NTR: Stealing wives in Another World

Allen didn't wait for the silence to settle; his hand closed around Yaari's jaw, forcing her eyes up at him as the warm bathwater rippled around their bodies. Her breath hitched, the steam curling like smoke across her flushed face. The lizard priestess's throat trembled as she swallowed, caught between fear and something far darker. He tilted her chin, watching her lips part, and the smallest sound escaped—a pathetic whimper that stirred the hunger in his veins.

"You thought you could tempt me and walk away untouched?" Allen's voice was low, a growl that vibrated through the humid air. Her answer didn't matter; her trembling body had already betrayed her. He let his grip slide from her jaw to her throat, feeling the frantic pulse hammering beneath her scales. A slow squeeze—not enough to choke, but enough to remind her who commanded this temple now.

Behind him, the other priestesses stared with wide, reverent eyes, their tails flicking nervously under the water. Their robes floated in tattered strips after his earlier frenzy, clinging to sweat-slicked skin. The sacred bath, once a place of purity, now reeked of lust. Allen's cock twitched against Yaari's thigh, and her sharp gasp nearly broke into a moan.

"Strip," he ordered, and his voice cut through the steam like a blade. There was no hesitation this time; Yaari tore at the remains of her ceremonial cloth, letting it fall away until her scaled breasts rose from the water, trembling and glistening under the soft glow of the lanterns. Her nipples were a darker shade, pebbled hard, begging for his touch.

He dragged her closer and let her feel him—thick, veined, and throbbing against her stomach. Her eyes went wide, her lips parting in shock at his sheer size. Allen smirked at the fear mixed with desire curling in her expression. "Bigger than your temple guards, isn't it?" he murmured, his breath grazing her ear before he shoved her face against his cock, smearing pre-cum across her lips.

Yaari whimpered against him, her tongue instinctively darting out, tasting him. Allen's hand tangled in her damp hair and forced her to take more, sliding her lips down his length until her throat clenched around him. She gagged, the sound wet and obscene in the echoing chamber, but Allen didn't stop—he guided her rhythm, using her like a sacred offering. Every time she tried to pull back for air, he shoved her deeper, groaning as her throat convulsed around his shaft.

The other priestesses couldn't look away. One of them—sleek, silver-scaled, with twin tails coiling nervously in the water—bit her lip so hard a bead of blood welled up. Allen saw it and beckoned her forward with a single crook of his finger. She obeyed instantly, sliding through the water like a serpent until she was kneeling beside Yaari, eyes glazed in desperate submission.

"Hold her head still," Allen commanded. The silver-scaled priestess did as told, gripping Yaari's skull while Allen thrust deep, his balls slapping against her chin with every brutal stroke. The sound of choking and bubbling water mixed with his ragged breathing until he finally pulled free with a slick pop. Strings of spit clung from her lips to his cock, glistening in the torchlight.

Allen grabbed Yaari by the waist and hauled her up onto the edge of the bath, bending her forward so her ass jutted high, tail curling helplessly. Water streamed off her body, dripping onto the carved stone floor. She didn't protest—not when Allen spread her cheeks wide, not when his thumb pressed against the tight ring of her asshole.

"You're mine now," he growled, and without warning, he drove himself into her cunt in one savage thrust. Yaari screamed—high, broken, echoing through the sacred hall—as her body stretched around his cock. The wet slap of skin on scales filled the room, his hips pounding mercilessly against her ass while water sprayed from her thrashing limbs.

"Louder," Allen snarled, yanking her head back by her hair, forcing her to arch as his cock battered her insides. "Let them all hear who owns this temple."

Her cries rose into sobbing moans, every thrust shoving her further over the edge until her claws scraped uselessly against the stone. The silver-scaled priestess slid behind Allen, rubbing her thighs together desperately, her breath hitching every time Allen slammed into Yaari.

"On your knees," he barked at her without looking back. She obeyed instantly, crawling into position between his legs. Allen pulled out of Yaari just long enough for his cock to slap wetly against the silver priestess's face, streaking it with slick. "Open your mouth," he commanded, and she did—tongue out, eyes wide—as he fed her his cock still glistening with Yaari's juices.

The scene dissolved into chaos after that. Priestesses gathered like moths to flame, shedding their holy robes, their scaled bodies glimmering in the steamy haze as they fought for a taste of him, for his touch, for the right to be defiled by their new god. Allen gave it to them all—rough, relentless, without mercy. The bath became an orgiastic altar, water sloshing over the sides as he fucked them against the marble, bent them over the carved effigies of their old goddess, forced their mouths open and painted their tongues with his cum.

By the time the frenzy slowed, the sacred chamber was wrecked—steam curling over bodies sprawled in exhaustion, their scales slick with sweat and seed. Allen stood among them like a conqueror, chest heaving, cock still hard and dripping. Yaari lay at his feet, her cunt gaping, her voice reduced to a broken whisper of his name.

Allen dragged a hand through his wet hair and looked around at the defiled sanctum, at the priestesses worshipping him with their ruined bodies, and a dark smile curved his lips.

"This temple," he said, voice low and cold, "belongs to me now."

Allen's words hung in the steam like a curse, and the priestesses trembled under it—half in fear, half in blind devotion. Their holy temple was no longer sacred; it was his breeding ground. And they knew it. Every drop of his seed clinging to their scales marked them as his, a brand hotter than any iron.

Yaari lay draped on the edge of the bath, her tail limp, her cunt leaking down the stone in thick, creamy trails. Allen's cum dripped steadily from her stretched hole, sliding into the steaming water below, turning the bath into a soup of sweat, musk, and sin. She tried to whisper his name, but only a hoarse rasp came out as her throat throbbed from the brutal throatfucking he'd given her.

Allen didn't even look at her. His eyes were on the others—the ones who hadn't yet been fully claimed. They hovered at the edges of the bath like nervous predators, but their hunger betrayed them. Their scales shimmered in the glow of the lanterns, their breasts heaving, tails flicking wildly beneath the water. One of them—the silver-scaled twin-tailed beauty—was still on her knees, her lips glistening from the slick coating of his cum. Her tongue traced over her mouth, desperate for more.

Allen gripped her chin, forcing her to look up at him. "You," he said, voice dripping with command. "You're next."

Her eyes widened, a shiver racing down her spine as her tails wrapped tight around her legs. She tried to speak, but all that came out was a trembling, "Yes… Master."

That word sent a rush of dark pleasure through him. Allen pushed her onto her back, her tails curling helplessly as he mounted her like a beast. His cock slapped against her stomach, leaving slick smears that glistened under the temple lights. Her breath hitched as he spread her legs wide, claws scraping over the smooth stone floor.

The moment he drove into her, the chamber shook with her scream. Her walls clenched tight, fluttering around his cock as he impaled her in one savage thrust. Her twin tails lashed wildly, slapping against the bathwater with sharp splashes as Allen began to pound her into the cold marble. Her scaled tits bounced with every brutal thrust, her claws digging so deep into the stone that shards cracked off beneath her fingers.

"Is this what your goddess wanted?" Allen growled, yanking her head back by the horns jutting from her skull. Her breath came in broken sobs, but her hips bucked against him, begging for more even as tears streaked her face. "Answer me!" he roared, driving his cock deeper until her scream tore from her throat like a hymn of surrender.

"Y-Yes! Yes, Master!" she cried, voice breaking as Allen slammed into her, his balls smacking against her scaled ass in wet, rhythmic slaps. "The goddess… wants this… she wants you!"

"Wrong," Allen snarled, leaning down until his teeth grazed her lips. "There is no goddess. There's only me."

Her eyes rolled back as another climax ripped through her body, her cunt squeezing his cock in desperate waves. Allen didn't stop—not even as she convulsed, tail thrashing like a dying serpent, water spraying everywhere. He fucked her straight through it, pounding her until the stone altar cracked beneath them.

The others couldn't hold back anymore. They swarmed him like starving beasts—scaled hands clawing at his skin, lips pressing to his chest, tongues licking the sweat from his body. Their moans filled the sacred hall, turning it into a choir of debauchery as Allen dominated every inch of them. He grabbed one by the throat and bent her over the shattered statue of their goddess, ramming his cock into her dripping cunt while another priestess straddled his face, grinding her soaked slit against his tongue.

The sound was obscene—slick, wet smacks echoing off the temple walls, mingling with the guttural moans and sharp cries of broken priestesses. Cum splattered across scales and stone alike, painting the temple in his claim. Their holy water churned with filth, frothing as tail after tail slapped against it in desperate ecstasy.

Allen didn't fuck them like a man—he fucked them like a god of ruin, relentless and merciless. He mounted them over and over, filling every hole, stretching every cunt, leaving them gaping and trembling as he moved on to the next. Priestesses who once prayed for purity now begged to be bred, clawing at each other for the privilege of feeling his cock tear them open.

Hours bled together in a haze of heat and sin until the chamber was nothing but wreckage—bodies sprawled in heaps, scales slick with sweat and seed, tails twitching weakly as aftershocks shuddered through them. Allen stood in the center, chest heaving, his cock still hard and dripping cum down his thighs. His shadow stretched across the defiled altar like the shape of a new god.

He looked down at Yaari, still limp on the marble, her mouth slack, drool trailing from her lips. Her belly bulged slightly from the sheer amount he'd pumped into her, her cunt still leaking his seed in thick, creamy ropes. Around her, the other priestesses lay in similar ruin—broken, worshipping, owned.

Allen ran a hand through his damp hair, his voice cutting through the heavy silence like a blade:

"This temple isn't yours anymore," he said softly, almost tenderly. Then his tone dropped, dark and absolute. "It's my womb now."

No one argued. They couldn't. Not when his seed was inside them, soaking them, claiming them in ways no prayer ever could.

And Allen wasn't done. Not by a long shot.