The heretic knelt in the ruined chapel, power armor cracked and steaming from the last bolter round. His name was Vorrak, once a loyalist, now a servant of the Dark Gods, and his cock was already hard inside the codpiece when the Inquisitor stepped through the smoke. She was tall, armored in black carapace that hugged her hips and pushed her tits up like an offering. Her name was Lirael, and she had come to purge him. Instead she holstered her pistol and licked her lips.
“On your knees for the Emperor,” she spat, but her voice shook.
Vorrak rose, towering over her. “The Emperor doesn’t fuck like I do.” He grabbed her by the throat and slammed her against the altar. Her armor cracked under his grip. He tore the breastplate open with one hand, exposing heavy tits and hard pink nipples. Lirael gasped, then moaned when he pinched one and twisted.
“Filthy heretic,” she hissed, even as her thighs parted.
He ripped the rest of her armor away until she stood naked except for her boots and the rosary around her neck. His own codpiece opened with a hiss of hydraulics and his cock sprang free—thick, veined, ridged with chaos mutations that throbbed and leaked black precum.
Lirael stared, eyes wide, then dropped to her knees and took the head into her mouth without being told.
She sucked like a desperate slut, spit running down her chin while she stroked the shaft with both hands. Vorrak growled and thrust deeper, fucking her throat until she gagged and tears streaked her face. “That’s it, Inquisitor. Choke on the ruin of your faith.” He held her head and pumped until thick ropes of corrupted seed flooded her mouth. She swallowed most, the rest spilling over her tits.
He hauled her up, bent her over the altar, and kicked her legs apart. Her cunt was soaked, lips puffy and glistening. He dragged the head of his cock through her folds, smearing her juices and his cum together, then drove in hard. Lirael screamed as he stretched her, the ridged mutations scraping every nerve. He fucked her like a battering ram, hips slamming, armor clanging, the wet slap of flesh echoing through the chapel.
She came fast, cunt clenching and squirting around him, but he didn’t stop. He flipped her onto her back, lifted her legs over his shoulders, and pounded deeper, the head of his cock battering her cervix. “Beg for it,” he snarled.
“Fuck me, heretic—ruin me—fill me with your filthy seed!” she wailed, nails scratching at his armor.
Vorrak roared and buried himself to the hilt. His cock swelled, pulsing as he pumped load after load of hot, tainted cum straight into her womb. It overflowed, running down her ass and soaking the altar cloth. He kept thrusting through the orgasm, forcing every drop inside until her belly looked slightly swollen.
When he finally pulled out, a thick strand of cum connected them. Lirael lay panting, legs spread, cunt gaping and leaking. She reached down, scooped some of the mess onto her fingers, and licked them clean while staring him in the eye.
“Again,” she whispered. “Make me forget the Emperor.”
Vorrak grinned with too many teeth. He flipped her onto all fours and slammed back inside, already hardening again. Outside, the war still raged, but inside the chapel the only sound was the wet, brutal rhythm of a fallen angel claiming an Inquisitor’s soul one savage thrust at a time. She came again and again, voice hoarse from screaming prayers that turned into filthy moans, until the only god she worshipped was the one currently ruining her cunt.
