Champion Of Lust: Gods Conquer's Harem Paradise!

The heavy pulse of Pyris's lustful essence hung thick in the air, every breath they took saturated with the intoxicating scent of corrupted desire. His cock, massive and veined with that impossible pink-golden glow, rested heavy in Esmeralda's trembling hands—too large to be claimed in one fell swoop, a cruel tease by its very nature.

He watched her struggle with a crooked grin playing at the corner of his lips. She was beautiful like this—hungry, desperate, worshipful—and he was going to reward her.

But Pyris was no mere mortal bound by limits. Corrupted Lust power flowed in him, divine and corrupted, boundless and utterly obedient to his will.

He tilted his head, eyes burning with something feral and intimate. With a soft murmur, a command uttered only between the two of them, the thick shaft before her began to shift—subtly at first, a shimmer of light curling around it like molten gold.

The length began to shorten, slowly contracting like a coiled serpent yielding to its master. The girth thinned just enough for her to dare to take it deeper, but no less alive, the heat radiating off it unwavering, the veins throbbing with endless vitality.

Esmeralda's breath hitched as she watched the transformation—a gift, a concession, an offering.

She lifted her eyes to meet his, her red irises shining with hungry reverence, lips parted, ready.

Her mouth moved forward, first brushing her warm, slick lips against the crown—a tender, electric contact that sent shivers down both their spines.

The velvet softness of her lips wrapped fully around him, tentative yet eager, a whisper of wet heat that made Pyris's pulse thunder.

His hips tilted forward slightly, encouraging her, offering more.

She responded with careful grace, letting her tongue flick out like a velvet flame, tracing delicate circles around the sensitive rim. She tasted him—warm, metallic, tinged with the sweet bitterness of corrupted lust, a flavor that pulled at something primal deep within her.

Her hands remained steady on the base, thumbs stroking slow, maddening circles that sent ripples through his thick length.

With a deep, guttural groan, Pyris watched her deepen the embrace—her mouth stretching around more of his length, her throat opening just enough to take him further inside.

Her tongue traced a slow path along the underside, flicking gently as if worshiping every inch.

His fingers slid into her hair, curling softly to guide and claim, but never force. He was still big but manageable now. His other hand glided over her exposed skin, starting at her collarbone and trailing down the curve of her shoulder, teasing the soft swell of her breasts beneath the torn lace.

His palms cupped her fully, thumbs drawing tight circles over her taut nipples until they peaked, aching and alive beneath his touch.

Esmeralda's moans escaped in low, breathless vibrations around his shaft, the sound thick with surrender and delight.

Her fingers clenched at his base, matching her tongue's rhythm with gentle, deliberate strokes.

He gripped her head gently, steadying but not restraining, letting her take him deeper at her own pace.

Her eyes fluttered closed, lips parting to let out a soft, trembling hum as she sucked, licked, and swirled her tongue inside the wet warmth of her mouth.

His corrupted Sex Pheromones flooded her senses, heightening every sensation until it was impossible to distinguish where pleasure ended and desire began. The pink-golden aura wrapped them in its velvet fire, binding them together in a dance of lustful dominance and reverent submission.

Pyris lowered his mouth to her temple, pressing a wet, searing kiss before whispering, "You are perfect like this. So beautiful."

Her body responded instantly, thighs trembling, back arching as his fingers slid lower, tracing lazy patterns across the soft skin of her hip, teasing the curve of her rear, eliciting soft whimpers and gasps.

She surrendered, every nerve afire, every breath stolen by the exquisite torment of worshiping him—taking him deeper, tasting the corrupted power he embodied, her mouth a temple consecrated by lust and devotion.

The foundation of their union was forged here—in slow, deliberate worship, electric touches, and breathless moans.

The storm had only just begun.

The air was thick with lust's intoxication, the golden-pink aura pulsing softly around them as Pyris pulled away and lowered himself, lips left the tender skin of Esmeralda's temple. His eyes, burning with corrupted hunger and reverence, traced every inch of her flushed face, lingering on the curve of her jaw, the arch of her neck, the delicate swell of her breasts barely hidden beneath torn lace.

With deliberate slowness, Pyris lifted Esmeralda into his arms once more, her limbs instinctively curling into him, as if drawn by magnetism more ancient than reason. Her body pressed against his chest, soft warmth meeting solid heat, and he didn't rush—no, he savored her.

His lips dipped to her half-exposed chest.

Not a single inch went unnoticed.

His mouth was warm and reverent, tongue sweeping upward to the swell of her breast, tasting the faint, intoxicating trace of sweat and perfume that lingered on her skin. He didn't simply kiss—he drank her in, like corrupted nectar meant to be sipped slow.

She gasped, fingers tangling in his thick white hair, clutching him close. The strands shimmered in the low amber light like moon-kissed silk—reflecting the twisted halo of his corrupted aura, that unholy pink-gold light flickering over his shoulders like flame trapped in glass.

He sucked hard just above the curve of her breast, claiming a mark—an imprint of heat that made her arch into him with a helpless, choked moan.

His mouth traveled to the other side, tongue trailing languidly, tracing the elegant arc of her skin, teeth grazing, nipping with the barest edge of threat before pulling her nipple into the heat of his mouth through the thin fabric. Her back arched again, and her moan echoed low in the room, delicious and trembling.

"You taste like temptation dipped in sin," Pyris whispered against her skin, voice low and smooth, every word vibrating against her ribs. "Tell me… have you ever begged before?"

His hands had moved lower, sliding around her waist and cupping her from behind.

And gods, the way he held her.

His hands sank into the plush swell of her ass—palming the soft roundness, squeezing gently, then harder, massaging her through the clinging material of her dress. His thumbs teased the underside, brushing near where soaked fabric clung, earning another desperate sound from her throat.

Esmeralda whimpered into his ear, barely holding herself together.

"Say it," he whispered, voice thick with corrupted promise. "Say you want more."