Tharja(Fire Emblem)

Tharja had peered into the mind of Libra, and she liked what she saw. He had a darkness inside of him, buried away under mountains of guilt and self-perceived change, but it inspired her. Tharja was not a gentlewoman. Was not a kind woman. She wanted a man whose own darkness could inspire her forward, and she found in Libra that very thing, she just knew she had to push him. Had to make him bend to her will, or rather, make him make her bend to his. His dark side became an obsession for Tharja, a powerful focal point that she threw herself into working on. Her magic could open his mind and his soul back up to that darkness, and once he let it in, she believed he would be the perfect man.

She waited until a day where he would reasonably be alone and vulnerable. Down in the chapel to pray late at night, nobody around to know what she was after. Peering in from behind, she watched him knelt before the altar, giving his prayers and unwittingly being as vulnerable and as ripe for the taking as anyone could be. She'd had a hex ready for this, prepared for the exact moment when she needed to strike against him, and now she had her chance, weaving the spell she knew would wear down his inhibitions. Her insights into Libra and his mind came with the realization that only a very strong inner will held back his desires and his wants. All she'd have to do was lower that guard and make her move.

The hex did little on the surface. Libra felt his vision briefly hit a spin, head feeling light for the faintest second before he found himself back down to earth again, brushing it off. Was he just tired? He was probably tired. It was reasonable to be tired, given how long his day was. He thought nothing of it and continued with his prayers, speaking under his breath in confident, low terms. He had no idea what brewed within him, what frustrations hung over his head. That peace would not last him.

"I would like to join you tonight," Tharja said, drawing Libra's attention to herself, and in particular, to the way she dropped the clothes she wore. An open cloak hit the floor, dropping down and exposing every inch of what she was sure was the most gorgeous body he had ever laid eyes on. She was exposed, soft and pale under the moonlight filtering in from the window, as gorgeous and as wicked a presence as she could be, ready to ruin and deprave the priest. "You don't mind if I'm dressed more comfortably, do you?"

Libra's eyes fell with disdain upon Tharja. His eye twitched as he cleared his throat, trying his best to contain the bubbling fever inside of him, an expression of anger built upon the righteous realization that she was making a mockery of this sacred place. "Any may worship," he said, but he did so with his chest tight, voice strained. He'd never felt quite so suddenly, ferociously awash with emotion, struggling to understand what was happening to him and find some good way to deal with the emotions so volatile and so sudden as they swelled up through his body. He found himself in a weird place here, struggling to clear his thoughts.

Tharja assumed a pose that had her back arched slightly, chest pushed out, and her hands low enough to not get in the way of granting a full view of her plump chest. She was poised perfectly to be a sight to behold, and even though at the altar, Libra should have been better about letting his eyes stray, he beheld her. He beheld every inch of her. She was incredible. He'd hardly been lost to that fact; a body as good as Tharja's could not simply be ignored. He'd simply never looked at her quite like this, never soaked in the utmost enthrallment of what he saw, and he found himself dragged slowly in closer to her, full of emotions he didn't understand.

"Naga is a pretty great goddess, I guess," Tharja said. Her prayers were aloud and utterly disrespectful, striking a nerve even more intently within Libra, a man of such irrevocable faith. "What do you think, Libra?" Her voice rose a little bit. Obnoxious. "You love the goddess, right?'

"Private prayers are meant to be private," Libra said through clenched teeth. "I do love the goddess, but this is not the place for such loud conversation. Please, let me worship in peace."

Tharja hid her smile as best she could, knowing she was winning ever harder. "I understand. I just really wanted to hear you talk about her." She turned her head forward and closed her eyes, but not her mouth. "You inspire so much hope and reverence in all of us, goddess. Even some people; who will never shut up about you will fall silent to revere you." She was certain she was getting under his skin, certain that with everything she did, she wore away at deeper desperation, pushing him to succumb to the weird heat and desire of what she was after.

When her eyes opened again, Libra was in front of her. His robes were out of the way and a big, hard cock stood rigid in front of her, the usual kind and soft blonde ragged, furious, panting as he reached for fistfuls of her hair. "You will be silent in the chapel at this hour," he snarled, ramming his way forward and forcing his cock down Tharja's throat.

The sharp, brutal slam down was immediately everything that Tharja had been looking for when she decided to make a mess out of Libra. He was on the warpath, driven by a throbbing rage built on the vicious reality of what she had done to him, having no idea what her vulgar deceptions and mental tricky had fostered within him. She wanted him to be the beast she knew he could be, and the desperate, feverish greed carried her forward now, drove her to drastic acts and desires as ferocious and as messy as could be mustered. Her eyes stared up at him, bright and needy as she beheld the new frontier of brutality and greed that he was capable of finding in this state, driven by his worst appetites and by a ferocity too unreal to believe.

Tharja's response was only to struggle and sputter on the meaty cock cramming its way down her gullet. This was a mess on a scale too ferocious and too wild to believe, her fingers tightening against his thighs as she felt his work back and forth, driven by an earnest desire to ruin her. She'd never felt anything quite so sinfully perfect. His cock was glorious, the kind of dick utterly wasted on a quiet man trying his best to be good. It was the sort of dick that belonged to a beast, to a vulgar brute who would use it to break a woman down and bend her to his will. But she'd made him that. Mae him better. He was who she wanted him to be now, and she was ready to collect all of it.

"If you will not be quiet of your own will, I have no problems silencing you. Goddess forgive me, I seek only to ensure your place of worship is free from the noise of such wretches." His hands twisted around in Tharja's hair, tightening up the grip on her and using the leverage to shove harder onward. He didn't hold back the harshness and the fever of what he wanted, plunging her throat, staring at the way the struggles started to twist and wriggle around in her face. He was choking her with his cock. He knew it, but he didn't stop it, wicked and feverish in the way he hammered rougher onward, driven to use her without hesitation or care.

Choking on a cock was how Tharja wanted it, though. Gagging on Libra's dick while he fuck her face was absolutely an overwhelming pressure, a fever that kept her stumbling, frustrated, burning stronger as she tried to figure it out. So much was happening at once, but she loved it. She loved the feeling of his hands tugging at her hair. Loved how her throat spasmed around his girthy cock. Loved drooling all over his shaft as she became a sloppy mess completely out of control of herself and losing ground more and more to what kept her stuck here. It felt unbelievable, felt like a grand expression of desire driving her to simply keep giving in.

Tharja didn't make him do anything he didn't want to do. Didn't make him act out of what he was already eager to act on. Libra gave up top her something as harsh and as brutal as could be, driven to wear down what she was giving in to and thrown into a passion that wouldn't let up. Within him lay darkness and harshness that would not fucking stop, driven to brutal heat and frustration as stark and as sharp as anything could be. He stared down at her, marveling at the unrepentant submission hanging over her. "You're not sorry," he said, a growling, feverish wreck pushing stronger into the excitement. He wanted this, and he simply could not slow down the brutality and frustration pushing him harder on.

Feeling his cock throb and pulsate in her mouth, pre-cum dripping down her throat as she took his worst treatment, down to the hard smacks of his balls slapping against her chin, all contributed to a passion and brutality only getting stronger as she allowed herself to give in. This was insanity, but the kind of insanity that Tharja knew she could give up to full, a desperate wreck throwing herself harder into this mess. She wanted to touch herself, wanted to indulge in the passions aching across her body, but she had to hold it back, had to resist the feelings driving her messier into absolute surrender.

"You'll learn to conduct yourself," he told her. Tharja couldn't believe how much this dug into her, how good it felt to satisfy her every worst desire all at once. Pleasure consumed him, driving him to keep plunging forward, hammering rougher into her mouth and treating her with a roughness that he should have balked at, but he was unafraid, unashamed. He'd been through years of intense restraint and desperate attempts to bury what he felt; the simple removal of restraint brought him a guiltless thrill, ecstatic in his brutal treatment, hammering faster and messier down into her throat, showing Tharja the most thorough disrespect he could find, proving his ability to wear her down harder.

To feel this brutal escalation keep pushing her was a pleasure too brilliant to fathom. It just kept building, and Tharja was there to handle it at its worst, the depraved heat rising with its demands and its frustrations to bring her a deeper sense of hopeless, wild want. It felt like so long since she'd last had her face good and fucked like this, and she was overjoyed to be pushed to keep losing herself to this. This felt too weird and frantic to believe, imposing upon her an ecstasy beyond reason. She needed to continue her plunge, moaning around his cock. She couldn't pretend she was sorry. Not for any of this. She proved with everything she did that she was able to take this, and for her trouble, Tharja got what she was after.

With a brutal slam forward, Libra buried his cock down, forcing his cock balls deep past her lips as he expressed the brutal greed and feverish, reckless hunger swelling up through him. He held her down, forcing her to struggle on his cock as she gagged her way through the foggy bliss of being so thoroughly mistreated. Cumming down her throat was how he would make her learn, and he made sure to wring every drop out down her throat and choke her a bit longer before finally drawing back.

Tharja let out ragged gasps of delight as she tried to suck her breath down, trembling under the dizzy fever and frustration of being punished so intensely. It felt amazing, and she shook as she knelt there, wide-eyed in her fascinated stares up toward Libra. "You're a monster," she moaned. 'You're a brute. A man who has no qualms about violating a woman so rudely and subjecting her to such horrible treatment. I love it!" She moaned. "Fuck me again. Drill my face. Make me blackout on your cock. Your dark side is coming back, and you don't want to stop it, because you want to violate me instead."

Libra growled, staring down at her with the realization that she was right. "Temptress," he snarled, using his grip on her hair to drag her away from the altar and toward the pews, bending her sharply over. "I will not fall to your wickedness. I will make an honest and reverent woman of you. I will fuck the obedience and piety into you that you mock me for." He released her hair and brought his open calm crashing down across her ass, making Tharja shriek under the sudden fever of sharp pain. The sensation hit her just where she needed it, struck a nerve hard, and left her shaking in excitement. The wicked heat and the depraved fever brought her something truly unbelievable, and once the desires started up, she was certain they weren't going to stop.

"Yes, punish me. I'm a wicked woman. A sinner. Strike my big ass, again and again, leave it red. Make me regret coming in to defile such a holy place!" Tharja didn't skip a beat. IF this was the form his wickedness took, she was ready to see it through and to make the most of the pleasures ripping through her. She wanted only to give in to whatever took her, burning up under the bright thrill of getting roughed up and used so thoroughly. It was perfection, precisely what she wanted hitting her with a singular pulse of wicked delight, thrilling her down to her very core. Tharja didn't want anything now but the absolute worst she could be given.

On some level, Libra knew he was giving her exactly what she wanted as he struck her ass raw, brutalizing her with little control or hesitation. He didn't care. Each strike felt like the only righteous way forward, and his harshness wore her down messier, greedier. "Your body is a danger to my faith," he continued. His voice was harsh. This wasn't Libra like she knew. This was a man of desire and voracious, bitter need. His worst appetites were a reality and all that he wanted was to seize control and break down Tharja at her most basic level. It was an incredible treat, one that hit her faster and messier as she tried to fathom how any of it could be dealt with.

She needed this more than she could fathom, and the pleasures escalating inside of her were so steep and so wild that it all stopped making sense. Consumed by need, she simply fell deeper, throwing herself into this mess with little care for what came next or what happened to her. The pain was all Tharja desired in this sloppy state, and to find out that Libra was ready to give it to her made her happier than she could bear.

This wasn't going to get Tharja off, but it came closer than she was ready to deal with, a heaving wreck twisting under all this depraved joy and learning her way clumsily through complete surrender, incapable of fighting against the joy and the warmth that came with it. Her pussy was already wet from sucking on his cock. Now, she was dripping, shaking in needy swells of greed and fever more hungry and potent than she knew what to do with. Tharja couldn't help but crave more, eager to find out where all this madness ran.

Once he was satisfied she had been spanked enough, Libra showed what kind of strength a priest who swung around a massive ax could throw around. His arms hooked under her legs and folded her into half, lifting her in a full nelson and holding her snugly in place as he slammed her right down onto his cock. No words, no warning. Just the harsh, blunt brutality of forcing her down his shaft and starting up on ramming into her, pounding her senseless. Libra wanted only one thing, and Tharja was going to give it up to him, whether she was conscious of the madness to come or not.

The slam of his huge cock up her ass was a blunt, brutish expression of all the worst impulses and desires bunched up inside of Libra, but for Tharja, it was pure joy, a molten bliss that swelled up through her body without warning or sense and challenged her to keep her head on straight. "Yes!" she screamed, twisting under the suddenness and the fever of getting claimed. She knew this wasn't the composure Libra wanted, wasn't treating where she was with any gravity or seriousness. Somehow, she felt like it didn't matter.

Libra's hips showed off a power he hadn't considered using in so long. Wildly bouncing her up and down his cock, he let the momentum of his thrusts move her more than the grip she held over her body did. With his hands locked behind her neck, he had her in place to brutalize to his heart's content, and he focused on making sure he used that in one very specific and singular form. Everything he did was unrepentant and driven, and he felt no shame over giving in to this dark side. It should have given him more pause than it did, but the reality of how good it felt to break her down and use her to his heart's content brought on feelings much too ravenous to care about. Libra needed to break her down, needed to wipe away her smug grin, and needed to push her to learn her lesson, one way or another.

"You aren't profaning the goddess now," he continued. Libra saw everything in a strange light, a line straddled between the man he was then and the man he was now, a bizarre expression of feelings too complicated to fully grasp. His piety and his faithfulness mingled with inner darkness and lust that formed a vengeful zealot fucking obedience into Tharja, falling into her trap and losing himself to what he was giving in to. There was absolutely no wa6y to grasp the weird feelings that kept coming. "Learning your place is fulfilling, isn't it?'

"Having your cock rearrange my insides is fulfilling," Tharja whined "If not saying anything about the goddess is the cost of that, I'll do it!" She was desperate, greedy, driven to succumb to ecstasies spiraling off in a million directions. Libra proved what he was capable of, and the drunken fever pushing Tharja harder into pure oblivion left her dizzy, seeking to find a sturdy footing while losing more and more to this pressure. It didn't make sense to her, but she felt certain she wanted more of it, scrambling to keep taking his cock, needing him to prove what he was capable of and induce the kind of submission inside of her that felt too wild to believe. The irresistible pull only got stronger, imposing upon her something dizzy and feverish.

"Whore," he scowled. "Your lack of respect is humiliating, but I will give you what you want. At a cost." He fucked harder. Rougher. His greed pushed her to succumb louder to this mess, scrambling to keep fucking her as his body indulged in hers, finding the satisfaction he desperately craved and learning how good it could feel to break her down. He knew he was in a good position, and there was something indulgent and relieving about brutalizing Tharja. It was probably wrong, but her perfect body begged for it, her wanton temptations and her attempts to pull him in proving too indomitable to fight off, but he knew he could make sure put all of this in terms brutal enough to teach her.

Was Tharja learning a lesson? Almost definitely not. But it didn't matter to her in this dizzy state, the frenzy of her hips rolling through this all and pursuing passions that simply did not quit. She felt incredible, a moaning wreck heaving against all these pressures, caring only about breaking down harder as she lost herself. This felt incredible, and she was eager to keep losing herself. "You can flood my guts with another lesson. Maybe your piety will rub off on me." She jerked about harder, greedier, burning in such brilliant fire and excitement as this all pushed her limits. Her plan had worked too perfectly, and it almost didn't feel real anymore.

Cumming was sweet ecstasy as finally, Tharja's hard work paid off. An anal orgasm was the perfect sinful complement to what she gave in to, the pleasures imposing their wicked demands upon her. Her inner walls begged down around the cock, pleaded with him to fill her up. Libra couldn't resist what hit, the thrill of succumbing to these incredibly base desires, an ecstasy throbbing across her body hard. He grunted, slamming balls deep into her ass and holding her in place so he could fill her up and claim her without restraint. The pleasure was overbearing, intoxicating, driving Tharja to howl and squeal for more as she heaved through this. "Whore," he said again, harsher now.

"Yes, a whore! I'm a whore!" she howled, craving more of him. "Treat me like a whore. I can be an honest woman if you fuck me hard enough to behave."

Libra decided to test that. He pulled her toward the altar again, bending Tharja over it as he shoved her down, shoving her in place, hands on her gorgeous hips, and as he slammed forward, he sought out her pussy this time. "Look at the statue of the goddess," he growled. "Look upon her and revere her. If you want to be treated like a whore, I'll treat you like a whore, but you'll need to prove your faith."

"Goddess, I am your servant!" Tharja shrieked. She didn't know how his dark side was going to manifest, but to find him driven to become a vicious, religious zealot who cared about reducing her thoughts to complete disaster was a strangely fascinating excitement. "I will serve you always, at the humble price of having your priest fuck my brains out." She loved this. Libra rationalized his feral desires with his current aims, and Tharja got to benefit from the raw fever of getting pushed harder. She was unafraid of giving in faster to this mess, shuddering under the fever and wickedness of the joys taking her further.

Grunting and heaving in wild, noisy fever pushing on rougher, Libra sought to unravel everything Tharja felt. He wanted to push her, fuck her senseless, wear her down into a state too wicked and too brutal to deal with. He had power in his hands, held control over her as mighty as could be, and even its wildest excesses kept him engaged, vicious, pushing on with a brutal fire getting stronger and messier, pleasure escalating way too strong and too senseless to handle. Her velvety, tight pussy felt incredible, a joy and a heat as strong and as brutal as could be. There was so much to give in to here, and there didn't feel like any need to resist these possibilities. The burning pleasures removed all sense and all questions from this situation. It was messy, brutal ecstasy, a fever that couldn't be resisted or fought against.

The sounds of their wicked and wild sex filled the air, brought a vulgar and profane edge to this chaotic indulgence as Tharja took his worst and moaned louder for it, begging for this treatment to continue wearing down her thoughts and reducing her to a submissive mess. It felt too good to believe, its unfathomable desires sweeping across her faster and messier. This was unbelievable ecstasy, and the more that she tried to feel her way around it, the less capable she was of genuinely, practically approaching it all. These sensations tore through her with vicious intent and something so reckless and so wild that she was doomed to fall.

"I know how to make you understand the light and love of the goddess," Libra explained. "I'm going to give you a miracle." Faster he fucked. Harder. "I will give you a child, make you my wife, and feed your temptress needs so that you can walk the righteous path alongside me." He spoke like this was a favor. A good and virtuous offer as he fucked deeper and rougher into her, pounded Tharja into hazy submission, and sent her crashing into a spinning fever only getting weirder and worse.

But he promised to breed her. He weirdly rationalized all of it, but she was still on the receiving end of a wild, unrepentant man seeking to impregnate her and fuck her until she was faithful. The wrongness of it, and the joy of perverting such strong, unshakable faith to bring him so low, pushed Tharja into a frenzy of vocal need and heat as loud as could be. "Yes, breed me! Breed me for your goddess, impregnate me with as many future priests as you can!" She was lost to this. As a Belgian, she had no care for this faith, but for the opportunity to completely fucking unravel at the seams while Libra fucked her brains out, she'd say all the prayers she was told to.

Libra came first this time, and the gooey thrill of having her womb pumped full proved much too frenzied and maddening for Tharja to be able to resist. She came hard and she came loud, a shrieking mess vocal and wild as she jerked back and forth, succumbing each step of the way to pleasures beyond her wildest imaginings, hopeful pulses of greed and heat leaving her barely able to think properly. She gave up to all of this, completely committed to the burning joys ripping through her, and she didn't care to hold back anything that swept across her. This sublime madness was all that she craved, a deep and abiding rush of all the passions she couldn't turn back from.

Gripping her hair and tugging it back, Libra stared her in the eye. "I will make a good woman of you," he said and did so with the callous scorn of a man with no idea what he was saying or how he was acting. "Now, I will lead you in prayer to the goddess. You are going to say every word with the utmost sincerity. Failure will mean that you get no more of me tonight. Do you understand, harlot?"

A slap across her ass made the, "Yes," she replied with so much more intensity.