“You belong to me now, cherub,” I growled, pumping my fingers faster as he mewled and thrashed around.
“P-please—back to—bed—hngh.”
“No, needy little sluts don’t get to make decisions. You need your Daddy for that, don’t you?”
“Daddyyy,” he moaned.
“You’re so fucking perfect, baby.”
“Please—”
“Say you belong to me, cherub,” I grunted.
Elior cried, “I b-belong to you!”
“Good boy,” I growled, adding a third finger. I scissored them wide, pumping in and out, the wet squelch echoing faintly in the sanctuary. Oil dripped down his crack, soaking his tight, drawn balls. His small cock twitched, spurting yet another bead of precum onto the seat.
“Daddy, please… It’s too much… someone might hear,” he whined, but his hips rolled, fucking himself on my hand. “Not here, pleaseee—ahh!”
I leaned over him, breath hot on his ear. “They won’t. And even if they did, they’d just see their holy Vessel getting his ass worshiped like he deserves.” I curled my fingers, nailing his prostate. He shrieked, body convulsing, a puddle of fluid building at the base of the Seat. “They’d all be dripping with jealousy, watching asIfuck their idol.”
Pulling my fingers free with an obscene pop, I slathered my aching cock with oil, fisting the shaft once, twice, groaning at the glide.
Positioning behind him, I nudged my blunt head against his slick hole. “Beg for it, Elior. Beg your Daddy to defile you.”
He sobbed, nails scraping stone. “Please, Daddy… I’m yours.”
With a grunt, I snapped my hips forward, burying half my length in one thrust. His rim stretched taut around me, sucking me deeper. Elior screamed, muffled into his arm, but I clamped a hand over his mouth, pounding the rest in balls-deep.
“Fuck, so tight, little virgin,” I hissed, bottoming out. His walls clenched like a vice, milking my cock. I gripped his hips, bruising, and started railing him—hard, deep thrusts that slapped my balls against his.
Elior’s muffled cries soon turned to slutty moans, both his body and mind surrendering, ass cheeks jiggling with each brutal plunge. Oil and precum dripped to the floor under us.
“Your hole feels like heaven,” I moaned. I used my hold on his face to pull him back a bit so I could get a look at his face. His eyes were glazed, completely fuck-drunk. “Yeah, I knew you’d love being Daddy’s cocksleeve. So sensitive, so lost to pleasure. So eager to please. Absolutely fucking perfect.Fuck.I’m never letting you go, cherub. Never.”
Elior’s hole clenched, and he drooled onto my palm. I reached around, pinching his leaking cockhead as I pummeled into him. “Come for me, cherub. Soak your stupid chair while Daddy breeds you.”
He shattered, his hole spasming wildly as ropes of cum shot from his small dick, splattering the stone in sticky white. The sight pushed me over. Balls drawing tight, I slammed deep and erupted, flooding his guts with hot spurts. I’d never orgasmed so hard before. It felt like my entire fucking existence was being rewritten.
After the last drop had been drained from my balls, I slumped over him, panting. My cock was still twitching inside of him. My thighs trembled.
I stroked his damp temple, brushing sweaty strands of hair away. My other hand stayed planted on his hip, my thumb rubbing circles into his skin.
“Such a perfect angel. God, I love you.”
Elior, breathless and barely conscious, murmured back, “I love you too.”
* * *
I shouldn’t have been smiling—not after the day we’d had. Malachi was spiraling out of control. It had only been a few hours ago when he’d announced a congregation-wide fast. His followers were growing restless, their faith being tested daily by his breakdown.
But lying here now, long after Elior had drifted off to sleep for the night, the faint warmth of him still pressed into my front…
Yeah. I was smiling.
Possession wasn’t even the right word for the dark feeling swirling in my chest. It was deeper than that, deeper than anything I’d planned on. He belonged with me—every instinct I had screamed it.
And ever since that night I’d taken his virginity, he’d been different. Touchy. Curious. Hungry in this shy, needy way that made my pulse jump every damn time. The second we were alone, his hands found mine. Or my waist. Or the front of my shirt. As if he couldn’t stop reaching for me. As if he didn’t want to.
