Primordial Villain with a Slave Harem

Chapter 1294  Big News

Quinlan woke to warmth, softness, and the slow rise and fall of a dozen satisfied breaths.

His sinful den, the master bedroom, looked like the aftermath of a festival dedicated solely to pleasure. Limbs were tangled across silk sheets. Hair spilled over pillows. Bare shoulders peeked from half-slipped blankets. Every woman wore the same expression: that hazy, blissed-out look that came only after being thoroughly, relentlessly ruined.

He let his eyes drift over them with a lazy pride.

He'd worked hard for those expressions.

He intended to enjoy the view.

But just then, a low, rhythmic slurping sensation started to register through the haze of his contentment. It was a wet, insistent sound that didn't quite fit the symphony of sleepy sighs and slow breaths filling the room.

His lazy pride sharpened into sudden awareness.

He did a quick mental count, eyes sweeping over the beautiful, tangled mass of women.

One was missing.

"Lucille?" he muttered, scanning the luxurious expanse of his bed. She wasn't anywhere.

Just then, a second loud slurp sound drew his gaze downward. He lifted the silk covering his body, and there she was.

The gorgeous caramel-haired woman. She was kneeling between his legs. Her eyes, usually bright and cheerful, were half-lidded, utterly lost in a private, blissful fog. She was moving with a slow, hypnotic rhythm, her cheeks drawing in and out, her focus completely internal.

She wasn't looking at him for encouragement or reaction. She was suckling on him as if he were the world's tastiest lollipop, savoring him with an almost devotional slowness. In this moment, she was acting purely for her own deep, sensual enjoyment.

A slow grin stretched across Quinlan's face. The sight was intoxicating. He reached out, his hand finding the soft thickness of her hair, gently letting the woman know that he was watching now. And just like that, Lucille's pace intensified. Now aware that she was no longer blowing her sleeping man but the Quinlan who was paying rapt attention, Lucille utilized all the experience that made the man call her his 'Throat Goat.'

Her sensual licking, done for self-satisfaction, turned to one that the woman believed both of them could enjoy equally. Soon, Quinlan, with a groan, pushed down, giving the beautiful woman exactly what she was seeking. A moment later, his body convulsed, sending a thick, hot torrent down her throat.

Lucille didn't break the seal; her lips stayed gripping his shaft possessively. Her gorgeously defined throat worked powerfully, a quick, elegant motion as she gulped his seed down repeatedly.

As she was swallowing, a profound, beautiful smile unfolded on her lips, a look of ultimate, satisfying devotion.

Her eyes, still glazed with pleasure, finally traveled upward, meeting Quinlan's gaze with a sweet warmth.

<Good morning, my love...> she whispered right into his mind, using [Master's Link] as her mouth was busy.

<Damn… You certainly know how to keep a man satisfied…> Quinlan muttered, eliciting merry giggling from his lover as she finished gulping his seed down, parting her lips and showing him her empty mouth.

Quinlan merely shook his head, falling for this woman all over again - just like he did every single morning. Lucille was a dutiful wife.

But before he could sink back into the pillows to enjoy what was to come, as he knew that Lucille was a very needy woman, especially when the rest of the harem was asleep, a dozen voices slammed into his mind at once.

<My lord-!>

<-the king-!>

<-emergency-!>

<-we just received-!>

<-you must-!>

All of them overlapped, frantic, cutting into each other until the noise felt like it was drilling through his skull.

<Silence.>

The mental voices stopped instantly.

It was Lucille who ordered their immediate silence. Seeing that her man was no longer about to suffer migraines, the caramel-haired bombshell began working his shaft, letting him take over.

He exhaled, <Eric. You start.>

<My lord, the king has made a declaration. 'The Primordial Villain is to be classified as a force equivalent to an entire hostile nation, a singular force capable of bringing ruin to the Vraven Kingdom on his own.'>

Quinlan's eyes opened fully.

Eric continued.

<He enacted the Royal Stabilization Mandate. Effective immediately, the king now holds wartime authority across the entire Vraven Kingdom, not only the royal lands.>

A slow grin grew across Quinlan's face.

<Huh… so the old bastard made his move.>

Soon, the rest of the nobles gave their reports as well, and it became clear that they were here to deliver the same news. <The speed of your reporting is excellent. You've all delivered the core news. Well done.>

He paused, letting the praise sink in. <Continue your work. Monitor the political fallout and the movement of the kingdom. From here on out, we'll be holding a meeting like this every morning, but if you receive critical news, you're to report immediately, no matter what.>

<Understood, My Lord!>

<Yes, Master.>

<By your will.>

The dozen mental presences withdrew instantly, leaving only the pleasant connection of the [Master's Link] connecting him to the one woman still working tirelessly between his legs.

Lucille, bobbing her head up and down at a comfortable pace, injected a dry comment directly into his mind.

<He certainly is a busy old man.>

Quinlan chuckled. He reached behind and pulled the nearest sleeping woman, Kitsara, closer to him. The foxkin purred something incoherent but remained asleep. He maneuvered her soft, beautifully curved butt to use it as his pillow, then laced both hands beneath his head, settling back. This position allowed him to fully observe the glorious, mesmerizing sight of his harem head giving the perfect head.

He repeated the King's declaration. <A threat on the level of a hostile alliance of nations, huh...? I feel like I'm being given a bit too much credit here.>

Lucille gave him a knowing look and began massaging his balls with both hands while saying, <Maybe so...> She conceded. Her mental voice was that of a low purr. <It could indeed be interpreted as a political move solely, letting Alexios use you as a tool to give him the ability to declare this wartime emergency.>

Then, with a sudden, beautiful intensity, Lucille took him all the way in her throat and kept him there for long seconds, her gaze locked on his.

There was no gagging whatsoever despite his size; this was a true master at work.

<But maybe not.> she continued in his head. <Alexios is a smart man, my love. He knows you might be weaker than the peak, let alone a whole nation. But soon? Soon, you'll become a threat he can't contain. Furthermore, aren't you already one? There's no nation or syndicate that can do what you did last night.>

She slowly drew back, her throat gripping him sensually.

<You assaulted a dozen - that he knows of - nobles in their estates, skipping over defense lines, slipping in unseen by the guards and patrols. If utilized correctly, you could already bring ruin to the country, theoretically speaking...>

Quinlan said nothing, letting her words sink in. The threat assessment was correct. His sole Primordial Villain spell that came with the class's unlocking way back when he started said it was the perfect tool for a villain.

And the spell description was completely right.

It offered a surgical level of infiltration and destabilization that a conventional army simply couldn't match. A single villain who could dismantle the aristocracy from the inside out was perhaps more terrifying than any number of large armies at the gate.

He spent the next couple of minutes simply mulling his woman's words over with a comfortable, thoughtful silence settling between them on the mental link. He enjoyed the rhythmic, blissful work of her mouth and hands, the physical pleasure acting as a perfect counterpoint to the political calculus. He watched her features shift between rapt devotion and fierce intelligence, a combination he found endlessly stimulating.

The quiet enjoyment of the moment, the satisfaction of the attack, and the serious nature of the King's response coalesced into a single, decisive intention. It was time to move.

Just as he felt the rush of heat and pleasure and shot into her belly a second time, Quinlan opened his mental link wider.

<It's time to wake up, my sleeping beauties. We've got work to do.>

All at once, the women lounging in various states of undress and deep sleep on the massive bed stirred. A wave of motion swept across the silk sheets as a dozen pairs of eyelids fluttered open, revealing eyes ranging from soft grey to fierce emerald, all immediately sharp and focused. They were no longer the exhausted mistresses of his pleasure but the alert, intelligent members of his forces.

The morning had officially begun.