The sacrifice is sealed - as is the bond between The Priestess and "Lord Anubis."

Cinua pleaded. She wasn’t listening. Instead, she was wrapping and speaking.

“Oh please,” she said with a smile in her voice. “Stop this, it’s so undignified.”

“YOU have no place to talk, dressing up in a cheap costume and parading around!”

“Tsk.” The priestess shook her head. “And here I thought you might end up very soon as a rubber drone. One of the gentlefolk we took in recently are progressing nicely and might be disinterred very soon. But you… no no no, you are an exemplary case of what not to be. Ungrateful, yet also too cute to convert.”

He thrashed, and really came close to flopping off the altar or breaking some of his bandages. “I AM an example! A prime candidate to bring you low!”

She held him down with a hand on his chest, tilting her head slightly.

“And you’ll be a visible display, so that all know you tried, and you failed.”

He moaned and yelped, and the High Priestess waved her hands. The altar sprung to life to embalm, encase, and enclose the assassin as a living testament to her power. As her plaything, he’d be treated to all kinds of delectably horrible fates. The first - of many - was to end up mounted and stuffed as a trophy.

First came a posture collar, applied as magical energies forced him into place and kept him painfully aware of each step. An inflatable rubber pad crept across his neck, squeezing tight around his erogenous flesh and followed by a golden posture brace.

He realized that he was to be gagged and shut his mouth shut, trying to find any moments of defiance. In retaliation, a pair of thick golden plugs went into his nostrils. Soon, they’d keep him gassed and edged, but for now they simply made his lungs burn until he gasped for air. In that opening, she put a bottle to his lips. Magical rubber absolutely filled his mouth and jaw and throat, packing, growing, and practically solidifying his cute cheeks in a bulging and horribly pathetic pose.

A rubber hood over his face with openings for his eyes and mouth. Though really, it was only to cruelly pack him more, since the last thing he saw was a heavy panel locking over his mouth and a harness blindfold over his eyes. He tried to thrash, but there was a new weight on top of him. The Priestess was sitting on his waist and enjoying his squirming.

That’s why a smooth, tight, and self-sealing latex hood went over his face; extra layers, extra horrible claustrophobia-inducing equipment, all in service of the Priestess enjoying herself. He tried, and failed, to make some angry yelps - but it just ended up being a fabulous little mewl.

The Priestess nodded and smiled. She waved ‘goodbye’ to him, nuzzling that hooded face one last time before she applied a matching mask. No more Cinua, no more furious sounds, no more expressive moans. Just a nice and sealed plaything, not that different from a statue.

Of course he was still making sounds. And she loved every minute. She was gloating, grinding, enjoying his body beneath her.

The gems in that mask will allow me to communicate with you as long as I want. Unless I take them out. And that would be awful, wouldn’t it? You’d be totally, totally isolated. Nothing but your horny arousal to keep you going, nothing but need and lewd denial washing over you for as long as I keep you like this. Which might as well be forever. Unless I find your master and bring him here, in which case I’ll have to find a new and more permanent fate for you two. No more attempts to escape, no more gloating. Nothing but darkness, need… and me.” 

“MMNGFFH!”

He groaned so loud that she could hear it even under all that gear and that mask.

She kept going. She was riding him, enjoying him, rubbing. It wasn’t enough, not nearly enough, but it was enough to make her feel more than alive. She felt transcendent, feeling his heat and body and need beneath her. His. Beneath her mask, her face had a lewd, excited and cruel contortion. She moved up until she was squeezing his poor head between her thighs, pressing him like a diamond. He choked out a few grunts.

‘Mggh. Grrg-”

But almost nothing came as she squeezed tighter, her latex-coated thighs pressing on his hooded head.

“Mine, mine, mine. In your head, I know you see it. My body on top of yours. My legs squeezing those sweet, packed cheeks. I want to hear you scream for me.”

“MMNGGGGGGGGH!” 

She kept riding him. Drones began to filter into the room, drawn by some sort of field of lust, energy, power, dark love, need, and heat - all created by the priestess as she enjoyed herself.

I belong to lord Anubis,” she said. And then she leaned over. The way she spoke to Cinua made him shiver. It made the drones shiver. The entire temple seemed to shudder, all connected by the latex-clad lady’s energy; charged and topped by some spark of desire that transcended words. Words that seemed to echo beyond the temple; a threat, an offer, and a declaration..

“And you are mine.”