Chapter 899 - 898- Sex Dolls?!

Chapter 899: Chapter 898- Sex Dolls?!

The chamber had gone quiet in the way a room goes quiet when everyone has run out of patience and started hoarding it for later.

Five women sat along the curved lounge, each one with a chin in her palm, each one sighing at a slightly different rhythm so that the room sounded like a small, miserable orchestra of wind. Two hours. Two full hours of watching their husband sit at the workbench, naked but for a towel, hunched over a pile of metal pieces like some obsessive dwarf smith, engraving marks into them with a needle of glowing amethyst light.

Around his workspace lay more than four sets of what looked like handcuffs, if handcuffs were designed by a jeweler with a sense of humor. Rings. Bangles. Elegant bands of pale metal, twenty of them in total, each one slowly filling up with runic script so fine it looked like frost patterns on a window.

And the criminal part, the truly unforgivable part, was that he looked gorgeous doing it. The maids were not here to appreciate it, so the appreciation fell entirely on five pregnant wives, who had nothing to do but look, and look, and look, and privately admit that the view was wasted on nobody.

His shoulders rolled as he worked, muscle sliding under milky white skin. The six-pack caught the lamplight in little valleys of shadow. His hair fell loose around the twin amethyst horns, and the horns themselves glowed faintly, glassy, runes drifting through them like fish under ice.

"This is torture," Elara whispered, wings twitching. "He is doing this on purpose. Proactive torture."

"He was proactive with Mira and Helena," Bella muttered, ears flat. "He is just into them."

"Indeed. Indeed," Vivian sighed, and looked down at her own chest, at the heavy thickness of her boobs spilling out of her nightgown, and her long elven ear drooped. "I cannot even tell anymore if he is into thick women. Look at these. Look at them. Idle. Unemployed."

Olivia said nothing. Olivia had passed through anger, through bargaining, and arrived at a saintly resignation, her hands folded over her belly like a priestess praying for her husband’s soul.

It was Kaida who finally broke.

She stood. She marched across the chamber with a pregnant woman’s waddle weaponized into a strut, planted herself in front of the workbench with her arms folded, and glared down at him.

"What are you trying to do? Are you trying to make me lose my horniness, you bastard? Because it is working in reverse and I am about to throw you on that bed and fuck you until your dick snaps, you punk. I mean it. I will snap it. It will heal, you are a miracle saint, snap it and pray it back, I do not care, I have needs."

Viktor engraved one final mark into the final bangle. The rune flared, settled, and dimmed to a satisfied glow.

"Finally," he said. "It is done."

"FINALLY." Kaida’s fists shook. "Now choose whom you want first. I am right here. Look at me. Choose."

He looked up at her. Then past her, at the four women sagging on the lounge. His mouth curved.

"Come on, ladies. Do not be angry. I was just trying to solve a big problem here."

Five heads lifted at once.

"What problem?"

"You see," he said, setting down the needle and turning on his stool to face them fully, "I wanted to try something new tonight. But you lot have too many hands and too many feet. You are going to get tangled here and there, grabbing each other, bracing on the headboard, kicking me in your sleep afterward. We cannot have a good night that way."

Kaida’s mouth twisted. "You busted. Morning is about to happen. It is already three in the morning, you absolute..."

"Doesn’t matter, though," he said pleasantly. "We can have a long fuck."

A long, collective, defeated sigh rolled through the room. Every woman there was already exhausted by him in spirit, if not yet in body, and three o’clock in the morning had drained whatever remained.

"That’s enough," Kaida snapped, and leaned down, and grabbed his towel, and pulled it clean off.

His cock lay against his thigh, limp, soft, spent of nothing but time, resting like a lazy emperor.

Kaida stared at it and her heart genuinely ached.

"See? See what you have done, you bastard? You have lost your erection. Two hours. Two hours of crafting and my husband’s cock has forgotten its own wife. I need to..."

Her hand moved for him, warm and determined.

"Not now," he said.

And he snapped a bangle around her wrist.

"Wha... what are you doing?"

She looked down. The bangle sat above her elbow, cinched around her bicep, snug and glowing.

"You do not need your hands, right?"

"What?"

He pulled the cuff, and the sound it made was a soft pop like a cork leaving a bottle, and then Kaida’s hand was in his grip, detached, severed cleanly at the elbow with no blood, no wound, just a smooth capped nub where her arm ended. The severed hand flexed its fingers, still alive, still hers, stretching and grasping at the air.

The chamber exploded.

"Kaida!" Bella was on her feet. "Are you all right?!"

"What have you done to me?!" Kaida shrieked, flailing her remaining arm, then staring at the little waving stub of her left arm swinging like a small bird’s wing. "What is the MEANING of this? Give me back my... that is MY hand! Why is it making a fist at me?!"

Viktor stood, walked to the wall hanger by the wardrobe, and hung her hand on it. The fingers drummed once against the wood, offended, and settled.

"You do not need it," he said.

"The meaning of this, Viktor Ktorian, I swear on every temple in this kingdom..."

He lifted the entire set of bangles in both hands and turned to the room, and the lamplight caught the runes and lit his face from below, horns glowing, amethyst eyes shining, and for one long moment he looked exactly like what the capital papers were afraid to print.

"Ladies," he said. "Should we detach the useless parts from our bodies?"

Silence.

"Of course," he continued, conversational as a man discussing dinner, "the effect vanishes within five days. Or I can restore you manually, any limb, any time, with a touch. So really, it is entirely safe."

He smiled, slow and warm, and the warmth made it worse.

"That’s enough, right? To make you all my sex dolls for the night?"

Every wife in the room gulped. Every wife in the room trembled. And every wife in the room, to her private horror and her pussy’s open delight, felt a hot twitch of lust crawl up from her core at the sight of him standing there glowing like a demon king with a rack of jewelry.

’This is unfair,’ Elara thought, thighs pressing. ’He is evil. He is genuinely evil. Why is evil doing this to me.’

Some floors below, four maids walked the long hallway toward the bedchamber, summoned by a message that had arrived with no explanation.

"We have been called there," the short-haired one said, for the third time. "That is all the note said. Called there. Not why. Not for what."

"Strange, isn’t it?" the chubby one puffed, catching up. "The ladies were about to deliver today, right? Any hour. Their bellies grew far too fast for a normal term."