Harem Master: Seduction System

Chapter 330: Eleanor’s Punishment

The pavilion was quiet.

The three Archmages, his Queen and his two most trusted, were breathing deeply, lost in the drugged, unnatural sleep. They were safe. For now, they were just... offline.

Alaric, bathed and dressed in fresh, dark clothes, felt the last traces of his 24-hour marathon of lust fade, replaced by the cold, clear-headed focus of a commander. He had secured one asset. Lin Ruoli was broken, chained, and her empire’s secrets were now his. That was a massive win.

But there was another, much simpler, investment he had made. The little princess. It was time to see if his... efforts... had paid off.

He left his pavilion, the night air of the Conclave cool and sharp against his skin.

He didn’t bother with the main paths. He simply slipped into the shadows, a ghost moving between tents. Zylle, in her meticulous efficiency, had already mapped the patrols of every major camp. The Strathmore guards, a pathetic, skeleton crew, were a joke. He bypassed them without a sound.

He didn’t knock. He didn’t ask for entry. He just slipped through the canvas flap of Eleanor’s tent, a shadow detaching itself from the other shadows.

She was waiting for him.

She was pacing her small, threadbare tent, her face pale with anxiety, her hands twisting the fabric of her simple gown. The moment he appeared, she let out a small, terrified gasp.

"My lord... you came..."

"Of course," he said. His voice was flat. Cold. He was not here to play. He was not here to seduce. He was here to collect on a payment. The hours of debauchery with Lin Ruoli had sated his physical hunger, leaving only his cold ambition.

"I’m not in the mood for games, Eleanor," he said, cutting right to the point. "What did your father say? Is Strathmore with me?"

The princess flinched, as if he had physically struck her. The cold, all-business tone was a bucket of ice compared to the hot, possessive man from the other night.

"Alaric..." she stammered, wringing her hands, her eyes dropping to the floor. "I... I’m so sorry. I tried, I really, really did..."

"You failed."

It wasn’t a question. It was a simple, flat statement of fact.

Her head snapped up, her eyes wide with hurt, then dropped again. A single, pathetic tear rolled down her cheek.

"I... yes," she whispered, her voice trembling. "I failed."

She looked like a little schoolgirl who’d just failed her most important test.

Alaric’s eyes, which had been neutral, turned to chips of ice. He wasn’t pleased. Not at all.

’All that work,’ he thought, his anger a cold, sharp thing. ’All that charm I wasted on her. The time I spent making her my slut. The effort I put into that first, perfect night. All for nothing. She couldn’t even convince one weak, pathetic old man.’

He felt a flare of pure, cold annoyance. She had wasted his time.

"Turn around," he said, his voice quiet.

"W-what?" she stammered, looking up at him, her eyes wide with confusion.

"You heard me," he said, his voice dropping to a low, dangerous command. "Turn. Around. Now."

She was terrified of him. The fear won out over the confusion. She slowly, her body trembling, turned around, her back to him.

SMACK.

The sound was sharp, loud as a firecracker in the small, silent tent.

SMACK.

A second one, just as hard.

"Oww!" she cried out, a sharp, high-pitched yelp of pure, surprised pain. She instinctively clapped her hands to her bubbly, curvaceous buttocks, her whole body jumping from the sting.

She spun back around, her face a mask of shocked tears and confusion. "What... what was that for?" she sobbed, rubbing the stinging, red marks.

"That was for your failure," Alaric said, his voice cold as the grave. "That was for wasting my time. I don’t invest in things that don’t give me a return, Eleanor. And my ’investment’ in you has, so far, turned up nothing."

"But I tried!"

"So you said," he scoffed. "Now, I want to know why."

He stepped closer, his presence seeming to suck all the warmth from the tent. "Why did you fail? You’re his daughter. His favorite little princess. He should have listened to you. He should have done whatever you said, especially after I... inspired... you."

"He... he wouldn’t listen..." she whimpered.

"That’s not a reason," Alaric snapped. "That’s an excuse. Talk. Now. Give me the real reasons. All of them. Or, I promise you, you’ll get more than just a spanking."

"Don’t... don’t hit me again," she pleaded.

"Then talk," he commanded. "Why. Did. You. Fail?"

Eleanor, still rubbing her smarting backside, finally spilled the details. The words came out in a fast, frantic, whispering rush, as if just saying them out loud was a betrayal.

"It’s not just him, my lord! Truly! It’s the ministers!" she whispered frantically. "They’re... they’re old. They’re... fossils. They’re so scared. They’re all just terrified of the Rimefrost Imperium."

"So? I’m offering them protection from Rimefrost."

"But they see you as the problem!" she cried, her voice cracking. "They said... they said you’re just a... a ’rogue element.’ That you’re... unpredictable."

Alaric let out a short, harsh laugh. "A rogue element? I’m the only one offering them a lifeline, a way out of this mess, and they think I’m the problem? Your father’s court is even dumber than I thought."

"They’re just cautious!" she explained, a desperate plea for him to understand. "My father... he’s a cautious man. He doesn’t like making big decisions quickly. He... he always says, ’A quick decision is a dead kingdom.’"

"’A slow decision is also a dead kingdom,’" Alaric quoted back at her, his voice dripping with contempt. "A dead and forgotten kingdom. What else?"

"And... and the rumors..." she whispered, her gaze dropping to the floor again.

Alaric’s voice became dangerously soft. "What rumors?"

"About... about your family, my lord," she said, her voice barely audible. "About the Jorailian Kingdom."

"Go on."

"They... they say the Steele Family holds all the real power. That... that Queen Ondine, for all her titles, is just... a pretty face. A puppet for your house."

Alaric’s lips twitched in a small, cold smirk. ’Well,’ he thought, ’they’re not entirely wrong about that, are they? She’s a very pretty face.’

"And?" he pushed.

"And... my father’s spies... they... they confirmed it."

This made Alaric pause. "He has competent spies, at least. That’s a surprise."

"They told him your family’s influence is... absolute," she continued, her voice trembling. "That you control everything. The army, the treasury... the Queen herself. That you... that you’re the real king, in all but name."

"And that scares him," Alaric finished for her, his voice flat.

"Yes!" she said, looking up at him, her eyes wide with fear. "He’s afraid, Alaric! He’s afraid that in an alliance, your Steele House will do the same to Strathmore! He’s afraid you’ll... you’ll just... swallow us whole from the inside!"

"He’s afraid I’ll do to him what the other empires want to do," Alaric finished for her, his voice a low, contemptuous drawl, "just with a friendlier smile."

"Yes," she whispered, her shoulders slumping in defeat.

"He’s a coward."

"He’s a king!" she defended, a brief flash of her old pride. "He’s trying to protect his people, his line!"

"He’s a fool," Alaric countered, his voice like stone. "And this... ’caution’... it’s not just him, is it? He’s not smart enough to be this paranoid on his own."

Eleanor flinched. "It’s... it’s also Queen Kate."

Alaric’s eyebrows raised. "Queen Kate? Your stepmother?"

"Yes," Eleanor said, and a new, sharp note of venom entered her voice. "She’s... she’s very young. Barely five years older than I am. And she’s... she’s very charming."

’Charming,’ Alaric thought. ’I see.’

"She’s... voluptuous," Eleanor spat, her jealousy as clear as day. "A milf, as some of the guards say. She’s... she has this... way about her. She’s got my father wrapped around her little finger. The ministers, too. They listen to her every word. They... they look at her like... like hungry dogs."

"She’s a snake," Eleanor whispered, her voice trembling with a sudden, raw hatred. "A beautiful, poisonous snake. And she hates me."

"And what is this beautiful snake whispering in your father’s ear?" Alaric asked, his interest now genuinely piqued. A new player. An influential, beautiful, young queen. This was getting interesting.

"She’s telling him to be cautious!" Eleanor said, her voice rising. "She’s telling him that you are a bigger threat than the Baron von Hess! That your ’ambition’ is a fire that will burn them all! She... she told him that an alliance with you would be like... like ’inviting a wolf to guard the sheep-pen.’"

"So," Alaric summarized, his voice a low, cold drawl. "The old man is a coward. The ministers are fossils. And the new, busty queen is a bitch who has him on a leash. And you... you failed to counter any of it."

"It’s not my fault!"

"It is your fault," Alaric said, his voice flat. "I gave you the leverage. I gave you the inspiration. You were supposed to be better than them. But you’re not. You’re just as weak."

"And... and because of all that..." she finally whispered, the last, devastating piece of news. "For that reason... he’s been meeting with other groups. He met with the Merchant Confederacy today. And... and even a minor envoy from... from the Theocracy."

At the mention of the Theocracy, Alaric’s eyes went cold. That, more than anything, was a true insult.

"The Theocracy," he said, his voice a low, soft, and dangerous thing. "He’d rather deal with those child-brainwashing, faith-peddling hypocrites... than with me."

"He’s just... he’s just scared, Alaric! He doesn’t know what to do!"

"He’s a fool," Alaric said. And he was silent for a long, long moment.

Eleanor just stood there, her hands clasped, her heart pounding, terrified of what he would do next.

His plan for a clean, simple, vassal state was now a muddy, complicated mess. All because of this girl’s failure. All because of a cowardly king, a set of old fools, and a new, pretty, scheming queen.

’This is... annoying,’ he thought. ’Very, very annoying. This was supposed to be easy.’

He looked at Eleanor. At her trembling, pathetic form. She had failed him. She had failed him completely.

He leaned in, so close his lips were brushing the soft skin of her ear. "Your failure to convince your father," he whispered, his voice a low, sibilant thing, "has really... displeased me, Eleanor. Very... very... displeased."

She shivered, her whole body reacting to his proximity. It was a strange, toxic mix of bone-deep fear and that now-familiar, shameful, liquid excitement.

"My lord..." she whispered, her voice trembling. "I’m sorry... I’ll try again! I swear! I’ll... I’ll yell at him! I’ll... I’ll beg him! I’ll..."

"No," Alaric whispered, cutting her off. "Talking is over. You’re a terrible diplomat. You’ve failed in the mind part of our arrangement. You’ve proven you’re useless there."

"I..." she started to sob. "I’m not useless..."

"Oh, no, you’re not," he purred, his voice changing, that hot, predatory edge returning to it. "So now... you have to work hard for me to forgive you. In other ways."

Her heart leapt. Her breath caught in her throat. She knew what this meant. She hated that she was excited. She hated that she wanted to be punished.

"What... what should I do?" she asked, her voice a meek, submissive whisper, her body already tingling in anticipation.

"What can you do, Eleanor?" he asked, his voice a low, mocking caress. "You’re not a strategist. You’re not a warrior. You’re not a spy. What can you do?"

She knew the answer. She hated the answer. But she said it anyway.

"I... I can... this..." she whispered, her hand gesturing weakly to her own body.

"Exactly," he purred. "You can use your body. And that’s exactly what you’re going to do. You’re going to work very hard to make me forget how... disappointed... I am."

A very wicked, very cruel smile spread across Alaric’s face. "And I have just the thing to help you."

He reached into the small spatial pouch at his belt and pulled something out.

It wasn’t a garment. It was a joke. A whore’s costume.

It was just a few thin, black leather straps. A tiny, see-through patch of black lace that was clearly meant to fail at covering her pussy. Two more tiny patches of lace, connected by a thin strap, that would do the same for her breasts. It was an outfit designed to expose, not to cover. It was cut out in all the important places, leaving her nipples, her pussy, her entire backside, completely and utterly bare.

"Put this on," he commanded, tossing the spider’s web of leather and lace onto her cot.

Eleanor just stared at it, her mind short-circuiting.

"But... my lord..." she stammered, her face on fire with a shame so deep it was nauseating. "That’s... that’s... I’d be... naked. Completely naked. Outside..."

"Yes," he said, his voice flat and hard, all the charm gone again. "That’s the point. You failed. This is your punishment. Now, put. It. On."

Normally, she would have died. She would have screamed, slapped him, run. But she... she couldn’t.

Alaric’s charm, his power over her, the way he had... rewired her... it was a drug in her veins. A poison she now craved.

She looked at the humiliating outfit. She looked at his cold, expectant, displeased face. And the desperate, pathetic need to please him, to make him smile at her again, to make him forgive her, was stronger than her own pride.

She just... numbly nodded. Her mind was fogged with lust, and fear, and that desperate, cringing desire.

Alaric’s wicked smile returned. "Good girl," he purred.

He sat on her cot, completely at ease, and watched her. "Hurry up. We don’t have all night. I want to see you in it."

With trembling, clumsy fingers, she began to undress.

She finally got the... thing... on. It was worse than she’d imagined. It was mortifying. Her full breasts were on display, the tiny lace patches only covering her nipples, and just barely. The bottom piece was a joke, the see-through lace hiding nothing, the straps framing her pussy and her bare buttocks. She was, for all intents and purposes, naked.

"Perfect," Alaric purred, his eyes devouring her. "Absolutely perfect. Now..."

He stood up and pulled her close, his hand immediately cupping her bare buttock, his thumb pressing into the stinging red mark from his earlier spanking. She whimpered.

"Now, we’re going for a walk," he whispered, his voice thick with a new, dark excitement.

"A... a walk?" she stammered, her mind screaming in panic. "Outside? Like... like this?"

"Of course," he said, as if it were the most normal thing in the world. "And then... I’m going to fuck you."

He leaned in, his hot breath a caress against her ear.

"Right near your father’s pavilion. Right outside in the cold night air. Where he and your lovely new stepmother are sleeping. Maybe... if you’re loud enough... they’ll even hear you."

She finally, finally, realized what he had said. The full, horrifying, thrilling reality of it hit her.

Outside. Naked. Where anyone could see. Where her father could hear.

Her eyes went wide as saucers, her face a mask of pure, abject terror... and a deep, dark, twisted thrill that made her pussy clench and her knees go weak.