Chapter 350: Killing King Reginald

Alaric woke up slowly, his senses swimming in a sea of warmth and a deep, bone-deep, primal satisfaction.

His first sensation: he was still buried balls-deep inside his mother, Lyra. She was dead to the world, her body limp and twitching slightly in the aftermath of her final, shattering climax hours ago. She was hot, slick, and clenched around him even in her exhausted, unconscious sleep.

His second sensation: his left arm was draped over his aunt, Cassandra. She was sprawled over his chest, her massive tits flattened against his ribs, her face slack, a thin line of drool escaping her half-open mouth.

The room stank. It was the thick, musky, animal smell of sex, sweat, and copious amounts of cum. The heavy, crimson drapes in his mother’s chamber were still drawn, but a sliver of morning light cut through, illuminating the carnage.

He had spent two full nights fucking his mother and his aunt. Breeding them. He had filled both of them with so much of his potent seed they were overflowing. The ruined silk sheets were soaked with it, drenched in their mixed juices. He’d lost count of his climaxes. Fifty? A hundred? He’d milked himself dry into his own bloodline.

’Mission accomplished,’ he thought, a lazy, sated smirk on his face.

He carefully, almost reluctantly, pulled his dick out of his mother’s hot, slick pussy. It came free with a wet, sucking sound. It was still half-hard. He was a fucking machine.

He slipped out of the filthy, ruined bed, his naked body gleaming in the single shaft of morning light. He stretched, his muscles coiling, not even remotely sore. He was energized. He was a bottomless well.

He looked back at the two broken, sated women tangled in the disgusting sheets. They were beautiful, in that mature, ripe, milf kind of way. Their bodies were magnificent. And now, they were his. Truly his. And, almost certainly, pregnant.

“Maids,” he called out, his voice a low, quiet command.

Instantly, the door to the antechamber opened. Two of his personal, hand-picked maids slipped into the room. They were young, pretty, and silent. (And, of course, personally fucked by him on numerous occasions. He only trusted staff he’d personally broken.)

They kept their eyes downcast, not daring to look at him, or the royal mess on the bed. “My lord,” they whispered in unison.

“Clean them,” he said, gesturing dismissively at the two naked, unconscious, high-status women on the bed. “Burn these sheets. Draw them a hot bath. With herbs.”

“Yes, my lord.”

“And… send for Doctor Ismelda. No one else.”

“Doctor…?” the head maid asked, her voice trembling slightly, the only hint of her shock.

“Yes,” Alaric said, pulling on his fresh trousers. “Have her check on them. They… fainted. From… exhaustion. After our… wild night. They are very likely pregnant now. See to their… aftercare. Make sure they are comfortable.”

“And… fed,” he added as an afterthought. “They’re probably hungry.”

“Yes, my lord,” the maids said, not even blinking. They were used to his… appetites. They were his property. They knew their place.

He left, not even looking back at his mother or his aunt. He strolled out of the room, fastening his shirt, already bored. He left the maids to clean up his filthy, taboo, family mess.

A few hours later, Alaric was bathed, dressed in fresh, imposing black robes, and bored. His own delegation, and his new vassal state, were still his “guests” in Jorailia. The demon war was coming, but not today. And he had a loose end to tie up. A mess to clean.

He strolled over to the luxurious, isolated guest wing. The gilded cage where he’d stashed the entire Strathmore court.

He found King Reginald holding court in the main salon, acting important. He was sitting in a large, carved chair, “discussing” trade routes with his own ancient, fossilized ministers. He was playing King.

Alaric smiled. ’How cute.’

“Your Majesty!” Alaric boomed, striding into the room, his voice full of fake smiles and boisterous friendship. “A glorious day! I trust your accommodations are to your liking?”

Reginald, who was still fawning over his powerful new best friend, jumped to his feet. His elegant, kingly face lit up. (Alaric had to give him that – the man looked like a King. Tall, silver-haired, distinguished. He just… wasn’t one.)

“Lord Alaric! My dear boy!” he boomed back, clasping Alaric’s arm. (Alaric resisted the urge to break his fingers.) “Your hospitality is legendary! We are so comfortable! So safe! Thank you, thank you!”

“Of course, of course,” Alaric said, patting the King’s shoulder. “Only the best for my closest allies. I thought today would be perfect for that weapons inspection we discussed! The weather is clear!”

“An excellent proposal!” Reginald said, beaming. “A capital idea! My ministers and I are eager to see the marvels of your forges. What shall we see first? The defensive barriers? The war-golems? I’m particularly interested in the golems!”

Queen Kate, who was lounging on a nearby sofa in a sinfully tight, low-cut black dress, snapped her fan shut. She was fanning herself, even though the room was cool. Her eyes, hot and hungry, were glued to Alaric’s crotch. She was aching for him. It had been days.

“Actually,” Alaric said, his voice full of fake, boyish excitement, “I have something truly special to show you first. My newest inventions. Arcane Explosives! They’re… volatile, I’ll admit. But so powerful. They’ll revolutionize siege warfare! Imagine, Your Majesty! One crystal… one… and the walls of Rimefrost Imperium itself could tumble!”

Reginald’s elegant, kingly face paled several shades. “Explosives?” he stammered, his jovial mood vanishing. “My… my dear boy… are you… are you sure that’s wise? I… I must confess… I am a cautious man.”

He straightened his robes, trying to regain his dignity. “I… I don’t… dare… risk my life needlessly. My kingdom needs me. My people. It… it sounds dreadfully unsafe.”

’You fucking coward,’ Alaric thought, his smile not faltering. ’This is trickier than I thought. The rat won’t walk into the trap. He needs a push.’

Alaric sighed, his face a mask of polite disappointment. “Of course, Your Majesty. I understand completely. Your wisdom is, as always, your greatest strength. A cautious King is a living King.”

“Indeed! Indeed, I…”

“We can stick to the safe displays,” Alaric continued, cutting him off. “The barriers. They’re very interesting. And completely risk-free. I’ll… I’ll have the explosives put back in the vault.” He turned to Kate, his eyes shining with mock apology. “My apologies, Your Majesty. I so wanted to show you… you seemed so excited by the idea.”

WHAP.

Kate snapped her ebony fan shut. The sound was like a gunshot in the suddenly silent room.

Reginald jumped.

Kate rose from the sofa, gliding towards them, her hips swaying, her massive tits jiggling with barely-contained fury.

“Oh, Reginald,” she hissed, her voice dripping with contempt. “Don’t be such a… fossil. Are you a King… or a mouse?”

Reginald’s face flushed a deep, blotchy red. “My dear! In front of our hosts! That is hardly…!”

“Is it not the truth?” Kate interrupted, ignoring him, her hot, hungry eyes locked on Alaric. “Lord Steele,” she said, her voice like honey now, “my husband is… timid. But I am not.”

She turned back to Reginald. “My love,” she said, the word a poisoned dart, “we are AT WAR. The demons are coming. Do you think they will wait for you to ’feel safe’? They will burn our cities and eat our children while you dither about ’risk’!”

“Kate! This is… unseemly!”

“What’s unseemly,” she spat, “is a King who is afraid of fireworks! We must see these explosives! I want to see them. If they can win this war, it is your duty as King to inspect them! To secure them for our kingdom!”

She leaned in, her massive cleavage right in his face. “Are you really going to cower here, in the parlor, while I go? While I do your job? Or are you King enough to at least look at a shiny rock?”

Reginald was trapped. Humiliated. Called out by his hot wife… in front of his new, powerful ally. He could not look weak. Not now.

“Kate! That is ENOUGH!” he boomed, his voice shaking with rage and shame. “I am NOT a coward! I am… CAUTIOUS!”

“Then prove it,” she purred, tapping his chest with her fan. “Go see the dangerous toys, my brave, brave King.”

Reginald, his face purple, was seething. But he was beaten. He couldn’t back down.

He turned to Alaric, his face stiff. “Lord Steele. My apologies. The Queen… is… passionate. And… correct.”

“Of course we will see the explosives,” he said, his voice tight. “I… I insist upon it. I am… eager. Lead on.”

Alaric beamed, his face a mask of pure, innocent enthusiasm. “Wonderful, Your Majesty! You won’t be disappointed! This way! This way!”

Alaric led the doomed King out of the salon, down a long, cold stone corridor toward the shielded testing fields.

Reginald strutted in front, still trying to look kingly and brave, his robes swishing with false importance.

Kate walked just behind him. As she passed Alaric, who was holding the door for her, Alaric dropped back, falling into step right beside her, their shoulders brushing.

Reginald was just a few feet ahead. Fuming. Oblivious.

Alaric casually let his hand drop to his side. He let it brush against Kate’s ass.

She didn’t pull away. She didn’t flinch. Her hips swayed just a little closer to him.

He did it again. This time, no accident. His fingers brushed the firm, round swell of her buttock through the thin, black silk of her dress.

She gasped, a tiny, sharp intake of breath. But she didn’t stop walking.

Alaric smiled. He cupped her. A full, firm handful of her ass. Right there, in the corridor, just behind her husband’s back.

“You played your part well, my pet,” he whispered, his voice a low, hot murmur, so quiet only she could hear.

Kate shivered, her entire body jolting. “He’s a fool,” she whispered back, her voice shaky. “Are you… are you really going to…?”

“Just watch the show,” Alaric’s hand slid up from her ass to her waist, his thumb brushing the heavy underside of her massive breast. “And don’t scream… until I tell you to.”

They reached the testing field. A desolate, black-rock courtyard, humming with containment wards.

Alaric strode to the center, all business now. “Now,” he said, pointing to a small, pulsing, glowing crystal on a black, iron pedestal. “This, Your Majesty, is the prototype. A Rune of Shattering. One of these… and a fortress wall crumbles to dust.”

“Incredible!” Reginald breathed, his fear momentarily forgotten in the face of such power. “Truly incredible! And… how does it…?”

“It’s… finicky,” Alaric said, his face a mask of deep, technical concern. “It’s keyed to… arcane signatures. It’s supposed to be stable, but… I’m not sure… the atmospheric pressure today… it might be… off.”

Reginald instantly took a nervous step back. “Perhaps… perhaps we should observe from a greater distance…?”

“No, no! It’s fine!” Alaric said, laughing it off. “It’s perfectly stable. Watch.”

The rune on the pedestal suddenly flashed. A blinding, white light. A high-pitched, piercing keen filled the air.

(Alaric, of course, had secretly triggered this ’warning’ with a tiny, hidden spell.)

“My boy!” Reginald yelped, stumbling back, his face pale with terror. “Is it… is it suppPOSED to do that?!”

“Oh, fuck!” Alaric roared, his face a mask of pure, theatrical terror. “It’s… it’s overloading! The matrix is unstable! GET BACK!”

Reginald turned to run, his royal robes flapping.

Alaric didn’t help him. He didn’t trip him.

Instead, he moved on Kate.

“I’ll protect you, my Queen!” he roared, grabbing her.

He didn’t just shield her. He pulled her hard against his own body, wrapping her in his arms, his back to the whining, glowing pedestal.

Reginald stopped. He turned. His fear vanished, instantly vaporized by a new, white-hot RAGE.

He saw it.

He saw Alaric holding his wife. But… he wasn’t just holding her. His hands… his hands were all over her. In front of him!

One of Alaric’s hands was completely cupping her breast, squeezing it hard, his fingers digging in.

The other hand was buried in her ass, clamping her tight against his crotch.

He was grinding his crotch against her stomach.

And Kate… Kate wasn’t fighting. She wasn’t scared. She was clinging to him, her face buried in his chest, her entire body melting into him. She was… enjoying it.

“STEELE!” Reginald bellowed, his voice cracking with a fury he never knew he possessed. “What… what are you DOING?! Get your FILTHY HANDS OFF MY WIFE!”

Alaric looked at him, over Kate’s shoulder, his face a mask of pure confusion. “Your Majesty! I’m protecting her! The rune… it’s going to blow!”

Kate lifted her head from his chest. Her face was flushed, her eyes gleaming with a wild, ecstatic light. “He’s right, Reginald! It’s dangerous!”

She mocked him, grinding her own hips back against Alaric’s cock. “Lord Alaric is… so strong! He’s saving me! Can’t you feel the power he’s holding?”

“You… you WHORE!” Reginald shrieked, his elegant facade shattering. “You… TRAITOR! I’LL KILL YOU! I’LL KILL YOU BOTH!”

Reginald, completely blinded by rage, forgot the bomb. He forgot his caution. He drew his sword (a tiny, decorative, jewel-encrusted thing) and charged at them.

Alaric just smiled at him. A cold, dead smile. “Too late, Reggie.”

He didn’t move. He just held Kate tighter, kissing her hair.

He pulled his own arcane energy. Not into the rune. That was just cover. He pulled it into himself, focusing it.

He formed a new spell. A tiny, invisible projectile of pure, compressed force. A splinter of raw magic designed to instantly stop a heart. A spell of his own design.

’Arcane Tamponade.’

Reginald was mid-stride, his face purple with rage, his tiny sword raised, ready to be a hero for the first time in his life.

Alaric unleashed the spell.

Reginald stopped. Dead.

His eyes went wide. He gasped. He clutched his chest. His sword clattered to the ground.

He looked at Alaric, his eyes full of shock and utter confusion. “My… my heart…” he gasped.

He toppled over. Dead from a massive, magical, and completely untraceable “heart attack.” He fell right at the foot of the still-whining, still-glowing pedestal.

Alaric smirked. ’Clean. Efficient. Plausible deniability.’

He held Kate tight. “Now,” he whispered in her ear. “The fireworks. And scream.”

He released the Rune of Shattering.

He also instantly snapped a Sphere of Black Invulnerability around himself and Kate.

“KABOOOOOOOOOM!”

The world turned white. A massive, silent (due to the outer wards) explosion of pure, arcane energy vaporized the pedestal… and King Reginald’s body along with it.

The shockwave slammed against Alaric’s shield, splintering around them harmlessly.

When the smoke cleared, Alaric dropped the shield. He shoved Kate away from him, onto the ground. He tore his own (perfectly fine) clothes. He rubbed soot on his face from a scorched rock.

Kate, getting her cue, screamed. A blood-curdling, grief-stricken wail that tore through the sudden silence. “REGINALD! NOOOOOO! MY KING! MY HUSBAND!”

Alaric roared in “grief” and “terror.” “A TRAGIC ACCIDENT! My prototype! It… it malfunctioned! It blew! Oh, gods! The King!”

He stumbled towards the smoking, empty spot where Reginald used to be.

“I… I tried to shield him… but he… he charged… he tripped… he was too close! HE’S GONE!”