You can't risk raising an alarm.

Thoughts are racing through your mind as the old man approaches. You are torn between your deeply hurt pride, your fear for Kay’s safety and the artificial but, nonetheless, overpowering lust building up inside you.

The inner voice personifying your pride scorns you for the passiveness you kept so far; for the humiliation you endured so submissively; for the fear you felt at the thought of endangering Eden’s plan. You did all of that to save Kay, yes, but this was only the beginning.

“What wounds will your soul be left with when this man is through with you?” it asks. “Kay’s safety will heal them in time, certainly, but the scars may never fade.”

The second thought – your fear for Kay - begs you to be strong for your dearest friend’s sake; tries to convince you that your compliance so far was not a sign of weak character but a feat of exceptional endurance. Kay is your best and only friend; maybe even more than that. You only need to sleep with the priest once and your body needs it too. Is this too much to sacrifice for the safety of the one you love?

Your lust is unlike the rest. It is an instinct, not a thought. It whispers directly to your subconsciousness, easily bypassing the walls your reason built to resist it. It makes you crave for...

“Oh!” The gentle slap to your bare bottom makes you yelp in surprise.

While you were wondering, lost in your own feelings, the priest moved behind you.

He slides his left hand around your waist, pulling you closer. Your back is pressed against his chest as the palm of his right hand slides around your ass, squishing it occasionally. Your hands quickly find his in an attempt to stop them from slowly roaming over your trembling, naked body but you realize that you don’t want to ruin the chance for you and Kay to escape and this might be the only one you will ever get. You still struggle a bit but you don’t put your heart into it. The man seems to sense your indecisiveness.

“Calm down, girl.” You hear the man whisper as his palms slide along your hips and stomach towards your ample bosom. “I prefer my slaves willing and will not **** you to anything.”

Your breathing is becoming deeper by the minute. The priest’s low, masculine voice makes your anxiety seem more distant, somehow, and his gentle (and yet forceful) caresses are building up your passion. You lean against him and lay your head on his muscular arm when his hands finally reach your boobs. The massage he gives your tits sends shivers down your spine and makes you let out a long, quiet moan. You let go of his right hand as you lift your hand to your face and gently bite on your index finger. It’s been ages since you felt this good. As you begin to feel more lightheaded, all the choices seem much simple, less significant.

“You’re very sensitive, I see.” He speaks just before pinching and tugging on your left nipple, causing you to arch your back with a loud moan, pressing your breasts harder against his open palms. “Oh yes, very sensitive. It would be a shame if my son had given you to his braves.”

Not without effort, you realize that the situation you’re in may be the best of what could have happened. Given away to the warriors? Was that what awaited you if the priest had not found you attractive enough to summon here? Suddenly you feel as if you are flooded by gratitude towards the one who saved you from this fate. You relax and let the man guide you to the bed.

The sheets are made of brown fur. You have no idea what animal it belonged to but, when you lay on your back, it feels very warm and soft. As you lay on the bed you bring your knees together to hide your private parts and try to cover your breasts with one hand while you lift yourself up with the other. Once you sit up you watch as the priest takes off his clothes.

His short, grey hair is a contrast to his dark, scar-covered skin. The many tattoos underline his still athletic build. The fifty year-old man must have been a warrior too in his earlier days; even now one could admire his muscular body, chiseled by the hardships of tribal life. You gasp and blush when he takes off his leather pants. Although it is still only half erect, the priest’s penis is probably the largest you’ve seen in your life so far (not that you’ve seen that many).

You try to crawl away when he climbs the bed and kneels in front of you; an absurd idea considering you have nowhere to run to. You realize that when you bump the wall with your back. One of your tits “spills” out of your hold when you do so, giving the man an enticing, erotic view. You quickly cover it with your other hand and curl up against the wall, suddenly feeling exposed and ****. You know how irrational it is after all that has happened already but there is little you can do about it.

“Don’t hurt me,” you speak hesitantly before quickly adding “please.”

The priest smiles as he moves closer to you.

“I wouldn’t dream of hurting a cute one like you.”