Harem Master: Seduction System

Chapter 340: Fucking The Mother-in-law

Alaric started fucking Elaine.

His rhythm was slow, deep, almost methodical. He was testing her, seeing what, if anything, was left inside that empty, porcelain shell.

Her body responded on pure, base instinct. Her hips tilted to meet his thrusts. Her wetness was slick and plentiful. But she was dead. Her mind was a thousand miles away, her face a mask of still water. There were no moans. No gasps. No clenching of her muscles around him.

It was, he thought, like fucking a beautiful corpse.

And it was starting to piss him off.

’Damn it,’ he thought, his own pleasure fading in the face of her total, lifeless acceptance. ’I didn’t go to all this trouble to fuck a doll.’

He decided to get rougher. Maybe pain was the key.

He pulled her hair, hard, snapping her head back.

Nothing. She just took it, her neck arching obediently.

He bit her shoulder, his teeth sinking into the soft, motherly flesh, hard enough to leave a dark, angry mark.

She flinches, a tiny, animalistic jerk of her muscles, but she made no sound. Just that same, dead-eyed (behind the blindness) acceptance.

He slapped her ass. WHAP. The sound was loud, cracking in the steamy air of the grotto.

She just... took it.

’Damn it all!’ he thought, genuinely frustrated now. ’She’s completely shut down. How do I break through this? She’s built walls thicker than a fortress.’

He hated this. He wanted the screams. The begging. The passion. He wanted the fight, the surrender. This... this was boring.

He stopped thrusting, but stayed deep inside her. He needed to find her weakness. Her anchor. What did she care about?

He remembered Kate’s intel. Completely devoted to him. Clearly not, or she’d be more into this "Reginald" performance. Eleanor’s mother.

That was it. The daughter. The key.

He leaned in close, his voice dropping back into Reginald’s weak, whining, reedy tone.

"You know, Elaine," he began casually, giving a single, deep, testing thrust. "I’ve been thinking... about Eleanor."

He felt it.

A tiny, fractional tensing of her entire body. Her inner muscles clenched around his cock for just a second, a small, involuntary spasm.

Bingo. He’d found the live wire.

"She’s becoming... rather demanding lately," he continued, his voice a long-suffering complaint. He sounded like a weak, henpecked husband. "Very willful. Not like a proper, obedient princess should be. At all."

Elaine remained silent, her body still, but he could feel the tension coiling inside her like a spring. She was listening now. Oh, yes. Every word.

"All this talk of alliances... of power..." he sighed, sounding weary and weak. "And... and she keeps arguing with my new Queen. With Kate. Constantly!"

He decided to really twist the knife. "She’s... she’s telling me how to run my kingdom! Can you believe the nerve?"

"She..." Elaine’s voice was a tiny, hesitant whisper. "She’s just... spirited, my King."

"Spirited?" he scoffed. "She’s rude! She even said... she said I made a mistake."

"A mistake?"

"Mm-hmm," he said, rubbing her back in a fake, comforting circle. "She said... she said I should have kept you as my Queen. That you were better."

He felt her heart jump under his hand. He was playing her like a fiddle.

"Frankly, as her father," he huffed, "I’m getting tired of it. So, so tired. An ungrateful child, that’s what she is. After all I’ve done for her."

He let the next threat hang in the air, heavy as a block of ice.

"Maybe... maybe she needs to be silenced. Put back in her place."

"What... what do you mean?" Elaine’s voice was no longer flat. It was trembling.

"Silenced? My King?"

"I mean," he said, his voice dropping, "perhaps a... simpler life... would suit her better. Away from the court."

"Away?"

"Far away," he confirmed. "A convent in the northern mountains. Where she can’t... interfere... with state business. Or with my marriage to my new Queen."

He let the threat land. He counted to three.

It worked. Like flipping a switch.

The emotionless, broken mask shattered.

A raw, ragged sob tore from Elaine’s throat.

"No!" she cried out, her voice suddenly alive with raw, desperate, animal panic.

She started struggling against him, her hands pushing weakly at his chest, her body, which had been limp, now thrashing against his.

"No, Reginald! Please! Don’t hurt her! Don’t send her away! She’s all I have!"

Tears started streaming from behind her magically sealed eyelids. He could hear the wetness in her voice, the sound of her heart breaking.

"She’s just young!" she sobbed, clinging to him now. "She doesn’t understand! She’s just... she’s just like I was! Spirited! Please, my love! My King! She’s our daughter! Don’t hurt our daughter!"

Alaric almost felt a flicker of pity. Almost. It was a powerful performance. But mostly, he just felt triumph. He’d found the key. He’d owned her.

"I won’t," he said, his voice softening again, slipping back into Reginald’s weak, placating tone. "Of course not. I... I was just... venting. How could I hurt my own flesh and blood?"

Elaine collapsed against him, her body going limp again, but this time with relief. She was sobbing, her breath hitching, her arms wrapped around his neck. "Oh, thank you... thank you, my love... thank you..."

"But," Alaric added, his voice hardening just slightly.

He gave her buttock a sharp, stinging spank. WHAP.

She flinched, gasping, her body tensing again. "My... my King?" she whispered, confused through her tears.

"It will depend," he said, his voice cold, "on your... performance."

"Performance?" she repeated, not understanding.

"Mm-hmm," he confirmed. His hands went back to her massive, motherly breasts. He wasn’t gentle this time. He fondled them strongly, possessively. "You need to show me how devoted you are. How... grateful... you are."

"I am grateful! I am!"

"Good," he said. "You need to show me how much you want to protect dear Eleanor. You need to be good at using... these."

He squeezed her breasts, hard. Then he pinched her nipples, twisting them.

"Ah!" she cried out, a jolt of pain and a strange, unwelcome flicker of pleasure.

Understanding dawned in her tear-filled (unseen) eyes. Shame warred with desperation.

The desperation won. It wasn’t even a contest.

"Yes," she whispered, her voice trembling, broken. "Yes, my King. Whatever you want. Anything. Just... just keep her safe. Please, I’ll do anything."

"Good," he said, satisfied. He pulled out of her pussy.

She whimpered at the loss, her body aching for him, even in her despair.

"Let’s start now," he said. He pushed her head down towards his lap. "Show me how grateful you are."

She obeyed.

He had her pleasure him with her mouth, her hands, her breasts. He was crude, demanding. He made her talk dirty, made her praise his (Reginald’s) cock.

"Tell me how much you love it," he’d command.

"I... I love it, my King," she’d sob.

"Tell me it’s the only cock you want."

"It’s the only cock I want..."

All the while, he whispered poison in her ear. "You’re doing so well, Elaine. Eleanor is so safe right now. But if you stop... if you’re boring... maybe I’ll rethink that convent..."

He pulled her head up and pushed her down onto the ledge, fucking her tits, rubbing his shaft between the massive, soft globes. He groaned, "Gods, you were made for this... so perfect..."

He rode her breasts until he climaxed, his body shuddering, spraying his hot seed all over her face, her chest, her hair.

She just froze, trembling, covered in his filth.

"Lick it up," he commanded, his voice flat. "All of it. Show me your devotion."

She did. Tears of shame and humiliation streamed down her face as she cleaned him with her tongue.

The moment she was done, he flipped her over onto her stomach on the ledge. "Time for the main course."

He entered her pussy again, from behind, hard and fast. No slow build-up this time.

"Ah!" she cried out.

As he was pounding into her, as she was sobbing and trying desperately to moan convincingly for her daughter’s sake, he leaned down again.

"By the way," he whispered, his voice suddenly changing.

It lost Reginald’s reedy, weak tone. It became his own voice. Smooth, deep, powerful, and chillingly dangerous.

"Just so you know who’s really fucking you..."

Elaine’s blood ran cold. That... that wasn’t Reginald’s voice.

He reached up and gently touched her eyelids. "Reveal."

He removed the blindness spell. Just for her.

Her eyes flew open. The first thing she saw was the steaming water of the pool. The floating, unconscious forms of the other concubines. Kate, watching from the far side with a cold, amused smile.

Then she felt him pull her hair, forcing her to look back.

She saw his face. His real face. The handsome, demonic, young face of the man who had been at the Conclave. The man her daughter had talked about.

He was grinning down at her.

"The name’s Alaric Steele," he said, his voice a smooth, dangerous purr as he kept pounding into her. "Eleanor’s boyfriend."

He leaned in closer, his smile widening.

"Nice to meet you... Mother-in-law."

Elaine’s mind just... broke.

The shock was too much. Alaric Steele? The Jorailian Duke? Eleanor’s... Alaric? Fucking her? While pretending to be Reginald? Threatening her daughter? Using her daughter to blackmail her?

A silent, agonizing scream ripped through her. It was too much. Too much violation. Too much deception.

She tried to buck him off, to hit him, to kill him. "Get off me! You MONSTER!" she shrieked, her voice raw with a pain that was beyond physical. "What have you DONE?!"

Alaric just laughed. He laughed. And his hips didn’t even slow down. He just kept pounding into her, his strength absolute.

"Calm down, my dear Elaine," he said, his voice casual, as if they were discussing the weather. "Your body’s still enjoying it. Don’t lie. You’re drenched for me."

"How could you?!" she sobbed, her struggles useless against his iron grip. "My daughter! My... my baby!"

"Is fine," he said smoothly. "For now. And she’ll stay fine... as long as my dear new mother-in-law keeps me happy. Right?"

"You... you tricked and fooled me!" she screamed.

"I did," he admitted easily. "And don’t scream so much. Think about it, Elaine. If you make a fuss... if you try to fight me... I’ll just have to tell dear Eleanor everything."

"Tell her what? That you raped her mother?!"

"No," he said, his voice mockingly innocent. "I’ll tell her how her loving mother seduced me. How she begged me for my cock. How she screamed my name. How she swallowed for me."

"I DIDN’T!" she sobbed. "You tricked me! You forced me!"

"Did I?" he asked, his voice full of false pity. "Or did you just finally get the fucking you always wanted? Who will Eleanor believe, hmm? Me, her new, powerful, exciting lover? Or her mother who has been completely drenched with my cum?"

The words hit her like a physical blow. He was right. Eleanor... she was young. She was in love (or lust) with this... this monster. She wouldn’t believe her. She would see her as a rival.

Elaine went completely still beneath him. He felt the fight drain out of her like water from a broken cup. All that was left was a cold, dead, hollow despair.

He had trapped her. Completely.

"What... what do you want from me?" she whispered, her voice hollow.

"Simple," he said, his rhythm becoming slow and deep again, a conquering, possessive beat that hammered his ownership into her with every thrust. "You do exactly what I tell you. You become my perfect, obedient toy."

"A toy..."

"A toy," he confirmed. "You use this lovely, motherly body..." he slapped her ass again, hard. "To make me happy. Whenever I want. However I want."

"And... and you won’t tell Eleanor?" she pleaded, her last, desperate hope. "You won’t hurt her?"

"Not if you’re good," he promised, his voice a silken chain. "Not if you’re entertaining."

"But," he leaned in again, his voice a venomous whisper that chilled her to the bone. "If you disobey me... if you bore me... if you ever fail to please me... well. I have to release all this frustration somewhere. And it can either be on you... or on her."

"No..." she whimpered.

"With you," he continued, "I’ll be... lustful. Creative. We’ll have fun. But with her? If you make me angry? I might get... aggressive. I might... hurt her. Accidentally, of course. She’s so fragile, after all. It would be a shame if she... broke."

Elaine started sobbing again, raw, broken sobs. "No... please... don’t hurt her... I’ll do anything... anything..."

"I know you will," he said softly.

He kissed her then. A deep, possessive kiss that tasted like her tears. She kissed him back, a desperate, frantic, broken kiss. She was sealing her own fate. Sacrificing her body, her honor, her soul, for her daughter.

Alaric felt a dark, thrilling surge of pure fun. Being the villain... it was exquisite. Making this desperate, noble mother take all his dark lust just to protect her child... it was the ultimate power play.

"Good," he said, breaking the kiss. "Now, let’s practice your devotion."

He fucked her for hours more. All through the evening, as the sun set and the moon rose high, painting the grotto in silver and shadows.

He pulled her out of the pool, his hands rough. "Dance for me," he commanded. "On the rocks. Naked. While you weep for your lost honor." She did, her body moving gracefully, tears streaming down her face, her sobs the only music.

He fucked her on the cold, hard rocks, her wet body gleaming in the moonlight. He made her call him "Master."

"Say it," he commanded, his hand in her hair, pulling her head back as he pounded into her.

"Master..." she sobbed. "Please, Master..."

"Louder. Mean it."

"Master! Master!" she screamed.

He made her say filthy things. He made her describe what he was doing to her. He made her thank him for it.

By midnight, she was as broken and spent as the other four concubines, who were still floating, unconscious, at the edge of the pool. A discarded bouquet of ruined flowers.

He finally, finally, climaxed inside her one last time, a deep, shuddering groan that seemed to echo in the night.

He pulled out, his work done. He looked at Kate, who was watching from the edge, her eyes wide with a mixture of fear and intense arousal.

"Let’s go," he said.

He didn’t bother with the other concubines. He just left them there. He grabbed the trembling, weeping Elaine, who could barely stand, and hauled her to her feet. He threw a robe over her.

He carried her, not back to the King’s pavilion, but to her own private, secluded pavilion on the edge of the camp. It was small, but clean.

He took Kate with them.

He threw Elaine onto her own soft, lonely bed. He climbed in beside her. He pulled the still-dressed Queen Kate in on his other side, pulling her against his back.

"Sleep," he commanded.

He fell asleep instantly. His cock, still half-hard, was buried deep inside Elaine’s tight, motherly pussy. His arm was wrapped around Kate’s waist, his hand resting possessively on her large breast.

He slept the sleep of a satisfied monster, surrounded by his new prizes, while a King snored alone, oblivious to the fact that his entire world had just been stolen from him.