Round 28

The abandoned church felt wrong even before they started fucking in it. Stone and dust and ghosts of prayers that probably didn't help much back when this place was actually useful. Now it's just a hiding spot for perverts trying to build an all-girl cult or whatever the hell Jeane's got planned.

Silra leans against a wall column, teal eyes scanning every exit route like she expects the cops to burst in mid-orgasm. Which, fair. This place is a disaster waiting to happen—sound carries like crazy, windows are basically fucking spotlights when the moon hits them right. She mutters something about needing to move this shit somewhere less visible before someone stumbles in and turns them into viral porn.

Jeane just smirks like she doesn't give a damn about any of that. The tall succubus woman's crimson eyes gleam with an intensity that makes Silra's skin prickle—again. "This abandoned church reeks of potential sin and desperation," the sorcerer purrs, her voice barely above a whisper. "The air is thick with dust and the ghost of old prayers, a fitting backdrop for what comes next." She takes a step closer, her...

Silra shifts her weight, fingers tightening around the small blade hidden in her sleeve—a comforting weight against the growing unease in her gut. This whole quest feels wrong on levels she can't quite articulate, but arguing with Jeane when the sorcerer's got that look in her eye is like trying to reason with a tidal wave.

The elf woman forces herself to focus on practical concerns instead of moral ones she doesn't even fully understand herself. "We need to move this shit somewhere less visible before someone stumbles in mid-act and turns us into viral porn," she mutters, more to herself than anyone else. The idea of being caught fucking for sport in a public church is... not her proudest moment.

Jeane just laughs—too loud, too sharp in the enclosed space. "Oh come now, Silra. Where's your sense of adventure? The thrill of potential discovery only adds to the pleasure." She runs one hand along the dusty altar, leaving a clean streak in its wake. "Besides, think of the power we'll gain from corrupting this sacred ground. Every moan and scream will feed our magic."

Silra feels her face heat with something that's not entirely arousal. "Yeah, well, I'd rather not feed anyone else's social media accounts while we're at it." She glances toward the door where Clarice is waiting—another innocent woman about to be dragged into their increasingly questionable activities. The elf woman's stomach twists with guilt even as her body responds to Jeane's proximity.

The sorcerer moves closer still, her voluptuous form barely contained by tight black leather. "Oh stop fretting," she croons, reaching out to trace Silra's jawline with one finger. "You know this is necessary for our quest. Besides..." Her voice drops to a husky whisper. "...Don't tell me you're not enjoying yourself. I can feel how wet you are already."

Silra swallows hard, her traitorous body responding despite her mental reservations. "That doesn't mean we should be doing it here," she manages, though her voice lacks conviction even to her own ears. The blade in her sleeve feels suddenly heavy—less a weapon and more a reminder of how deep they're already in this mess.

Jeane's crimson eyes gleam with amusement and something darker—as if she can see right through Silra's flimsy protests. "Oh but we are doing it here," the sorcerer purrs, her hand sliding down to cup Silra's breast through thin fabric. "And you're going to love every second of it." She leans in closer, her lips barely brushing Silra's ear as she hums: "Now be a good girl and get Clarice inside. I'll prepare things here."

Silra feels her objections dissolving under the onslaught of Jeane's touch and tone. She nods once—too quickly—and turns toward the door, leaving the sorcerer to whatever dark preparations she has in mind for their makeshift altar. The weight in her gut doesn't lift, but something else flares hotter and more insistent between her thighs.

This is wrong on so many levels, the elf woman thinks as she opens the door for Clarice. But god help her if she isn't looking forward to it anyway.