Made from rigid leather in multiple layers, it resembled a chastity belt more than a proper garment. It was heavy and inflexible, offering no allowance for movement, and bound him tightly. For Serpino, who sprang to life at the mere glance or touch of Lucrezia, it was t*rture. Yet, as always, the faithful disciple endured his ordeal in silence.

Lucrezia loosened the stiff knots and cast the leather aside. Immediately, his p*nis surged upwards. Stripped bare with not a hair to cover it, his p*nis stood exposed. Though it was fastened to Serpino’s flesh, it belonged to Lucrezia, too. It was the priest’s solemn duty to tend to this relic as though it were holy.

Lucrezia slid her hips forward, raising her skirt and placing each leg on an armrest. The gateway to heaven was revealed through the damp fabric. Serpino swallowed hard.

She pulled her wet undergarments to one side. As though pulled forward by an invisible leash, Serpino stepped towards her. With a languid sigh, Lucrezia gave her command:

“Enter.”

Serpino grasped the base of his p*nis and aligned it with her entrance. The glistening tip slipped inside, causing a cry of rapture to escape his lips.

In that moment, as he offered his body to Lucrezia, he felt simultaneously the simplest and the most complete of beings. Having received his offering, the priest murmured a prayer that was both sacred and debased.

“Ah—Lu…crezia, your… hhh—grace… I… ngh, I’m so over…whelmed, I-I think I’m about to… ah!”

Relishing the moment of penetration, Lucrezia bit her lip and let out a derisive laugh. Serpino’s face flushed crimson as he mumbled his obscene litany of prayers. His words, movements and thoughts had long been moulded to Lucrezia’s standards and tastes.

Lucrezia was always right. There was therefore no need for him to think for himself. With the end of all self-will came the end of suffering. At last, Serpino had found true peace.

His worn p*nis entered her completely. Her cavern was still tight, its walls clenching mercilessly around the intruder. His p*nis burned as if set alight, and Serpino’s torso buckled forward.

He braced his hands on the armrests, clenched his teeth, and thrust upwards. Lucrezia’s slender legs curled around his waist as she breathed out her next command.

“Deeper…”

“Y-yes, yes, Lady Lucrezia!”

He pulled out until only the tip remained, then thrust in hard once more. His swollen scrotum slapped wetly against her perineum. The flood of her holy waters cleansed him, body and soul, from edge to edge.

Without lifting a finger, Lucrezia luxuriated in the pleasure Serpino offered her. It was just like pleasuring herself, except Serpino was the perfect tool. He scratched the itch precisely, drawing out supreme ecstasy.

Her blurred eyes lingered on his form. The ‘chaste priest’ mask had its own appeal, but what she loved most was his face contorted with desire. After all, that belonged wholly to her.

Teasing him, Lucrezia tightened her belly. The sudden pressure caused Serpino’s legs to tremble, and he let out a pitiful moan.

“Ahh—i-it’s… too tight when you… ngh—clench like that…”

“Haah… endure it. You can, can’t you?”

“Ngh—y-yes…”

Serpino’s body trembled from head to toe. In an attempt to stave off his weak, wasteful org*sm, he clenched his b*ttocks even harder. Whether due to years of forced abstinence or his innate lewdness, Serpino was extremely susceptible to pleasure. One thing was certain: Lucrezia had brought him to life.

Whatever deity had brought him into being, there was no doubt that it was Lucrezia who had made him complete. She broke him down and remade him. She had planted her banner in his flesh and carved her name into his soul — a brand that would never fade.

Lucrezia tilted her head back and gazed at the ceiling. The audience chamber still bore witness to Valterio’s poor taste. Despite having renovated the rest of the castle, she had left this place untouched. Trampling on it and mocking it was far more satisfying than burning everything to ash.

Her journey was still a long one. For now, she had simply taken her father’s place. To satisfy her hunger, she would need a far wider world. She intended to climb ever higher, collecting and discarding pieces without hesitation as she progressed.

Then, as though struck by a passing thought, she murmured:

“Mmm… perhaps it’s time I had a child.”

“Wh-what?”

Serpino floundered amidst a myriad of sensations, gazing up at her with vacant eyes. He was so startled that the rhythm of his pleasure faltered. Had he heard wrong? A child? Could she have found someone else to replace Dante Barvaro?

Of course, that would be a grave mistake. What Lucrezia needed was not a protector, but a worshipper. To bear a child, a husband was hardly necessary. She already had everything she needed: a submissive man who would impregnate her without daring to claim any rights.

Lucrezia gently stroked Serpino’s cheek.

“A child, my child. If you pray earnestly enough, my belly will soon grow round.”

Serpino blinked rapidly. Despite having heard it with his own ears, he could hardly believe it. To him, Lucrezia was a living goddess. The way she conceived and bore life could never be the same as other women’s.

His goddess was about to bring forth new life, and he, Serpino, had been chosen to be the catalyst for that creation. It was an honor beyond words. A single tear traced down his cheek.

“Thank you… I shall pray with all my heart, with all I am.”

“Yes, but shouldn’t you first finish what your body started?”

Lucrezia playfully rebuked him. She had already anticipated his awestruck gratitude. However, his babbling threatened to extinguish the fire she had ignited in his flesh.

As a faithful servant, he obeyed every command. Serpino moved with the frenzy of a hound, striving not merely to please, but to grasp the offered grace with all his might. His fervor bordered on the frantic, born of utter necessity.

In his new creed, there was no contradiction. Endure the trial and the reward would surely follow — without exception. Even the hardships of his former life were merely a long ordeal to prove his worthiness in her eyes.

Serpino no longer opened Marcelo’s letters. His father, redeemed by the goddess, was surely resting in paradise. There was no reason to weep for him any longer.

For Serpino now dwelled in paradise too. He no longer needed hours of meditation or strained to hear the silence of an absent god. His divinity had taken flesh on this earth, manifest not in words, but in living revelation.

The lands of Count Cardini were incredibly fertile. Silver streams flowed from the mountains instead of rivers. No matter how much was mined, the veins never ran dry, and laughter filled every village. Serpino stood alone as the priest of the Cardini domain.

***THE END***