After Solomon was finished with the lustful worshipper, he waited ten more minutes just to make sure that no one else was there.
If soone prayed to him while he was away, he could answer it, but that would an he would have to leave his current location, which was not always ideal.
After ten minutes passed with no more prayers being offered to him, he sighed and rose from his seat.
That was a lot of interactions for one day... I am starving.
With that, he decided to leave the tent and head to the Milf’s Tavern. Not only did he want food, but he also needed to clean his hands of the woman’s fluids...
...
After cleaning himself in the bathroom, the milf served up a hot al for Solomon to enjoy.
As he devoured its contents, his mind wandered elsewhere.
He wondered whether the plan that he had ford would really work? He had told the prisoners with confidence that it most certainly would, but that was, of course, nothing but an act.
In truth, he could only hope that it worked, as the plan relied on a lot of assumptions.
He finished the al, paid for it with the few coins he had, and made his way back to the tent.
Then, he fell asleep on the soft pink bed, awaiting the next day.
...
anwhile, in the Saint-Grato Dungeons...
The short-haired woman finally returned from her eting with the clown. The first thing she noticed was that she still felt the lingering pleasure from what the Clown had done to her.
Afterwards, she noticed that she was sitting in a shallow puddle, which seed to have soaked through her garnts.
She looked around and found that the other won were looking at her with varied expressions on their faces.
"Did the ceiling leak?" she asked, looking up.
It was Svetlana who stepped forward and spoke. Her cheeks were blushed bright red.
"No, that is your..." She couldn’t bring herself to finish the sentence. "Just what happened during your eting with the god, Ania?"
The other won nodded their heads slightly, but many of them also seed embarrassed.
It was clear they wanted to know what had made Ania make all those strange noises, and even wet herself.
Ania closed her eyes, rembering the events that had just taken place monts prior.
Then, without hesitation, she told them.
"The Clown... he used his fingers to pleasure . Only because I begged. I don’t know if he will be angry that I’ve told you, but he didn’t tell to keep it a secret. In fact, I don’t think a god would care about the opinions of others, so..."
The other prisoners stared at her, jaw-dropped.
Svetlana bit her lip and looked away.
But I offered my body to the Clown before, in return for his help, and he refused! Does this an that Ania is a better woman than ...? she thought to herself before adding—
Her breasts are so small! She can’t be better!
anwhile, the other won, although blushed, couldn’t help but question her.
"I don’t believe you," a tall, tanned woman said.
"Why would the god choose you to pleasure when there are so many better-developed ladies here?" another said, with a scar over her chest, where two large breasts rested.
"Did it feel good?"
"..."
That question brought the room to silence.
It ca from Natalia Petrov, who stood there with her arms folded. She stared at Ania with a straight face. It was clear that she was seriously curious about the answer.
Ania smiled and pointed down at the puddle that she was currently sitting in.
"When he curled his fingers inside of , I felt an irresistible urge to let my liquids out. It happened in his magical domain, but I did not expect it to happen to my physical body too... I’m sure that answers your question."
The won blushed brighter, except for Natalia. She simply nodded her head.
"The Clown is a great man," Natalia added. "I will worship him and follow through with his plan. We all must."
"I will be, one hundred percent," Ania nodded, finally standing up. Her liquids dripped from her clothes. "Even if I have the slightest chance to feel that feeling again, I will worship the Clown until I die."
"As will I," a prisoner added.
" too."
A large number of the prisoners agreed that they were now followers of the Clown. The others were not against him, but rather sceptical that his plans would work.
Natalia too was sceptical, but part of having faith was trusting in sothing despite your doubts.
She nodded her head, pleased with what the other won were saying.
"So, do you all understand what we are supposed to do?"
Svetlana stepped forward, answering. Although Natalia noted that the woman remained silent when the others expressed their devotion to the Clown.
Is she still secretly a believer of Calvenus, God of Creativity? she thought.
"Yes, the Clown’s orders were simple," Svetlana started, and everyone listened closely. "When we are brought to the execution platform, we are all to declare our worship of the Clown at the sa ti. King Calvin XXXII will be in attendance, and according to the Clown, the man so desperately seeks a relationship with him that he will spare us all."
Natalia nodded her head and added, "Killing a follower of a religion always has the chance to anger their worshipped god. Going by this logic, the Clown is right. We would be saved."
Ania, who was currently lost in a daze, staring down at her puddle on the floor, suddenly snapped to attention.
"I have full trust in the Clown!" she declared cheerfully.
The others did not share such sentint, but they understood that it was the only hope they had.
A few hours of nothing passed, and eventually the prisoners fell asleep.
During her slumber, Natalia dread of the Clown descending from his pink world during her execution and saving her from the cruel punishnt.
She wondered if it was a sign sent from the god.
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