Extra's Life: MILFs Won't Leave the Incubus Alone-Chapter 278 - 275: The Inquisitor’s Submission

The private sanctum crowning the High Church spire was a chamber of deliberate blasphemy. Black marble walls veined with gold rose to a vaulted ceiling painted with fading frescoes of angelic choirs—now lit only by guttering red candles and the faint, unnatural glow of mana crystals embedded in the floor. The air hung thick with frankincense, melted wax, sweat, and the unmistakable musk of raw, prolonged sex.

Cardinal Vespera—tall and silver-haired, forty-three summers yet preserved in the lush, voluptuous prime of her beauty by decades of disciplined mana circulation—lay sprawled face-down across the wide black marble altar that served as both sacred table and Lucifer’s profane bed whenever he chose to defile holy ground.

Her crimson cardinal robes were rucked up around her waist like spilled blood, heavy breasts spilling free onto the cold stone, dark nipples swollen to painful peaks and glistening from hours of teeth, fingers, and relentless suction. Sweat beaded along the elegant column of her throat and trickled between her shoulder blades; her thighs trembled uncontrollably as Pope Lucifer pounded into her from behind with merciless, unhurried rhythm.

Each deep thrust produced a wet, obscene slap of flesh on flesh that echoed off the vaulted ceiling like profane percussion.

"Aaahhh—Holy Father—please—Aaahhh! Too deep—too much—too thick—Aaahhh!"

Vespera’s voice cracked on every syllable—once the measured, commanding timbre of the church’s second-highest voice, now reduced to broken whimpers.

She had already climaxed nine times—each orgasm more violent and humiliating than the last—squirting in hot, shameful jets that now formed a glistening puddle beneath her knees on the frigid marble. Mascara streaked black rivers down her cheeks; her full lips were swollen and bitten raw from trying to muffle screams that would have carried to the lower choirs and novice dormitories far below.

Lucifer showed no mercy.

His own crimson papal robes hung open down the front, white hair wild and sweat-damp, golden eyes glowing faintly behind the crimson lenses as he gripped her wide, generous hips and slammed forward again—cock stretching her mature, mana-rich pussy to its absolute, burning limit. Veins pulsed along his shaft; the thick crown battered her cervix with every punishing stroke.

"Cum for me again, Vespera," he commanded, voice low and holy, edged with dark satisfaction. "Tenth time. Show me—show the Light itself—how completely the church already belongs to me."

She shattered—back arching like a drawn bowstring—screaming his sacred title as her walls clamped down in frantic, rhythmic spasms, fresh squirt gushing around his pistoning shaft in forceful arcs that splashed his thighs and the altar stone.

"Aaahhh—Lucifer—cumming—cumming again—Aaahhh! Your child—your holy seed—inside me—please—Aaahhh!"

He growled—pleased—and kept fucking her through the aftershocks, drawing out every last shuddering contraction until her arms gave out and she collapsed forward, trembling, ass still held high by his grip, pussy gaping and overflowing with cream.

A sharp, authoritative knock echoed from the heavy outer door—three precise raps.

Lucifer didn’t pause his slow, grinding rolls inside Vespera—not yet.

"Enter," he called, voice calm, almost casual.

The iron-bound door swung inward on silent hinges.

Lady Inquisitor Mara Voss stepped across the threshold—tall, raven-haired, thirty-six, body honed to lethal precision by years of combat training and fieldwork yet softened by mature, dangerous curves that strained the seams of her black-and-silver inquisitorial armor.

The reinforced leather and chainmail hugged her like a second skin—breasts full and high, waist dramatically nipped, hips flaring wide enough to promise both fertility and strength. Her expression was all business—cold violet eyes, jaw set—until her gaze landed on the scene before her.

Color flooded her cheeks in a violent rush.

She swallowed audibly but did not look away. Discipline held her in place.

"Holy Father," she said, voice only slightly unsteady. "The investigation report you requested is complete."

Lucifer finally stilled—buried to the root inside Vespera, who whimpered softly at the sudden cessation of movement, hips rocking back instinctively, seeking more.

He crooked a single finger.

"Come here."

Mara hesitated—only a single heartbeat—then crossed the sanctum with measured, deliberate steps, boots clicking sharply on marble.

When she reached the altar, Lucifer released one hand from Vespera’s hip and seized Mara’s narrow waist—pulling her flush against his side in one smooth, possessive motion. His other hand rose—cupped one large, firm breast through reinforced leather and padded linen—squeezing with deliberate, unhurried strength.

Mara gasped—nipples hardening to aching points beneath armor almost instantly.

"Holy Father—I—I have a husband—" The words came out weak, almost pleading.

Lucifer’s golden eyes bored into hers—unblinking, merciless.

"I don’t care."

He kneaded her breast harder—thumb finding the stiff peak even through layers of protection, circling ruthlessly.

"Do you?"

Mara’s breath hitched violently.

Her violet eyes flickered—shame, fear, raw hunger warring across her normally impassive features.

Then she leaned in—desperate, almost violent—and pressed her lips to his in a hungry, starving kiss.

Lucifer growled approval deep in his chest—tongue claiming her mouth with brutal possession while his hand continued mauling her breast, pinching the nipple until she moaned into his kiss.

When they parted, both were breathing hard—lips wet, eyes glassy.

"Give me the information," he ordered.

Mara nodded—voice husky, wrecked.

"The sky dungeons... they are loosening faster than any projection. Monsters are falling almost daily now. Small breaches at first—goblins, dire-wolves, corrupted elementals. But the rate is accelerating exponentially. Three frontier towns have been completely overrun in the last fortnight. Casualties in the thousands.

Mana storms follow every breach—corrupting crops, poisoning wells, even twisting the air itself in some regions until breathing becomes lethal."

Lucifer listened—still buried inside Vespera, who whimpered and rocked back against him helplessly, cunt fluttering around his unmoving length.

He rewarded her obedience with a single slow, deep grind—making her moan brokenly, fresh slickness leaking down her thighs.

"Go on."

Mara’s thighs clenched together—armor suddenly too tight, too warm, the seam pressing cruelly against her swollen clit.

"Entire villages have collapsed into sinkholes where dungeon roots have breached the surface. The kingdom of Vaeloria—our eastern neighbor—was attacked three nights ago by a mature crimson dragon-beast that tore through an upper sky rift.

It razed two baronies and half the capital before the royal lancers and archmages managed to bring it down. Casualties... catastrophic. The king has already sent envoys suing for emergency aid. They’re terrified the next breach will summon something worse—something they can’t contain."

Lucifer’s mind raced.

Saud had been right.

The protagonist of the original timeline—the one whose place he now occupied—had warned of this exact cascade: sky dungeons cracking open years ahead of ancient prophecy, monsters pouring down like apocalyptic rain, kingdoms falling like dominoes under the weight of unchecked cataclysm. The Second Dungeon Break was no longer a distant eschatological event.

It was here. Now.

He pulled out of Vespera abruptly—cock glistening with her thick cream, veins throbbing.

The cardinal sobbed at the sudden emptiness—pussy clenching desperately around nothing, hips twitching.

Lucifer spun Mara around—bent her forward over the altar beside Vespera—lifted the heavy black skirt of her inquisitorial coat with one hand, yanked aside the reinforced leather undergarments with the other.

Her pussy was already drenched—plump outer lips glistening, inner folds flushed dark pink, clit swollen and peeking from its hood.

He lined up—thrust in to the hilt in one brutal, claiming stroke.

Mara screamed—back arching violently, armored breasts pressing hard against the cold marble.

"Aaahhh—Holy Father—too big—Aaahhh! —Aaahhh!"

Lucifer began to fuck her—hard, relentless—each powerful thrust driving her hips into the altar’s unforgiving edge.

"What else?" he demanded.

Mara’s voice cracked—pleasure she had never known flooding her disciplined body like wildfire.

"The... the breaches are tracking ley-line convergences—Aaahhh! The church’s own oracles are in full panic—Aaahhh! They say the final seal will break within months—not years—Aaahhh!"

He spanked her ass through armor—hard enough to sting even through reinforced leather, the crack echoing.

"And the party?"

Mara bit her lip—cumming almost instantly—walls fluttering wildly around his invading cock. 𝐟𝗿𝐞𝚎𝚠𝐞𝚋𝕟𝐨𝚟𝐞𝕝.𝕔𝕠𝚖

"Aaahhh—yes—everything is in order—Aaahhh! Invitations delivered—Crystal Pavilion fully secured—security doubled—all female operatives—yeeeaaahh! Three hundred and twelve confirmed noblewomen—Empress Elizabeth and both princesses attending—ummmm! The city is effectively empty of men—eighty percent women on the streets—ahhhhh! It’s perfect—perfect for you—Aaahhh!"

Lucifer growled—pace turning feral—cock swelling impossibly thicker inside her clenching heat.

"You’ve done well, Inquisitor."

He reached around—fingers finding her clit through the torn undergarments—rubbing with brutal, precise circles.

"Cum for your Pope. Cum while I breed you. While I claim what your husband never could."

Mara shattered—screaming his sacred title—squirting in forceful, humiliating jets that splashed Vespera’s thigh beside her and puddled on the marble. Her walls clamped down like iron, milking him desperately.

Lucifer roared—buried to the hilt—and erupted—thick, endless ropes of enhanced seed flooding her womb in hot pulses. Mara’s lower belly visibly swelled slightly with the sheer volume; excess cream bubbled out around his shaft, running in pearly rivers down her armored thighs and dripping onto the stone.

"Aaahhh—yes—your seed—your holy child—Aaahhh! Inside me—finally—Aaahhh!"

He stayed buried—grinding slowly, deliberately—milking every last drop into her spasming cunt.

When he finally pulled out—letting her see the thick white flood pouring from her ruined, gaping pussy—he leaned down, lips brushing the shell of her ear.

"Go home to your husband," he murmured, voice soft and cruel. "Tell him to rejoice. His wife is finally going to bear a child... for the church. For the Light. For me."

Mara whimpered—legs trembling violently—nodding helplessly.

"Yes... Holy Father..."

Lucifer straightened—cock still glistening, still half-hard—turned to Vespera, who lay panting and wrecked beside them.

"Clean her," he ordered.

Vespera crawled forward immediately—tongue lapping greedily at the cum dripping from Mara’s gaping cunt—moaning brokenly at the taste of her Pope’s seed mingled with another woman’s juices.

Mara sobbed in humiliated, ecstatic bliss—body shaking, armor smeared with sweat and cream.

Lucifer watched them—holy, cruel, triumphant—then crossed once more to the arched window.

Below, the capital glittered like a sea of captured stars—thousands of women lighting candles, sewing final stitches, dreaming of silk gowns and forbidden nights.

Tomorrow days from now the gala would begin.