They were small, arched, and utterly flawless. They were the feet of a being who defied gravity, who floated above the muck of the world. They had never touched dirt. They were pristine.

Even though he was an absolute degenerate, he didn't have a foot fetish… he had never cared for feet in his life. But seeing these... seeing the golden glow of her toes, the perfect curve of her heel... his heart couldn't help but stir.

He took her left foot in his hands, cradling it like a fragile bird.

"Sol?" Isylia asked, her voice high and panicked. "What... why there?"

He didn't answer. He bowed his head.

He pressed a reverent kiss to the top of her foot. Then he turned it slightly and licked the high arch of her sole. The sensation sent a jolt of lightning straight up Isylia's leg. She gasped, her toes curling instinctively.

He bit gently on her big toe, looking up at her from the floor. His eyes were dark pools of worship. He sucked the toe into his mouth, swirling his tongue around it, tasting the pure, unblemished skin.

Isylia watched him from up , her mouth slightly open, her chest heaving. To see this hateful man…kneeling at her feet, should have filled her with immense pride, but seeing him…. treating them like holy relics... it broke something inside her. It stripped away her arrogance and left her feeling exposed, not just physically, but spiritually.

"Sol..." she whispered, her voice barely audible "You are mad... you are utterly mad..."

"Mad for you," Sol mumbled against her skin.

He kissed her ankles. He licked the back of her calves. He showed enough devotion to make the stones of the temple weep with envy.

Then, slowly, agonizingly, he began to move back up.

He slid his hands up her inner thighs, parting the way. He rose like a tide, his breath hot against her skin, until his face was level with the ultimate treasure hidden between her legs.

Isylia froze. "Sol, please..." Isylia's voice was weak, a mix of genuine fear and a terrible, rising anticipation that she couldn't suppress. Her legs twitched, instinct screaming at her to close them, but Sol's broad shoulders were a wall she couldn't move.

"Open," he commanded, placing his hands on her outer thighs.

"No!" Isylia shrieked, panic flaring in her chest. "Do not! That is the Gateway! It is not for mortal eyes! It is... it is too private!"

Sol ignored her. He pushed her legs wide, exposing her completely to the Sanctum's air and his ravenous gaze.

He stared.

He had expected perfection, but this defied description.

Because she was a Goddess, a being of pure energy and concept made manifest, she lacked the base biological functions of a mortal. There was no waste here. There was no scent of excretion or decay.

It was a construct of absolute purity.

Her vulva was a seamless seal of divinity… a smooth, golden mound that looked like it had been sculpted by the cosmos itself. The slit was tight, perfectly symmetrical, and glowed with a faint, pulsing pink light from within. It didn't smell like a woman; it smelled like ambrosia. It smelled like peaches soaked in wine and divinity. It was clean, ethereal, and terrifyingly inviting.

"It's... perfect," Sol whispered, his breath ghosting over the golden curls of her pubic mound… or rather, the lack thereof. It was smooth as polished marble.

"Stop staring!" Isylia sobbed, trying to cover herself with her hands, but Sol caught her wrists and pinned them to her thighs. "It is designed for creation, not... not for your hunger! Do not look at it!"

"I'm going to do more than look," Sol growled.

He leaned forward.

"No! Sol, I forbid—"

He buried his face in her crotch. Even though he badly wanted to, he didn't smash his face against her like a starving beast. Instead, he pressed a soft, tender kiss to her pubic mound, his lips brushing against the smooth, golden skin. Then another to the sensitive crease of her inner thigh.

Then, with agonizing slowness, he reached out with his thumbs and gently parted the golden lips.

He didn't hesitate and smashed his mouth against her clitoris. He dragged the flat of it slowly from the base of her opening up to the top.

"SCREEEEE!"

Isylia shrieked. It was a sound of pure, unadulterated shock. Her body bucked violently, her back arching so hard she nearly lifted Sol off the ground with her thighs.

"Unclean! Unclean!" she wailed, thrashing against his grip. "Get out! Get your tongue out of there!"

Sol was deaf to her pleas. He was feasting.

The taste was indescribable. It was sweet, viscous, and highly addicting. It tasted like liquid starlight. As he licked her, he felt energy crackling on his tongue, zapping his taste buds with pure pleasure.

He used his tongue like a spade, digging into her. He found the little hooded nub of her clitoris… a pearl of concentrated energy… and flicked it relentlessly. Side to side. Up and down.

Isylia convulsed. A bolt of white-hot pleasure shot up her spine, blowing out every fuse in her divine mind.

Slurp. Lick. Suck.

The sounds were wet and lewd, echoing in the sacred hall.

"Sol! SOL!" Isylia was losing her mind. She kicked her feet, her heels drumming against his back, but he was immovable.

He intensified the assault. He grabbed her ass cheeks with his large hands, kneading the soft flesh and pulling her wider, burying his nose deep into her slit. He inhaled her ambrosia scent, drank her nectar, and ravaged her divine dignity with a rhythmic, wet suction.

Slurp. Lick. Suck. Slurp.

Isylia's protests turned into broken, nonsensical babble. Her "divine mind," capable of processing the movements of stars, was short-circuiting. She couldn't calculate this. She couldn't rationalize the feeling of a rough, mortal tongue swirling inside her sacred passage, drinking the fluids she shouldn't even be producing.

"Please..." she whimpered, her head thrashing from side to side on the throne, her hair whipping around. "I surrender... stop... it's too good... it's disgusting... it's... AHHH!"

Sol hummed against her clitoris, the vibration sending her over the edge. She clamped her thighs around his head, trapping him there. She was grinding against his face now, abandoning all pretense of resistance, seeking friction, seeking release.

Sol felt the change. She was wet… soaking wet with a golden, translucent fluid that tasted weirdly like honey.

He pulled back, gasping for air, his face smeared with her divine essence.

Isylia lay slumped on the throne, her legs spread wide, her chest heaving. She looked dazed, her eyes rolling back in her head, drool leaking from the corner of her mouth.

"You..." she whispered, her voice a broken croak.

Sol wiped his mouth, his eyes dark with a predator's satisfaction. He stood up, towering over her.

He looked down at his own erect cock. It was throbbing painfully, harder than steel, weeping with need. It was demanding its turn.

He looked at Isylia's face. Her mouth was open, panting. Her lips were swollen and red.

A dark, possessive thought crossed his mind. He wanted to grab her head. He wanted to force that arrogant, divine mouth onto his cock. He wanted to see her cheeks hollow out, to hear her gag on his mortality, to debase her completely before he claimed her.

He stepped closer, reaching for her jaw.

"Open," he commanded, his voice rough.

Isylia flinched, her eyes snapping into focus. They weren't submissive. They were blazing with a cornered, feral fury. She bared her teeth… perfect, white, and most importantly sharp.

"Come closer," she hissed, reading his intent instantly. Her voice was a ragged growl. "Put it in my mouth, mortal. See what happens. I will bite it off and spit it into the Void."

Sol paused, his hand hovering inches from her face.

He looked into her eyes. She really meant it. Even though she was humiliated, aroused, on the brink of madness, and somehow let him do whatever he wanted, but her pride was still sharp enough to draw blood. If he forced her mouth now, she wouldn't suck him; she would maim him. The risk of castration by a furious Goddess was not a fantasy he wanted to explore.

"Feisty," Sol muttered, stepping back slightly. "You'd like that, wouldn't you? To disarm me."

"I would chew it to paste," Isylia promised, though her breath hitched as she looked at the angry head of his penis.

"Fine," Sol said, gripping his cock and stroking it once, watching her eyes follow the movement. "No mouth today. I have a better place for it anyway."

He reached down and grabbed her ankles. He lifted her legs high, pushing her knees up toward her chest until she was completely exposed, her vulnerability laid bare on the obsidian seat. The position tilted her pelvis up, offering him the perfect angle.

"I'll take you the old-fashioned way," Sol growled, lining the broad, weeping head of his cock up with her dripping, pink entrance.

°°°°°

A/N: Ahem, before the big moment, can I shamelessly ask for a castle or something?

Actually we are Number 1 in Webnovel Rising Start Contest right now, but the 2nd place is also coming close and they had also got weekly feature, and today is the last day of contest.

So, to avoid any last minute upset I request of some rich tycoon (poor can send too, I don't discriminate) to bless us with a castle.

In exchange I will mass release 5 chapters. Pretty please.

If you find any errors ( broken links, non-standard content, etc.. ), Please let us know < report chapter > so we can fix it as soon as possible.