Kara thought she had escaped my grasp. She thought the pantry door was a shield. But I don't give up on a potential follower. Once I find a suitable vessel, I make sure to hold them in the palm of my hand—or in this case, the grip of my tentacles.
Zip.
[Skill Activated: Clone Mimic]
It was a simple trick of light and ink, a skill I learned in the deep trenches to confuse sharks. My doppelgänger—a perfect, solid illusion—stepped forward, offering a polite arm to Lady Julienne as they walked toward the garden exit.
Meanwhile, the real me dissolved into the shadows, slipping back toward the kitchen.
Creak.
I was quiet. I was the predator of the deep, stalking prey that didn't even know it was being hunted.
The sight that greeted me was pitiful and perfect. Kara was kneeling on the cold stone floor, her legs spread wide. Her hands were buried in her crotch, frantically rubbing, scratching at the itch I had left behind.
Squish. Rub. Gasp.
"Nnngh... What is this feeling... I feel hot..." she whined to the empty room.
She didn't know that my tentacles were coated in a potent aphrodisiac—a gift from Lunaria herself. Once that divine slime enters a person, there is no escape. It burns with a cold fire that only one thing can extinguish: my release. It is a lethal gift, one I do not use mindlessly, but for a key ally? It was necessary.
I grabbed a linen cloth from the counter, folding it swiftly.
Step. Step.
I moved behind her. Before she could react, I tied the cloth around her eyes.
"Who—?!" she gasped, her hands flying up.
"Shh," I whispered against her ear. "Let's continue where we left off."
Her body went rigid, then melted instantly. "Priest... sama?"
"Your body is confused, Kara. It's hot, isn't it? Burning?"
"Yes..., yes," she panted, her head falling back against my thigh. "What did you do to me?"
"I am simply preparing you for a new taste of faith," I murmured. "To join me. Ask for protection, value life, and the Goddess will grant you rewards beyond the coin you desperately need."
"Why... why the blindfold… I like to see your face, your body… damn?" as she bites her lips down
"To enhance your perception and deepen the sense of connection," I gently murmured to her. However, this capacity bears a drawback: it reveals my true visage. The divine countenance, capable of inducing profound admiration, has vanished; it is no longer the face accompanying Julienne. What remains is an aberrant form—merely a dark nasal aperture, the skin of my head now a dense collection of blue tentacular filaments. Only the magnificent physique, sculpted with the perfection of an Adonis, endures.
Thud.
I lifted her effortlessly, pinning her hands to the kitchen table.
"It is time for you to be baptized."
"Wait—!"
Slither.
She felt my hands already caressing her ass, kneading the soft flesh.
"Sorry, Kara," I said, my voice dropping to a gravelly low. "But I need this to be quick."
I pulled aside the apron and the damp linen covering her femininity. It was soaked, leaking her own juices mixed with the residue of my earlier intrusion.
I prepared myself. The divine instrument of Lunaria was ready. I pressed the tip against her entrance. My penis emerged—she had seen it many times last night, nine inches in length, three inches in diameter with considerable girth and thick, pulsing bloodlines.
Gasp!
"Please... it's too big... it will break me..." she cried out, the memory of its sheer size, glimpsed last night even through the blindfold, flashing in her mind.
"It won't break you," I promised, a low rumble in my voice. "It will remake you."
I didn't have time to spare.
Slide. Squelch.
I pushed forward, a single, decisive motion that filled her completely.
"AHHH!"
Her scream was a jagged sound, half pain, half overwhelming relief. I began to move. Thrust. Pull. Thrust.
My tentacles erupted from my back, abandoning all pretense of humanity in a cascade of slick, pulsing muscle.
"Skkrrrshh—plop-plop!"
They were not merely extensions, but a visceral statement of my true self, a grotesque yet beautiful manifestation of desire.
Two of the thickest appendages lashed out with startling speed and precision, grabbing her ankles. Simultaneously, two more coiled around her wrists, securing her high above my head. She was suspended in the air, a breathtaking vision of surrender—nothing but a weightless vessel offered up for my pleasure. The sight of her helpless, yet trusting, fueled the primal thrumming in my core.
Thmp. Thmp. Thmp. The sound was the rhythmic beat of our shared, escalating arousal, a drumbeat for the ecstasy to come.
Down below, two final tentacles, more delicate but no less purposeful, snaked forward. They focused their attention on her breasts, teasing the sensitive flesh. They kneaded and rolled, playing with them as if they were soft, pliant balls,
"hllp… slrrb… slrp-slrp…" the subtle pressure and release sending a jolt of pleasure through her, mirrored by the intense concentration on my face.
Meanwhile, the main body of my desire, hard and ready, thrust forward, the exquisite softness of her entrance yielding to my insistent rhythm.
Thmp. Thmp. Thmp.
The sound was a heavy, desperate drumbeat in the quiet kitchen. I set the pace—a slow, deep, in-and-out cadence that built a satisfying, crushing pressure within her.
My human hands, which I had neglected in favor of my aquatic limbs, finally found their purpose.
Grip.
I seized her hips with bruising intensity, my fingers digging into the soft flesh to anchor her against me. With each powerful, guttural grunt of my own pleasure, I slammed her against my body.
Slap. Slap. Slap.
The wet, rhythmic contact of skin on skin echoed off the stone walls—an utterly erotic, applause-like sound that was both primal and intoxicating. The air grew thick, heavy with the musk of sweat, the metallic tang of desire, and the charged scent of unbridled passion.
I watched her face—the perfect canvas of her escalating arousal.
Squish. Squeeze.
While my hips drove the rhythm, two of my free tentacles slithered up to her chest, kneading and rolling her breasts like soft dough, teasing the nipples until they were hard points of sensitivity.
"Haaaaah—! Hnnnngh!"
A high, strained moan tore from her throat, her head thrashing back.
Grrrrmmm...
My own voice answered her, a low, vibrating rumble building deep in my chest. I knew, with absolute certainty, that this was precisely where we were meant to be.
"No... no...!" she tried to deny it, shaking her head wildly.
The pleasure, however, was undeniable. The aphrodisiacs in her blood, combined with those emanating from my groping tentacles, harmonized perfectly with my rhythm.
"Say it," I commanded, driving into her with a piston-like fury. "Say you want it."
"I... I..." She arched her back, her toes curling as the pleasure overrode her fear. "I want it! I want more! Break me, Priest-sama! Break me!"
I was fast. I had to get back to my clone before the illusion faded.
The pressure built instantly. The connection was electric, her desperation feeding my own reserves.
"I'm going to cum," I growled, gripping her hips with my human hands while the tentacles held her steady.
"Yes! Yes! Bless me!" she shrieked.
Pulse. Throb.
I released it. A torrent of warmth, energy, and divine blessing flooded into her, washing away the doubt, the fear, and the loyalty to any other god.
"Haaaaah...!"
She screamed in pure joy, her body convulsing in euphoria she couldn't possibly understand.
Drop.
I released her gently onto the kitchen table. She collapsed, a trembling mess, slick with sweat and fluids. She struggled to lift her head, blindly reaching out, her lips parted as she tried to initiate a kiss.
"Please… More" she whispered.
I placed a finger on her lips. "Next time. Just keep your faith up and it shall be given"
I stepped back, adjusting my robes. As I looked at her heaving chest, a faint blue light shimmered on her right breast.
[Mark of the Octopus: Applied]
A small, stylized octopus tattoo, visible only to me, had formed on her skin.
"I will... be expecting more..." she slurred, her voice thick with exhaustion and bliss.
"And you shall have it," I said, turning toward the door.
Success.
Now, I had a date to catch.