Dark Lord Seduction System: Taming Wives, Daughters, Aunts, and CEOs - Chapter 312

Chapter 312: Oh Celeste~
Celeste’s fingers lingered against my jaw, trembling with the effort of restraint. Her amber eyes weren’t just hungry—they were devout, wide with the terrifying realization that the deity she’d summoned was real and within reach.

The warmth of her touch bled through my skin like liquid sunlight, igniting every nerve-ending the System had rewired for exactly this purpose. Her thumb swept along my cheekbone, tracing the rigid line of muscle beneath, mapping the topography of power she craved to worship.

“Show me,” she breathed again, the words dissolving against my lips. Her voice had shed its gallery-host polish, leaving something raw and fractured underneath. Need.

The fireplace flared, casting long, dancing shadows across the stone floor. Beyond the glass walls, Miami sprawled like a glittering, oblivious audience. Inside the sanctuary, the air thickened—silk sliding on leather, the sharp crackle of burning logs, the synchronized hitch of six other women’s breaths as they watched the ritual begin.

I didn’t answer with words.

I answered with movement.

My hand rose, not to her face, but to the vulnerable curve where her neck met her shoulder. My thumb pressed against the frantic pulse jumping beneath her silk-clad skin, feeling the racing drumbeat of her anticipation. Slow—deliberately slow—I traced the delicate chain of her collarbone, fingertips grazing the overheated swell of her breast above the daring neckline of her black dress.

Fabric whispered as I leaned in, my other hand settling possessively at the small of her back, pulling her flush against me.

A sharp gasp sliced through the heavy silence. Her body arched into mine, a desperate offering. Her hands flew from my face to clutch desperately at the lapels of my jacket, knuckles white. I felt the rapid thunder of her heart against my chest, the heat radiating from her core through the thin layers between us and it hit directly to my cock.

Her amber eyes locked onto mine, blown wide with awe and stark, naked hunger.

“Please,” she whispered, the word fractured, barely audible. “Eros… please.”

That shattered the last fragile barrier. My mouth claimed hers—not softly, but with the punishing certainty of a storm hitting shore. It wasn’t just a kiss; it was an invasion. My tongue swept past her lips, branding her, tasting the expensive wine and the sharp, unique tang of her desire.

She met it with equal, trembling ferocity, her own tongue tangling with mine in a wet, desperate dance. A low moan vibrated in her throat, swallowed by the intensity of the kiss, her fingers digging deeper into the fabric of my jacket, pulling me impossibly closer as if trying to melt into me.

My hands moved with purpose. One slid up into the intricate twist of her updo, fingers tangling in the soft strands, tilting her head back to deepen the kiss, baring the elegant line of her throat. The other hand drifted lower, past the small of her back, over the lush curve of her ass, gripping hard enough to make her gasp into my mouth.

I pulled her hips against mine, letting her feel the rigid, undeniable proof of her effect straining against the front of my trousers. Thick. Heavy. Ready. The pressure dragged a choked whimper from her lips.

Her response was abandonment. She ground against me, a slow, sensual roll of her hips that sent friction crackling between us. Her hands abandoned my jacket, sliding up the hard planes of my chest, fingertips tracing the defined muscles beneath the silk shirt, mapping the strength she craved.

One hand snaked around my neck, fingers biting into the nape, holding me captive in the kiss as if she feared I might vanish. The scent of her perfume, something expensive with a deep, musky base, mingled with the heady aroma of sex already flooding the air.

I broke the kiss, trailing my lips down the sensitive column of her throat she’d exposed. I felt the frantic pulse hammering against my mouth, tasted the salt-sweet tang of her skin. My teeth scraped lightly over her racing pulse point, not to hurt, but to claim.

A shudder wracked her entire frame, a violent tremor that vibrated through both of us.

“God… yes…” she breathed, the words a ragged exhale, her head falling back further, surrendering completely. “More… please…”

Her submission was absolute. She was a live wire in my arms, trembling, gasping, offering herself totally to the storm she’d invoked. The firelight painted gilded highlights on her flushed skin, on the exposed swell of her breasts heaving with each ragged breath. Beyond us, the sanctuary held its breath.

The other women watched, transfixed, their earlier pretense of dissolving into raw, focused hunger. Vivienne’s emerald eyes glittered, her lips parted. Anastasia’s icy facade had cracked, revealing molten heat beneath.

Sophia’s gaze was now a laser scan of pure, predatory calculation. Madison and Amanda watched like proud, knowing predators.

Celeste’s fingers clenched in my hair, pulling my face back to hers, her mouth seeking mine with desperate, bruising need. The kiss was deeper, wetter, a silent, desperate plea translated into the frantic slide of tongues and the ragged synchronization of breath.

She was no longer the gallery host; she was the first sacrifice at the altar of the Liberation Church. Her body was a trembling prayer, and I was the god about to answer it.

I pulled back just enough to look down into her dazed, yearning face. My hand remained buried in her hair, the other still gripping her ass, holding her pinned against the relentless heat of my cock. Her lips were swollen, glistening, slightly parted as she panted.

Her amber eyes were pools of liquid fire, reflecting only me.

“Celeste,” my voice was low, resonating through the stone and glass like dark thunder, thick with the power to grant or destroy. “Tonight, you are mine. All of you are mine. Tell me you understand.”

She understood. I saw it flash in her eyes – the terrifying, exhilarating recognition of the covenant she’d sealed. She didn’t hesitate. Her answer wasn’t spoken aloud. It was physical.

She dropped to her knees.

The movement was fluid, elegant, yet utterly profane in the sanctified quiet of the sanctuary. Silk whispered over the carpet as she sank gracefully, her amber eyes never leaving mine. Her hands slid down my chest slowly, over the rigid muscles of my abdomen, coming to rest hesitantly, worshipfully, on the heavy buckle of my belt.

The firelight caught the gleam of tears welling in her eyes – not of fear, but of overwhelming release, of surrender to the inevitable. Her breath hitched, a soft, trembling sigh as she knelt before me, like a high queen willingly abdicating her throne at the feet of her liberator.

The gallery held its breath. Six women watched the consecration. First blood of the orgy had been drawn – not with violence, but with surrender. Celeste Dubois, on her knees before the High Pope, hands trembling on the promise of his belt, ready to receive communion.

The Liberation was about to begin in earnest.

Her actions hung in the sanctified air like a thunderclap. “Anastasia,” my voice resonated power—a papal decree echoing off glass and stone. “Come. Witness. Then receive.”

Celeste remained kneeling, a living altar at my feet. Her hands, trembling with holy dread, mapped the monument straining beneath the fine wool of my trousers. Her palms traced the impossible length, the rigid heat pulsing through the fabric.

She pressed her cheek against the thick column, a gesture of utter submission, inhaling deeply~~

The sound was a long, shuddering sniff—a pilgrim breathing the sacred incense of my arousal.

Her amber eyes fluttered closed, drugged on the musky, primal scent radiating through the cloth. Wetness dampened her knees where she pressed against the cool stone.

Then Anastasia moved.

She didn’t walk; she glided, the ice-blue fires in her eyes burning away any remaining pretense of aristocratic detachment. Her sapphire dress whispered like frozen water over the rug. She halted before me, a bare arm’s length away, framed by the hearth’s glow.

The porcelain perfection of her face was a stark canvas for the inferno raging within—prominent cheekbone flushed crimson, those usually cool, wide-set eyes now molten pools of predatory need. Her full lips were slightly parted, a silent plea.

My gaze bored into hers—a High Pope acknowledging a supplicant monarch. I didn’t speak. I simply reached out. Not to her face, but to the intricate closure at the shoulder of her obscenely expensive gown.

The rip was shatteringly loud.

Fabric, engineered for elegance, surrendered with brutal finality. SCHLIIIIICK!

The sound sliced through the heavy silence, making the six watchers gasp in unison. Blue silk, fragile as spun sugar, tore away like a shroud, scattering at her feet in a pool of ruined elegance.

Anastasia stood revealed.

Not a gasp, but a sharp, hissing intake of breath escaped her. Not fear. Triumph. Her body was a study in contradictions—arctic elegance forged into volcanic temptation.

High, perfect round firm breasts rose and fell rapidly, they were entirely round, nipples tight and outward, flushed pebbles against the cool air. The deep indentation of her waist flared to hips that curved with the promise of primal power. Smooth, pale skin glowed like alabaster under the firelight, every line defined by muscle and tension.

Her posture remained imperious—shoulders back, chin lifted—yet the flush spreading down her neck and chest with only her thong, the slight tremor in her thighs, betrayed the storm beneath the ice.

I stood immobile, an emperor surveying newly claimed territory. My hands remained at my sides. My voice, when it came, was the grinding of tectonic plates.

“Kneel beside Celeste, Romanov. Witness your salvation. Then earn it.”

Anastasia’s icy control fractured. A raw, guttural sound—half snarl, half whimper—tore from her throat. She sank to her knees beside Celeste with deliberate grace, not breaking eye contact. Her movements were liquid, controlled, yet radiating a barely leashed violence that mirrored her own desire.