--- CHAPTER 20: (R18) The Future King's Mother Shares a Secret Bond ---
"Ah!" Queen Taria cried out sharply as Arthas suddenly drew her forward in a fluid motion, her hands flying to support herself on the ornate headboard of the bed, her heavy breasts dangling and being drawn into his hungry mouth one by one. Her plump, curvaceous waist was encircled firmly by his big, strong hands, and the man beneath her was firmly claiming her depths from bottom to top with upward thrusts that lifted her off the mattress. The fierce, unrelenting rhythm and the irregular accelerations—sometimes slow and teasing, sometimes jackhammer-fast—made her remind him breathlessly, "Your Highness... don't release inside... You can't... You will... lead to ties... a child... please, think of the consequences..." The morning light filters stronger now, urgency building with the castle's awakening sounds.
Ties? Oh, right—the baby complication, planting my seed in her womb and risking a royal bastard. She's smart, always thinking ahead even in the throes of passion. But 'Your Highness'? No, we're way past formalities now—we're intimate 'allies,' bound by cum and conquest. I need to seal this fully, make her acknowledge it. The System's essence harvest demands completion, deepening the bond.
"Call me husband—say it like you mean it!" Arthas demanded, his voice husky with command as he thrust deeper, holding her gaze with intense eyes.
Yes, make her say it. 'Partner' was a weak compromise last night; 'husband' is total surrender, ownership of her body and soul. It cements the taboo alliance.
Arthas did not stop his assault, but became more resolute, his thrusts deepening. He did not want to be discovered by anyone wandering the halls, so he increased the rhythm frantically, wanting to release quickly and escape. The bed rocks subtly, muffled by the thick mattress.
"Husband... please... don't release inside... please... I beg you..." Taria gasped, her voice trembling with urgency, her body betraying her as her hips met his thrusts, grinding down.
She said it—she actually fucking said it, calling me 'husband' while riding my cock. Light above, Varian... my 'brother' in arms... your mother just submitted to me completely. This is... this is the ultimate power, more intoxicating than any throne. Forget the crown for a moment—this control, this taboo dominance! Pride swells in him, his arousal throbbing harder.
"Good girl, wife... your pussy feels even better when you call me husband—fuck, it's clenching harder than ever, delicious as hell, milking me dry!" Arthas groaned, his hands squeezing her waist tighter, pulling her down onto him.
Queen Taria begged with increasing urgency, her voice trembling; she was really afraid of being discovered, the scandal destroying her reputation and Varian's future. "Arthas—husband—hurry... someone might hear us. The maids will come soon!" Her eyes dart to the door, panic sharpening her senses.
Boo! With a wet pop, Arthas pulled away his arousal suddenly, the sound lewd and echoing, then guided Queen Taria down onto the bed on her back, drawing the glistening shaft to her full, red lips, and thrust it gently into the warmth of her mouth. The shift is abrupt, asserting dominance.
She begged for no ties, no internal release—fine, I'll respect that... somewhat. But the 'essence' has to go somewhere; I'm not wasting a drop of this life-giving load. This is the compromise, a king's depraved alternative. And... gods, this is... this is a power move straight from the depths of hell, perfect in its humiliation. The System will still count it, he reasons.
"Suck it down, wife... fuck, your mouth's delicious too—take my cock deep into your throat, swallow every inch!" Arthas instructed, his fingers tangling in her hair, guiding her gently yet firmly.
Taria's eyes widened in shock and humiliation, but she moved her warmth obediently, drawing in the essence that the man released into her with difficulty, gulping it down. The taste was intense, salty and musky, but she endured it all. But there was too much essence, overflowing her lips, and she had to draw in the boy's warmth as much as possible while enduring the depth of his thrusts. Her cheeks hollow as she sucks, tears pricking her eyes.
"Swallow my cum, auntie... fuck, it's so good watching you gulp it down like a thirsty whore—I'm going crazy with the sight!" Arthas panted, his hips bucking slightly, careful not to choke her.
Gulp! Gulp! She's... she's doing it without hesitation, obediently gulping down every drop. The Queen of Stormwind, elegant and dignified, now reduced to swallowing a man's load in the early morning light. Her face is flushed crimson, and it's obvious that she has been claimed very firmly, broken in ways she never imagined. The act deepens her submission.
"Cleanse it all—every last drop!" he commanded, pulling back slightly to watch her work, his hand stroking her cheek.
And now... the final seal of this new, twisted 'marriage.' This is... this is better than any signed treaty, more binding than vows. Satisfaction courses through him.
Arthas breathed heavily, pulling away his arousal slowly, leaning back against the headboard to rest and catch his breath. His chest heaves, sweat glistening.
Queen Taria didn't care about her own tired, aching body and climbed up bare on her knees to draw in Arthas's arousal once more, which was still marked with her own sticky warmth and had a pungent, mixed scent of their union. Gentle and patient, like a devoted servant, she used her warmth to gently trace every vein and ridge of Arthas's arousal, and used her soft lips to gently draw in Arthas's tip, sucking lightly. She took good care of everything, not leaving any part uncleaned, her tongue swirling around the head, lapping up residues from base to tip. The thoroughness is almost reverent.
"Arthas... this is so degrading... but for you, husband, I'll do it," Taria murmured between licks, her voice soft and submissive, eyes meeting his.
Look at that dedication—so attentive, so thorough in her submission. The absolute, undeniable power of this moment: a Queen... at my complete service, cleaning my cock like it's her duty. The whole arousal is like being enveloped in pure warmth. The all-round heat and all-round tenderness are wrapping, serving, and covering every inch. I feel good, ecstatic, and expanded to my limits. Queen Taria's gentle tolerance makes my longing nowhere to escape— she's mine now! The System confirms: 1/3 complete, more essence gained.
Seeing the charming mature woman serving himself so attentively, with such care and focus, it was obvious that she had surrendered completely, her will bent to his. If I want to claim her next time, ravage her again, I just need to reach out, summon her to my chambers, and there will be no other difficulties—she'll come willingly, her pussy already wet at the thought. Future alliances flash in his mind.
Tracing her flushed cheek tenderly with his fingers, Arthas leaned in and kissed her deeply, tasting himself on her lips. "I cherish you deeply—have a good rest now, I'm leaving first to avoid suspicion." The affection is strategic, building loyalty.
A little bit of that 'technique' again—show value, affection, make her feel cherished amid the depravity. It's not even a lie at this point; I cherish this 'alliance' very, very much. And the 'essence' harvested? Definitely cherish that power boost.
"Well, your highness, take care on your way," Taria replied, her eyes widening as the words slipped out, sounding like a beloved's concern. The slip reveals her confusion.
How could this be exactly the same as a beloved's concern for her ally going out into the world? The words slipped out so naturally, like we've been lovers for years. Hah. She's... dazed now, confused by her own feelings. She called me 'your highness,' but she said it like... like a companion, a very... very... well-trained, devoted companion. A ripple rose in her heart, stirring emotions she couldn't name. Has he changed me? Have I formed a real bond with this young man, this prince who took me by force? All the confusion makes my head a little muddled, swirling with conflict, and I need to rest again with this fatigue weighing me down. She collapses back, mind racing.
"Until we meet again, my queen—my wife," Arthas whispered, dressing quickly and slipping out through the shadows.
System Task: Origin of Life, 1/3 complete. Life Essence acquired successfully. Alliance with Stormwind's regent... fully 'husbanded' and secured. Time to slip out and play the part of the dutiful prince. Satisfaction lingers as he navigates the corridors.
Arthas returned stealthily to his own room to refresh himself, washing away the evidence of their marathon session, then headed straight to the barracks with purpose. He was there to learn the intricacies of managing the army, absorbing knowledge that would make him a true leader on the battlefield. Although individual strength could overwhelm numbers when pushed to demigod levels, too many enemies could still swarm and defeat even the mightiest—quantity and quality existed in a delicate, deadly balance that he needed to master. The barracks buzz with activity, soldiers sharpening blades and drilling formations.
In the bustling barracks, filled with the clang of armor and shouts of drills, Arthas met the white-haired commander of the coalition forces, Sir Anduin Lothar. It was rumored far and wide that this grizzled knight was a direct descendant of the ancient bloodline of the founding emperor, Thoradin himself. According to the ancient pact signed between Emperor Thoradin and the high elves of old, if his descendants ever had any requests in the future, the high elves were bound to fulfill them without question. In fact, they did provide a little help in this war, but really, it was just "a little"—barely scratching the surface of what they could offer. Lothar's presence commands respect, his aura one of unyielding resolve.
"Sir Lothar, teach me everything—how to lead these men to victory against the orcs," Arthas said eagerly, shaking the commander's hand, his mind shifting to strategy.
Lothar nodded, his scarred face breaking into a grim smile. "Prince Arthas, glad to see such fire in you. The orcs are brutal, but with proper tactics, we can break them." He begins with basics, drawing on maps.
The high elves, renowned across Azeroth for their mastery of magic, with arcane energy flowing through their very blood like a river, did not even deign to send a single magician to the front lines. Instead, they dispatched only their least valued troops: the ranger corps, which numbered a mere few hundred souls. Frustration builds in Arthas at their arrogance.
"Just a handful of archers for a world-ending invasion—arrogant, pointy-eared bastards," Arthas muttered under his breath, clenching his fist.
Lothar overheard and chuckled. "Aye, lad. The high elves hold back, but they sent Alleria Windrunner. She's worth a regiment on her own." His words carry weight, tempered by experience.
The kingdom of the high elves was called Quel'Thalas, a land of eternal spring and magic, where power was shared equally between the king and the Silver Moon Council. All seven members of that council were lords above the level of Magister, which showed just how deeply ingrained and popular the pursuit of magic was among the high elves, their society built on arcane supremacy. Arthas absorbs this, plotting future alliances.
Lothar, with his years of battlefield wisdom etched into every scar and line on his face, explained his vast experience in leading troops, sharing tactics for deploying forces effectively and how to counter the savage orcs' brutal charges. He delved into the coordination between heavily armored infantry and swift cavalry units, the strategic positions for mages to rain down fire and ice from afar, and priests to heal and bolster the front lines with holy light. Diagrams illustrate flanking maneuvers and defensive lines.
"Remember, Prince: Position your mages on high ground, protected by infantry. Cavalry flanks the enemy—hit them where they're weak," Lothar advised, drawing maps in the dirt, his voice steady.
All of it impressed Arthas deeply, filling gaps in his knowledge he hadn't even realized existed. This... this is what I've been missing all along—actual, hard-won experience from the trenches, not just theoretical bullshit from dusty tomes. He practices formations mentally.
These are not what Lordaeron's generals know; our kingdom hasn't seen a decent war in ages, our officers are just fancy-dressed parade-ground idiots more concerned with polish than victory. This knowledge... this is how you win wars, crush enemies, and build legends. Determination sets in.
For two consecutive days, Arthas listened to the lessons attentively, absorbing every word like a sponge, knowing that the army had been fully assembled, with part of the advance troops already setting off toward the southern fronts. He would soon go with the main force, marching into the fray against the green-skinned horde. He has been honing his combat skills these two days, sparring with knights and practicing his holy light infusions. The light responds stronger, perhaps from the essence.
"Aunt Priscilla's gone—bad timing. I've got this 'Life Essence' quest making me horny as hell," Arthas thought, wiping sweat from a spar, his body still buzzing.
"Your Highness, from today on, I will obey your orders without question until your cooperation with my father ends," a sultry voice cut through, like silk over steel.
There was a sudden ripple in the space around him, a shimmer of draconic magic, and the black dragon princess in her flawless human form appeared before Arthas, staff in hand, her presence radiating power and allure. Onyxia's arrival turns heads, her beauty mesmerizing.
Onyxia... hello there, you magnificent creature. The heart-penetrating fragrance wafted over him, a mix of exotic spices and ancient fire. From her elegant white neck down to the delicate collarbone, with its clear, inviting ravines and full, commanding presence, and a blooming rose tattoo etched into her skin just above her cleavage. The details captivate him.
Is that... a new tattoo? A rose? That's surprisingly... human, vulnerable even. And... very hot, adding to her dangerous beauty. The full and huge breasts propped up her dress into an exaggerated, mouth-watering arc, straining the fabric. Her two long legs were slender and straight, forming a perfect inverted triangle shape, with thick and strong thighs that promised power, straight and slender calves tapering down, two big white feet that were white and flawless, and ten green jade toes painted with sleek black nail polish, shining like black gems dotted on them. Desire stirs for her.
A dragon... in human form... who takes the time for a pedicure? This is the most confusing, terrifyingly hot woman I've ever encountered. I... I have to have her, claim her depths, harvest essence from a dragoness. The quest tempts him further.
"Onyxia... you look... captivating. That tattoo—new?" Arthas asked, his eyes lingering appreciatively.
She smirked. "A whim, Prince. Now, what orders do you have?" Her tone is professional, yet intrigued.
"I suddenly have a good venture in mind," Arthas said, eyes lighting up with entrepreneurial fire.
Wait, no—business first, then... 'Life Essence.' Focus, Arthas, don't let the lust derail you yet. That's right, perfume and high heels! He reins in his thoughts.
He looked at Onyxia's white toes and thought of high heels. Wouldn't it be perfect if they were paired with sheer stockings? Oh, gods above. Onyxia... in black stockings and high heels, her legs wrapped like gifts... okay. Okay, I'm... I'm a genius. I'm going to invent lingerie, stockings, heels—all of it. For... 'profit,' yes. 'Profit' in gold and essence. However, high heels and stockings are easy to copy and imitate by any tailor or cobbler. Once they are replicated and spread, their profits will drop significantly, flooding the market. He plans enhancements.
Onyxia was a little annoyed that Arthas was staring so intently at her toes, her draconic pride prickling. A glimmer of magic flashed under her feet, and a pair of elegant boots materialized, covering them up. The act teases him further.
Aww, she covered them—spoilsport, teasing me with that glimpse. But after hearing that there were gold coins to be earned, piles of glittering treasure, the annoyed eyes suddenly became bright and eager, her dragon greed ignited. Her eyes sparkle with avarice.
Hah, so predictable—gold is her weakness, her 'off' switch... or rather, her 'on' switch for cooperation. Definitely 'on' for whatever scheme I propose. He smiles inwardly.
"Oh, dear prince, what good venture do you have in mind? Tell me everything—I'm intrigued," Onyxia purred, leaning closer, her scent enveloping him.
"Shoes, stockings, and perfume—luxury items for the noble ladies," Arthas explained without hesitation, his mind racing with plans for monopoly.
"Let's talk about it in detail after we come back from the war. Think about it: if there is a pair of shoes that can make women look tall, elegant, and graceful, accentuating their curves; a thin pair of coverings that outlines the perfect shape of beautiful legs, perhaps with a little bit of subtle magic effect woven in for allure or comfort—what do you think it will be like? A market explosion among the aristocracy." He paints the picture vividly.
"Not very good—sounds frivolous," Onyxia snorted, her face skeptical, arms crossing.
"Your Highness, are you making fun of me with this nonsense?" she asked, crossing her arms, yet curiosity lingers.
She... she can't picture it, can't see the vision. She has no imagination for fashion, just raw greed for gold. Perfect—I can mold this. He presses on.
"Of course not—whether it works or not, in fact, you will know if you try it firsthand," Arthas replied confidently, his tone reassuring.
"How to try it? I'm no merchant's guinea pig," Onyxia retorted, curiosity piqued despite her words.
"Make some samples and distribute them to Happy Manor. If the venture catches fire there, it means that there is a market and massive sales potential," Arthas suggested with a knowing smile, envisioning success.
The so-called Happy Manor is actually a place of leisure alliances for the elite—a high-class brothel, where nobles and merchants alike indulged in pleasures of the flesh. The perfect test market—they'll 'field test' the products rigorously, give feedback on how the stockings feel during... activities, how the heels enhance the allure. Word will spread like wildfire.
Onyxia obviously knew what that place was, her draconic senses picking up on the implications, but she didn't expect that as a prince, he would be so, um, so grounded in the seedier sides of society! Her eyebrow arches in surprise.
'Grounded'? Lady, I just forced my friend's mom to call me 'husband' this morning while she swallowed my load. 'Grounded' is... not the word you're looking for. 'Pragmatic'? Yes. 'Horny'? Definitely. But... not... 'grounded'. This prince is full of surprises. He chuckles internally.
"Happy Manor? You mean... test on courtesans? Bold, Prince. But if it brings gold... I'm in," Onyxia said, her eyes gleaming with avarice, greed overriding hesitation.
Arthas grinned. "Exactly. They'll spread the word among the nobles. We'll corner the market with draconic enhancements—magic-infused fabrics that don't tear, scents that enchant. Uncopyable." The plan solidifies, a blend of business and lust.
She nodded slowly. "Intriguing. After the war, then. But don't think this means I'm your plaything." Her warning carries a flirtatious edge.
"Oh, Onyxia... we'll see about that," Arthas thought, his quest pulsing with anticipation, eyes tracing her form as they part ways.
--- END OF CHAPTER 20 ---