Chapter 333: The Weeknd Evening 9

Aurora’s composure was fraying. The threats kept coming, but they were breathless now, broken by the small, helpless noises she couldn’t quite swallow.

"Stop—ah—take it away—you scum, you filthy—don’t you dare—"

Lor’s breathing roughened.

He gripped his cock tighter, the head of it pressed right against the soaked lace covering her entrance, and stroked himself in short, hard jerks while he kept the contact.

The sight of her—princess of the kingdom, legs forced high and wide, tits heaving, pussy outlined in wet lace and glistening with him—pushed him over.

He came with a low groan.

Thick ropes of cum pulsed out, hot and heavy.

The first streak landed across her lower stomach and the top of her panties.

The second painted a long, white line up between her breasts.

He angled himself higher and let the next pulses splash across her face—over one cheek, the bridge of her nose, a thick strand catching on her lower lip and dripping slowly down her chin.

More landed on her collarbones, her soft throat, the full curves of her tits, dripping down into the deep valley of her cleavage and soaking further into the already-wet bra.

He stroked every last drop onto her, watching the white mess streak across pale royal skin and silver hair, watching it drip from her chin onto the soft upper slopes of her breasts.

Aurora’s eyes were wide, furious, and humiliated all at once.

Cum clung to her lashes.

A thick strand stretched from her lip to her chin when she tried to speak and failed.

Lor smiled and gave her a smug look.

He stepped back just far enough to look at the ruined, painted princess he had made of her, still locked in that lewd, open position, body marked and glistening.

But he still wasn’t satisfied. Not even close.

"Time to do it properly," he said, voice calm again, almost conversational. "Hope the princess doesn’t mind being fucked by a scum."

Her eyes flashed.

"You scum—"

He reached toward the thin wet part of her panties covering her pussy to remove it and expose her swollen lips, when—

A concentrated burst of force, sharp and fast, came from directly behind him.

His instincts fired before his mind caught up.

He dropped instantly, tucking low, and the impact struck the wall beside his head with a sound like a thunderclap, blasting a chunk of stone outward and leaving a scorched crater in the rock.

Dust and fragments rained down around him, some of them bouncing off his bare shoulders.

He spun around, dropping into a low stance, both hands up, heart still hammering from the near miss.

The dungeon was dark beyond the candles’ reach. He stared into it, every muscle tight.

Then he heard it.

Heels.

Slow. Unhurried. The exact same rhythm he had heard when he first arrived — that measured, confident click against stone that belonged to someone who had never once needed to hurry for anyone.

Click.

Click.

Click.

A figure stepped out of the shadows at the far end of the dungeon.

Silver hair. Long, immaculately braided. A warm smile that reached all the way to her eyes.

Aurora.

Lor stared at her.

Then he looked at the wall behind him, where Aurora was still bound in stone cuffs against the surface.

Her eyes were blazing with pure, murderous fury.

Then back at the Aurora walking toward him from the shadows.

He looked between them twice, brain struggling to catch up.

The Aurora emerging from the darkness raised one hand in a small, pleasant wave.

Her fitted black clothes were unwrinkled.

The corset hugged her narrow waist and lifted her full, heavy breasts into a perfect, soft cleavage that rose and fell with each calm breath.

Her braid was perfect. She looked as if she had spent the last several minutes standing somewhere comfortable, watching everything unfold.

She stopped a few paces away, tilted her head, and smiled the smile of someone who had been three steps ahead the entire time.

"Calm your horses, Lor." Her voice was warm, easy, entirely unbothered.

Her bright eyes moved briefly to the Aurora against the wall — taking in the stone cuffs, the lewd spread of her legs, the way his cum still clung to soft royal skin — and then returned to him with evident amusement.

"You can’t see my pussy just yet."

She walked toward the Aurora on the wall.

Her heels clicked softly across the wet stone.

Each step made her full breasts shift gently within the tight corset.

She stopped in front of the bound clone and let out a low, delighted laugh as she looked her over — the forced position, the exposed curves, the white streaks of cum painted across pale flesh and still dripping slowly from one stiff nipple.

"Look at you," she murmured, almost fondly, reaching out to trace a single fingertip through a thick strand of cum on the clone’s soft underboob.

"How pathetic he made you. All that pride, and here you are... covered in his seed. Truly tragic. You even let him mark your face."

She reached deeper between the deep valley of her own corset cleavage, fingers disappearing into the warm, soft press of her breasts for a moment, and drew out a slender glass tube.

Then she stepped closer still.

With one elegant finger she scooped a thick strand of cum from the clone’s cheek, then another from the soft underside of a breast, then a glistening streak from the soaked lace of the panties.

She carefully deposited each collected drop into the tube, sealing it with a soft click.

A faint smear of white remained on her fingertip; she examined it for a second before wiping it clean against the clone’s already-stained thigh.

Only then did she turn toward Lor.

"It’s easier to get your genetic material this way than your blood," she said lightly, holding the tube up between two fingers so the cloudy contents caught the candlelight.

"Much less struggle. And far more... entertaining."

Lor’s face went still as the realization settled like cold water.

She had tricked him.

All of it — the fight, the capture, the teasing, the climax across her clone’s body — had been planned from the start.

The Aurora on the wall was still screaming, voice raw and venomous.

"Kill him! Cut that filthy cock off while he’s still alive and screaming!!"

The real Aurora simply reached out and touched two fingers to the clone’s forehead.

The bound body dissolved.

Soft silver light flared as the clone’s form broke apart into pure mana, flowing like liquid starlight into the standing Aurora’s hand and then up her arm, disappearing beneath the black fabric of her sleeve.

Her eyes glowed for a brief moment — a soft, luminous silver that made the candles seem dim — before the light faded.

She exhaled once, as if settling the absorbed mana into place, and the full weight of her presence seemed to settle more solidly into the room.

Lor’s voice was quiet, almost thoughtful. "Bloodline ability. You can make a clone using part of your own mana."

"Correct," she said, still smiling. "A useful little talent. The clone carries enough of me to fight, to speak, to feel... She even came a little when you rubbed that thick cock of yours against her. Did you notice?"

She took one slow step back into the deeper shadows, the movement making her breasts shift again within the tight corset.

"I found you interesting, Lor. More interesting than I expected. The way you fight. The way you think... And especially your cock." Her smile widened just a fraction.

"I don’t want to kill you. Not yet. I’ll need you in the future... soon. Wait for me."

She was already fading into the darkness, the edges of her silhouette softening like smoke.

"Wait," Lor said, stepping forward. "Answer me. What do you want from me?"

She ignored the question completely.

"Bye, Lor," she called lightly over her shoulder, voice still warm and amused.

"Hope you had fun playing with me. I know I did."

And then she was gone — vanished into the dark as if she had never been there at all.

The dungeon fell silent again.

Only the candles remained, their light flickering over the empty wall where the clone had been, and the faint, drying streaks of cum still visible on the stone.