276: Heretics?

**Chapter 276**

“Oi. Do you need to take a shit?”

I looked at Lucas, my annoyance increasing before I said, “Shut up before I fuck Cassandra before the convoy.”

Yes. I was that much annoyed.

“Is that a game?” But Lucas only looked at me strangely and asked.

“Haa…” What could I do other than sigh?

My mood soured the moment the summons reached the room.

I had plans. Martha again until she couldn’t stand. Sandra after that. Rayla, if I could get her door to stay shut long enough. Whoever else in this house still owed me four weeks of absence. That was the list. Elara putting me in a carriage toward the royal palace was not on it.

She called while I was in the middle of the seventh round.

Martha was on top, reverse, tiny frame working that oversized ass down onto me like she had decided patience was an insult. My cock was buried in her pussy to the root. Her walls were still sloppy from the last load, hot and twitching, and every drop of her weight put me deeper than the last. One finger was in her ass to the knuckle. The ring clutched every time she dropped, wet from her own slick that I had dragged up there, and she loved it. She yelled when I crooked the finger and rode harder, thighs shaking, slick slapping, her hole sucking the digit in as if she wanted a second cock she couldn’t have.

“Haaahn—there—Jack—nnh~~! Harder—the finger—ahhhn~~!”

I gave her the finger. I gave her the cock. I had a hand on that ass to keep her from bouncing off, and I was already thinking about turning her around for eight when the door opened.

Valeria didn’t knock.

Elara’s order, not a request. Martha didn’t even get to finish the bounce. I felt her clench in protest when I pulled the finger out, then the wet drag when I pulled out of her pussy, a string of us following the head. She sat on the edge of the bed wrecked and dripping, that big ass hanging off the mattress, and looked at me like I had stolen a meal. I shoved my clothes on and ended the [State of Completion] before I walked a hard dick through a hall. The stub sat useless under the cloth. My mood got worse.

Then came the reason for my summons. Going to the royal palace.

The only silver lining was the carriage. Lucas was riding, but I was put in the carriage. Lucky him. I was called before I could really fuck Cassandra, who was making her way to us.

As to why the carriage was a silver lining?

Two GILFs would be in it!

I could imagine Valeria in several positions even now. Ass on the seat. Skirt up. My hand under that ass. Molesting her however I could to my heart’s desire. Wonderful world, right?

So I didn’t argue. Arguing with Elara after the events that happened that very day was not very wise.

But maybe the gods of this world had something against me. Or maybe I was being punished for getting Hitler’s mustache in my past life. Because even that little plan of mine got soiled.

We were already rolling when the door opened again, and a man climbed in like the seat had been his from the start.

Elara’s son.

Earl. His own territory. Official heir of Carlson now that the old head was meat. Catherine’s husband, which made him the man whose name sat on the house while Elara’s strength sat on everyone else. He greeted his mother. He looked at Valeria as if she were furniture that had learned to walk. He looked at me once and didn’t bother hiding that look, as if wondering why trash so low had been allowed in the same space as him. It didn’t matter even when I was introduced as Valeria’s grandson.

He took after Carlson more than he took after Elara.

The jaw. The shoulders. The way he occupied space like it owed him rent. Elara’s sharpness was in the eyes if you hunted for it. The rest of him was the man I had watched die with a seal in his skull: broad, blunt, sure the room would move first. He sat opposite me, and I lost the fantasy of putting Valeria’s ass in my lap for the next hours. Not with him watching. Not that it would have been a problem. I wouldn’t have been able to take my dick out, sure, but other things were fine. Fingering, slapping, and such. It even turned me on a little, imagining spanking Elara in front of her son. But the atmosphere of the carriage wasn’t right for that. Why was a lowly servant touching the grand lady, or moving in their presence at all?

Noble world.

Haa…

I kept my face polite and my hands to myself.

The road unrolled. He spoke to Elara about banners and winter stores and which cousins had sent letters after the yard filled with other people’s steel. Useful. Dull. Valeria’s thigh was a foot from mine, and I could still smell Martha on my fingers if I wasn’t careful. I let the talk pass over me and went somewhere else in my head, because if I stayed in the carriage, I was going to start measuring the seam of Valeria’s skirt again.

The last time I had been dragged to the royal palace, the fun had been real.

Elizabeth.

Chestnut hair. Chestnut eyes. Long lashes on a face that belonged on a coin if a coin admitted weakness. A queen who looked like she was dying under silk, pale, thin-wristed, Elara’s disciple calling her Master from a bed she barely left. The rumors said she was cruel. The woman on the sheets said gentle and sick. The seal on her was the reason. Fucking her was amazing.

Elara was also there, making it double kinky.

I had taken my time with her pussy first.

She had been tight in the way unused and sealed things are tight, heat after the first sting, wet when the work started answering her body even if her mouth still called that place filthy. I had fucked her through the shakes, through *Master, it hurts*, through the look Elara gave me from the side of the bed that meant don’t stop because a seal doesn’t loosen on kindness. Her tits were not Valeria’s. Not Rayla’s. Not a weapon. Just a queen’s chest under my hands while her hole clung and fluttered and finally took the whole length. I had emptied into her. The seal hadn’t broken. It wasn’t going that way.

Then the other method.

Her ass. Smaller than the women in this world, not a weapon of fat and bounce, just a queen’s rear and a hole that didn’t want to be used until it was. I had gone slow because Elara was there, making sure she didn’t scream loud enough to bring half the palace. Tight. Hot. She had cried into the pillow and still taken it to the base because Elara told her so. I had emptied into her there too. The seal had weakened considerably, and what was left was bearable, reminding me once again that the deal on Rayla wasn’t normal.

I had hoped this trip would be more of that.

Elizabeth in a bed. Elara saying proceed. Maybe she might even join. A queen’s pussy first, then that tight ass again. Moaning master again and again while her master sat close, waiting for her turn next.

Only if luck was on my side. Spoiler alert. So far. It wasn’t. My mood stayed sour looking at Langen. That was his name.

We rolled into the royal grounds under banners that still hadn’t decided whether George’s death made them quieter or louder. Too many men in royal armor. Too many eyes. The yard had the kind of order that wasn’t peace. Elara stepped down first, gown moving the way it always did, heavy chest, wide hips, muscle underneath so she never looked merely arrived. The earl followed, Carlson’s shape in better cloth. Valeria took her place at Elara’s shoulder. I took mine, a step back, the next pair of hands, and kept my face stone because stone was the only expression that didn’t get you marked in a yard like this.

The hall they walked us toward was already full.

I still had hopes that I’d get some. Some scalding hot, tight pussy, or pussies, or suffocating asses of beautiful and noble women. But all of it went to ashes.

Why?

Well…

“HERETICS.”

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End of volume.

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I'm all caught up. I'll take a week's break before I start writing again. See you guys on Monday or Tuesday. Read my other novel until then. And if you haven't upgraded your tier to high tier, then do it now while there is still time. Don't blame me afterwards.