So this is the way we plan." Ravina's angry and surprised look was forced up to mine with my fingers digging into her chin. Her black eyes were large and her breath shallow and rapid—as if she was already aware of my request. As if she were pleading for it.
"You are going to lead the tribe," I said coldly. "Then you are going to follow me to the Kronos Tribe."
"But silently. No Fire. No yelling. No goddamn mistakes", I added with my thumb, pressing the flesh under her jaw.
"Create a camp temporarily," I said with a half-smile on my face. "On the cliff above their tribe."
My other hand went down, holding her waist with enough force to leave a mark.
Ravina's eyes got bigger. "But... how? That cliff is impossible to—"
I cut her off with a look. "Leave that to me."
She swallowed, her throat bobbing, then gave me that stupid, devoted smile. "Forgive me for doubting you, my King." Her fingers brushed my chest. "I'll follow your every command."
Good girl.
I turned back to Ryan, who was still standing there like a smug fucking statue. "Let's go, Elder Ryan." I forced a sigh, shaking my head like I was disappointed in myself. "I explained to them. I can't be their leader."
Ryan's face split into a relieved grin. "That's good. That's good." He clapped my shoulder—patronizing piece of shit. "Let's go back."
Behind us, Sabina and Helen lost it.
"NO!" Sabina screamed, her voice cracking. "My king, don't leave us—please!"
Helen dropped to her knees, her tits heaving. "We'll die without you!"
Ravina stepped forward, her booming voice filled with authority, "ENOUGH." She never glanced at them; her glance was at me only. "The king has decided. Get back. Immediately."
I, Ryan, Mitt, and the others moved away, but through the earpiece, I heard everything; Ravina's low and commanding voice delivering my orders to the tribe.
The earpiece was vibrating against my temple, Ravina's voice crawling into my ear like a silk and steel serpent. "We move as shadows." Her words were both a comfort and a command, one of those promises that make a spine straighten and a pulse speed up.
"And when our king gives the signal..." The silence that followed wasn't just an absence of sound—it was a charged breath, the instant before a blade meets flesh. "We take everything."
A slow, wild, and animal-like grin spread across my face. Oh, we would.
The simple idea of it made warmth flow through my body up to my groin, and I felt my cock get bigger and harder with eagerness against the rough, thick, and demanding material of my skirt. Points. The count of lives, resources, and territory, soon to be under my control. Power.
The kind that made people kneel and lose their will. Pussy. Wet, quivering, asking for more—every vagina in that tribe would recognize my name before the night was over. To think of it—of them—made me grind my teeth and twitch my fingers with the urge to grab and keep.
And then there was the Eternal Vitality, that amazing feeling which raged through my veins like a second heartbeat. No tiredness. No weakness. No end.
My body was like a vehicle designed for takeover; it would enable me to do a march for several days, brawl for many hours, and yet, be able to have sex with every woman in that village so thoroughly that they wouldn't even be able to recognize their normal bodies before the sun would come up.
I was aware of it—the very, very strong, untiring force that was inside me like a coiled snake, waiting to be let go. They didn't know what was in store for them.
Mitt's voice cut through my reverie like a rusted knife. "Dexter, about Ravina's tribe—how many? How much food?"
I turned my head just enough to meet his gaze, my smile all easy charm and hidden blades. "Oh, you know." A shrug, a lie slipping between my teeth like honey. "A few dozen. Mostly women." I let my tone turn dismissive, almost pitying. "Starving, really. Barely enough to fill a pot."
Lie.
Let him chew on that. Let him think we were walking into a den of weak, half-dead stragglers. Let him underestimate. The moment his guard dropped would be the moment my knife found his throat.
He nodded, satisfied, and lumbered off with Ryan, their backs turned—perfect. Patt and Eric followed, their murmurs swallowed by the wind, their presence already irrelevant.
And then there was Tusk.
The oaf sidled up to me like a dog expecting a kick, his voice a nervous rasp, as if he were confessing to a crime. "Dexter... Kina told me about something. Uh... sqputyung."
I stilled.
Squirting.
Of course she did.
I turned to him, my face a mask of false concern, my mind already racing. "You mean... squirting?"
His face twisted, like the word itself was filth. "Yeah! That—that thing you did to Ruth. Kina says you made her—" He swallowed, his Adam's apple bobbing. "Piss. But it felt good." His voice dropped to a whisper. "Now she won't stop—says I have to learn from you!"
I wanted to tell him to fuck off. Kina's pussy would only squirt for my cock.
But then—
An idea slithered into my mind.
Slow. Delicious. A plan so twisted, so perfect, that my cock jerked in response, aching with the promise of it.
I sighed, shaking my head like this was some great burden. "Elder Brother..." My voice was heavy with false gravity. "It's not that I don't want to teach you." I let my gaze drop, my expression solemn. "It's dangerous. One wrong touch, and you could hurt her. Permanently."
Tusk's eyes bulged. "Kina said that too! But she is too..."
"Obsessed?" I supplied, my tone dripping with mock sympathy. "I understand." A slow, knowing nod. "A woman's desire is a powerful thing."
My gaze flickered toward the trees, where Ravina's women were waiting—hungry, unclaimed, ripe for the taking. "But if I'm going to teach you..." I let my voice drop, my words a velvet noose. "I need to examine Sister Kina first. Every woman's body is different."
My hands kinda twitched, muscle memory kicking in, thinking about how Ruth used to lose it when I hit just the right places. The way her whole body would shiver, thighs shaking—man, it was wild. "Gotta know exactly where to push, where to slide my fingers, if I wanna make her—" I let the word hang in the air, thick with implication. "...squirt safely."
Tusk's face darkened, his jaw tightening. "Dexter... you'd touch a woman other than yours? Doesn't that Disgust you?"
I chuckled, low and dark. "Elder Brother, I'm a healer." My hands had been inside more women than he'd dared to look at. "My duty comes before comfort." I let my voice drop to a whisper, my fingers twitching with the memory of Ruth's wet heat. "Even if it means... sacrificing myself."
Tusk exhaled, his shoulders slumping in relief. "Oh, Dexter... you're too kind! To go through this for me—for Kina—"
Idiot.
I'd have his woman laid out, naked in front of me, slick and desperate for me, her cries filling the room, and him just standing there, soaking it all in—almost grateful, like I was doing him a favor.
Honestly, the irony was thick enough to choke on. Sweet as hell, though.
I smacked his shoulder—probably harder than I needed to. "Don't worry, Elder Brother." Grinned like a wolf. "I'll make sure she gets everything she needs.''
And I would.
Just not in the way he thought.
Tusk's smile was like a terrible wound that ruined his face, a mess of yellowed teeth and unseeing, dripping faith. "Thanks, Dexter...," he said, his voice breaking, thick with the relief of a man who had just been saved from the executioner's block.
"Kina will be so happy—she will stop at last—she won't stop nagging me about—about how I can't make her—" His words were thrown, mixed up with his own dishonourment.
I wasn't paying attention.
His thanking me was just sound. His terror? Of no use. The only thing that counted was the slow, dense throb of expectancy running through my veins, the fire wrapping up from the belly like a snake ready for assault.
The sun was getting under the trees, changing the forest into a slaughterhouse of the sun—amber and crimson, the same colors as the dying breath of a fresh kill.
I looked at the world map, my fingers hovering like a god over the flashing dots that indicated fates yet to be decided.
Ravina's position wasn't there.
Fuck.
I'd forgotten to mark them.
A rare oversight.
One that could have cost me everything.
But then—
Agatha's position flared.
200 meters.
And beyond her, other red dots, scattered like blood drops in the opposite direction.
Kerry. Kina. Hina. Vera.
500 meters.
My fingers twitched.
My pulse steadied, slow and deliberate, like the cock of a crossbow.
Almost time.
I halted mid-stride. "Wait. I need to piss." Mitt barely glanced up, already turning away. "Don't take all day—" But I was gone, slipping between the trees like smoke. Five stones, stacked in a crude pyramid. A signal for Ravina to stop here.
"Aunt Ravina."
Her name left my lips like a curse, a command, a knife dragged across stone. The earpiece hissed with static, the dark swallowing my voice before it reached her—but it would reach her. It always did.
A beat of silence.
Then—
"Yes—? Dexter...? Is that you?"
Her voice wavered, just for a second. Not fear. Disbelief. Like she couldn't decide if she was hearing a ghost or a god.
"Wait, where I marked the stones. Five of them. You'll know the place." No warmth. No patience. Just the cold weight of an order.
I didn't need to explain. She knew.
The static crackled, thick with her breath. Then—
"As you order... King."
The shift in her voice was delicious. Dexter to King in the span of a heartbeat. Obedience, molded by my will.
But she wasn't done.
"And if someone finds us?" A murmur, soft as a threat. There was steel beneath it. A challenge, wrapped in submission.
I exhaled, slow and deliberate, letting the silence stretch just long enough to make her wonder.
Then—
"Then you make sure"—my voice dropped, low and lethal—" they regret it."
A pause.
A laugh, dark and velvet, slithered through the earpiece. Not nervous. Not forced.
Hungry.
"As you wish."
I then went back to Mitt and others. We later came back to the tribe. The camp of the tribe was a storm of shouts, laughter, the banging of spears on wood, the smell of roasting meat, and unwashed bodies. Energy was in the air, the sort of wild, disordered relief that one feels when the predator is back in the den.
"Dexter has come back!"
The words went straight through the crowd like the crack of a whip, the faces turning to me, eyes staring into mine with a feeling that was almost worship and terror at the same time.
I felt Ravina's voice in my ear, soft and deadly, a secret only for me.
"King." A pause. The sound of rustling leaves, the distant snap of a twig. "We have found the location you marked. The ground is good. The trees are thick. We can stay here temporarily."
"Good."
The word was slipping out of my mouth like a serpent uncoiling, smooth and deadly. My voice did not go far—it was a whisper, a hiss only for her, the night, and the hungry static that was in my earpiece. "Wait for me. After sunset."
"We will stay here." One more moment. "Waiting for your order." Ravina's voice was still ringing in my ear.
I suddenly saw someone running over here.
Ruth.
Her hair? Wild, honestly—like a thunderstorm crashing through the middle of all this grime and sweat. She barreled straight for me, lungs working overtime, eyes glued to mine like I was the villain in her tragic little movie.
And she slammed into me like she was auditioning for Wrecking Ball duty. Knocked the wind clean out of me—no warning, just bam.
Suddenly, she's got her arms locked around my neck, legs coiled tight around my waist. I swear, if she let go, maybe she'd just fall apart right there. The hit shoved me back a step, but weirdly enough, I stayed on my feet.
"Don't you ever—" Her voice was a snarl, her teeth sinking into my shoulder. I didn't feel pain. +500 (Lips.)
She was everywhere. Her tits mashed against my chest, the weight of them suffocating, perfect. I could feel the heat of her skin, the way her heart hammered like a trapped bird. +2000 (Tits. 1000 each.)
Her thighs squeezed my hips, her skirt riding up, the leaf skirt bunching around her waist. The tribe's cheers turned feral, a pack of wolves scenting blood. I didn't stop them. Let them see.
My hands found her ass—finally. The flesh was scorching under my palms, the muscles flexing as she ground herself against me, desperate. I squeezed, fingers digging in just enough to leave marks. She gasped, her back arching, pressing her tits harder into my chest. "Dexter—" Her voice was a whine, a plea.
I slapped her left cheek—crack—the sound sharp in the sudden silence. The tribe inhales. Ruth moaned. +500 (Left asscheek.) Then the right. Harder. Her skin jiggled under the force, the imprint of my hand blooming red. +500 (Right asscheek.)
''Down.'' The term was a low growl, a sensation that was felt through my chest. She wavered—only for a moment—her claws, a.k.a. nails, tearing into my shoulders. After that, she undressed me with her hands, slow, methodical, her tits rubbing against mine all the way. The friction was pure agony.
She grabbed me as if she were still in free fall the moment her feet landed. With her forehead against my chest and breathing all uneven - a bit desperate, really. The entire crowd, large and loud, was there, but I only felt her hands that were tearing into me and trembling so much.
I ran my fingers through her hair, yanked her head back, only enough to see her neck - red, gentle, and her heartbeat racing like it was asking to be released.
I leaned in, close enough she could taste the promise: "After Tonight," I murmured, "You're not walking straight for a week." Her mouth parted, her eyes basically sparking. The tribe? Hanging on every second. Me? I just grinned, couldn't help it.