Chapter 276 - 273: The Birth of MySins

The master suite had become a temple of excess. The four-poster bed—once an elegant centerpiece of black mahogany and crimson velvet—was now a war zone: sheets soaked through in irregular dark patches, pillows scattered like fallen soldiers, one crimson drape half-torn from its brass rod and trailing onto the floor.

Candles had guttered down to blackened stubs, their dying flames throwing long, obscene shadows that danced across sweat-slick skin and tangled limbs.

Aiden lay on his back in the center of the wreckage, chest rising and falling in the slow, heavy rhythm of a predator at rest. Sheela draped herself across him like molten silk—naked, glistening, utterly spent. Her sky-blue hair spilled over one massive breast in glossy waves; the other pressed soft and warm against his side, dark nipple still swollen and reddened from hours of teeth and fingers.

Between her parted thighs a steady, viscous trickle of his seed leaked from her puffy, well-fucked cunt—pearly white against flushed pink lips—pooling beneath her ass in slow, obscene rivulets that darkened the already ruined silk.

She propped herself on one elbow, looking down at him with eyes that had lost every trace of their former regal ice. They were liquid now—soft, heart-shaped pupils dilated wide with adoration and afterglow.

She traced idle, possessive patterns across the hard planes of his chest—following the faint red trails her own nails had carved earlier when she’d come screaming for the sixth—or was it eighth?—time.

"I’ve left him," she whispered, voice still hoarse from crying his name. "Harlan. Officially. The dissolution papers are already being drafted by the family scribes. I instructed the stewards this morning—he has until week’s end to vacate the palace grounds. No title here. No chambers. No claim. Nothing."

Aiden’s golden eyes met hers—calm, unreadable, yet unmistakably possessive.

Sheela swallowed. Her fingers tightened over his heart.

"Will you leave me too?" The question came out smaller than she intended. "When the novelty fades? When some younger, shinier noblewoman catches your eye—some fresh-faced marchioness with tighter skin and fewer scars?" Her voice cracked on the last word.

"And... Flora. Gods, Flora. I’m fucking her husband—more than fucking him. I’m worshipping him, spreading for him, begging him to breed me while she sleeps down the hall. I’m her aunt by marriage. She must despise me. She must want me gone."

Aiden lifted one hand—slow, deliberate—and cupped the side of her face. His thumb brushed away the single tear that had escaped the corner of her eye.

"No need to worry about any of that," he said softly, voice low and velvet. "Flora knows precisely what I am. She doesn’t just accept it—she hungers for it. She’s already asked me—quietly, blushing—whether she can watch the next time I take one of the others. As for leaving you..." He leaned up, pressed a slow, lingering kiss to the center of her forehead.

"You think I would discard the woman who threw open the gates of House Draconic for me? Who spread her legs on the first night we met and never once closed them again? Who used her influence, her body, her very name to pave my path? No, Sheela. You’re not going anywhere."

Relief flooded her features—visible, trembling. She exhaled shakily, leaning into his palm like a creature finally allowed to breathe.

Then Aiden’s voice dropped lower—darker, edged with hunger.

"But there is something I want to ask you."

She tilted her head, curious, already half-dazed again from the warmth of his skin against hers.

He slid his hand down the elegant column of her throat, over the collarbone, and cupped one enormous breast. His thumb circled the dark-rose nipple—slow, deliberate—until it pebbled instantly beneath the pad.

"Is it okay if I fuck your mother?" he asked, tone almost casual. "The matriarch of this house. Elowen Leonidus. I want her too. On her knees. Begging. Swollen with my child, just like you will be. Just like Akidna already is."

Sheela’s breath caught audibly. Her eyes widened—shock flickering for a single heartbeat.

Then something hotter, wickeder replaced it. Acceptance. Arousal. A dark, delighted gleam.

She leaned down until her lips brushed his ear.

"If you love me the same," she whispered, voice husky and thick, "if you keep fucking me with that perfect, ruinous cock—if you keep filling me until I can’t walk straight, keep stretching me until no other man could ever satisfy me—then I will never complain.

Never once. Take her. Break her. Breed her. She’s been alone too long anyway—ruling from that cold tower, pretending she doesn’t ache the way her daughters do. Let her taste what Catherine already screams for every night. Let her learn why Flora wakes up wet and whimpering your name."

Aiden’s smile was slow. Predatory. Satisfied.

"Good girl."

He kissed her forehead again—then claimed her mouth in a deep, filthy kiss. Tongues slid together, wet and hungry; teeth grazed lips. His hand squeezed her breast harder—kneading the soft, heavy flesh until milk-white skin spilled between his fingers and she moaned brokenly into his mouth.

When he pulled back, both were breathing hard.

His gaze dropped between her thighs.

His thick seed still oozed from her gaping entrance—slow, obscene rivulets of white against flushed pink. The sight made his cock twitch against his thigh, already thickening again.

"Look at that," he murmured, voice rough with fresh hunger. "So full of me. So ruined for anyone else."

He slid two fingers inside her—slowly, deliberately—pushing his own cum deeper, stirring it against her sensitive walls before dragging them out coated thickly in cream.

Sheela whimpered, hips twitching involuntarily.

"Aaahhh... Aiden..."

He brought the fingers to her lips.

"Clean them."

She obeyed instantly—lips parting, tongue swirling greedily around his digits, sucking with desperate little moans as though tasting heaven itself.

While she worked his fingers like a second cock, his other hand found her swollen clit—rubbing slow, firm circles that made her thighs tremble.

Within moments she was shaking again—pussy clenching around nothing, fresh slickness mixing with the steady leak of his seed.

"How’s the preparation for the gathering?" he asked casually, as though he weren’t methodically driving her toward another shattering climax.

Sheela’s eyes fluttered—voice fracturing on every syllable.

"It’s... going perfectly—Aaahhh! Invitations sent to every major house... three hundred and twelve confirmed acceptances already—Aaahhh! Feasts prepared, musicians booked, private suites assigned... a full week of revelry—Aaahhh!"

Aiden arched one brow.

"I said three days."

She moaned—hips grinding shamelessly against his hand.

"I... used my influence—Aaahhh! Stretched it... made it grander... more prestigious... more noblewomen... more fertile wombs for you to claim—Aaahhh!"

He rewarded her with a harder press against her clit—fingers plunging back inside, curling ruthlessly against her g-spot.

She came—hard and sudden—squirting around his fingers in hot, forceful jets that soaked his wrist and the already drenched sheets.

"Aaahhh! Aiden—Aaahhh! Yes—yes—Aaahhh!"

He didn’t let her descend.

Instead he rolled her onto her back—spread her thighs wide with his knees—and slid his newly hardened cock back inside her in one long, smooth, claiming thrust.

The wet squelch was loud—obscene—her pussy still overflowing, welcoming him like it had been sculpted for this single, endless purpose.

He began to fuck her—slow, deep rolls of his hips—each stroke dragging along every oversensitive inch of her walls.

Sheela’s arms wrapped around his neck—legs hooking behind his back—pulling him impossibly deeper.

"Aaahhh... so good... so full... always so full with you... always..."

Aiden kissed along the column of her throat—nipping, sucking fresh bruises—then lifted his head to meet her dazed, heart-eyed gaze.

"My actual plan," he murmured against her swollen lips, "begins on the final night of the gathering."

He thrust harder—making her gasp and arch.

"I’m going to create an organization. A secret, filthy society. Only the highest-born, most powerful noblewomen will ever be invited. Duchesses. Marchionesses. The wives and daughters of archdukes and dragon-lords.

They’ll taste my cock—once, twice, again and again—until they’re hopelessly addicted. Until they can’t close their eyes without seeing me stretching them. Until they’ll trade anything—state secrets, military alliances, their own virgin daughters, even their wombs—just for one more night on their knees before me."

Sheela moaned—eyes rolling back, nails raking down his shoulders.

"Aaahhh... yes... make them beg... make them break for you—Aaahhh!"

He flipped her onto her stomach—yanked her hips high—slammed back in from behind with punishing force. Her massive breasts pressed flat to the mattress, dark nipples dragging across silk with every brutal impact.

"The name," he growled, spanking her ass hard enough to leave a glowing red handprint, "will be MySins."

Another sharp slap—another broken moan.

"Only the elite may enter. They’ll meet in secret—masked, cloaked, voices disguised—worshipping my cock in hidden chambers beneath the palace, in forgotten wings of ancient manors. And with every new member... my power grows. My reach deepens. Until the entire nobility kneels—not to Empress Elizabeth, not to the Church of the Light—but to me."

Sheela pushed back desperately—ass jiggling with every collision, voice cracking.

"Aaahhh! Yes—MySins—Aaahhh! I’ll help you—I’ll lure them—Aaahhh! I’ll whisper in their ears at balls, at teas, at hunts—tell them there’s a man who can make them feel alive again—Aaahhh! I’ll bring them to you—wet and trembling and ready—Aaahhh!"

He reached around—fingers finding her clit once more—rubbing in perfect, ruthless time with his thrusts.

"Work hard for my dream, Sheela," he commanded, voice rough. "Make this gathering flawless. Make every woman who walks through those gates wet just thinking about the mysterious lord they’ll meet on the final night. And when they finally kneel... make sure they understand exactly who owns them from that moment forward."

She sobbed in bliss—voice splintering.

"Anything—anything for you—Aiden—Aaahhh! I’ll do it—I’ll make MySins real—I’ll fill it with wombs for you—Aaahhh!"

Aiden’s control frayed—pace turning feral, cock swelling impossibly thicker inside her.

"Cum for me," he growled. "Cum while you swear yourself to my filthy little empire."

She shattered—screaming his name—pussy clamping down like iron, squirting in powerful arcs that splashed his thighs and balls. The rhythmic convulsions dragged him over the edge.

With a guttural roar he buried himself to the root and erupted—thick, endless ropes of enhanced seed flooding her womb yet again. Her lower belly visibly swelled further with the volume; excess cream bubbled out around his shaft, running in slow rivers down her trembling thighs.

"Aaahhh! Yes—fill me—Aaahhh! More—give me your heir—make me swell—Aaahhh!"

They collapsed together—sweaty, trembling, hearts hammering in unison—his cock still buried deep, keeping every drop locked inside her.

Sheela turned her head—lips parted in a dazed, blissful smile, eyes shining with tears and unshakable devotion.

"I love you," she whispered. "I’ll give you everything. The gathering. The women. My mother. The empire itself. All of it. Just keep claiming me."

Aiden kissed the curve of her shoulder—then the side of her neck—then claimed her mouth in a slow, possessive kiss that tasted of salt and submission.

"Good girl," he murmured against her lips. "Now rest. In three days the guests begin to arrive. And on the final night..."

He rolled his hips once—grinding deep inside her oversensitive, overflowing pussy—making her whimper and clench around him.

"...MySins is born."

Sheela moaned—already grinding back weakly despite exhaustion, despite everything.

"Yes... my lord... anything... everything..."