Depraved Noble: Forced To Live The Debaucherous Life Of An Evil Noble! Chapter 692: Holy Hymns On Butt-Drums

Joy had never regretted anything in her entire life.

Not when she took down the most corrupt nobles in the kingdom, despite the assassination attempts that followed.

Not when she constantly clashed with her superiors in the church, going against their orders when they strayed from true principles, enduring their wrath and sanctions without flinching.

Not even when she spoke against the Empress herself, risking everything for what she believed was right.

And certainly not when she killed her own father—the man who had abandoned her mother, the man whose family had tortured and imprisoned Maria for years.

She had ended his life and the lives of his family without a single mont of hesitation, without a single whisper of doubt.

Regret was for the weak.

For those who could not accept that setbacks were necessary, that obstacles existed to be overco, that only by facing trials could one grow stronger in faith and in spirit.

Joy had always believed that. She had lived that belief every day of her adult life.

But now?

Now everything had changed.

Now Joy truly, deeply, utterly regretted ever walking into Cassius’s bedroom.

Because Cassius was not like any other obstacle she had faced. He was not a noble to be brought down, not a superior to be defied, not a tyrant to be overthrown.

He was an absolute monster—the kind of monster who made sure you understood your mistakes.

The kind who kept his promises.

And when he had said, earlier that night, that he was just beginning? That he was going to show her a completely different realm of pleasure she had never known?

He had not been joking.

Not even a little.

He had tornted her and Carla all through the night. Hours upon hours of relentless, devastating pleasure that had stripped away every layer of resistance she had, every wall she had built, every shred of control she thought she possessed.

And the techniques he used—

God. She hadn’t even known such things existed.

Her mind couldn’t keep up with the endless variety of ways he found to destroy her, each more inventive than the last.

He started with her pussy.

His tongue—that damnable tongue—dove into her like a man starving, reaching deeper than she thought possible.

He licked places inside her she didn’t even know existed, stroking walls and curves she had never felt before, making her body convulse with every flick.

She squirted the first ti within seconds, her hips jerking uncontrollably as liquid gushed from her.

But he didn’t stop.

He lapped at her like a beast, growling against her flesh as she continued to co undone, wave after wave of ecstasy crashing through her.

Her thighs clamped around his head, but he pried them apart, forcing her to take more, to feel more, to be more.

Then he found her clit.

That tiny, useless thing she had never understood—why did it exist? What purpose did it serve?

She had never thought about it, never touched it, never once considered its significance.

The mont his lips closed around it, she understood.

It was a direct line to her very soul.

She scread—actually scread—as he sucked on that sensitive nub, her entire body bowing off the bed.

Liquid sprayed from her in a torrent, soaking his face, his chest, the sheets beneath them. He didn’t flinch. He didn’t pull away. He just sucked harder, his eyes burning into hers with dark satisfaction.

She tried to push his head away.

"St-Stop—please—too much!" Her voice was a pathetic whimper, not the commanding tone of a saint at all. "Cassius, slow down—I can’t—"

He didn’t slow down.

If anything, he sped up.

His tongue worked in tandem with his lips, flicking and sucking in rhythms she couldn’t predict, couldn’t prepare for. She ca again. And again.

Her hands fell away from his head, too weak to push, too weak to do anything but clutch at the sheets beneath her.

His mouth didn’t stay there.

It road around her body.

He sucked on her toes each small digit disappearing between his lips while she squird and gasped.

He then found the soft, sensitive flesh beneath her elbows, the inside of her wrists, the back of her knees—places she had never thought of as erogenous, until his tongue turned them into sparks of pure pleasure.

He traced along her thighs, leaving trails of fire, then bit down, marking her with hickeys that would last for days.

Then ca her breasts.

He had attacked them with the sa ferocious hunger, sucking one nipple while his fingers teased the other, then switching, then taking both into his mouth at once, stretching his lips wide to accommodate them.

He bit down—not hard enough to draw blood, but hard enough to leave marks, to make her gasp and squirm.

He made her back arch in pleasure and pain blurred together into sothing she couldn’t na.

She looked down at herself now, in the rare monts her mind could focus, and saw the evidence of his work.

Bite marks. Hickeys. Bruises blooming like dark flowers across the pale skin of her breasts, her thighs, her hips.

She looked like she had been mauled.

But that was completely ta compared to what he after that—like when he flipped her onto her stomach.

She felt his hands spreading her ass cheeks, felt the cool air against her most private hole, and a spike of pure panic shot through her.

"Wait, Cassius! Not there! You can’t just—Ahhh!"

His tongue touched her anus.

The sensation had been like nothing she had ever experienced.

A sha so deep it should have paralyzed her. A pleasure so intense it broke sothing inside her.

When his tongue pushed inside, when he began to lick and probe and feast on that most private part of her, she shattered completely.

She ca seven tis. Seven. Just from him licking her anus, his tongue buried inside her, his hands gripping her ass hard enough to bruise.

By the end, she had stopped resisting entirely.

She had simply let him spread her open and take what he wanted, her body limp, her mind floating sowhere far away, whimpering sounds escaping her throat that she didn’t recognize as her own.

And his fingers—his hands—were never idle.

While his tongue worked one part of her, his hands were always sowhere else.

Inside her pussy, stroking, pumping, fingers curling to hit that spot that made her see stars.

On her clit, rubbing circles that had her coming again almost instantly.

On her ass, squeezing, spreading, sotis slipping a finger inside her asshole alongside his tongue, stretching her in ways she had never imagined.

The orgasms ca so fast she couldn’t count them. Couldn’t distinguish one from the next.

They blurred together into a single endless wave of pleasure that crashed over her again and again until she was nothing but a vessel for sensation.

Her throat had gone raw from screaming.

But even as Joy suffered—and she did suffer, though it was the most exquisite suffering she had ever experienced—Carla had it worse.

Where Joy had tried to resist, had attempted to maintain so dignity, so semblance of control—Carla crumbled almost instantly.

The mont Cassius turned his attention to her, she beca sothing else entirely.

An animal. A creature in heat.

She moaned like she was dying, but not dying—dying of pleasure. Her body writhed beneath him, her hips bucking against his face, her hands clawing at his back, his shoulders, his hair.

He made her squirt more tis than Joy could count.

Her pussy, so pristine and tidy before, beca a battered, swollen ss, her juices coating her thighs, her stomach, her breasts.

He played with her relentlessly, pushing her further than Joy thought possible.

He also didn’t individually work on them and instead took them on as a duo.

Like how he he lined them up side by side and slid his fingers into both of pussies simultaneously.

"Let’s see how many you can take." He murmured, his voice dark with amusent.

One finger in each. Then two. Then three.

Joy gasped at the stretch, her walls protesting the invasion. She couldn’t take more—three was her limit, her body already trembling with the effort of accommodating them.

But Carla—

"Co on." Cassius coaxed, his fingers working inside her friend. "You can take one more. I know you can."

Carla’s eyes were glassy, her mouth open, drool leaking from the corner of her lips. She nodded weakly, and Cassius pushed a fourth finger into her.

She scread.

Her pussy gushed, soaking his hand, her arm, the sheets. Her back arched off the bed, her body convulsing as she ca apart completely. And still, Cassius kept his fingers there, pumping them slowly, drawing out every last drop of her pleasure.

Then ca the drums.

Cassius flipped them onto their stomachs, positioning them side by side with their asses in the air.

Joy’s pale cheeks next to Carla’s dark ones.

Two perfect mounds of flesh, exposed and vulnerable.

And he started slapping them.

Not hard enough to hurt, but enough to make a sound. A sharp, percussive sound that echoed through the room.

"Hmm." He mused, slapping Joy’s left cheek, then Carla’s right. "Different tones. Interesting."

He slapped them again, alternating, testing. Joy’s flesh made a lower, softer sound. Carla’s was tighter, higher pitched.

"Perfect." He breathed.

And then he began to play.

He drumd on their asses like a musician at an instrunt, his palms creating rhythms and beats that seed almost musical.

He would slap Joy’s left, Carla’s right, then both of Joy’s, then both of Carla’s, creating patterns that were almost hypnotic.

And then—

He started humming.

It took Joy a mont to recognize the tune. Her brain was foggy, her mind barely functioning.

But then the lody clicked into place.

A hymn.

He was playing a holy hymn on their asses.

The sacred songs she had sung in church for years, the lodies that praised the Goddess of Light, were being beaten out on her buttocks by a man who looked like sin incarnate.

"Stop!" She gasped, mortification flooding through her. "Stop that! That’s—you can’t—it’s blasphemy!"

But he didn’t stop. If anything, he played faster, his hands moving in a blur as he transitioned from one hymn to another, each slap perfectly tid to the rhythm of the song.

Carla, far gone in her pleasure, was moaning along with the tunes.

Joy wanted to die.

But that wasn’t even the worse of what she faced, as what he did next truly made her feel as if she was soone else’s toy.