Chapter 174 Cassandra’s Humble Request

Cassandra whispers, her voice still raspy from exertion and… everything else, “Alaric?”

Alaric hums in response, his hands still lazily fondling her breasts, his fingers tracing circles around her nipples. ‘Her tits are so soft,’ he thinks, a wave of possessive satisfaction washing over him. ‘Perfect handfuls.’

“Could we…” Cassandra hesitates, her cheeks flushing again, even after everything they’ve just done. “Could we maybe… next time… do this in a bedroom?” She rushes the last part out, her gaze fixed on the grass, avoiding his eyes. “Or… or somewhere… romantic?”

‘Romantic?’ Alaric thinks, a smirk tugging at his lips. ‘She wants romantic? After all this raw fucking in a training field?’ But he doesn’t dismiss her immediately. He’s curious.

“It’s just a request,” Cassandra continues, her voice barely above a whisper, laced with a tremor of fear. “You can… you can say no. I just thought… maybe…” She trails off, unable to articulate her jumbled thoughts and feelings. ‘Please don’t be angry,’ she thinks, her heart pounding. ‘Please don’t make it worse.’

To her utter surprise, Alaric chuckles softly, a low rumble in his chest, and then, he actually hugs her. His arms wrap around her, pulling her close, his body warm and solid against hers. ‘He’s… hugging me?’ Cassandra thinks, her mind completely blank for a moment, unable to process this unexpected tenderness.

“A bedroom, huh?” Alaric murmurs, his breath warm against her hair. “Romantic places?” He pulls back slightly, just enough to look down at her, his ruby eyes softer now, almost… gentle? Cassandra can’t quite believe what she’s seeing.

“Yeah, Auntie,” he says, a hint of amusement still in his voice, but it’s not cruel amusement, not sadistic. “I can do that. I can keep your request in mind.” His hands are still on her breasts, his thumbs now gently stroking her nipples, sending shivers of warmth through her.

‘He… he agreed?’ Cassandra thinks, stunned. ‘He actually agreed? Just like that?’ Relief washes over her, so potent it almost makes her weak. She’d been so prepared for anger, for mockery, for more punishment, and instead… this.

“Really?” she whispers, her voice still shaky, still unsure. “You… you will?”

Alaric smirks again, but this time it’s softer, almost… fond? “Yeah, Auntie,” he says, his voice low and intimate. “For you. But…” The tone shifts, a hint of steel creeping back in. “That’s only if you continue to be a good girl for me. If you continue to be… compliant.”

‘Compliant,’ Cassandra thinks, the word echoing in her mind. ‘That’s the price. Compliance. But… after everything, is that really so much to ask?’ Compared to the raw, untamed pleasure, the shattering ecstasy, the complete surrender… compliance seems like a small price to pay.

“Yes,” she says, her voice stronger now, more certain. “Yes, Alaric. I will be… compliant.” She meets his gaze, her purple eyes locking with his ruby ones, a strange understanding passing between them, a silent agreement sealed in lust and submission.

Alaric smiles, a genuine smile this time, not predatory, not cruel, but… almost… loving? ‘Loving?’ Cassandra thinks, a faint flutter in her chest. ‘Could it be…?’ No, she dismisses the thought immediately. That’s ridiculous. This is Alaric. Love isn’t part of his equation.

“Good girl,” he murmurs, his voice soft, almost tender. He leans down, kissing her gently this time, a soft, lingering kiss that tastes of sandalwood and… something else, something sweeter, something… caring? Cassandra melts into the kiss, her body relaxing against his, her mind finally starting to quiet, to find a strange sort of peace.

They lie there for a while longer, just holding each other, the setting sun painting the sky in hues of orange and purple, the sounds of the training field fading into the evening quiet. Alaric’s hands continue to roam over her body, exploring, caressing, teasing, but now, it’s different. It’s gentler, more affectionate, less demanding, less… brutal.

Cassandra closes her eyes, letting herself sink into the moment, into the unexpected tenderness, the strange sense of… connection? ‘Is this… love?’ she wonders again, a foolish, hopeful thought flickering in her mind. ‘No, it can’t be. But… it feels… nice.’

Then, Alaric’s voice, low and casual, breaks the comfortable silence, shattering the fragile illusion of tenderness. “You know, Auntie,” he says, his tone conversational, almost… nonchalant. “That night… the night we first fucked?”

Cassandra tenses slightly, a knot of apprehension tightening in her stomach. ‘What’s he going to say?’ she thinks, her heart starting to pound again.

“Yeah?” she asks, her voice cautious, wary.

“Well,” Alaric continues, still casual, still nonchalant, “before I came to you… I fucked Fiora.”

Silence hangs in the air, thick and heavy, the comfortable quiet shattered, replaced by a deafening emptiness. Cassandra’s breath catches in her throat, her body freezing, her mind… blank. ‘Fiora?’ she thinks, the name echoing in her mind, cold and sharp. ‘He… he fucked Fiora?’

“What?” she manages to whisper, her voice barely audible, her purple eyes widening, staring up at him, searching his face for… something, anything.

Alaric shrugs, still casual, still nonchalant, as if he’s talking about the weather. “Yeah,” he says, confirming her worst fears. “Took her virginity and all that. Had a couple of rounds with her. But…” He pauses, a hint of… dissatisfaction? creeping into his voice. “It wasn’t… enough. Not really.”

‘Not enough?’ Cassandra thinks, her mind struggling to process the casual cruelty of his words. ‘He… he fucked my daughter, took her virginity, and it wasn’t even enough for him?’ A cold dread washes over her, a chilling realization of the depths of his depravity.

“That’s why I came to you, Auntie,” Alaric continues, his voice now taking on a slightly more intimate tone, his hand stroking her cheek, his thumb tracing the line of her jaw. “You… you were what I really wanted. You were what I really needed.”

‘Needed?’ Cassandra thinks, a bitter laugh bubbling up inside her. ‘He needed me? After defiling my daughter? After… everything?’ The absurdity of it all is almost comical, if it wasn’t so utterly devastating.

She stares at him, her expression blank, emotionless, her purple eyes devoid of… anything. Anger? Rage? Disgust? They’re all there, swirling inside her, a chaotic mess of conflicting emotions, but they’re all… muted, dulled, overshadowed by a profound sense of… exhaustion. Emotional exhaustion. Spiritual exhaustion. Just… exhaustion.

“How… how was she?” Cassandra asks, her voice flat, devoid of inflection, the question slipping out before she can stop herself, a morbid curiosity overriding her shock and horror.

Alaric smirks again, a hint of pride in his eyes. “Exquisite,” he says, his voice low and satisfied. “Just like you. But… different. Younger. Tighter. Sweeter.” He pauses, his gaze locking with hers, his ruby eyes intense, possessive. “But don’t worry, Auntie. I won’t let her go either. She’s mine now too.”

‘Mine too,’ Cassandra thinks, the words echoing in her mind, a chilling confirmation of her worst fears. ‘He… he wants both of us. Mother and daughter. He wants to own us both.’ And the terrifying truth is, he probably will.

“But,” Alaric adds, his voice softening again, a hint of… something akin to reassurance? “I was gentle with her, Auntie. Really gentle. It was her first time, after all.”

‘Gentle,’ Cassandra thinks, the word a small, fragile lifeline in the overwhelming darkness. ‘He was gentle with Fiora. He didn’t… break her. Not like he broke me.’ Relief washes over her again, unexpected, illogical, but undeniably present. Relief that her daughter wasn’t subjected to the same raw brutality she had just endured. Relief that Fiora, at least, might still have some semblance of innocence left.

“Good,” Cassandra whispers, her voice still flat, still emotionless, but with a faint undercurrent of… gratitude? ‘Grateful?’ she thinks, horrified by her own reaction. ‘Grateful that he was gentle with my daughter while he… while he did that to me?’ But the relief is real, undeniable, a testament to the extent of her brokenness.

“Alaric,” Cassandra says, her voice gaining a sliver of strength, a flicker of… something resembling resolve? “If you… if you want raw sex… if you want to… use me… any way you want…” She swallows hard, forcing the words out. “You can. You can do whatever you want to my body. I… I accept it.”

Alaric raises an eyebrow, intrigued, a predatory gleam returning to his ruby eyes. “You do?” he asks, his voice laced with amusement. “You really accept it, Auntie?”

“Yes,” Cassandra says, her voice surprisingly firm, surprisingly steady. “Yes, I do. Just… just please… be gentle with Fiora. Please… be romantic with her. Please… don’t… don’t break her like you broke me.”

‘Break her like you broke me,’ she thinks, the words a silent admission of her own shattered state. ‘I’m already broken. But maybe… maybe I can protect Fiora. Maybe I can save her from the worst of it. Maybe I can… sacrifice myself for her.’

Alaric smirks, a slow, sinister grin spreading across his face. “Romantic with Fiora, raw with you?” he repeats, his voice low, seductive, dangerous. “Hmm… I like that. I like that arrangement very much, Auntie.”

He leans down, kissing her again, this time with a possessive, almost triumphant hunger. Cassandra kisses him back, her body responding automatically, her mind still numb, still reeling, but a strange sense of… acceptance settling within her.

‘Romantic with Fiora, raw with me,’ she thinks, the words echoing in her mind, a new reality, a new order. ‘It’s… depraved. Utterly depraved.’ But in her broken state, in her exhausted mind, it also feels… almost… right? Almost… acceptable? Almost… even… desirable?

She’s lost. Completely and utterly lost.

After their conversation, a comfortable silence settles between them, a silence punctuated only by their ragged breaths and the rustling of leaves in the gentle evening breeze. Alaric watches as Cassandra slowly begins to dress, her movements languid, betraying her exhaustion.

‘Damn, even exhausted she’s hot,’ Alaric thinks, his gaze lingering on her sweaty, glistening skin. Her breasts, still flushed from his attentions, sway slightly as she reaches for her chemise. He enjoys the way she moves, the slow, deliberate grace of a woman utterly spent, utterly satisfied, even if that satisfaction is tinged with shame.

“Need help, Auntie?” Alaric asks, his voice soft, a hint of teasing in his tone.

Cassandra glances at him, a faint blush still coloring her cheeks. “No,” she whispers, her voice still a little hoarse. “I can manage.” But her fingers fumble slightly with the chemise ties, betraying her true state.

Alaric smirks, but doesn’t push it. He watches, content, as she slowly dresses, each movement a subtle display of her alluring exhaustion. The way her dress clings to her damp skin, outlining the curves of her body, the way her hair is tousled and messy, framing her flushed face – it all adds to the raw, sensual picture she presents.

‘Sweaty and spent,’ Alaric thinks, a possessive warmth spreading through him. ‘Perfect.’ He starts to dress himself, his movements quicker, more efficient, his body still humming with the afterglow of their intense encounter.

Once they are both dressed, albeit still slightly disheveled, Alaric offers Cassandra his hand. “Come on, Auntie,” he says, his voice gentle. “Let’s head back. Wouldn’t want to worry Mother and Fiora.”

Cassandra takes his hand, her grip surprisingly firm despite her exhaustion. As they start to walk, Alaric notices she’s limping slightly. “Sore, Auntie?” he asks, a hint of amusement in his voice.

Cassandra shrugs, avoiding his gaze. “A little,” she admits, her cheeks flushing again.

Alaric chuckles softly. “Good,” he murmurs, squeezing her hand gently. “Means I did my job right.” He enjoys seeing her like this, marked by him, claimed by him, her body still echoing with the memory of their shared pleasure.

As they walk back towards the main training fields, they hear the rhythmic clang of steel and the sharp cracks of sparring blows. Lyra and Fiora are still at it, their dedication unwavering.

‘Good,’ Alaric thinks. ‘Keep them busy. Keep them distracted.’ He’s not quite ready to face their curious gazes just yet, not after what he and Cassandra just did.

As they approach, Lyra and Fiora finally notice them. They stop their sparring, turning towards them, their faces flushed and sweaty from their own training.

“Alaric! Mother!” Fiora exclaims, her emerald eyes bright with youthful enthusiasm. “You’re back! Did you two spar a lot? You’re both sweating buckets!” She giggles, oblivious to the true reason for their perspiration.

Lyra’s gaze is more perceptive, her emerald eyes narrowing slightly as she takes in their appearance. She notices Cassandra’s slight limp, the flush on her cheeks, the subtle dishevelment of her clothing. But she doesn’t comment on it directly.

“Sister,” Lyra greets Cassandra, her voice warm and affectionate. “You look… flushed. Did Alaric push you too hard?” She smiles knowingly, a hint of teasing in her tone, but also genuine concern.

Cassandra manages a weak smile in return, avoiding Lyra’s gaze. “Just… intense training,” she says, her voice still a little hoarse. “Alaric is… a demanding instructor.”

Alaric chuckles, playing along with the charade. “Just helping Aunt Cassandra reach her full potential, Mother,” he says, his voice smoothly innocent. “She’s a Master Martialist, after all. Needs to train like one.”

Fiora bounces on the balls of her feet, her eyes wide with admiration as she looks at Cassandra. “Mother, you’re radiating so much Battle Aura!” she exclaims, her voice filled with excitement. “I can really feel it now! It’s so strong!”

Lyra nods, her gaze shifting back to Cassandra, a genuine smile gracing her lips this time. “Indeed, sister,” she confirms, sensing the shift in Cassandra’s energy. “You’ve made incredible progress. Whatever Alaric is doing, it’s working wonders.”

Cassandra’s cheeks flush even hotter, shame and a strange sense of pride warring within her. ‘They can sense it,’ she thinks, a jolt of fear mixed with… something else. ‘They can sense the power… the power he gave me.’ But they don’t know how he gave it to her. They don’t know the price she paid.

Fiora, oblivious to the undercurrents swirling around them, claps her hands together excitedly. “Alaric,” she says, turning her bright gaze to him, “next time, can I train with you all day? Just me and you? I want to learn how to unleash my Battle Aura like Mother!”

Cassandra’s face twitches, a strange, involuntary grimace twisting her lips. ‘Train with him all day?’ she thinks, a wave of nausea washing over her. ‘Fiora… doesn’t know… what she’s asking for.’ But she can’t say anything. Not in front of Lyra. Not in front of Alaric.

She opens her mouth to speak, to perhaps gently dissuade Fiora, to steer her away from Alaric’s “specialized training,” but no words come out. She just stares at Fiora, her expression a mixture of pain, resignation, and a desperate, futile protectiveness.

Alaric, however, responds instantly, his smile warm and charming, utterly disarming. “Of course, Fiora,” he says, his voice gentle, his ruby eyes softening as he looks at her. “I’d be happy to train with you all day. You’re a fast learner, and you have so much potential.”

Fiora beams, her face lighting up with pure joy. “Really? Oh, thank you, Alaric! That would be amazing!” She jumps up and down, her youthful enthusiasm infectious, completely unaware of the dark undercurrents flowing beneath the surface of their seemingly innocent conversation.

As the training session concludes, the four of them stroll back towards the mansion, the sounds of their footsteps and casual chatter filling the evening air.

“I’m starving,” Fiora declares, her youthful energy still unflagging despite the intense training. “All that sparring has worked up my appetite. Mother, are you hungry?”

Cassandra manages a weak smile, her body still pleasantly aching. “Famished,” she admits, her voice regaining some of its strength. “A hot bath and then a good meal sounds heavenly.”

Lyra nods in agreement, her emerald eyes twinkling. “Indeed. And perhaps a glass of wine to soothe these tired muscles?” She glances at Alaric, a knowing smirk playing on her lips. “What about you, son? Did you exhaust yourself pushing Cassandra so hard?”

Alaric chuckles, easily matching her playful tone. “Never, Mother. But even a monstrous genius like myself appreciates a good meal after a hard day’s work. And perhaps…” he winks at Cassandra, his ruby eyes glinting mischievously, “…a relaxing bath.”

Cassandra’s cheeks flush slightly again, but she meets his gaze this time, a faint smile gracing her lips. ‘A bath with him,’ she thinks, a shiver of anticipation running down her spine. ‘In a bedroom this time. As requested.’

They reach the mansion and part ways, Lyra and Fiora heading towards the dining hall, their voices fading as they discuss dinner options. Cassandra, with a lingering glance at Alaric, makes her way to the room assigned to her.

Inside, she closes the door behind her, a sigh of relief escaping her lips. She leans against the door for a moment, listening, ensuring she’s alone. ‘He’ll come,’ she thinks, a certainty settling within her. ‘He always does.’

With slow, deliberate movements, she begins to undress, shedding her sweaty training clothes, letting them fall to the floor in a heap. The cool air raises goosebumps on her skin, but a warm anticipation burns within her, chasing away the chill.

‘Naked,’ she thinks, looking at her reflection in the mirror, her body still flushed, still marked by his touch. ‘Waiting for him. Like a whore.’ But the shame is muted now, almost… absent. Replaced by a strange sense of… acceptance. And something else. Something that feels dangerously close to… desire.

A soft knock on the door breaks her reverie. Cassandra’s breath hitches, her heart skipping a beat. ‘He’s here,’ she thinks, a thrill mixed with a flicker of apprehension.

She doesn’t bother to call out. She knows it’s him. She knows he’ll enter, regardless of permission. And she knows, deep down, that she doesn’t truly want to deny him.

The door opens silently, and Alaric steps inside, his ruby eyes immediately locking onto hers, taking in her naked form, devouring her with his gaze. A slow, predatory smirk spreads across his face.

“Aunt Cassandra,” he murmurs, his voice low and seductive. “Ready for that bath?”