Chapter 176 New Martialist Techniques

Later that night, after a satisfying dinner filled with laughter and innocent chatter, Alaric retreats to his chambers, a contented sigh escaping his lips. ‘Another day, another conquest,’ he thinks, a smirk playing on his lips. ‘But conquests need organization. Can’t have chaos in my harem.’

He settles into a plush armchair, a glass of fine wine in hand, and starts to mentally map out the week ahead. ‘Gotta keep the ladies happy, gotta keep myself satisfied. It’s a delicate balance, but someone’s gotta manage it.’

His thoughts drift to Lyra first, his mother, his first. ‘Monday’s for Mom,’ he decides, taking a sip of wine. ‘Start the week off right, with the queen bee herself.’ He chuckles softly. ‘Monday night Lyra-time. Can’t go wrong with that. She’ll be expecting it anyway, the sexy milf.’ He imagines her waiting for him, clad in silk, her eyes burning with desire. ‘Yeah, Monday’s sorted.’

Next, his mind jumps to Kara and Ulriya, his eager maids. ‘Tuesday… threesome Tuesday with the maids,’ he muses, a grin spreading across his face. ‘Kara and Ulriya are always up for some fun. Those two are like horny little bunnies, always wanting a taste.’ He pictures them, their youthful bodies intertwined, their eager hands reaching for him. ‘Threesome Tuesday it is. Gotta keep the staff morale high, right?’ He winks to himself, a self-satisfied smirk.

Then, his thoughts turn to Fiora, his sweet, innocent daughter. ‘Wednesday’s for my little flower,’ he thinks, a softer expression softening his features. ‘Romantic day with Fiora. Gotta keep things sweet and innocent for her, at least during the day.’

He imagines taking her for a walk in the gardens, sharing a picnic, showering her with affection. ‘Gentle sex at night, of course. Can’t rush perfection.’ But then, a darker thought creeps in, a familiar itch that needs scratching.

‘And after she’s asleep… Aunt Cassandra’s waiting.’ He smirks again, his lust reigniting. ‘Wednesday night double-header. Gentle Fiora, then raw Cassandra. Perfect balance.’

Thursday brings Natasha and Iridelle to mind, his two contrasting friends. ‘Thursday… Natasha and Iridelle day,’ he plans, swirling his wine.

‘Daytime with Natasha, gotta keep up the friend façade. Romantic bullshit, but she eats it up.’ He rolls his eyes, but a fond smile touches his lips.

‘Then, night-time with Iridelle. Sneaky link in the guest chambers. Gotta keep the older sister happy too. She’s got a fire in her, that one.’ He chuckles, remembering Iridelle’s passionate embraces. ‘Thursday’s sorted. Friendship and forbidden lust, all in one day.’

Friday is dedicated to Rosalind, his fiery redhead friend.

‘Friday… Rosalind’s day,’ he decides, a surge of anticipation coursing through him. ‘Rosalind from morning till night. Non-stop fucking frenzy. That girl’s got stamina for days.’

He remembers their wild, passionate encounters, her fiery spirit matching his own lust. ‘Friday’s gonna be a workout. But a fun workout.’ He winks again, his grin widening.

Saturday, he reserves for Cassandra, his alluring aunt. ‘Saturday… Aunt Cassandra’s day,’ he thinks, a different kind of heat settling in his loins.

‘Romantic day with Auntie. Gotta keep her feeling special, even if she’s just my raw sex outlet.’ He pictures taking her out, maybe a stroll through the gardens, a quiet conversation, a veneer of romance.

‘Then, Saturday night… unleash the beast. Raw, untamed, all night long. Auntie Cassandra’s favorite.’ He smirks, picturing her surrender, her moans of pleasure mingled with shame. ‘Saturday’s gonna be… intense.’

Finally, Sunday, the day of rest, is reserved for Natasha again, but in a different way. ‘Sunday… picnic date with Natasha,’ he concludes, finishing his wine.

‘Relaxation Sunday. No sex. Just… chilling with Natasha. Gotta keep the friend card strong. Plus, she’s good for cuddling. And she doesn’t demand raw sex, which is a nice change of pace.’

He sighs contentedly. ‘Sunday’s for recharging. Ready for another week of glorious chaos.’

With his schedule meticulously planned, Alaric feels a sense of satisfaction settle over him. ‘Order in the harem,’ he thinks, a smug smile on his face. ‘That’s how a Steele runs things.’ He sets aside his glass, stretches languidly, and prepares for a restful night, ready to enact his carefully crafted plan.

The week flies by in a whirlwind of carefully orchestrated encounters.

Monday night finds him in Lyra’s chambers, the air thick with perfume and anticipation. Their lovemaking is passionate, experienced, a dance of familiar desires and unspoken understandings.

Lyra, fueled by their intimacy, pushes her martial arts training to new heights, her movements gaining a newfound power and fluidity.

Tuesday night is a chaotic symphony of youthful energy and eager bodies as Kara and Ulriya vie for his attention, their laughter and moans echoing through the servant’s quarters.

Alaric revels in their youthful enthusiasm, their uninhibited desires, their willingness to please.

Wednesday is a study in contrasts. The day with Fiora is filled with sunshine and laughter, innocent touches and sweet kisses, a carefully constructed façade of fatherly affection.

But beneath the surface, a darker current flows, a subtle tension that only Alaric truly understands. At night, their lovemaking is gentle, tender, a careful exploration of burgeoning desire.

And then, as planned, after Fiora drifts into peaceful slumber, Alaric slips away, drawn by the irresistible pull of Cassandra’s chamber.

Wednesday night bleeds into Thursday morning in Cassandra’s room, a whirlwind of raw passion, untamed lust, and whispered commands.

Cassandra, fueled by their brutal intimacy, finds a new strength awakening within her, a power that feels both exhilarating and terrifying.

Thursday daytime is spent with Natasha, a carefully curated performance of friendship and affection.

They laugh, they chat, they stroll through the gardens, Natasha basking in his attention, oblivious to his nocturnal activities.

Thursday night, however, is reserved for Iridelle, their clandestine encounter in the guest chamber a fiery explosion of pent-up desire and forbidden passion.

Friday is a marathon of lust with Rosalind, their encounters ranging from playful teasing to raw, animalistic passion, their bodies pushing each other to the limits of endurance.

Rosalind, fueled by their shared intensity, trains with renewed vigor, her fiery spirit translating into formidable martial arts prowess.

Saturday mirrors Wednesday, a day spent with Cassandra, a veneer of romance masking the raw desires that simmer beneath the surface.

They walk and talk while also sharing a quiet meal and maintaining a carefully constructed illusion of normalcy. But Saturday night is anything but normal, a descent into a world of untamed lust and brutal pleasure, a shattering release for both of them.

Sunday arrives, a day of rest, a picnic with Natasha in a sun-dappled meadow.

They laugh, they talk, they relax in each other’s company, a peaceful interlude in Alaric’s chaotic week. Sunday night is quiet, restful, a night of platonic cuddles and shared dreams, a gentle balm for his overstimulated senses.

As the week draws to a close, the benefits of Alaric’s carefully orchestrated schedule become undeniably apparent. Lyra, radiating a newfound confidence and power, effortlessly spars with the senior guards, her movements fluid and devastating, her Battle Aura blazing with middle-stage Grand Martialist intensity.

Fiora, glowing with happiness and a newfound sense of self-assurance, moves through her katas with a focus and precision that belies her youth, her strikes imbued with the nascent power of a Master Martialist. Her breakthrough is undeniable, a testament to her inherent talent and Alaric’s… unconventional… training methods.

Cassandra, though outwardly reserved, carries herself with a subtle air of quiet strength, her movements imbued with a newfound power, her Battle Aura simmering just beneath the surface, carefully concealed, a secret weapon she keeps hidden from prying eyes.

She knows she has reached the initial stage of Grand Martialist, a monumental leap in power, achieved in a single week, a testament to the… unique… nature of her training with Alaric. She understands the need for secrecy, for concealing her rapid advancement.

Alaric observes them all, a satisfied smirk playing on his lips. His schedule, his harem, his… methods… are working perfectly.

His women are thriving, growing stronger, more powerful, more… his. And he, in turn, is reaping the rewards, his own power growing, his desires satiated, his control absolute.

~~

One day, Alaric gathers Lyra, Cassandra, and Fiora in the training hall. He gazes at each of them intently, a serious expression on his face, though a faint undercurrent of amusement flickers in his ruby eyes.

“Mother, Aunt Cassandra, Fiora,” Alaric begins, his voice clear and resonant, commanding their attention. “I have been observing your training, and I believe it is time for a change.”

Lyra raises a perfectly sculpted eyebrow, her emerald eyes sharp and inquisitive. “A change? What do you mean, Alaric? Our current routines have served us well.”

Fiora, ever eager, leans forward, her emerald eyes wide with curiosity. “A new training method? Is it something you developed, Alaric? Is it even more amazing than before?”

Cassandra watches Alaric silently, her purple eyes thoughtful, a subtle awareness in her gaze that the others might miss. ‘He’s noticed it too,’ she thinks, a faint tremor of anticipation running through her. ‘He knows I’ve broken through.’

“Indeed, Mother, Fiora,” Alaric replies, his gaze sweeping over each of them. “Your current techniques, while effective in the past, are no longer sufficient to harness your current power. You have all grown significantly stronger, especially recently.” He pauses, letting his words sink in. “Your old methods are… outdated.”

Lyra frowns slightly, a hint of skepticism in her voice. “Outdated? Alaric, these are Steele Family techniques, honed over generations. They are hardly ‘outdated’.”

“With all due respect, Mother,” Alaric counters, his voice remaining respectful but firm. “They are outdated for your current level. You are now operating at a power level that demands more… refined methods.” He gestures expansively. “Think of it like trying to channel a raging river through a small stream. The stream will overflow, become inefficient, and potentially even cause damage. You need a wider, more robust channel to effectively manage that power.”

Fiora nods eagerly, her youthful mind readily accepting Alaric’s analogy. “I have felt that, Alaric! Sometimes when I try to unleash my Battle Aura, it feels… constricted. Like it wants to burst out but something is holding it back.”

Lyra’s frown softens, a flicker of understanding dawning in her eyes. “Now that you mention it… I have felt a similar sensation. A… resistance, perhaps? When I attempt more complex maneuvers with my Battle Aura.” She pauses, thoughtfully considering his words. “Are you saying our breathing techniques are no longer optimal?”

“Precisely, Mother,” Alaric confirms, his gaze focusing on Lyra. “The breathing techniques you currently employ are excellent for Master Martialists and below. But for a Grand Martialist, and for those rapidly approaching that level,” he subtly glances at Fiora and Cassandra, “they are… limiting.”

Cassandra steps forward, her voice calm and measured. “So, what do you propose, Alaric? Do you have… new techniques for us?” There’s a subtle undercurrent of something else in her voice, a hidden excitement that only Alaric might truly discern.

“As a matter of fact, Aunt Cassandra, I do,” Alaric replies, a hint of a smile playing on his lips. “You see, the… ‘Alaric Phone’ I developed has become quite popular, as you know.” He chuckles lightly. “And in exchange for these… technological marvels, I have acquired a wealth of information. Including, and most relevantly, advanced breathing techniques from martial artists across the land, techniques specifically designed for those at the peak of martial prowess.”

Lyra’s eyes widen slightly, intrigued. “Breathing techniques from outside the Steele Family? Are they… reliable?”

“Mother, these techniques are highly sought after,” Alaric assures her, his voice confident. “Martialists at the Master and Grand Martialist ranks have traded valuable skills and resources to obtain them. They are… cutting-edge, you might say.” He pauses, a dramatic flair entering his tone. “And they have just reached the Steele Family… courtesy of your brilliant son.”

Fiora claps her hands together, bouncing with excitement. “Amazing, Alaric! What are they called? Tell us everything!”

Alaric smiles, indulging in their enthusiasm. “For Master Martialists,” he begins, turning to Fiora and pointedly glancing at Cassandra, “there is the ‘Surging Dragon Breath’.” He pauses for effect. “Legend has it, this technique was developed by a reclusive mountain hermit who observed the movements of dragons soaring through the sky and the way they channeled their elemental power. It focuses on drawing in Qi from the very air around you, amplifying your Battle Aura’s explosive power and speed.”

Fiora’s eyes widen further, her imagination ignited. “Surging Dragon Breath… it sounds incredible!”

Alaric nods, turning his attention to Lyra. “And for Grand Martialists, there is the ‘Celestial Phoenix Breath.” He speaks the name with a reverent tone. “This technique is said to have originated from ancient monasteries, passed down through generations of warrior monks. It emphasizes the control and refinement of Battle Aura, allowing for unparalleled precision, endurance, and the ability to weave complex defensive and offensive maneuvers.”

Lyra’s expression is now one of deep interest, her initial skepticism completely replaced by fascination. “Celestial Phoenix Breath… it sounds… profound. Do you have these techniques, Alaric? Can you teach them to us?”

“Of course, Mother,” Alaric replies smoothly, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. “I have compiled detailed scrolls outlining both techniques. I have already studied them extensively and can guide you both in their proper cultivation.” He produces three scrolls from seemingly nowhere, handing one to Lyra and another to Fiora. He pointedly hands the third scroll to Fiora again, making sure Cassandra sees it. “Fiora, this ‘Surging Dragon Breath’ scroll is for you. It will perfectly complement your current Master Martialist level and propel you to even greater heights.”

Fiora eagerly accepts the scroll, her eyes shining as she unrolls it, her attention immediately absorbed by the diagrams and text within.

Cassandra, however, remains still, her purple eyes fixed on Alaric, a silent question in their depths. She notices that he has given Fiora a scroll, and Lyra a scroll, but has not offered her one directly. She understands the subtle game he is playing.

“Aunt Cassandra,” Alaric says, turning to her last, his voice softening slightly, a hint of a private smile playing on his lips. “For you… I also have the ‘Surging Dragon Breath’ technique.” He gestures to the scroll Fiora is holding. “It will be excellent for solidifying your peak Master Martialist foundation, ensuring a smooth transition to the Grand Martialist rank when you are ready.” He pointedly avoids mentioning that he already knows she is ready, and far beyond ready.

Cassandra accepts the scroll from Fiora with a graceful nod, her expression carefully neutral, masking the turmoil of emotions beneath. ‘He’s doing it deliberately,’ she thinks, a faint blush rising to her cheeks. ‘He’s hiding my true advancement from Lyra and Fiora. And… he’s teasing me.’

“Thank you, Alaric,” Cassandra says, her voice smooth and controlled, betraying none of her inner thoughts. “I am eager to study this new technique.” She glances at the scroll, pretending to examine it with casual interest, but her mind is already racing, anticipating the private conversation she knows is coming.

Alaric’s gaze lingers on Cassandra for a moment longer than necessary, a silent communication passing between them, a shared secret understood without words. Then, he turns back to Lyra and Fiora, his demeanor becoming all business once more.

“Now,” Alaric says, clapping his hands together, his voice regaining its authoritative tone. “Let us begin. Mother, we will start with the ‘Celestial Phoenix Breath’. Fiora, Aunt Cassandra, you two can begin familiarizing yourselves with the ‘Surging Dragon Breath’. I will guide you both after I have worked with Mother.”

Lyra nods decisively, her eyes already scanning the scroll in her hands, her martial spirit ignited by the prospect of a new challenge. Fiora is already deeply engrossed in her scroll, her youthful enthusiasm bubbling over.

Cassandra, however, remains subtly apart, her gaze drifting back to Alaric, a faint smile playing on her lips. As Alaric turns to begin instructing Lyra, Cassandra catches his eye once more, a silent question in her purple depths.

Alaric subtly inclines his head, a barely perceptible nod, a silent promise of things to come. He then turns his full attention to Lyra, beginning to explain the intricacies of the ‘Celestial Phoenix Breath’ technique.

Cassandra watches them for a moment, then, with a graceful movement, she turns away, pretending to study the ‘Surging Dragon Breath’ scroll Fiora had given her. But her mind is elsewhere, her thoughts already drifting to the night, to the private conversation she knows awaits her, the ‘true’ technique Alaric has promised, and the price he will undoubtedly demand for it.

Later, as the training session winds down and Lyra and Fiora are engrossed in practicing their new breathing techniques, Alaric approaches Cassandra, his voice dropping to a low whisper, meant for her ears alone.

“Aunt Cassandra,” he murmurs, his ruby eyes glinting mischievously. “If you truly wish to master the advanced techniques, the ones truly befitting a Grand Martialist… well,” he pauses, leaning closer, his breath warm against her ear, “you know how to get my attention.”

Cassandra meets his gaze directly, her purple eyes now holding a spark of playful defiance, a hint of her own burgeoning dominance within their dynamic. She doesn’t flinch, doesn’t blush, doesn’t demur. Instead, a confident smile spreads across her lips, a knowing curve that speaks volumes.

“Oh, Alaric,” she whispers back, her voice laced with a seductive purr that sends a shiver down his spine. “I believe I can manage to get it out of your mouth.”

And with deliberate slowness, she grinds her hips subtly against his cock, a fleeting, tantalizing brush that ignites a fire within him, before stepping back, her smile widening, her eyes sparkling with challenge and invitation.

Then, with a graceful turn, Cassandra walks away, leaving Alaric standing there, momentarily stunned, a mixture of arousal and amusement warring within him.

She heads towards a quiet corner of the training hall, unrolls the ‘Surging Dragon Breath’ scroll, and pretends to diligently practice the Master Martialist technique Alaric has given her.