In the cozy comfort of their home, Yulia, Tom, and their three little girls gathered around the imposing oak table in the dining room. Their faces were bathed in the warm glow of candles. The house hummed with the vibrant timbre of laughter and animated conversations. Henry, the traveling priest, regaled them with stories of the exotic adventures he had experienced around the world. His storytelling talent was undeniable, bringing to life the remotest kingdoms and strangest creatures through his words.

Letting out a joyful laugh, Yulia announced it was time for the girls to go to bed. The table was immediately flooded with indignant protests, the three little pairs of eyes begging their mother to let them savor a few more moments of these captivating tales.

Henry interrupted in the middle of his epic story of a daring dragon, letting out a benevolent smile. Turning to the girls, he proposed: "I will escort you to your room, and I promise to invoke the sacred arts so that your dreams are as wonderful as fairy tales."

Alice, Chloe, and Lily's eyes widened with excitement, and they eagerly agreed. Yulia and Tom exchanged a knowing smile. A moment of serenity settled as Tom, his eyes still fixed on the stairs leading to the children's room, sincerely thanked Henry. "You are a generous man." He said, his hand seeking Yulia's on the table. On a lighter note, he added, "I wish I could fall asleep so easily. With everything that happened today… Even though it all turned out well, I'm afraid I might have trouble sleeping." Henry burst into laughter. "In that case, Tom..." Before the blacksmith had time to formulate a response, Henry raised his hand, his fingers stretching as if pulling invisible threads from the surrounding air. A light, shimmering halo seemed to emanate from his palm, its outlines blurred in the candlelight.

The words floated in the air, each syllable infused with ancient magic, each sound vibrating with calm power. A shiver of energy swept through the room, palpable even to those unfamiliar with the sacred arts.

Suddenly, Tom's eyes began to blink, his gaze becoming vague and distant. A soft, dreamy smile formed on his face. Then, like a leaf carried by a gentle breeze, he gently collapsed onto the table, his eyelids closing in peaceful and deep sleep. The sound of his regular breathing, mixed with the crackling of the candles, filled the room with a soothing atmosphere.

Then, a soft hum escaped his lips. It was the tune of the demon's lullaby, a melody his daughters loved and often sang before going to bed. The melody, both jovial and mysterious, seemed to dance in the air, mingling with the distant laughs of the past and the joyful memories of their home.

Henry, remaining seated, listened to Yulia humming with a tender smile. This song held a special resonance for him, evoking childhood innocence and the grandeur of ancient legends. "You have a wonderful voice, Yulia." He stated slowly, his voice blending perfectly with the melody wafting in the air. Meanwhile, Yulia continued bustling around the table. Henry watched her in silence, a glimmer of admiration in his eyes, appreciating the soft glow of the candles reflecting on her skin. Savoring his wine, he eventually broke the silence.

During this time, Henry remained seated in silence, sipping his glass of wine, and watching the young woman. A smile formed on his lips as he began to compliment her. "Yulia, your cooking is delicious... your daughters are adorable..." His voice was soft, laced with sincere tenderness. Gradually, his compliments became more personal, causing a blush to color Yulia's cheeks. "And you... you are breathtakingly beautiful... unparalleled in grace..." Yulia felt her cheeks ignite under his intense gaze. She had often been complimented on her beauty, but she had always thought these compliments were exaggerated. "I…" Words stuck in Yulia's throat, her mind swirling with uncertainty. Her heart skipped a beat when Henry's hand gently placed itself on hers. He didn't give her time to react and pushed his audacity a notch higher. "You know, after a good meal, I like a woman to take care of me... in all aspects of me." He suggested, guiding Yulia's hand towards his swollen crotch.

The implication of his words and actions shocked her so much that she remained motionless, her pulse pounding loudly in her ears. Henry's hand now firmly held Yulia's on his member, and he continued to detail his request. "Men of faith like me must renounce the pleasures of the flesh, or risk being deprived of the sacred arts... rejected by the Gods themselves! But as long as my member does not penetrate your intimate sanctuary, there will be no problem." The shock had given way to a stupor and now to a familiar pain. Yulia didn't understand. She felt as if she was floating in a thick fog, like she was witnessing her own life, but unable to intervene.

It was a nightmare that never ended. Why were men so obsessed with her body? Why did they need to assert their dominance over her? She was not an object, but a woman, a mother. She had feelings, dreams, and dignity.

But Henry seemed oblivious to her discomfort. His hand firmly pressed on the young woman's head, forcing her to kneel before him. He freed his erect member from his pants, exposing it to Yulia's view. "To have saved your family from a life of servitude, a small act of gratitude, is not too much to ask, is it?" He murmured, his voice betraying his barely concealed excitement.

Yulia closed her eyes, trying to dissociate herself from the reality of the situation. She didn't want this, but she felt bereft of choice. Guilt flooded her, making her feel nauseous. She was too frightened to resist, too exhausted to protest. For her family, for her daughters, she had to endure this ordeal once more. Thoughts of her encounter with Joe earlier in the day flooded back. Had she resigned herself then, would things have been different? She would have suffered, certainly, but perhaps she could have lived with it, and this situation wouldn't have taken insurmountable proportions. Kneeling on the cold, hard kitchen floor, her body was slightly trembling, terror mixing with revulsion. Henry, the man who had been her savior just an hour earlier, had now become her tormentor, standing above her, a satisfied smile forming on his lips. The coldness of the tiles under her knees, the warmth of Henry's hand clutching her hair, the bitter smell of his intimacy which he was tapping against her closed lips, every detail was engraving itself into her mind, creating a reality so brutal that she wished she could escape.

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"Treat it like you would your husband," Henry murmured, his calm tone and cynical words contrasting with the brutality of his actions.

Yulia closed her eyes, trying to gather all her courage and determination. She could hear the muffled sound of her own heart, pounding in her chest like a broken clock. She heard Henry's breath, heavy and ragged, and could feel the warm dampness of his glans against her cheek. The dreaded moment was here. In an infinitely slow progression, Yulia gently opened her mouth, trembling in every limb, to unwillingly accept the taut and straight member between her quivering lips. A curious sensation of cold and hot washed over her simultaneously, marking the beginning of an ordeal that would scar her forever.

As she strived to control her breathing, her uncertain hands sought support, nervously slipping over the rough surface of the old floor beneath them. Her fingers accidentally fell upon Henry's embroidered pouch. Through the thin fabric, she brushed against a solid, cold object. Intrigued despite herself, she reached in and pulled out a crystal. In the action, she gripped it tightly, almost forgetting the horror of the situation. With a deep breath, Yulia tried to suppress the fear and disgust swirling within her. The words of the man of faith standing before her were echoing in her head, but she strove to ignore them. Her daughters' lives were at stake, as was her own. She couldn't afford to succumb to her own emotions. In a heroic effort to get past the thick consistency of his member against her tongue and the salty taste invading her mouth, Yulia carried out the instructions Henry was dictating to her.

"Oh, my dear Yulia... You are surprisingly skilled!" He sighed with satisfaction, while she suppressed a retch.

The reality of the situation seemed almost surreal to her. Nevertheless, the contact of his skin against her lips and the heat emanating from him were painfully real.

She tightened her lips gently around him, trying to match the rhythm Henry was imposing. The sensation was oddly soft, almost plush, despite the force he exerted. She felt every pulsing vein, every quiver, every hoarse moan he let out. Each movement, each sound, was like a brutal reminder of what she was doing, what she was forced to do.

The pain in her jaw was starting to become noticeable, but she persisted, enduring each thrust, each choke, in silence. The metallic taste of Henry's desire in her mouth was sickening, but she endeavored not to think about it, not to think about anything. Her family needed her. That was all that mattered.

All that should matter. While she was enduring Henry's assaults, Yulia was clutching the crystal so hard that her knuckles whitened. The pressure was such that the sharp edges of the crystal were nearly digging into her palm, the sharp pain she felt being a welcome distraction from the abhorrent act she was forced to endure. This physical pain, although throbbing, was a pain she could understand, a pain she could manage.

Despite all her efforts to avoid his gaze, Yulia couldn't look away from Henry's bright eyes staring at her intensely. She felt his body tense, his breathing become more ragged. The grotesque sound of his satisfaction echoed heavily in the silence of the room. Then, that sensation. A warm, salty taste flooded her mouth as Henry let out a final moan of pleasure. The features of his face relaxed as he finished, finally releasing her from his grip. The explosion had a bitter taste that lingered in her mouth, a cruel reminder of the degrading act she had just endured.

A wave of relief washed over Yulia when the familiar creak of the front door sounded. It was Michel's voice, gruff and annoyed, breaking the silence of the house.

"For heaven's sake, Henry! I had to knock on twenty houses before finding you here! You really know how to keep a low profile when it suits you!" Henry let out a satisfied laugh as he withdrew from Yulia's mouth. Buttoning up his tunic, he kept his eyes on the distraught face of the young woman.

"Well, that's perfect timing. I'm finished here." He stated with a contented smile.

He gave Yulia a little pat on the cheek, a misplaced and condescending gesture that only amplified her humiliation. Michel, without giving more attention to the scene, moved towards Henry, stating in a low, urgent voice, "We can't linger any longer. The raid on this village is scheduled in a few hours, all this will soon be reduced to nothing." At these words, Henry gazed at Michel.

The implications of this announcement were dawning on his previously serene face. He nodded, an unusual gravity taking over his expression. Michel's urgent tone had finally pierced the bubble of selfish satisfaction in which Henry had enclosed himself.

Without another word, he gave a nod towards the door, indicating it was time to leave. Henry took one last visual sweep of the room, his gaze lingering for a moment on Yulia before moving to the lifeless body of Tom. He hesitated briefly, then, with a resigned sigh, he turned on his heels and walked towards the exit.

"What a waste..." He uttered just before slamming the door.

In despair, Yulia ran to a bucket of water next to the fire, spitting and retching with all her might. Her heart was pounding in her chest, her thoughts muddled as she tried to purge the bitter memory of what she had just endured. She rinsed her mouth several times, but nothing seemed to erase the unpleasant taste that haunted her.

Yulia swallowed painfully, her eyes still filled with tears. She looked at her hand, sore from the pressure she had exerted on the crystal. The object shone faintly in the light of the flickering flames of the hearth, like a star lost in the darkness. She held it so tightly that she could still feel its sharp edges digging into her palm.

She looked at the crystal again, observing its brilliance in the flickering firelight. This object, unpleasant as it was, could be of value. The way Henry had kept it so preciously, its almost hypnotic shine, all suggested it was worth something. In her current state, anything that could be converted into money mattered. Taking a deep breath, she carefully slipped it into her pocket, ensuring it was well hidden.

Frantically, she turned to Tom, peacefully asleep at the table, his relaxed face displaying an innocent smile. She gently shook her husband, calling him in a low voice, then louder, but he didn't move. Tears streamed down Yulia's cheeks as she realized the full horror of their situation. Her sobs echoed in the dark room, a sad symphony of despair.

That's when Michel's last words came back to her. A raid... The village would be wiped off the map. A lump formed in her stomach, her heart clenched in terror at the thought of what could happen to their home, to their family.