Chapter 471: Liquid Devotion

Vespera agreed to help me without hesitation; the mention of the goddess was all she needed. She was so eager for the chance to meet her goddess, to the point I had to stop her from dragging me to the capital on foot the same night.

Poor girl, she had no idea I was the goddess. She just saw a "vision" and concluded I am a "Messenger."

And after days of flying, self-fucking, and fighting… I was so damn tired. My current mortal body reached its limit.

So I told her to rest.

She did just that.

However, before going to sleep, she said that she must perform a quick prayer to the goddess as a sign of her devotion—a request I found cute.

Inside the tent, we had a small fireplace. Vespera moved to the corner and placed a small wooden idol of the goddess on a rock.

"..."

I recognized it, of course. It was a statue of Lilith, since it had succubus wings. However, the idol was simple—just a female figure with huge breasts and wide hips.

Vespera knelt before the idol, her head bowed in reverence.

"Oh, Great Mother, the divine cunt from which all life springs," she chanted, her voice a low, reverent murmur. "Bless this humble servant with your presence. Guide my blade and my heart. May my womb ever be ready to receive your divine seed, and may my lips forever sing your praises."

I couldn't help but grin. The prayer was… interesting. A perfect mix of profanity and divinity, totally influenced by my divine breeding aspect.

"Hm?" I narrowed my eyes, watching the dark elf.

She reached behind her, pulling a small vial from her satchel. She didn't open it immediately; she just held it, her thumb stroking the cool glass.

Then she stood up, removed her leather pants and her shirt, her grey body glistening in the firelight, her "spear" standing at attention.

Then she opened the vial and poured the transparent liquid into her mouth.

She swished it around before swallowing.

Then she spat on her hands and started to rub her cock, her strokes slow, deliberate, her movements almost ritualistic.

She then shoved two fingers up her pussy and started to pump them in and out, her hips bucking, her breath coming in ragged gasps.

'What's she doing?' I thought to myself, my own "holy spear" stirring in my pants. 'Is this part of the prayer?'

I watched, fascinated, as she brought herself to the edge of orgasm, her body trembling with pleasure. But just as she was about to cum, she stopped.

Placing a wooden bowl in front of her, she lifted her grey cock and aimed it at the bowl.

Then she started to chant again.

"This offering, I make to you, Oh Great Mother," she moaned, her hips bucking. "Take this seed, this essence of your humble servant. Let it be a sign of my devotion, a symbol of my readiness to receive your divine blessing. May it please you, my goddess. May it please you."

And with a final, desperate cry, she came. Thick, white ropes of cum shot out, filling the wooden bowl with her seed.

She then picked up the wooden idol and poured the cum over it, covering it with her essence.

Then she did the same with her pussy juice, coating the idol with her fluids.

"Hehe~..." I chuckled, watching her with a grin. "Now that's what I call a 'liquid prayer.'"

She didn't say anything. She just placed the idol back on the rock and knelt before it, her head bowed in reverence, her body still trembling from the force of her orgasm.

Vespera remained kneeling for several long heartbeats after the last tremor left her body.

Her breathing was still uneven, silver strands clinging to the sweat on her forehead and neck. The wooden idol glistened obscenely in the firelight—every exaggerated curve of breast and hip now slick and shining, dripping with her mixed fluids.

Only then did she seem to remember I was there.

Her amethyst eyes flicked toward me, wide with the sudden, terrible awareness of an audience.

For one delicious second, pure mortification painted her face scarlet beneath the ashen grey—the proud Blade Dancer of the Silent Tree realizing she had just performed the most shameless parts of her nightly devotion in front of the supposed Messenger of her goddess.

Then she saw my expression.

I wasn't laughing.

I wasn't even smirking.

I was watching her with heavy-lidded interest, chin resting on my knuckles, the corner of my mouth lifted in something that was equal parts approval and hunger.

The tension in her shoulders eased a fraction.

"...You are not disgusted," she said quietly. Almost a question.

"Should I be?" I countered, voice low. "It's a beautiful offering. Honest. Generous. Very… wet."

The last word made her ears twitch violently.

She looked down at the cum-drenched idol, then back at me, visibly struggling between shame and the tiny, dangerous spark of pride that my words had just ignited.

"The Great Mother… demands everything," she murmured, as if reminding herself more than explaining to me. "Even the parts we would rather keep hidden."

"Especially those parts," I agreed softly. My gaze drifted from her face to her "spear," still impressive, still glistening with a last drop of moisture. "She must be very… appreciative."

"She is," Vespera breathed, a tremor running through her again. This one was not from pleasure. "Her presence… her blessing… it is the only thing that makes this life worth living."

I rose from where I'd been lounging against the tent pole and walked the few steps that separated us.

Vespera didn't move. Didn't breathe.

I crouched down in front of her so our eyes were level.

My gaze deliberately traveled from her flushed face, down the elegant column of her throat, over the rapid rise and fall of her small, perfect breasts, lingered on the still-hard length of her cock, glistening with the remnants of her offering, then lower, to where her thighs trembled just slightly from the aftershocks.

Then back up to her eyes.

"May I?" I asked, tilting my head toward the bowl that still held the thick dregs of her climax.

Confusion flickered across her features, then understanding. Then a blush so deep it was almost purple.

"Wh-why? It is… an offering. Given."

"Consider it a second offering," I purred, my fingers hovering just above the rim. "To the Messenger."

She swallowed. Nodded once.

I dipped two fingers into the warm, viscous pool. Brought them to my lips.

Maintained eye contact the entire time I slowly licked them clean. The taste was… uniquely her. Musky, slightly bitter, with an underlying sweetness.

Vespera's pupils blew wide enough to drown the violet.

"She approves," I said, my voice a husky whisper. "I can feel her approval. She is… very pleased with this devotion."

The lie was so smooth it felt like the truth.

Wait?! It's not a lie—I'm the goddess in question.

"Truly?" The hope in her voice was painful.

"Truly," I confirmed. I reached out, my thumb brushing the corner of her mouth where a drop of her own saliva had gathered during her earlier chant. "She wants me to give you a reward. To show you 'Her' favor is with you."

My thumb slid down her chin, her throat, coming to rest on the pulse point in her neck.

"Stay as you are," I commanded gently. "Don't move."

I stood and slowly, deliberately shed my own clothes—the leather pants, the simple tunic. They fell to the ground with soft sounds, leaving me bare before her.

Vespera's gaze was a physical thing, hot and heavy. It caressed my curves, admired the swell of my hips and the heavy weight of my breasts, before finally settling on the "holy spear" that was now achingly hard, the head already beading with my own desire.

I knelt again, this time straddling her legs, my knees sinking into the soft blankets. I took her still-erect cock in my hand, marveling at the smooth, hot feel of it.

"Morgana…" she breathed, her hands clenching into fists at her sides, fighting the instinct to touch me.

"Ssh," I murmured, lifting myself slightly. I guided the head of her cock to my entrance, letting it brush against the wet heat there. "This is her gift. Her blessing. Accept it."

And then I sank down.

The first inch was slow.

Deliberately slow.

I let Vespera feel every ridge, every vein, every subtle throb as I sank down onto her, taking her inside me one torturous fraction at a time.

Her head fell back. A long, broken sound tore from her throat—not quite a moan, not quite a prayer, something caught perfectly in between.

Her hands stayed locked at her sides exactly as I'd commanded, knuckles white, trembling with the effort of obedience.

"Good girl," I whispered, the words dripping like honey and sin. "Look at how perfectly you fit. The Great Mother made me for this."

"Please…" she gasped, her voice cracking.

"Please, what?" I teased, lowering my hips just a fraction, letting the broad head of her member stretch my entrance. "Do you want the Goddess to see how well you can take her Messenger? Or are you worried your little spear can't keep up?"

Her eyes snapped open, blazing with a sudden, fierce pride.

"I can keep up," she snarled, the challenge overriding the reverence. "Better than you can handle."

I laughed, a low, throaty sound of pure delight, rolling my hips in a languid circle, grinding down until our pelvises kissed and she was buried to the root.

"Prove it."

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