Chapter 154

Watching the dazed, feverish expressions on both highborn women, their minds unraveling under the constant denial, Azriel’s predatory dominance flared.

“Neither of you cums until I say so,” he commanded, his voice a low, sovereign rumble that vibrated through their trembling frames.

“Hold it for daddy.”

Both noble women nodded frantically through their gasps, biting back their cries as their claws dug helplessly into the rumpled silk sheets.

But after minutes of this unrelenting, alternating torment, their composure dissolved into sheer madness.

Their bodies shuddered violently, trapped on the razor’s edge of an unbearable peak.

“Please… Azriel, please!” Rosalind sobbed out, her head thrashing against the pillows.

“Let me cum… Daddy, please!”

“I can’t… I can’t take it anymore, daddy!” Vesperia pleaded from beneath her, her Overlord pride entirely erased as her hips twitched uncontrollably.

“Please let us break!”

A dark, triumphant smirk curled Azriel’s lips.

He pulled out of Vesperia one final time, stepping up behind Rosalind and driving his full length into the young Duchess to the hilt.

“Cum for daddy, babygirl,” he growled into her ear.

The permission shattered Rosalind’s final defense.

A piercing, breathless wail ripped from her throat as her inner walls seized around his shaft in violent, crushing waves of climax.

Azriel didn’t slow down for a second; he continued to pump ruthlessly into her spasming depths, forcing every last tremor of pleasure from her core until she went completely slack and drooling against her mother.

Withdrawing with a slick snap, Azriel shifted his hips down and buried his iron length balls-deep back into Vesperia’s weeping womb.

“You can cum now, Mommy,” he rasped, driving his hips forward with punishing force.

A feral, guttural roar tore from the Matriarch’s chest.

Her pussy clamped down around his shaft like an iron vise, a scalding flood bursting forth as her climax exploded through her entire frame.

In the throes of absolute ruin, Vesperia reached back, her manicured claws hooking into Azriel’s muscular shoulders with such frantic, desperate force that her nails punctured the skin, drawing thin lines of dark red down his back as she locked him to her depths in total, shattering submission.

Azriel didn’t ease up.

He drove his hips forward with relentless power, fucking the Matriarch straight through the violent convulsions of her release.

The friction inside her spasming channel brought him to the absolute brink, his blood boiling as the coiled pressure in his groin reached its peak.

With a low, gravelly snarl, he wrenched his shaft free with a slick pop.

Moving with swift, dominant efficiency, Azriel seized Rosalind and Vesperia by their trembling arms, hauling both women side-by-side onto their backs across the center of the bed.

Their white hair spilled in tangled sheets across the dark pillows, chests heaving, their pale skin flushed crimson and slick with sweat.

Towering over them on his knees, Azriel gripped the thick, vein-ridged trunk of his cock. With rapid, heavy strokes of his calloused hand, his hips snapped forward as his release broke loose.

Thick, scalding ropes of white erupted from the swollen crown, painting across both mother and daughter in a heavy, unrelenting barrage.

The warm torrent splattered across their exposed breasts, coated their trembling bellies, and smeared across their parted lips and flushed cheeks.

Neither noblewoman flinched away.

Instead, dazed, intoxicated smiles spread across their swollen lips. Leaning into the decadent ruin of their status, Vesperia and Rosalind lazily ran their manicured fingers through the warm spill on their skin, bringing their slick fingertips to their mouths to lick themselves clean, savoring every drop under the dim amber ward-light.

The ambient wards of the Sunfire Enclave hummed steadily against the outer sandstone walls, sealing the private pavilion from the rest of the sleeping imperial capital as the hours blurred together.

Azriel didn’t relent.

For the highborn matriarchs of House Bastet, there was no reprieve granted by the passage of time.

Powered by an unlimited number of stamina potions and an unyielding lust, he maintained an unrelenting pace, keeping both women trapped in an endless cycle of demand and surrender across the star-wood bed.

Positions shifted as the night wore on.

At times, he had Vesperia draped across the edge of the mattress, her plush knees pinned to the floor as he hammered into her depths from behind, drawing deep, guttural purrs that dissolved into breathless cries.

Whenever the Matriarch collapsed from the sheer strain on her pussy, he hauled Rosalind onto his lap, forcing the Duchess to ride him face-to-face while his calloused thumbs traced the tear-tracks running down her flushed cheeks, dictating every roll of her hips until her legs turned to water.

The master suite filled with the heavy, sweet scent of sovereign musk, spent seed, and crushed silks.

Discarded linens lay tangled on the stone floor, completely soaked and abandoned as the three bodies clashed with raw, animalistic stamina.

Neither woman was permitted to regain her composure, the moment one slipped into a dazed stupor, Azriel’s rough touch or the stinging snap of his palm brought her surging straight back into sharp, trembling awareness.

Across his vision, the private VIP stream ticked upward into the hundreds of thousands of Karma Points, the divine patrons showering the feed in a constant, low glow of gold as they watched two generations of Bastati Clan completely stripped of their courtly pride.

By the time the deep velvet sky outside the high arched windows began to bleed into the pale violet and gold of dawn, the room had finally fallen into an exhausted silence.

The massive star-wood bed was a chaotic ruin of damp, tangled indigo sheets.

Vesperia lay curled on her side, one arm slung limply over Azriel’s muscular chest, her white tail draped lazily across his thighs.

Her Overlord aura was faint and tranquil, her breath coming in slow, deep rhythms of absolute exhaustion.

Pressed along his other flank, Rosalind slept soundly, her face nestled into the hollow of his neck, her white hair spilling over his collarbone, completely conquered, thoroughly marked, and deeply at peace.

Azriel rested his head back against the carved headboard.

His breathing was slow and steady, each large, calloused hand casually buried into the plush curve of an ass, one resting on the Matriarch’s fat ass, the other gripping the Duchess’s firm mature cheek.

His violet eyes gleamed with quiet satisfaction as he watched the first golden rays of Khemara’s dawn spill across the sandstone balcony, heralding the grand arena bouts just hours away.

A low chuckle rumbled in his chest at the thought of the arena contenders waiting to be humbled.

Tightening his grip, he gave both rounded cheeks a firm, possessive squeeze.

A synchronized pair of soft, breathy moans broke the quiet of the bedchamber.

Vesperia stretched with a slow, feline yawn, her spine curving lazily against his flank.

Turning into his chest, she wrapped her arms around his neck, pressed a warm, lingering kiss to his jaw, and purred, “Good morning, Daddy.”

Beside him, Rosalind stirred, blinking through white bangs.

A faint, maidenly blush bloomed high on her flushed cheeks as memories of the night flooded back, but she didn’t shrink away.

Leaning up with a shy smile, she murmured, “Good morning, Daddy,” before pulling his face down for a deep, passionate kiss, her tongue tangling greedily with his until his shaft twitched hard against her hip.

Azriel broke the kiss with a wicked grin, his eyes scanning their spent, disheveled forms.

“How about we take this into the hot springs?”

Mother and daughter exchanged a knowing, sultry glance.

“Lead the way,” Vesperia murmured.

Guiding them down the arched corridor into the private pavilion, the warm, mineral-rich steam of the spring bath enveloped them.

Once in the crystal-clear water, the dynamic shifted entirely.

Gone was the unyielding, ruthless tyrant who had driven them into the mattress all night.

In the serene mist of the spring, Azriel treated them with deliberate, reverent tenderness.

He gathered warm water in his hands, gently rinsing the dried slick and spent seed from their soft skin.

He worked fragrant oils through their tangled white locks and gently massaged the sore muscles of their shoulders and thighs, touching them as though they were twin goddesses carved from jade.

The contrast struck both women deep in their cores.

They were intoxicated by the duality, a beast who could conquer them with terrifying, sovereign violence in bed, yet attend to them with such gentle, devoted indulgence in the water.

A fresh, scalding heat bloomed between their thighs.

Unable to bear the sweet ache any longer, Vesperia’s eyes darkened with raw hunger.

Abandoning her languid repose, the Matriarch lunged forward through the churning water, throwing a shapely leg over his hips to straddle him.

Grabbing his broad shoulders, she sank her hips down onto his rigid iron shaft in one breathless, greedy plunge.

At the exact same moment, Rosalind moved in from the side.

Wrapping her slender arms around Azriel’s neck, the Duchess claimed his lips in a bruising, breathless kiss, their tongues dancing amidst the rising steam.

In the swirling waters of the hot spring, the roles flipped effortlessly, the two proud sovereigns who had surrendered completely to his will were now voraciously taking their turn to ride and conquer their master.