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Fearful Priest 6

And so shall the Sinner unleash his ire

Kicking. Screaming. It was as if an obnoxious child had been released into the Church’s halls. Lyam merely feigned ignorance as he mixed work with more work, finishing the few drafts of messages he’d be sending back.

Luckily, the pile of paper had been reduced, and his workload was nearing its end. Or so he thought as he remained seated, his quill dancing upon the paper until the door was flung open.

Iruno was behind it, in armor, his hoof landing on the floor before he stomped onward.

“You! What have you done?”

“Me? Nothing,” said Lyam, feigning ignorance as told.

“Don’t play coy! What have you done to the Archbishop? Where is he?”

Lyam raised his eyes from the paper, seeing the ire flare in those eyes before he moved his finger. As answered, the door behind Iruno closed, and the feeling of Fel magic permeating the air. It was heavy… Obnoxious, but expected.

“Is this a trap?”

“Not at all. Only an accommodation so nobody hears us,” explained Lyam, shrugging. “So… What is the issue? Why are you throwing a tantrum?”

“The Archbishop! He has disappeared! Where is he?” asked Iruno, approaching, his eyes having that hint of gold.

“Where is he?” scoffed Lyam. “I don’t know what to tell you. He was never in the Catacombs, for starters.”

He was playing it by ear, but he didn’t hear any remark nor feel any animosity, so Geruhlon had to be satisfied with the play as Lyam stood up, pushing against the desk while his asshole squelched and… As he stood up, the fake toy slipped out of his asshole.

“You had to take him away. You… You fiend. I should’ve hit you when I had the occasion!” roared Iruno, reaching for his mace. But as he grabbed it, it merely vanished with a hint of green.

It didn’t take much as Lyam smiled, noticing the fear.

“Wh-… Fine. I don’t need my Mace to take you down, Demon!” roared Iruno, approaching with his fist lifted. Alas, the moment he stepped closer, he stepped onto a prepared rune. Chains flung from the ground, reaching for the Paladin’s limbs and snaring him. They wrapped around his arms, elbows, and even knees, stopping him.

“What foul play is this?! You… Monster! I- I will punish you!” shouted the Draenei, his body even gleaming gold for a moment with the fire almost burning.

But not for Lyam as he approached and put his hand on his arm.

“Can you?” asked Lyam, sensing the fear in Iruno’s eyes. As was typical, he expected Lyam to burst into flames in contact with the magic. “Can your power do anything to me?”

“Whatever foul sorcery you used… You cannot withstand the Light’s fury!”

“Sure, I can,” said Lyam, feeling the veil he’d been wearing burning steadily.

At the same time, he approached and reached for Iruno’s armor, and undid the buckle despite the Paladin’s shout.

“Do not touch me! Do not undo my armor! You vile fiend!”

“I am not a fiend. Despite what you think,” said Lyam, huffing. “You should’ve understood this. Or have you seen a Demon wield the light?”

Oh. The Draenei’s mouth closed, surprised. But Lyam could feel the approbation in the back of his mind, like a slight prod. One that continued as the Paladin was stripped bare, exposing the generous genitals and yet the marked thighs.

So many scars, yet Lyam ignored them all as he turned away and looked to his left, sensing a tug from that direction.

Geruhlon was there, in his human shape. With the Archbishop’s face.

A face the Draenei instantly recognized when Geruhlon approached, depicting himself as the old Archbishop, with those slow steps and that tilted head.

“A-Archbishop! Is that you?” cried Iruno, pulling on the chains holding him down. But his flames faltered, so did his fear.

“Say it. Tell him.”

“Archbishop? Tsk,” laughed Lyam, clicking his tongue and shaking his head while patting the Archbishop’s shoulder. “You believed that was him?”

“Arch… Archbishop?” mumbled Iruno, his voice breaking.

“I am not the Archbishop,” said Geruhlon as his veil vanished, replacing the human features with fiendish ones. The Draenei’s expression shifted. Anger.

“What… What have you done to the Archbishop? Where is he? Release him!”

“There was no Archbishop,” said Lyam, shaking his head and turning to Geruhlon. “Only Geruhlon. My… Precious helper.”

Geruhlon’s smile only grew, his hand reaching for the Worgen’s posterior, caressing it. Like a reward, which shifted the whole situation. For a moment, Lyam thought again about what he was doing.

He was actively collaborating with the Demon. Which was different from merely thinking about it or entertaining the idea of protecting the Archbishop. Instead, he was… Doing it. Selling his soul and pride to another.

And yet, his posterior, his asshole, ached at the idea.

“You were so cute when you came to me, asking for guidance, Iruno. How can a Paladin beg for his soul’s salvation and doubt in front of a Demon? Aren’t you ashamed?”

Now, Iruno’s ire was gone.

Then remained the fear, the shame with those cheeks and face burning. And those eyes drifting now away, their golden hint gone.

“You- You lied to me. And you… You are working with Demons! You summoned him!” shouted Iruno, glaring at Lyam, who felt the tug in his mind.

The Worgen took one step and put one hand on his shoulder.

“I-“ he began, stopping. And then his body twitched when his posterior was pinched. “I did it for the Legion. They asked of me, and I followed their orders. But I had to replace that silly Archbishop. Lucky me, he was in the Catacombs.”

Lyam even chuckled, despite the sound coming out wrong, despite the lie ringing in his ears.

_Fear gnawed at him.

Could he really be a priest? Could he really be… More than a Whore? And yet, when the Archbishop had beckoned him into his private office, he’d been nothing more than one.

And now? Worshipping him under the desk? Pleasing a man like a whore?

And being invited to join him in the catacombs?

Could Lyam be more than a Whore who’d found the light? Could he be more than a toy?_

Inuro’s voice was coarse as he cried: “You betrayer! You betrayed the Archbishop! It was he who took you! He believed in you! He believed in the man you are! And that’s how you repay him? By cavorting with Demons?”

Lyam’s expression shifted ever so slightly while he reached for Geruhlon’s cock. While he reached for that groin, for that organ. For that mast that slipped out of the sheath.

“And what if I am? What if I am working with them?” said Lyam, offering him a smile.

“You wouldn’t dare!”

_Geruhlon’s cock throbbed against him and between his legs.

It was a monster, much bigger than his own. And the cage didn’t help at all, not that the Demon seemed to mind as he rubbed his shaft between the Worgen’s legs.

Played with him, teased him… Covered the precum with fluid. And then, chuckled, teasing those ears.

“That’s why he summoned us. He is a whore. And you wouldn’t want anything different, don’t you?” asked Geruhlon, his tongue stroking Lyam’s face, lips, and then plunging within._

“I dare,” coughed Lyam, the moment his tongue was released.

The moment his legs were spread to reveal his asshole and his cock, to reveal that organ that was right near his asshole… With his rim practically winking at Geruhlon’s shaft.

At the organ that was to slip inside the moment Geruhlon wanted it.

And that flare, so massive, pressed against Lyam’s entrance. So massive, and yet… With a faint suction, with a pain limited by the lubricant… Lyam’s asshole was penetrated, and the Worgen sighed with his eyes half-closed.

It was and felt delightful, with his toes curling while he listened to the spiteful insults.

“Harlot! Whore! Bitch! Prostitute! Tramp! Wench! Seducer!” cried Iruno, his voice breaking with each inch slipping inside Lyam.

Each inch inside the Worgen was delightful. But in return, the Paladin’s resolve visibly crumbled. The eyes widened, and the mouth was ajar. And those open legs quivered while his own cock was to slip outside of the sheath.

While that flare was to slip outside, Lyam was to enjoy the moment, and yet could feel that shame.

“Do not fret. Play that role. Or he will have to know.”

It was true; there was no way to step back from that. No way to return the other way.

_There was no other way to return.

The swirling portal was open, and behind it was a world of destruction and pain, with shouts and cries coming from the damned souls living there. But as Lyam observed, he saw the familiar eyes of the Archbishop. And then… He felt the stroke upon his back, the fingers stroking him.

A whisper, a caress.

“I could leave, little Priest. I only need to step out to conclude my compact. Unless...”_

The Worgen smiled, feeling that cock slip inside further, stretching his guts, stuffing them.

The pressure in them was intense, so intense, so raw. So powerful. But the throbbing presence was a delight he couldn’t part from. Not as he sighed, closed his eyes, and wrapped his arms around the Demon’s neck.

“Oh yes. I am a Whore. One day a whore, always a whore, you say. That’s why I betrayed the Archbishop. Because I want to serve the Legion and their… Magnificent bodies. Nothing can bring me more pleasure than this!” cried Lyam, his voice shaking when Geruhlon’s cock planted firmly and made his body bulge.

And so… Iruno’s belly bulged, too, while his cock was trembling and shaking. While his genitals were glowing with that same energy that was taking Lyam’s groin when in public. But not at this moment.

Nevertheless, watching those gleaming precum beads drip free from the cocktip and landing on the mat, only to be absorbed, created a sensation of pleasure and satisfaction that was shared by the Worgen. By the Worgen who continued to ride the Demon, his legs spread no differently than a bitch.

Than a bitch whose cunt was wrecked by an enormous cock… Whose rim sucked on the flesh while, facing it, the Paladin was grimacing and grunting… But definitely hard and flustered.

“And you will serve them, too, because you want it! You are a harlot, too!”

“Fiendish words!”

_The mouth was kissed while Lyam was milked. While, hung to the pole, he had to be milked. While his nipples were forcefully pierced, the toy, humongous but small compared to Geruhlon, slipped inside him.

He snarled, he cried, he roared.

“I will find a way to undo this! To release him!” shouted Lyam, blindfolded. But his cock was stiff and dripping. Something was warm inside his groin, but he could feel the precum drip and the Demon chuckling.

“You can try. But I plan to keep you around. You are so much more pleasant than the Archbishop. Much more different. Your soul is split between fear and lust. How long have you been needy?”_

Lyam didn’t need to raise his head much because Geruhlon’s tongue slipped inside.

And with a glance, he saw Iruno’s body burn while his mouth was filled with something that wasn’t there. It was a facsimile of Geruhlon’s tongue.

But it was definitely there; it was definitely stuffing the Draenei’s mouth, making him choke on it and sputter when free. And then sputtered again while that tongue went back inside, stealing his breath and Lyam’s.

But it felt oddly satisfying and good. And shameful for the Priest as his ears dropped and his hips were entirely impaled on that cock.

“You could have told him the truth.”

Oh… Lyam whimpered. But he muffled the sound just as soon as he sensed the irritation from the Demon who impaled him again… And again.

Who stuffed him, pumped inside his guts while Iruno was breaking before their eyes. His eyes were half-closed, his mouth dripping, his nose filled with mucus. And his cock was hard, so damn hard and massive compared to Lyam’s smaller and shrunken cock.

One cock, the Worgen watched, almost with envy.

“Do not worry. I will have it caged and fixed, too.”

Perhaps then being vindicated was enough for the Worgen, as his expression relaxed and then… he dug his fingers into the Demon’s neck, feeling that cock throb while the tension within was growing. Both inside his ass and inside his groin, a twin pressure that was increasing and weighing on his mind.

A similar case for Iruno, whose groans were growing more potent by the second.

By the Draenei, whose tone shifted ever so slightly, going up and down depending on the Doomguard’s thrusts inside Lyam… And of the fake organs playing inside the Paladin.

But it was all to stop, all to halt.

All to end when Geruhlon’s thrusts became rowdy and uneven… As the Doomguard himself was trembling and huffing, unsteady. His precum filled Lyam's asshole, stuffed his belly. But it was nothing compared to the ensuing cumflow. It was pumped inside, inflating his guts… Stuffing them until his belly ached. Until the skin stretched… Until his own shooting erection was crushed under the fur.

And only then… Lyam’s mouth was released, allowing him to breathe while looking down on the Paladin.

“W-Wench,” spurted the Draenei, though his own cock was half-hard and dripping cum on the ground, his three cumshots already absorbed and vanished.

“Wench… Much like how…”

“The Archbishop is.”

“The Archbishop is.”

A swirling portal appeared before Iruno’s face, though Lyam couldn’t see inside it. But the tired Draenei was trembling, pulling on the chains after the abuse while roaring.

“No! No! You! You monster! You betrayed him! You… You took everything from him! How could you do that?!” roared Iruno, before a chain shot from the ground and grabbed his face, locking his jaw.

His muffled roars were definitely loud, echoing through the room while Lyam closed his eyes and let himself be taken by the pleasure. By the sloshing inside his guts, by the raw pleasure as the Demon pulled on his asshole… And yet, unable to stop. To stop, as he sighed and groaned.

And whispered.

“What will become of us?” asked Lyam, his voice trembling.

“You will stay as such. But you will be tied to us. To the Legion, as we will finish this pathetic world.”

Lyam’s breathing almost halted, perhaps driven by the Demon’s sudden push inside his depths. Again.

Geruhlon’s refractory period wasn’t there, and the Demon’s stamina was exhibited as he punched Lyam’s guts once more… While listening to the Draenei’s moans and groans.

To the cry as Lyam’s mind crumbled under the pleasure. And yet… He felt that by crushing Iruno; he was crushing himself, too.

No more pride, no more ego… And no fight.

-

“You’re the only bastard who’s got a nice grin. What happened with your job?”

To add to that, Arvor’s fingers were even snapping in front of Lyam’s eyes, with the little green in them. For a moment, the Worgen blinked, then he shook his head and shot Arvor a smile.

The old Dockworker was certainly sour and looked dissatisfied. But who wasn’t in the Whistling Pig, as they were all huddled together, forming tight islands that wouldn’t budge or reunite.

Even the Innkeeper was definitely keeping his distance from everyone, making everything feel less comely.

Alas, that wasn’t enough to affect Lyam as his smile remained, and then he stretched.

“Me? Oh. Everything is going great,” said Lyam with a smile.

He even dared to pinch his nipple while answering, though he was certain the veil was there.

A necessary precaution with the green runes under his fur, with the Eredun words etched into his skin and gleaming with a strange light.

Protections, Geruhlon would say… But nothing the Priest was certain of as he tugged on his nipples, hearing Arvor grumble.

“Doing great? You gotta be more clear. You went on and on about a guy nagging you. And now? You’re all cheery?”

Lyam stopped for a moment. He pondered, he thought about it… And then; he shrugged before returning to his nipple-pulling and his chest-massaging.

“It’s complex. But the boss I hated… Kinda offered to fix the issue. We did it, and now everything’s better.”

“To fix the issue.”

“Don’t worry, the other worker is still around. He’s still a cunt, but he can’t do anything.”

“He can’t do anything… Damn. The way you say it, it’s dreary,” said Arvor, leaning. “Do anything ‘nything or?”

“No, not like that,” said Lyam, waving his hand. “It’s complicated. I can’t tell you much.”

“Because it’s all so secret, and if you get caught telling this, you’ll be punished.”

“Exactly!”

Lyam even laughed at Arvor’s pouting attitude, raising his mug of beer and bringing it to his lips. The aroma was raw, with a touch he couldn’t tell where it came from. It was acrid and not fruity. But somehow agreeable as Lyam turned and saw a gleam in the distance, and nodded. Then a guard passed by, nodding back as Arvor watched the interaction with a bewildered look.

“You know that guy?” he asked.

“Probably a helper from my boss. At that point, it’s better to nod and say hello. Or it’d anger your boss.”

“And now, you’re telling it like that, boss controls everything in your life.”

Lyam didn’t answer, but he shot a malicious side-eye with a curled mouth… Awaiting Arvor's reply or saying something.

Instead, the Human grumbled and pushed the mug aside.

“Maybe I should consider your suggestion.”

“About skipping town?” asked Lyam, noting Arvor’s nod. “You should have done that earlier. But Ironforge’s your best bet.”

“There are no docks there. I ain’t finding a job there,” replied the Human, tapping the table. “Why’d you keep telling me to go there?”

“Because…” Lyam stopped, ruminating a moment and then shaking his head. “Consider it’s a safer place.”

“Safe. Why does that word keep appearing back in your dirty mouth, mutt?”

“Because… The times ahead are uncertain. You know it; everyone knows it. There’s a change. Not a good one. Better time to leave and not turn back.”

“Oi. I’m not talking to a cultist talking about the end of the world.”

Lyam rolled his eyes, putting his mug down and then leaning back on the chair.

“You know something about what’s happening in town?”

“Not exactly. But I know, I heard something nasty around the guards,” lied Lyam, though at the same time it wasn’t wrong. He’d heard many guards come and divulge their greatest fears.

Only then, his red and green eyes focused on Arvor, offering him an ambivalent smile.

“I’d say it’s a feel for this. And you ought to skip town. As fast as possible.”

“Fair. You’ve been a good mutt, so-“

Before Arvor could finish bringing out his purse, Lyam had his hand outstretched, then grabbed his own purse and threw it on the table before standing up.

“And you’ve been a good friend, Arvor. But I don’t think I’ll be able to come back here.”

“Fuck. Don’t act so gloomy. And take back that damn purse.”

“I mean it,” said Lyam, standing by his chair, his posture almost regal. “Take that and leave.”

Arvor eyed the spilled gold. And sure enough, some other drunkards noticed the golden glow. But Arvor’s attitude was a mix of frustration and rage… Before he huffed and yanked the coins.

“Don’t consider that cover all the drinks I comped for you.”

“I’d never dare to think that. Now, I’ve got to leave,” said Lyam, waving his hand and going for the door.

“That’s foolish. He will join us, whether he wants it or not. You only stirred his fear.”

“Believe me. What I stirred was his curiosity. But if he trusts me, he’ll follow my suggestion”, replied Lyam with a whisper as he passed through the threshold and was in the old town.

However, the air itself was gloomy. Despite being in the middle of summer, dark clouds cast a gray tone over the whole town.

Everyone and their mothers were eyeing the sky, awaiting the rain or the thunder, though neither came.

Yet, the atmosphere was more morose than the weather itself would account for. The skipping steps were muffled while the beating heart of the city seemed to be slower. Many a shop had closed due to a lack of customers or even their owners leaving.

The cities were not as crowded or jovial, and the air itself had a stench that couldn’t come from the canal.

Alas, it wasn’t only here; many refugees came only to leave a few days later.

The back alleys were almost empty, and their deals absent. The people were barely shooting each other a glare before they scampered away, tightly holding onto their belts or their purses.

Amidst this, Lyam was different, like a gleaming beacon of light as he smiled. And then turned towards a presence leaning against the inn.

Armored to the T, even with the face hidden. However, the horns were obvious, and so were the hooves; so was the Paladin’s utter size when Lyam whistled.

“Come, Iruno. We’re going back,” he said.

And he only heard a faint inhalation as an answer before the Paladin stiffly followed. But he shadowed him as he strolled through the street… Butt-naked, and with some cum dripping from it. The same that had maculated his chair in the inn.

Not that he cared, as he had his hands on his nape, scratching it while he walked from the old town to the Cathedral. But the vision he had from before remained the same, with that ubiquitous tension.

It was in every glance, in every glance, in every little twitching movement, even from the guards as they merely eyed Lyam and the armored Iruno. But the steps continued, while above, the cries of beasts and urban life were almost tame. Reduced to nothing, and then fell into silence when they approached the Cathedral.

The dais was empty. No one was hanging around, and the air was almost cold when Lyam approached it, listening to the hooves stomping along. And then… As he was at the door, he waited for Iruno to push them, to open them wide, and for the light to enter.

For Lyam to enter as he could feel something different as he breathed, exhaled… And then smiled, his body warming up.

The inside of the church was the same. Warm, crowded, populated. In contrast to the sheer silence that had permeated the Cathedral district, the inside of the Cathedral was noisy. No, chaotic as the Worgen stepped onward, feeling a presence upon his body lessen and his breathing relax.

More than that, he heard a faint suction sound behind him and a muffled groan from Iruno as they followed the way to the apse, watching out for their steps.

Watching out for the bodies that were thrown around, for the men and women that were piling up in an orgy whose funk titillated Lyam’s nose.

It was chaotic, ugly, depraved. Some people were throwing themselves over the benches, trying to get a grip on someone else’s body. Others were crying in supplication, despair, or delight. Fear ran amok with perversion… And yet, more were brought…

From one corner, Lyam saw a Paladin dragging a screaming and kicking priest before ripping the robes to shreds and then starting to fuck that human at the moment.

In comparison, Lyam advanced with utter control of the situation, only to be stopped when someone grabbed his ankle.

He stopped, looked down to see another priest. It was a Dwarf, whose body was covered with bruises. Worse, he’d been whipped, fucked, and ruined. He dragged himself on the floor, leaving behind a trail of cum while Lyam watched… And then had a thin smile.

“Please-! Please! Something is wrong! The Archbishop! He-!”

The Dwarf was yanked by the leg by another Demon, an Eredar, who pulled the Dwarf under him before the Dwarf gargled and spat, visibly taken and ‘spoken for’.

Not that Lyam could do much as he grimaced and heard a grunt behind him. From Iruno.

“True. It is noisy. But that’s how it’s done,” said Lyam as he could only offer a shrug.

Perhaps he should have stopped it before.

When the ‘Archbishop’ invited him, or when the first compact was over. He could have stopped this instead of keeping Geruhlon around. But ruining the Archbishop’s image as a slut for Demons. He couldn’t have.

Nor could he have stopped the regular molesting, the corruption, or… The imprisonment.

He could have stopped this, down to the citizens who were grabbed and dragged into the Catacombs, the few becoming a handful, becoming a crowd.

But each step made the next one easier, like dragging oneself toward the abyss and being unwilling to step out.

Lyam was unwilling to step out of this, to free himself as he strolled, feeling the eyes on him.

“Head Priest?” “Lyam!” “Save us!” “We need you!”

They roared. They formed a chaos of moans and groans. They were a choir following Lyam as he advanced, raising his arms as if he embraced the scenery or the moment.

As if he embraced the consternation, the horror, the deviant display he wore as he sighed… And smiled.

“Sorry, I am but a whore,” he said with conviction. And a fire. A burning, raging fire in his heart as he advanced, faced by someone else embracing the scene.

“Are you enjoying this display? Or should we do more?!” roared Geruhlon, standing at the pulpit.

The Libram had already been thrown aside, and most altars defaced. Even the stained glass had been melted and burnt, reshaped and reorganized, as it cast an eerie green light on the scene, even then.

The white stone, too, had shifted and taken on a darker color. Its organic structure was fitting, like a growth inside the church. One that couldn’t be chased as Lyam approached.

“You were not to hurt them,” said Lyam calmly, as if the sounds around wouldn’t cut through his words.

“I only hurt them if they desired or if they needed a little push. All within the compact.”

Lyam huffed, glancing at his right… At a couple of Draeneis, being forced to make out while impaled on Wrathguards’ cocks. They moaned, groaned… But their attitude was one to be ensnared by pleasure. Much like he’d been.

And so, he sighed, turning his eyes back to Geruhlon, to that smug grin.

“I only hurt those you wish to be hurt.”

That smugness wasn’t directly directed at Lyam; those eyes were focused behind the Priest, at Iruno. To the Draenei whose steps were rigid. Like a machine.

Lyam nodded.

He nodded as he watched the helmet slip of its own volition.

Underneath, or rather behind the metal, flesh had grown onto it. Flesh that formed tendrils, joints, and muscles that were connecting altogether in a suit wrapped around the Paladin. A suit that hindered his movements or controlled them… One suit with a tendril inserted inside Iruno’s mouth as the Paladin’s face was released, albeit slime-covered.

He blinked as the light around him seemed to blind him after so long in the suit. And the moment his eyes noticed the vision of utter debauchery above… They widened.

They widened, and he hyperventilated: he breathed in and out quickly, while the muscles on his temples and neck bulged. He was pulling on his muscles, and the entire suit shuddered, just like the armor plate.

But he couldn’t move anything, not even a tiny finger, while Lyam forced a smile onto his face. Acting smug around Iruno was becoming easier. So much easier, especially when Iruno’s name was summoned and called by the flock.

They roared, they cried, they begged for their freedom… For this vision to end despite their own erection, despite their orgasms, despite their shames exposed to everyone and no one.

“Save us, Iruno!” “We need help! Why are you doing nothing?!” “Fight for us!”

Iruno couldn’t move, and soon, the suit of flesh moved to cover his eyes, forming something akin to a blindfold while his helmet remained off.

He looked akin to a statue, a pathetic display, while Lyam finally peeled his eyes away and scratched his nape.

“Only one morning… And you’ve already done this,” mumbled Lyam, stepping closer to the pulpit.

Geruhlon? Oh, he looked like a king, enjoying the sight of his kingdom. More so when Lyam approached, and he had the Worgen pressed against his leg, while those large fingers went to dig into that plump ass and then spread it.

Once more, Lyam was getting fingered and teased in public. Once more, he had to be played with. But this time, it was for everyone to see.

For those still cognizant and aware, they had to observe the white-furred Worgen getting fingered by a Demon much larger than him. They had to see the Fel brand forming circles and sigils under that fur. They had to witness the ease in getting fingered and almost fisted.

And how the Priest’s small cock was barely hard anymore despite his moans and groans… Despite how he was moving his hips in tandem to the Demon’s touch.

“So… This is it?” huffed Lyam, putting one hand on the pulpit before he was guided and forced to bend over it, his ass lifted so the Demon could access it.

“This is it?” repeated the Demon, chuckling. “We are not even at the beginning.”

And so… Lyam felt the Demon going behind him, gripping his hips and then presenting his flared organ to the ass. Flared organ that slipped with such ease, it took less than a second for the Demon to be thrusting inside that fluffy ass while stroking Lyam’s neck and chin.

“I am ashamed you’d think I would do something as… Small as this,” said the Demon, even though he was facing an orgy in almost public.

The air was filled with Fel, and it was obvious that some people were impacted by the Fel-riddled Cumshots… They writhed, they cried, they begged for it to stop as the magic suffused them and drove them to do more.

Steadily, slowly, the flock, the mere church-goers without much of a faith, were forced to draw from that well of need and desire, to consume the fluids they were given… To choke on the offered cocks and then to beg for more once done.

Whether they were Worgens howling for mercy. Whether they were Draeneis bucking under the beatings and the thrusts. Whether they were Dwarves or Gnomes forced to please smaller demons… Whether they were Humans or Elves.

They were all forced to do this. They were all forced to endure, much like Lyam. Much like almost every Paladin, every priest who cried and begged and prayed for mercy to come while Lyam continued to bend over… To be taken, to feel his guts being squeezed, and to sense his groin burn and get fiery with his testicles growing heavier.

This could have been it.

This could have been the culmination of all the lies, all the abuse. All the corruption spread in the search.

But it wasn’t, not as the doors were flung open and someone entered, flanked by guards.

It was not a Demon… But the expression of utter rage could have befallen one.

It was another Worgen, one with white fur and yet with a more regal attitude.

One who eyed the scene before his eyes with a growing ire, with a snarl that was completed by huffs and growls, while the crowd continued to form a moaning pile.

One even crawled toward the exit, ignoring the paws while trying to claw at the tiles to advance.

And… Those yellow eyes followed it before they snapped beyond the bound and blindfolded statue of a Paladin. Beyond Iruno… Before one sword was pointed at Geruhlon, and those lips were pulled back.

“GUARDS! SEIZE THOSE DEMONS AND END THAT HERESY! WE MUST FIND THE ARCHBISHOP!” roared Genn Greymane, his posture befitting many a warrior.

“Yes! Sir!” roared the Guards in return.

But what followed wasn’t the sound of unsheathed blades or weapons being readied. No, it was the huff of surprise when the Guards grabbed Genn under the arms and lifted him.

Without a break, the Worgen King was surprised and blinking.

But he was dragged ahead, closer to the Apse, while the Guards ignored his cries and roars. He kicked and roared before he was thrown on the floor, stripped of his armor but not his dignity.

“Wh… What have you done?” moaned and whispered Lyam.

“I have tipped him. I couldn’t have my fun without handling the crowned heads.”

“You… Killed them?”

“I only captured them. As for him… I wanted to see if he was as fun as you.”

“You… He’s a King.”

“And he’s a whore. Now. Follow.”

Again, Lyam gulped and was impaled on that cock, jolted by a thrust while he could feel the tug guiding him to put his hands on the pulpit. As he had to watch over the roaring Genn Greymane, turning towards the Demons, doffing the illusions of guards.

He eyed them, his claws lifted towards them in a threat. An empty threat in that situation, thought Lyam as he tried to straighten his back despite the throb inside him, despite his legs dangling above the ground.

“Genn Greymane. It is a pleasure to welcome you.”

“Genn Greymane! It is a pleasure to welcome you,” repeated Lyam with a cloying tone.

“You… You’re… You’re the Head Priest Lyam! You are the one behind all this, are you? Corrupting our people and condemning Stormwind.”

“Stormwind is only the first step of our invasion. Already your world is about to fall, yet you don’t know.”

Lyam blinked, his fingers digging into the pulpit as he could feel… That it wasn’t what he desired to say.

All his lies had been for his benefit or for someone he cared about. But this time, he would have to lie openly for… Geruhlon? For the Legion. It was a fine line, and one he was about to cross.

“Say it.”

“I-“ mouthed Lyam.

“Say it. Or you will end up like the Archbishop. You will be abandoned. And I will replace you with another one. Your King, Lyam.”

“No!”

Lyam’s cry echoed within the Church before he shook his head. Before his whole body shook as he was still bolstered and impaled on Geruhlon’s organ. As he could still sense the throb inside, both a reward and a punishment, he had to endure.

Something that made his groin ache and burn… Something he couldn’t see.

But if he did, he would notice that the glow from before was gone, and instead… Green veins throbbed within.

“No. I am not the one behind this. I had the Legion’s help,” said Lyam, telling a truth. And yet, he felt his groin aching in a novel way. One that was both terrible and so alien; he felt he desired it.

“Stormwind is but the beginning. Even if you don’t know, this world will fall.”

“Nonsense! I will not allow this!”

Genn’s expression shifted from pain to ire. His claws drawn, he lowered himself in an attempt to lunge at the Priest and Geruhlon behind.

But the moment he did so, his eyes widened, and then he dropped. Worse, he yelped, he heaved, he cried while clutching his guts.

“Tell him what he feels, Priest… What they will all feel.”

As Lyam’s eyes turned away from Genn, he saw that all the people around here were groaning and clutching their bellies the same. Every kind, every species, everyone was affected except for the Demons.

Even those untouched or freshly thrown to the pile were reacting the same way by crying, moaning, and begging.

Begging with even Iruno’s hyperventilation getting worse, the Paladin quivering under his armor. And something. Something arose within Lyam’s mind.

It was something else to share this with Iruno, to torture it with it.

But… It was completely different from having a good part of Stormwind under his clutch, to have them experience what he had, without the training, without making Lyam… Himself.

“Can you feel this, Genn Greymane? Does it hurt? This is how it will be from now on. You will hate it, spurn it. And then learn to love it,” said Lyam, his voice calm.

“Wretch. This is but a curse. Something that will… Something I can endure.”

Genn Greymane roared, standing up on his wobbly feet while clutching his guts and keeping his thighs spread. He showed a stoic expression, but the twitch in that mouth?

He was barely holding it together.

A mere trust sent him tottering and yelping, while Lyam could only feel the pleasure, could only feel something enthralling. He had control of the situation and not.

Geruhlon could force him to do this… But how he acted, what he did, he had the freedom.

And that freedom, he could exercise it even in the most minute of movements, even as when he squeezed his buttcheeks, he sent the crowd howling… Greymane among them.

He had power. He had respect. And he could influence them. He could make them feel what he felt, in many ways. Pain and pleasure alike.

“Can you endure it, endure love, in such a way, Genn? Can you endure and refuse it? Refuse what… I have taken?”

“This is… Nothing but a sensation! A lie!” roared Genn, waving his arm.

“You think? But are your tense pants for a lie?”

Lyam could indeed observe the front of those pants being wet and tense. He could admire as the King was fighting back. But the more those movements inside Lyam’s ass continued… The more his expression crumbled.

The yellow eyes were half-closed, unable to focus entirely on Lyam as Genn Greymane continued to sway. To tremble. And then, to almost fall forward.

“This… Is nothing,” grumbled the King, repeating himself.

But his slurring repetitions couldn’t protect him from a demon approaching with an erection, stroking the King. Although the Worgen pushed back.

“This is not nothing. This is what I am given; this is what I will receive. And what you can receive.”

“Good job.”

“Quiet,” huffed Lyam, turning to Geruhlon and grabbing the Demon's arm to guide it to his nipple. To guide him to pinch the nearest nub while the King before Lyam cried while holding onto his exposed chest.

“Even… If I cannot fight you. Others will. Varian among them. He- He will-“

“Varian couldn’t see the corruption among the priests. He couldn’t see the truth before his eyes,” said Lyam. And yes, none had seen his dismay. None had seen how much he’d been working and toiling for…

For someone else. But after having his ego, his sense of self-crushed… There was exhilaration in holding the posture. And even in having the Demon following his orders.

So Lyam smiled, snapping his fingers and pointing to his hips, inviting the Demon to continue to pump inside him and make the crowd writhe in pain and pleasure.

To have them cum their brains out while holding onto their backs and bellies, to have them yelp while their cocks shot on the ground, and then more.

And to have Genn dropping on all fours, his own red cock shooting on the tiles.

“Varian saw nothing. And even if he knows about the Demon. I dare him to face me. And to endure this,” said Lyam with a rogue huff before he turned his eyes to Geruhlon. “Bring him to us.”

For once, he saw something different in the Doomguard’s eyes.

Not false affability or smugness. No, there was fear. Genuine fear, and next, respect. No, satisfaction as he grinned with his teeth and stepped back, bringing the Worgen away from the pulpit and then holding him by his thighs.

“Of course.”

Then… With those same fake hands, Genn was lifted despite still cumming on the ground.

One day. He had been his King, if there was such a King for a whore.

Genn almost dangled limp in the air before he was brought before Lyam.

He eyed it, watched his King, and saw that aging body. Saw that gray coat, saw that muzzle he reached and stroked.

“Lower me. Even if you have to kneel,” said Lyam, towards Geruhlon.

The Demon followed, going onto his legs and knees so Lyam could have his feet on the floor and be at the level to grab Genn Greymane’s muzzle.

He touched it, stroked it… Despite the King groaning and huffing, visibly shaken.

“Bind his mouth open.”

“You'd better not do anything rash. If you kill him, you will thwart my plans.”

“I have something better,” said Lyam.

Even Geruhlon’s expression was unsure, but the Worgen King’s mouth was bound.

Those ears straightened while that muzzle was forced open.

The inside of that mouth was warm, wet, and almost velvety under Lyam’s touch. But as he pulled on the tongue, titillating it, he saw the irate expression from the Worgen King.

“I guess… That’s what Demons might feel if they take my mouth,” said Lyam, his fingers playing and pulling on that tongue despite the angry yellow eyes focusing on him.

Sure, the King was angry.

But Lyam cared little as he moved his head while glancing over his shoulders. A mere sign, but Genn was dragged closer.

Closer until his mouth was practically pressed against Lyam’s groin. And then, the Worgen practically had the Worgen’s mouth opening to the limit, then more.

The jaw snapped, dislocated. And then it dangled as Genn Greymane tried to cry, but the sound came out as a gurgle.

A faint gurgle, nothing new for Lyam as he approached his groin further inside that mouth and then rubbed his flaccid but precum-dripping cock against that tongue.

The touch was soft, velvety… Warm. Pleasant. Satisfactory for the Priest as he looked at Geruhlon.

“Make me cum now,” he ordered.

“Much obliged,” replied Geruhlon, giving Lyam a thrust and sending him rocking… Sending him almost stumbling while Genn had to feel that flaccid length rubbing against his tongue, smearing precum against it… And titillating that uvula.

The Worgen audibly gargled, visibly clenched his throat, obviously fought the nausea.

But in return, he had to feel it. Sense his own mouth, sense Genn Greymane’s tongue on his cock… And so would be the crowd. So would be the entire flock forced into the Cathedral, forced to partake in that orgy.

They moaned. They cried, they begged, they huffed. They pleaded for it to stop.

Among them, Genn’s yellow eyes as those ears dropped in shame and fluster. But Lyam? He smiled. Further… And further, as he could sense through the thrusts that his cock was getting hard.

He was getting hard, though he could also feel the vein underneath the skin. He could see the throbbing green blood flooding his testicles and his cock. That was starting to affect him, as his precum had the same greenish hue as Geruhlon’s.

It ought to frighten him. It ought to make him stop.

Yet… The Worgen grabbed Greymane’s head, grabbed him by the ears… And then, he yanked the King’s throat down, impaling that throat on it while his testicles hit the lolling out tongue.

While his testicles smacked and were then received by that velvety pillow, warm and moist… While the crowd came from the fellatio.

And quivered as Geruhlon joined the party, grabbing Lyam’s hips to help him in the thrusts. To make him impale himself on that flared length and then to impale that throat.

To force a movement that made the three’s bodies rock and move in a chaotic union.

One where Greymane couldn’t move and yet gargled a few yelps before his voice was too hoarse and sore to produce a proper sound.

Lyam? He felt a crescendo building in his body. A crescendo growing in his groin as he could feel a fire, so different from before, encompassing his groin. And then… Finally, swallowing him.

Swallowing his body. Swallowing his sense, his limbs, himself.

Lyam came. After what had been like a year or more, he came. Not from being taken but by taking. And taking not from someone unimportant.

From a King, his previous King. From someone who’d been so above him.

And now… Someone who looked like a rag as he was cumming, too… As he felt his stomach bulging with cum… Fel cum.

Felt. And lived it.

Felt from the back.

And lived it from the front.

Felt it from Geruhlon’s cock pumping inside his ass.

And living it from his small cock pumping Fel-riddled cum inside that mouth.

It flowed down the King’s stomach, stuffed it, and burned. And ached…

Right before Lyam’s hand reached for the King, for his face, a glow emanated from it. Not white or pure. No, green. Green as it melded magic, and yet, soothed the Worgen’s pain as his eyes closed and he seemed to drop unconscious, asleep.

“What are your desires?”

“I think… This church needs something different.”

-

They bowed. All the same. Purple skin. Red skin. Brown skin.

Leathery, scaly, furry. They all bowed, their hellish features amplified by the Fel. Osseous growth, amplified fangs. Lyam, too, was changed.

His body was changed, with some osseous growth sprouting from his shoulders, though they were adorned with incense. With the scent he associated with prayer.

He turned towards them.

“As expected,” he smiled, then turned back to face a familiar vision. Green eyes, blue skin with red blotches. And a Paladin whose body tensed and writhed while the toy inserted within him made his belly bulge.

His cock was still in his sheath, but something glowing, almost yellowish, dripped onto those testicles and then down to land on the floor, to be absorbed by it the instant it touched down.

Yet, most runes around brimmed with power, while Lyam nodded and then stepped out, listening to the faint moan growing distant. And then flooded by the others, many more coming from all the cells in the catacombs.

He didn’t have to watch that the milking was coming out great. That they were enough to satisfy the demand for energy at the moment.

He clung tightly to his reinforced Libram, smiling as he stepped forward, feeling the damp air left behind and instead something fresh and new welcoming him.

His gait was light-footed. His body at rest, as he scratched a tusk and then… he stepped outside the corridors into the Transept. Or what remained of it.

The rooftop had been destroyed a long time ago, during the invasion.

And beyond, the sky was heavy with green clouds, thundering and sometimes unleashing their rage onto the bell tower. Or onto the ruins of Stormwind Castle.

Either way, those strikes felt so distant for Lyam as he felt eyes on him. So many eyes, some with anger and fear, some with piety and loyalty.

He smiled back at them, climbing to the pulpit, which had been remade of pure Felsteel to endure the hit.

Only then did he put the Libram on it.

Its cover was of the same steel, adorned with runes. But inside? It was plain paper. Plain memories as he passed a finger on his latest sermon, guided by a mere bookmark.

And then he eyed the Demons ahead. The mortals, too. The participants in the crusade. Those who’d become his new flock.

And already, he could feel a presence behind him. Familiar, natural. Geruhlon.

“Again with another prayer, little Priest?”

“Because nothing makes me as happy as that,” replied Lyam with a faint whisper before he turned to the crowd… And raised his arms.

“That was how the first Tool created by the Light was violence. A violence that was wielded against the Land itself. And then against her Creations. She sought to destroy us, to undo us. And so we fought back. We fought against the Light because we are resilient and just. We fought against her fear. And now… We are rewarded.”

Lyam smiled, feeling his heart heavier in his chest. With love. With desire. With pleasure. All rewarded by Geruhlon taking him in public amidst the ruins of Stormwind.

Another world conquered by the Legion. And yet with a fearful Priest who felt like a lord… Surrounded by his Flock, fucked, and yet making them feel what he felt.

His joy, his pride, his satisfaction. And his shame.