, of Lyam’s… And of the Demon’s origin.

“Please. I need to get back above and… To be able to work.”

“But you will join them.”

Geruhlon didn’t lie.

Even though the steps were arduous for Lyam’s sore and pained body, he was able to go upstairs. One step, one brief pause, and then back again. A progress that left him scrambling for air as he stepped out of the catacombs, gasping, and then… Looking at the nearest Paladin.

Not the same as the pimple-faced Human. No, it was a Half-Elf with a stern expression and a raised nose at the smell emanating from Lyam. No fel. But worse: sweat and cum. A scent that was without doubt eliciting an astringent attitude when the Paladin nodded to the Priest.

“I will warn Inuro you are back,” he said, turning his back to the Priest who was ashamed, clutching on his rosary as he offered the light a discreet prayer… And then stepped aside, going not for his own bedroom, although he yearned for such simple pleasure.

No. His steps guided him to another room. One that was more decorated, much more… Beautiful than his own. The furniture had gold inlays everywhere; it possessed a wide window with purple curtains of rich import.

Even the empty chair was almost befitting a noble.

As for the shelves, they were heavy with documents, heavy with letters, heavy with all sorts of ledgers Lyam had never learned about until… The isolation.

Inside, a younger Priest, a human, welcomed Lyam and instantly recoiled at the smell of the Worgen.

“Hum… Head Priest Lyam?” asked the assistant, recoiling while Lyam took another arduous step. A step back and… The young lad was turning his back to the Worgen, reaching for a stack of missives coming from all over Azeroth.

“Hand me everything that’s needed. I will handle it myself,” huffed Lyam.

His steps were stiff, and his torso upright. Even at that moment, as he sat, Lyam moved with a tension in his steps. A regularity. And worse, a raised chin that revealed a black, leathery collar around his neck.

A collar, the Priest noted as he approached with the missives, while mouth-breathing.

“Here they are.”

“Good. You can leave.”

“Is this-“

“Leave,” said Lyam.

The Priest stopped in his tracks, stunned. He had an empty stare before he took off, certainly happy to leave the room and the tense atmosphere. The strutting steps led to the door closing, then to an awkward silence as Lyam reached for his muzzle.

Carefully, slowly, so as not to maim or suffer. But he did so, while his muzzle went down.

“This… is a catastrophe,” he mumbled to himself while he peered at the unopened missives with their seals intact. “I-… Lyam. You can do this. Do it.”

The Worgen closed his eyes, clenched his jaw for a second, and then relaxed, bringing out a quill and an inkpot before he opened the first missive.

Administrative work was dull.

And so was one of the Archbishop’s first tasks: replying to any inquiries whatsoever. Questions about the Faith? Troubles in a chapel? Requests for funds? Everything was a reason for the Archbishop to be swamped with such requests.

Requests Lyam had never been aware of, or rather of the extent, until now. Until the moment he had to write the answers himself and use the Archbishop’s seal to reply to them.

To most questions of philosophy, he quoted the Archbishop’s wisdom. Anything about the fund was set aside for accounting. Then, it was matters of a more personal nature, such as inquiries about the Archbishop’s situation.

Those… They were the most difficult to reply to. But Lyam’s stiff hand scribbled a few comforting words about believing the Archbishop would find faith.

“I am certain the Archbishop cares about our troubles, but for once, it is our duty to care for his flock in his stead,” mumbled Lyam, writing the answer and hearing the creak of the door.

He raised his eyes and ears, facing Inuro entering, clad in that same armor.

Lyam put the quill aside as well as the parchment, before straightening his back and trying to join his hands. An attempt, he stopped as he could feel a tug.

“Paladin Inuro?”

“Lyam,” replied the Draenei, his voice stiff. “Again offering cold comfort in your letters?”

“I am only trying to soothe their troubles,” replied Lyam, looking aside for a moment.

On one corner of the room, paintings of the former and current Archbishops had been hung, except Benedictus. Even Alonsus Faol was among them, even though he was ‘still alive’.

Nevertheless, Lyam eyed the gentle figure and then turned to Inuro, who remained as tense. Lyam… Wasn’t eager to entertain another fight.

“What do you want?” he plainly asked while rubbing his eyes.

“You used your authority to ignore an order from my Paladins.”

“Yes, I did,” replied Lyam, sighing and grumbling. “Will you kill me for this?”

Inuro’s chin lifted, his fingers twitching right by the typical mace he employed. The gauntlet hovered right above the handle while the Draenei pondered that idea. And then gave up, the hand relaxing.

“No. I came here to ask you what you were doing yesterday while most priests were in the rectory?” asked Inuro, his eyes going from the missive, then on the paintings, too.

“Can you sit down?” asked Lyam.

“No. I want your answer before I take my leave,” replied the Draenei.

“I was praying for the light, as usual. I prayed at the nine altars one by one before I left. Is there a problem?”

This time, Lyam raised his eyes and met Inuro's gaze, watching the ire and frustration in his eyes. And the disdain. The sheer disdain of a man who knew. Who had to know what Lyam endured last night. It could only be so.

“No. This is enough. I will leave and handle the matter with my Paladins,” said Inuro as he turned and approached the door. He opened it but stood there, still for a moment.

Enough to halt Lyam from resuming his task.

“You didn’t even ask what happened and if I handled the intrusion. You should get better at this,” said the Paladin before closing the door behind him.

And leaving Lyam huffing, his ears raised in irritation.

“You damn Bastard. Can’t you stop being a pain in my ass?” grumbled Lyam as he grabbed the paper and replied with something more stern.

Gone was the need to be nice; he had to get off all the pent-up frustration as he wrote, yet endured the regular tug… The weight. The pressure.

A tension that worsened whenever he stretched his legs or moved his body. Down to the posterior despite the itch to scoot around and move. As though his ears straightened and dropped regularly, the missives were done.

Followed by Lyam grabbing a bell inside the desk and ringing it, bringing the young priest inside so he could get the missives Lyam had written.

Then, it was the turn of the bookkeeping. With one Cardinal. Though, the moment the Dwarf entered, he offered Lyam quite a grin.

Quite a devious grin as he stroked his beard, threw one stack of paper on the Worgen’s table, and sat on a sofa for the guest.

“You know what to do with that, Pet,” said the Demon disguised as a Dwarf, his arm behind his neck, before he feigned to rest.

And… That was so.

Those demons were lazy, but everywhere. Cardinal Helwerd was known to be an excellent bookkeeper and often saved the Church from financial troubles. But the one who’d been acting as the Dwarf was a lazy Demon who was all too happy to snore all day and preside at the meals.

Hence, all the duties fell on the Worgen, who had to grab all the papers, count them, and add them up on a tablet.

“You’re slow,” commented ‘Helwerd’, watching as Lyam had done three pages out of the stack. “You’re not gonna do it in time, Pet.”

“Can you make yourself more useless and babble? I can hear myself think,” said Lyam.

But as the words came out, he regretted it. His face contorted as his hand reached for his chest, reaching through the robes to clasp onto something he couldn’t grab. And he huffed, he whined… And his ears dropped.

“Come now. I’m not your master. But Geruhlon told me I could punish you if you didn’t do your job.”

“I’m… Not used to doing this,” huffed Lyam, his breathing quick and shallow. Even his face burned as he leaned forward, his nose almost touching the desk.

“Not my problem. So get done with it. And I don’t want to hear you complain.”

Lyam’s nose remained low, so did his head. So was his pride until he could finally take a deep breath. The tug and tension had stopped, allowing him to raise his head and glare. To glare back at the ‘Dwarf’ lazing on the sofa with his eyes closed.

Therefore, only allowing Lyam to peer and do the calculus himself.

The Church didn’t only work on charity, despite what Lyam expected. No, from all over Azeroth and even in Stormwind… The Church was closer to an enterprise.

The Church owned land that it could lend to anyone, from peasants to nobles. From the former, they got levies. But from the Nobles, they could receive resources, furniture, or jewelry.

Even spices could be offered instead of levies, but everything had to be estimated and accounted for. Forcing the Worgen to stand up, huff despite the pain, and carry himself to the shelves to compare the ledgers.

Meanwhile, the ‘Dwarf’ grinned whenever he saw the Worgen stand up, and narrowly guffawed when Lyam sat down.

And this part? Oh, it was only the beginning.

Some nobles paid to have Priests bless their possessions, and such actions were paid in advance or after the benediction. So, it was the Priest’s duty to either collect the payment or to receive it directly at the church.

And again, to compare with what had been promised. More was done, too, with the adventurers who would pay to be blessed or healed. Or for selling holy water. It was a whole tangle that was difficult for anyone untrained. But it was worse for Lyam as he could feel the throbbing headache and the exhaustion as he leaned forth… Clutching his temple.

“Too hard for you? I thought you’d be smarter, Pet.”

“I have a headache. I can’t do this.”

“Can’t you pray the light for this?”

Lyam’s hands trembled as he reached for his rosary, offering a silent prayer to resilience so he would endure that torment. Alas, even a prayer was a poor solution for the Priest before he released the pearls and threw his head back… And hissed.

“I need to finish this. Later.”

“Suit yourself. It’s not my problem. I’ll tell people you’re slow with approving the numbers,” said the Dwarf, shrugging and jumping off the sofa. He didn’t take the stack of paper back. Instead, he winked, his blue eyes having that green shimmer before he jumped, opened the door, and closed it behind him… Leaving Lyam alone.

Alone, as he collapsed on the desk, making the papers and all the files fall from the desk as he groaned and moaned.

“I can’t do this,” he mumbled, rubbing his muzzle. “I am only a man.”

Only one man, one Worgen… And yet, surrounded by enemies. Helwerd was a demon, lazy. The Cardinals Ervron and Elena were demons, too, and couldn’t even offer the barest blessings.

On that matter, it was Lyam’s duty to cover them and to cover for the others' shortcomings. But it was all piling up on him… Piling up and pressing, making him worry, tense… And then. Yelp.

Yelp?

Lyam yelped, falling back onto his posterior only to tense again, feeling the tug all over his body and chest before he slouched back, his legs spread. His position wasn’t one of a priest, even so, one who had to officiate and take the Archbishop’s task.

But the Worgen could feel it, the burn, the heat, the buzz. The tremors shook him as he fought against the robes, as he fought against the fabric to open the buttons, to release his body… And finally, to expose it.

To expose the chains joining his collar to his nipples. A black chain, almost as black as night and quasi-invisible in normal circumstances. But that chain was not only joining his nipples. No, it ran alongside his arms too, so whenever he stretched his arms too much, his nipples would be pulled.

And if they were pulled too much, so was the chain joining them… And his testicles. All a contraption enchanted, but one efficient as the Worgen observed the chain digging around the white fur covering his testicles, watched how swollen and red they were underneath it… And worse, as he bent over and lifted them.

They were warm. Oh, so warm. Warmer by the minute, he’d say. But as he lifted and reached for his taint, feeling the swollen taint there, the Worgen reached for that… That base of metal where his asshole would be. He clutched that base and slowly, with huffs, he pulled on it while his sphincter clenched around that plug.

Plug that was slipping out ever so slightly, the black metal buzzing with a rage that seemed to ensure the Worgen’s torment before with a pop… The orifice was open, and some sticky lubricant, black and green, dripped from his orifice.

Orifice which gaped, ached… And hurt. Hurt as he reached for it, feeling the heat the sphincter gave off… And then, the peace and respite as he traced the wrinkled entrance with his index finger.

“I…. I need a break,” moaned the Worgen, closing his eyes and then reopening them when he heard the door creak again. His eyes were almost bloodshot as he watched ‘Ervron’.

The High-Elf had a calm demeanor as he entered, but his lips curled in a way that couldn’t be possible on his face… Much like a mask stretched to its limits as he eyed Lyam.

“I came here at the right time,” said the Demon as the face of the High-Elf shimmered, revealing an Eredar behind. One red-skinned Eredar, who wore nothing. And the moment the glamour was removed, the scent of sulfur hung heavy in the air… Permeating every breath from the Worgen as his ears dropped.

“Please. No-Not now.”

“Too bad. I came here to fetch you; we’ve got a few baptisms. But that can wait, Pup,” said the Eredar, snapping his fingers. “Here.”

Lyam’s face burned. Being called Pet was something. But Pup? It was humiliating to the point his face burned. Still, he stood up from the chair after some flailing and approached. Now that the robe was open, it was easy to see how every movement could make the Worgen hiss and tremble.

Not everything was revealed, like the chain behind the Worgen, pulling on his tail. But there were also those tied around his ankles and back to his testicles, making it so every step had to be careful… Cautious as the Worgen approached the Eredar. And had his posterior cupped.

‘Ervron’ held that growing smile while he dug into that posterior, pinching the flesh under the fur and lifted those buns with his index fingers.

“I love how Geruhlon trains you. Very classy,” said the Eredar, cupping the Worgen’s chin and making him around, admiring the chains and even strumming on it, much to Lyam’s pain and audible moans. “Not elaborate. But classy.”

“I… Need to get to the baptisms. If you came here,” mumbled the Worgen, his cheeks puffed up.

“Oh, sure. Gotta give them proper names. But since I got the opportunity to see you playing with your hole. I have to stuff it,” said the Eredar as the smell of sex and need became heavier.

A glance down, and Liam could confirm the Eredar was no different from the Doomguard in many ways. Same sheath, same flare, same green veins bulging under the skin. But the Eredar was red, and definitely smaller.

But not small enough to make the penetration daunting as he had Lyam bending over the sofa, his wide flare brushing that posterior and painting it with his own greenish precum.

“We… need to be fast.”

“And I’ll take all my time,” replied ‘Ervron’, smacking those buttcheeks with his posterior before he grabbed his length… And pressed it against the buttcheeks.

There was no reason to really thank Geruhlon for the way he abused him. The Doomguard was a pervert through and through. But in a way, his methods always left the Worgen… prepared. Even the toy inside his hole had left Lyam gaping. Gaping so much, ‘Ervron’s cock was but a steady and easy penetration for both.

One that elicited a few huffs and moans from the Eredar, enjoying the situation. And gasps from the Worgen as he could sense his asshole opening easily… And sucking on that fat rod as it slipped inside his rim, stretching the sphincter and making it look smooth over.

Smoother than when Lyam was unused and unabused. But it was not a blessing.

Not something to be proud of, as the Priest was clutching the sofa with his fingers, planting his claws in it while he closed his eyelids.

His asshole burned and ached, especially after the abuse. And despite how easy it was to fuck him, to have that median ring sinking inside his posterior… Lyam was certainly feeling that burn deep inside his guts.

So deep, he could almost tell the Eredar was almost balls deep inside his ass, already pumping weakly and rocking the Worgen’s plump ass.

“Geruhlon trained you well. Maybe you should have been a whore for the Legion instead of being one for the humans,” said the Eredar, delivering a smack on the Worgen’s posterior.

One firm smack, and that posterior clenched tightly, almost pulling on the cock when it tried to slip out. But to no avail, to no result, as Lyam whined, his ears dropping.

“I… Am not a whore,” moaned the Worgen, his voice plaintive.

“Sure. That’s how it goes. You sullied yourself, but you absolved yourself. That’s how it works with the Light. That’s what the old Priests said,” rebuked the Eredar, rubbing those buttcheeks he grabbed. “But it doesn’t work that way. The moment something touches you… It doesn’t leave you. Isn’t it right?”

Lyam clenched his jaw. He could retort and reply, say it was wrong, or follow the Archbishop’s wisdom. But he couldn’t. Not when he knew the moment he opened his mouth, the only thing that would come out would be a moan. A powerful moan as his entire body shuddered from the pleasure. From the delight as his prostate was getting lovingly squeezed.

And after wearing that plug all morning… The cock itself was divine.

Powerful. Mind breaking for the Worgen who felt his cock inside his cage.

He felt the throb inside, the blood rushing within.

He felt his testicles being pulled higher, meeting the ring cinched around them.

He felt his sphincter closing on that cock whenever those balls hit his taint or his posterior.

And… He felt so good… So good as his fingers dug into the wood, tracing another scratch mark while his tail wagged weakly against the Eredar’s sides.

“Yeah. That’s it. You like it. You love to be fucked by us,” said the Eredar, cupping that ass, rubbing it, squeezing it… Then, he smacked it. And next, he cupped it again.

A cycle. A cycle of massages that were helping the Worgen in that build-up of pleasure and sensations that were wrecking him. That was running alongside his back and higher. The jolt, the electric sensation that was making his arms twitch… And so would jolt the chains, tugging on his sensitive anatomy… Down to the chain around his testicles that were already deliciously strangled.

And… he huffed, moaned. Gasped. And yelped with his jaw released.

“Let’s finish this, Pup. I’ll pump you full, and then we’ll get to work,” said the Eredar, depositing a kiss on Lyam’s nape.

A kiss that felt oddly cute, oddly sensual… Oddly romantic for the Worgen.

His face burned, his breath ached… And so ached his posterior, his asshole when he could feel the hit onto it accelerate. As he could sense, the Eredar had picked up the pace and was now pumping in and out faster.

With that movement, he tugged and yanked on the Worgen’s sphincter. He was pulling on it so much, the sphincter would sometimes release its grip in a faint queef and suction before the Eredar pumped back inside.

And his testicles, they smacked loudly against the thighs, covering them with more bruises than those Geruhlon had left them before.

So many bruises, so much pain, so much abuse.

But the Worgen’s ears were low, and his breathing was often interrupted by gasps, his body betraying how excited and pleased he was. How everything was culminating to an apex of pleasure and delight and… With a howl, the Worgen came.

His shot, slightly glowing, hit the back of the Sofa while his poor and beaten testicles were squeezed tightly against the chain before they dropped into that ballsack. But the deed was done. The pleasure, the pain… It had all culminated, and the Worgen was cumming.

His second shot was shorter, but intense. The third, lesser. And the fourth? Pitiful.

But all four cumshots had drenched the back of the sofa, sullied the wood, and then the tiled floor while the Worgen leaned forward… Pushed down by the Eredar’s grip on his nape while the Demon continued to pummel, hit… Smack. And then pumped his vile seed deep inside.

That cum was searing hot, corrupting, defiling. But its presence inside the Worgen tingled a part of his mind he would have preferred not to know. One part of his existence that relished when that cum was pumped deeper and deeper, pressing against the wall and delivering its painful heat against those guts.

It was a tidal flood, a flow, a pressure that built up inside his guts and bulged them… Making that flat belly observe a certain rotundity… Before the Demon sighed and smacked the Worgen’s shoulder, steadily pulling out.

“Ah, yes. You’ve got one of the best cunts around the block,” huffed the Eredar, while the Worgen’s sphincter continued to suction on his cock despite him pulling out.

Finally, the Eredar’s flare popped free from that entrance… So came the thunderous cascade of burning cum falling onto Lyam’s taint and testicles before landing on the floor, definitely drowning whatever pathetic cumshots the Worgen had left on the floor.

A cascade that stopped when, much to Lyam’s surprise, something metallic was pressed against his entrance.

His tail fought back, attempting to hide his hole. So the chain pulled on his neck, while the interlocked chains answered by pulling on his tender nipples. On his arms, on his testicles, until Lyam whined. And again, he had his ears flat atop his head while feeling that plug stuffed back inside his asshole, stretching it back to the limit of hurting and aching.

Right past the hindrance.

“That was fun,” said the Eredar, definitely smiling as he watched the Worgen’s sullied robes…. The sullied fur and the pitiful look he had, down to the exhausted eyes. “But if you come out like this, our little party is over.”

Snap!

The Eredar’s fingers were quick, and quicker was the glamour reappearing, covering his naked body, down to his still dripping cock, with that veil and that face of the High Elf.

But the spell wouldn’t end there, as Lyam could sense the cum sticking to his fur, or the cum-riddled fabric pressed against his ass, clean up.

No longer any matted fur by fluids or sweat… No longer any traces of ‘accidents’ sticking to the inside of those folds.

The robes themselves were wrapped around the Worgen’s body, pressing against his neat and tidy cage as the buttons closed and the colorful folds covered his chained body… Down to his neck when the robes’ collar was straightened and then refolded properly to cover the black leathery collar, making it less obvious.

Lyam’s exhausted eyes followed the movement with amazement, similarly to the cum that seemed to evaporate, only leaving him clean…

And yet, he had that faint smell of cum and sex clinging to his fur.

Or having all that cum still inside him, weighing on his guts and forcing him to keep his asshole tightly clenched so the buttplug wouldn’t pop free.

“I-… I still smell,” mumbled the Priest, straightening up and sniffing himself, grimacing.

“Good. Geruhlon still wants you to be marked as a whore,” chuckled the Eredar, back to that Elven appearance… And that impossible grin. “Come now. Or I’ll have to fuck you over once more.”

With that, the Eredar turned his back.

But Lyam’s ears dropped in shame and… Excitement. For a second, the Worgen fought against his wagging tail before he followed the Priest outside and… Noticed the attending priest waiting by the door.

His face was flushed, and his eyes went from Ervron to Lyam, from the smug Elf to the abashed Worgen, before he looked aside.

“Do you still need me, Head Priest Lyam?”

“No- No need to stay. Go rest,” mumbled Lyam, coughing into his hand while he could hear a faint chuckle from ‘Ervron’.

One that continued as they hurried away from the Archbishop’s office.

“He thinks you’re a slut.”

The voice popped inside Lyam’s mind. And for a moment, he looked around before turning to Ervron and his smug attitude. It had to be him.

“You are doing everything so it happens.”

“And you are doing nothing to stop it. Someone’s true nature never changes.”

“I beg to differ.”

Ervron didn’t answer that, instead rubbing his chin with that satisfied look while they went from behind the church to the transept.

While Sunday was for the masses, Monday was the typical day for baptisms. And as Lyam entered the transept, he found Cardinal Elena standing behind the Altar while one of the youngest Priests was delivering the blessing.

It was a rather simple ceremony with the young adults coming to be baptized. The toddlers were done in the morning by affusion; the adults, in the afternoon, by aspersion.

As such, the crowd was smaller than Lyam feared. But still impressive and numerous enough, he gulped, driven by Ervron’s hand, who caught his hips. The grip was stronger, and stronger was that presence pushing Lyam to advance despite the tension in the air… And the snarl from the priests, then the faithful.

They huffed, grimaced… And Lyam himself blushed, his face burning red under the white fur while he stepped around and behind the priest currently doing the aspersion.

“By the Light, you will be remade. By the Light, you-“ chanted a Priest, reciting the litany of the promised reward from the Light… before a cough from Ervron stopped her.

“Priestess Leandra?”

Of course, the litany ended, with most eyes turning to Ervron, surprised or incredulous that he’d interrupt the ceremony.

However, the Demon had the acumen to cough, stepping behind Lyam while putting his hands on the Worgen’s shoulders, propping him forward despite the tension that arose with Lyam’s presence. The Worgen himself was smiling nervously, shooting glances in Ervron’s direction, who raised his thumb while patting the Worgen on the shoulder.

“For once, it will be Lyam who will officiate in this role.”

“But… I-,” stuttered Leandra, her eyes going to the Aspergillum she held, and then to the Worgen who trembled but nodded.

“You can rest for now, Leandra. You’ve learned much,” said Ervron, while Lyam received the Aspergillum.

The tool was light and damp. But nothing as Lyam turned to the first to be baptized beyond the age. A Kul Tiran, perhaps an early lad who had a birthmark on his left cheek. He wasn’t that handsome, but Lyam ignored it as he dipped the Aspergillum in the water.

A moment later, he pulled it out and waved it above the man’s head.

“By the Light, you will be remade. By the Light, you will endure. By the Light, you will be blessed. For the Light sees all and welcomes us, the wanderers among them,” repeated Lyam, his voice calm. Collected.

For a moment, he was at peace. He didn’t need to clutch the rosary as he solely needed to recite the litany. He needed only to pray earnestly. And then, when he reopened his eyes, and the Kul Tiran stood up… Lyam noticed the dubious gaze.

One, he tried to halt by raising his hand and putting it on the man’s forehead.

“Be at ease, for the Light accepts you, and you can welcome her into your life.”

The words were earnest, genuine. Lyam even had a thin smile while the Kul Tiran eyed him, then nodded.

With a sidelong glance, Lyam saw the priests surrounding him. Leandra had that thin, nervous smile, but the others? Even the Cardinals were neutral.

Not approving, though Ervron was whispering to a cloaked figure on his left. Something Lyam observed before he tensed, shook his shoulders, and then turned back to the next petitioner to bless.

This time, it was a Night Elf. An oddity that some would come so far to change religion, but the War had unexpected effects, and some had a closer desire for the Light than for Elune. Not that Lyam could proselytize about it.

Once more, Lyam dipped the Aspergillum into the chalice containing the holy water and raised it above the Night Elf’s head. The chains tugged at his body, but he endured. Or so he thought as he sprinkled the water and… narrowly bit his tongue off.

Something had happened, something both unexpected. And yet expected.

Something close to a hand, or the sensation of one, cupped the Worgen’s buttcheeks. He definitely felt it, that touch. That deviant touch as his buttcheeks were rubbed and massaged. As the glutes were pulled in one direction, while the fondling continued evermore… And wasn’t about to stop with solely a hand on his posterior. No.

Lyam endured, taking a sharp breath while his nostrils flared. And then, he agitated the Aspergillum. He blessed, delivered the droplets of holy water on the Elf’s forehead, and recited the litany. But it wasn’t ending there.

No, because the Worgen had to catch his breath with each sentence… As he had to feel something pull on the buttplug wedged inside his hole. And then push back, hilting it back so it could poke and nudge his prostate.

Sure, the Worgen’s face remained still, and he endured it. He endured it while presenting that stoic mask to the crowd, while another, a human, approached to be baptized.

He endured what felt like thrusts into his posterior. Or devious caresses upon his swollen rim. It wasn’t over with that… Since the false fingers also traced circles on his taint. Then nudged or poked at his testicles underneath the robes. And then… There was the first drop.

Lyam was certain it had happened; he felt a liquid drip from his cage onto his testicles, then down along the raphe before it dropped. A mere droplet, but one among the many that came from the Aspergillum while he readjusted his stance ever so slightly.

His feet trembled, and sure enough, someone chuckled. Or someone chuckled inside his mind.

“Come now, Lyam. Aren’t you ashamed to be so excited during a holy ceremony?” asked the voice.

Lyam didn’t answer, continuing the litany before asking the next Elf to come closer. A moment that allowed him to glance at Ervron, to see him wave back at him. Before Lyam returned to the prayers, to… Slowly and arduously articulating each sentence, each word, each syllable.

His tongue was heavy, his throat tight. And tighter was the grip on his testicles, on the chain that was pulled and therefore pulling on the Worgen’s chest in echo.

The pleasure.

That pleasure kept growing inside his groin while the said groin was under assault from many fronts. Ahead, back, sides… Everything was fair game, and under the robes, no one could see the numerous hands, so numerous that they were exploring every square inch of fur.

The thighs were stroked and explored on the inner sides. The posterior smacked and pinched. The nuts lifted, then dropped, and then lifted again, while strangled by the chains tied around.

And it felt… Good.

“Are you enjoying this, Pup?” asked the Eredar, under his mask, though his eyes glimmered green. Just a hint, nothing that could betray him much unless someone knew. Unless Lyam turned to face the fake Elf, to notice that grin. And how the fingers waved ever so gently while the touch was unleashed, and Lyam could sense the pressure on his posterior increase almost tenfold.

It didn’t, but it definitely felt as such for the Worgen as he had his knees pointing inward, almost one in front of another, while a fake finger had been wiggling just enough to force the entrance of the rim despite the plug inside.

It ached. It burned. But it was a constant fight for Lyam not to cry. Not to moan. Not to explode with pleasure.

Without his fur, Lyam would have been both white as a ghost and so red-faced that anyone could wonder if he was sick. And sick… he was. Ill from the pleasure he experienced when his testicles were slapped so loudly, they formed a thin echo within the church, though none could tell the origin… Except those involved.

Each time that little slap came, the Worgen tensed up and gritted his teeth. His ears would straighten up and point in different directions while the unaware priests or believers would turn their gaze to see if they could pinpoint the source of such a sound. Then…

It was back to the litany. To the word, to the list of petitioners that was growing short despite Ervron’s constant interruptions.

Despite the pleasure now plaguing Lyam’s groin, making it feel it was about to explode. That he was about to explode and cum out in the open, for everyone to see.

A shame… An illumination the Worgen didn’t desire as he closed his eyelids, took a final breath… Heard the drip of another precum droplet landing on the tiled floor, and finished the last litany, the last blessing for a fellow Worgen.

One who, thanks to his nose, offered a lustful grin to Lyam.

Was he a pervert, too? Or a true believer? Or a demon? Either way, Lyam’s jaw slacked before he shook his head and turned to Leandra and the other cloaked priests.

His movements were slow, voluntary. But driven as he nodded to them, and raised his hand.

“Come. May introduce our new members. I leave them in your care,” said Lyam, his voice stiff though his jaw trembled ever so slightly.

“As you desire, Head Priest Lyam,” answered the Priests in unison, bowing and then turning to the crowd, to the unsteady and whispering group of believers before shepherding them to another part of the transept. And leaving the Worgen alone to breathe… To sigh. To… Sweat.

“Not so bad,” whispered ‘Ervron’, his hand reaching for Lyam’s shoulders while the fake hands were still nudging and poking at the Worgen’s ballsack, with the index fingers tapping against the hefty orbs. “I bet it would take twenty minutes for you to explode.”

“Do not… Do that again,” huffed Lyam, closing his eyelids as he took one step and almost stumbled.

A moment that elicited a gasp before the Worgen recovered his posture and then joined his arms behind his back, going for an upright posture.

“I will take my leave for now,” said Lyam, glancing over his shoulders.

The other priests nodded. So did the believers. As for the Cardinals, they merely shrugged, though Lyam saw their grin. Saw how satisfied they were with his dismay as he stepped away, ready to go through the corridors.

Back stiff, small steps, tense face. His exit was one to behold, a perfect work of art before the Worgen took off once behind the doors.

He didn’t run at first. But the further he was, the faster he went. The faster he desired to get away from those hands that were still under the robes, teasing him… Messing with him. Making him tremble.

Every so often, he had to lean against a pillar to catch his breath or to slow down whenever he was about to face another priest. But once the scornful glances were gone, he would run… Run again, his steps heavy like stomps while droplets would mark his passage. Would mark his path from the transept right to his own bedroom. Not the Archbishop’s office, no.

Duties were far above his head as the Worgen hastily closed the bedroom door behind him, turning the key without checking before he stripped off his clothes.

He had to doff the robes; he had to cut through the rich fabric to remove it. To remove the folds covering his quivering body. Covering the muscles that tensed every so often. Covering his bladder about to explode and his testicles pulled so regularly. Covering his cock that was caged… Covering his excitement as they dropped.

He beelined not for his bed but for his wardrobe, almost tearing the knob off before he leaned to search through the hemp robes and other fabrics he’d got.

His fingers were going in blindly, blinded by the need and the pleasure, while he tried to reach for something. Something he almost pulled with an elated expression, before he pulled what was a small whip. A wooden handle attached to ten leathery lashes.

It was a tool of penance, one used to chase away lustful thoughts from one’s mind. With the pain, one was to chase the pleasure and lubricious needs until remained a mind perfectly at ease and without the yearning of the flesh.

But as he held the whip in his hand, as he could still feel the touch and the tug and the pinching… Lyam bit his lips.

Something within him desired that pleasure, that release. Something that ought to be far more pleasant than what Geruhlon unleashed upon him regularly. And then, as he looked at the whip… Lyam licked his lips. He could drop him, abandon himself to pleasure.

But not. He did not drop the whip while he sat on the edge of his bed and… touched his testicles. Touched his taint. Steadily, he leaned back. He leaned back until he was lying down with his legs spread, and then… he whined.

“I am sorry, Archbishop,” mumbled Lyam as he closed his eyes and delivered a nasty hit on his taint and testicles.

The metal rang from the hit, from the small ten lashes that were unleashed, leaving ten burning spots underneath the fur. Said fur lessened the hit, but the throbbing pain remained. As much as something else.

Something else that was visible all over Lyam’s face with his almost bitten tongue.

His red eyes rolled, and yet, the whip descended again, unleashing one heavy hit… Lyam’s taint burned. So did his testicles. But the pressure inside his cage grew.

“I… Am sorry. I am sorry,” repeated the Worgen, in a mantra while the lashes continued to dance onto his skin and deliver a hefty amount of pain. One met by the pleasure as the Worgen’s breathing hastened. As he yelped and moaned at the same time when a wild lash would land on his sphincter.

The ring would close up and tighten. But in return, the delightful sensation of squeezing onto that dildo, the soreness… It was something else.

Something else as the whip continued to dance and whistle in one hand, while with the other hand, Lyam was tugging on his nipples.

“I am weak. Weak of mind,” moaned Lyam, snarling and smiling alternately while his groin was bursting with pleasure.

Pleasure and pain mingled altogether, in a humiliating and degrading way. But one in which the Worgen had agency, as he could prepare for the next hit, wait, rest, or resume.

The hits resumed, searing the flesh underneath the fur. Branding it. Marking it. Hurting it. It did hurt. It burned, it hurt, it made the scrotum pull closer to the chest. It made the Worgen’s breath hasten. It made him clench his throat while he whined and tensed his back.

The Worgen’s face curled, the grin growing faster despite the warmth spreading all over his groin, and when another hit came, with the lashes hitting his body…

Lyam cried.

He howled, his eyes rolling as the cumshots, at least three, spewed out of the cage and landed on his groin. Three times did his groin get hit, with the steamy semen forming clean lines while his limbs… While his testicles… While even his ass twitched.

Lyam quivered on the bed, like a lost beast, his eyes crossed, and observing the stone above.

For a moment, he was bliss. Bliss and pain merged, right enough to keep him grounded while his mind wandered from place to place.

His toes were still curled, and his face was a mask of delight when his hand dropped, and he heard it.

Knock Knock

Instead of Lyam turning to face the door, to shout at whoever interrupted him to wait… He saw the door opening. He’d locked the door but not closed it entirely, leaving it able to open… And therefore, for one head to peek inside while the Worgen hastily rolled despite the soreness and the pulls and tugs on his sensitive parts of his anatomy.

“W-Who’s this?” shouted the Priest, hastily pushing the whip behind him as he turned to face the Draenei, to face Iruno, who was frowning and definitely judging the Worgen in that difficult posture.

A tense moment culminating with the Draenei stepping away, pulling the door to.

“I was checking why our Head Priest howled,” said the Paladin.

It was the opportunity for Lyam to jump on his wobbly legs, to totter to the door before he slammed against it with his entire weight. Then, he reopened the lock, slammed everything shut, and locked it before he crumbled against the door.

He crumbled and silenced a yelp as he sat on his sore posterior, as his testicles landed on the cold tiled floor, and he sensed the… Throbbing pain shooting through. That, as well as the pleasure that tingled his groin as he leaned his head back against the door.

No sound of footsteps, of Iruno around. And Lyam closed his eyes, his face burning.

“You… Are such a slut,” mumbled the Priest, his claws digging into the tiles. “They’re right.”

They were right. He was a slut. He’d been one. And he was one.

One collapsed onto the tile floor, his muzzle pressed against his knees as he allowed himself to weep. Not openly, but slowly, as he could feel all that semen drip over his fur and on the floor. Even what was still gushing from the cage as he pressed his chin against the knees.

“You know. I always thought you were a peculiar Worgen. Not so many can be priests. And not so many are so sexy as you.”

Those words. Lyam regretted them… As much as his lack of foresight. As his lack of willpower. As his lack of determination. He pressed against his eyes, trying to wipe the tears off while he snorted loudly.

“Why do you have to think about that? Stupid,” huffed Lyam, leaning forward and almost crumbling while he closed his legs, joined his feet together… And took another breath.

And another… And another.

Trying to get through as his body was screaming out in pain and in fear. And in desire.

-