Princess's protector chapter 23 [M24/F18] [Dark fantasy] [Degrading] [Dominant] [Mature]
Chapter 23- Wedding Gift
The ropes bit into my wrists as they marched me through the back corridors of the church. I stayed silent, jaw locked, letting them lead me like a prize bull to slaughter. They kept me bound the entire night—tied to a heavy wooden post in a side chamber while the sounds of the main hall continued late into the darkness. Moans, screams, the crack of whips. I stared at the wall and thought only of Elara.
The next morning they came for me.
Two white-robed men hauled me to my feet and dragged me into the baths. The moment we stepped through the arched doorway, the heavy scent of scented oils mixed with the unmistakable coppery tang of blood and sex hit me like a slap.
It wasn’t much better than the main chamber.
The large communal baths were filled with steaming water that had taken on a faint pink hue—diluted blood from open welts and cuts. In one corner, a man was bent over the edge of the pool while another fucked him brutally from behind, the wet slap of skin echoing off the tiles. A woman floated on her back in the shallow end, legs spread wide, while two priests took turns using her mouth and cunt, her gagged moans bubbling through the water. Chains rattled as another acolyte was suspended from the ceiling by his wrists, a thick rod buried in his ass while a male priest whipped his back in time with the thrusts.
Piss play was happening openly in the far end of the pool—several lower-ranking men and women on their knees while alphas stood over them, pissing directly onto their faces, the golden streams mixing with the pink-tinged water. Spit and degrading words flew freely: “Swallow it, you worthless cunt,” “Open wider, bitch,” “You’re nothing but a hole for us.”
I thought to myself that I had never had a bath where I might end up dirtier than when I got in.
A lot of the people here had scars like mine, but theirs were not earned through survival in the slums or the arena. These were deliberate marks of worship—lash scars across backs and thighs, brands of the alpha wolf burned into flesh, cuts made during rituals to prove devotion to an evil entity that demanded pain and submission.
“Strip him,” one of the handlers ordered.
They cut the ropes from my wrists only to immediately grab my arms. I was still aggressive, spitting in one man’s face and cursing them all as they yanked off my scale mail and the blood-stained clothes beneath. The moment I was naked, multiple hands descended—men and women alike, lathering soap over my chest, my back, my thighs. Fingers lingered too long on my cock and balls, stroking and squeezing as if testing the merchandise.
I growled deep in my throat and punched the nearest man square in the jaw. He staggered back with a yelp. Another tried to grab my wrist; I headbutted him, splitting his lip. They had to wrestle me down again, four of them pinning my arms and legs while the rest continued washing me like I was livestock.
“Feisty one,” one of them laughed. “The High Priest will enjoy breaking you.”
They scrubbed the dried blood from my skin until the water around me turned darker pink. My new scars from the arena and the fresh cuts from the road stood out angry and red. When they were done, they dried me roughly with coarse towels and dressed me in nothing but a simple white loincloth that left almost everything on display.
The High Priest entered the bathing chamber just as they finished. He walked over, running an appraising hand down my bare chest.
“That armor is high quality,” he said, nodding toward the pile of my scale mail and cloak. “Exceptional craftsmanship. I’ll make sure it’s spotless and present it to Lord Voss as well. Even if he doesn’t wear it himself, one of his top knights will appreciate such a fine piece.”
I growled again, low and vicious.
They marched me out of the baths and through the church grounds. The priest had been right about his sway—the guards at the inner gates didn’t even question us. They simply bowed and let the procession pass into the royal district beyond the main walls.
We entered the castle itself through a side entrance reserved for servants and gifts. They led me down a long corridor and finally pushed me into a large, opulent room filled with wedding presents—chests of gold, fine silks, jeweled weapons, and ornate furniture stacked neatly against the walls.
The High Priest had my armor and weapons placed carefully inside a large wooden chest next to the gifts table.
He turned to me with a cruel smile, eyes gleaming with anticipation.
“See you after the ceremony,” he said. “And for your sake, be ready to be broken afterwards.”
He stepped close and slapped my ass hard, the sound cracking through the room like a whip.
I didn’t flinch. I just stared at him, imagining how good it would feel to put his arrogant ass in the dirt—preferably with my boot on his throat.
The priest laughed as he left, the heavy door locking behind him with a final, ominous click.
I stood alone in the middle of the gift room, nearly naked, wrists freshly bound again, surrounded by treasures meant for a wedding I refused to let happen.