"I will bring her to your bedroom tonight, Master," Xal'atath pledged, the only one of the women in the room that had recovered enough to move and speak. Sytha, at the very least, had gathered enough energy to kneel behind her bowing goddess. "We will gladly be of service again tonight -- or whenever else your divine self desires."
Anduin took hold of Xal'atath's face and kissed her one last time. Raw glee and gratitude was imbued in her every responding moan and swirl of their tongues. "I love you," he whispered when he separated from her. A shiver of deep adoration rippled outwards from the old goddess' body and through the walls of her temple, touching on all that was an extension of her will.
"Your judgement is unquestionably wise," Xal'atath poured and stroked his erection. Pleasing as her touch was, Anduin had elsewhere to be. She let him go without hindrance and bowed again, as he turned and left. There was much for her to reorganize, now that she had a worthy right-hand slave.
They separated and Anduin walked back the way he came. The connection he felt with the environment was even stronger now, the powers of not just Xal'atath, but Xal'sytha as well completely at his disposal. The shadowborn flesh all around could have been manipulated into new life at the ease of a thought. Obedient, soulless life, more biological machines than individuals.
Graceful as they were, the members of the Cult of Free Use could not resist his presence. All started to moan as they laid eyes on him, many started to masturbate, and a few orgasmed outright. Such was the power of the High King's aura, dominating even that of the goddess of these halls.
To the overwhelmed cries of the gorgeous courtesans, Anduin walked back into the centre of the Cathedral, where Shadow and Light mingled, and then headed into the segment belonging to the Cult of the Perfect Slave. Two female paladins stood guard at the gate, members of Liadrin's Slave Knights. They made sure no man may enter where the nuns worked on becoming the most pleasing submissives they could.
Anduin was the exception, passing through the paladins in his nudeness, the juices of the slaves he fucked previously still wet on his cock. Their armours rattled, but they retained their posture. They had their own masters and, as incredible as the presence of the High King was, they were loyal. Only their personal doms and whoever else was part of their harems may pleasure them deeply. Not even Anduin was allowed to meddle in the sacred bond between a sex slave and her master.
He had no intention of meddling in it, just like he had no intention of claiming any of the nuns of the Cult of the Perfect Slave.
The white robes that covered these nuns in the public area were universally discarded within the Light wing of the Cathedral of Twilight. Slaves at the pinnacle of their beauty, purified by the light, stood scattered about radiant halls. They walked diligently, often to arrive at one of the many rooms dedicated to crafts appropriate for a submissive. Each of the perfect slaves had to be learned in the arts of the household, finances, and many fields of study. Rarely the slaves walked only to perfect walking itself. There were many ways a slave could pronounce her steps to please her master. Hips enticingly swinging to awaken the doms vigour or a sheepish walk, eyes downcast, following after him in proper subservience, to name only two extremes.
The walk itself was important, as was to learn how to handle various additions to their forms. Typical was the butt plug, but it was far from the only one. Slaves with their ankles chained to limit the range of their strides, with arms bound in various ways, with gags, and with dildos stuffing their cunts, all of them had to learn how to walk and work with submissive grace while pleasure coursed through their bodies. It was not as simple as building a resistance, no master wanted a sex slave that did not react to the many 'punishments' inflicted. Rather, it was to learn how to do as demanded while the pussies were dripping and their faces red with lust.
While the Shadow wing of the Cathedral of Twilight had consisted of many open areas with satin curtains serving as barriers, the Light wing had proper walls. Gold and silver crystals adorned the marble walls, basking everything in sun and moonlight. Statues dedicated to the female form in submissive poses stood on clean sockets, further romanticizing the absolute subservience the nuns here wished to attain. A typical motif was that of a woman on her knees, head raised, mouth open to wordlessly beg for her master's cock.
Because the majority of the nuns were working within the many rooms, Anduin saw a lot less of them then he had of the Cult of Free Use. Those that he did cross admirably resisted staring at him and concentrated on their tasks. They knew it was incredibly unlikely that he would pick them for his personal harem, so they retained as much of their purity for the master they would one day serve. Those marked as virgins were especially adamant about this, stepping aside, closing their eyes, and lowering their heads in a bow, until he had passed.
They would indeed be perfect slaves for whoever was lucky enough to gain the submission of such a dedicated woman.
The straight hallway eventually brought Anduin to a medium-sized, circular chamber. There, K'ara, alongside Liadrin and Yrel were overseeing a congregation of about twenty nuns. All of them were on their knees, their ankles and wrists bound together, the cuffs connected with a metal rod. They would not be able to leave this position if they wanted to. Their mouths were kept open by ring gags, spreading their jaws wide enough that a cock could have easily been pushed inside. They drooled and moaned, vibrating toys in their lower set of holes.
Besides their bondage, they only wore chokers. Some only wore one, a black or white one, taking over from the sashes they wore around their robes in public. A black choker meant that this was a woman who had joined the Cult of the Perfect Slave after losing her virginity, while the white-collared slaves still had, at the very least, their vaginal virginity. The many that wore a second choker, universally white, showed that they were celibate even of the one form of male touch they were allowed: giving blowjobs during the congregations. A black and a white choker were the most commons combination. Few virginities had survived the time before K'ara had proclaimed her Cult. With time, it was almost guaranteed that two white ones would become the norm. Those that became nuns were proud of their purity and wished to sacrifice it only to the one truly worthy master.
All of the nuns were facing the three of Anduin's slaves in the middle of the room. Yrel was in practically the same position as all of them were, kneeling, her holes stuffed, to the right of a marble throne. The white-haired draenei was sweaty, her decently sized breasts swaying softly as she squirmed. She had been in this position for hours and Anduin's presence sent a jolt through her body that suddenly increased her sensitivity. The mark around her purple cunt burned pleasantly, demanding to be replaced with the new version.
