Fleshcrafting Technomancer 22 The Husband Sells The Son, The Wife Sells The Husband Part 2, R-18

Needless to say, although Kilian never bothered remembering their names, he mastered the craft. A woman like Ophelia, who spent one-third of her life with a self-serving man such as Olaf, couldn't resist him. And as the n.o.blewoman writhed on his fingertips, trembling every time he found, hit and teased a sweet spot, Kilian couldn't help but acknowledge the wisdom of his father's words. Without artifices, he held her in his thrall.

"Oooh...ohhh...ohhh!" Writhing in ecstasy, Ophelia wrapped her arms around her b.r.e.a.s.t.s, tilted her head back and let out increasingly louder groans as she surrendered to her impending o.r.g.a.s.m. But there, Kilian stopped, slowly sliding his finger out of the lady's s.n.a.t.c.h.

"Mhmm...your lords.h.i.+p…how could you..." Ophelia whimpered in protest, forgetting all decorum. With a subtle hand wave, Kilian made her turn 180, forcing her l.u.s.t-glazed eyes to lock on the bulge in his pants—she instantly gulped.

Kilian's eyes went between his bulge and Ophelia's dripping c.u.n.t, but though he never spoke one word, when he again stroked her l.a.b.i.a, Ophelia could guess the intent behind his move. Dropping on her knees, she unbuckled and unzipped Kilian's pants, freeing his half-erect c.o.c.k from the confines of his pants.

Even flaccid, the imposing member spoke tantalizing tales of its prowesses. But it wasn't so much the length that gripped Ophelia's attention. After all, the n.o.bility had long since solved that problem, with the average n.o.bleman having an erect c.o.c.k of 17.7 cm. No, from Kilian's veiny shaft, Ophelia felt an almost imperceptible scent that compelled her mortal mind into wors.h.i.+p—an aftereffect of Ashera's Mark.

Holding the base of Kilian's c.o.c.k, Ophelia gave the meat-rod several gentle pumps before gliding her tongue across its pulsing veins. From bottom to top, and from top to bottom, Ophelia trailed her tongue across Kilian's c.o.c.k, licking sides and underside before pus.h.i.+ng his meat-rod down her throat.

With that one move, Kilian now stood fully erect and, unbeknown to Ophelia, Ashera's mark burned in a crimson red. Not wasting any more time, Ophelia stood up and, while still holding Kilian's c.o.c.k with her left hand, straddled him. Aligning the 20 cm of meat-rod with her c.u.n.t, Ophelia directly impaled herself on top of it, letting the profane rod fill her in its entirety.

"Aanh…" Ophelia's walls stretched to fit Kilian's rod, her lips parted in a low groan, and she lowered her hands on his shoulders—firmly holding him. Not staying idle, Kilian grabbed the n.o.blewoman's a.s.s cheeks to drive her up and down his shaft in a slow-paced, torturous bliss. But unlike with Jezebel, though he definitely enjoyed Ophelia's fold, Kilian felt no rush, no bit of fehl delight. The high wasn't there—yet. Ophelia, however, was having the time of her life, and without any false constraints, clung onto Kilian's neck to pump his c.o.c.k harder and faster within her.

The nefarious energies of Ashera's Mark gushed forth, making Ophelia break through barriers upon barriers of delight, and abandon herself to the heaven she now smacked her a.s.s on. Olaf and his dumbfounded wastrel of a son watched in awe as Ophelia's wiggling a.s.s bounced on Kilian's c.o.c.k. The relentless sounds of her a.s.s cheeks kissing his hefty b.a.l.l.s put them both in quite the uncomfortable position.

"Getting a hardon from your faithless wife smacking her rump on the conqueror's c.o.c.k...good thing I'm thick-skinned!" Olaf silently comforted himself. Meanwhile, the squelching and smacking sounds of Ophelia's c.u.n.t devouring Kilian's rod carried on.

"Ahh...ahhh...ahh!" By now, Opehlia's tongue lolled out, her eyes rolled back, and she neared her third o.r.g.a.s.m. With a smile, Kilian slid his hands up to Ophelia's waist, and while she still impaled herself on his rod, he stood up, holding her mid-air.

Ophelia's legs gave out, making her bend in a perpendicular angle with respect to Kilian. But strangely, though she had nothing to support her, an invisible wall seemed to flawlessly maintain her in that position. It didn't take a genius to realize that Kilian used his arcane gifts to play tricks.

Ready to end the lady's plight, Kilian drove his c.o.c.k in and out, hammering Ophelia at full speed. The sudden change sent her into another o.r.g.a.s.m, and it was almost as if the world around her changed, as if a tide submerged her, dragging her into new layers of heaven.

"Ohhh...more...I can't...oooohh!!!" The intensity had reached something Ophelia's mortal mind couldn't endure, and as she broke into successions of o.r.g.a.s.ms, her mind neared collapse. But at that time, Kilian's c.o.c.k tensed, his lips curved into a fiendish grin, and with a low growl, he sheathed himself in the quivering Ophelia, letting his profane s.p.u.n.k paint her walls white.

Red light surged from his rod, spreading throughout Ophelia's body before latching onto her soul. Pulling out, Kilian let go of Ophelia, and she dropped onto the ground, still c.u.m-dazed. The fehl forces corrupting her kicked in, and while the warmth of Kilian's s.p.u.n.k still filled her, Ophelia's eyes went bloodshot.

The fehl forces in that c.u.mshot, forces that now ingrained themselves in her body and soul, triggered mutations. Ophelia morphed, her blue hair turned dark grey, her eyes, crimson. The white of her sclera vanished under the crimson hue's spread, and her pupils went from round to slitted.

"AAAAAAAAARGH!" Sensing her changes, Ophelia screamed in horror, but she wasn't the only one. Olaf and his son too screamed in fright! What was this? The worst nightmare of all n.o.ble houses: the fehl taint!

Olaf didn't want to know why the dra didn't flow in reverse. He didn't want to know why her ears elongated into fox ears, or why her changes showed no sign of stopping. No, terror-stricken, Olaf stood up, seeking a sword, a blade, anything to behead the creature on the spot! His dread of the fehl implications outpaced his fear of Kilian!

Kilian waved his hand, and against his best judgment, Olaf knelt back on the ground. Two large, dark-grey fox tails sprouted from Ophelia's back, her nails turned into claws, and her skin too turned dark grey. Ophelia leaped back on her feet, sweeping the father and son pair with bared fangs.

"Word is that the dark-grey fox represents the evilest version of the feline's w.i.l.l.y nature. I suppose such a mutation befits you," Kilian jested, and again, he felt the rush. The fehl high spread within his mind, carrying it through worlds of pure delight.

With a raspy bark, Ophelia pounced on Olaf, dark purple flames burst from and coated her claws, claws she aimed at her husband's throat. But when the move neared him, Kilian snapped his fingers, and as if regaining her senses, Ophelia aborted the a.s.sault, backflipped to land beside Kilian, and kowtowed in submission.

Olaf soiled his pants.

"According to Jezebel, I just need to seed you again to have you regain your senses. But...I can't be bothered. You look and sound so much better without the heaps of s.h.i.+t pouring out from your lips. We ought to keep you this way, don't we?" Kilian rhetorically asked as he half-knelt and stroked Ophelia's hair.

Only now did Olaf realize that this mutation was nothing more than Kilian's work.

"I'm not gonna survive this after all...right?" He whispered with a face twisted by helplessness. The words failed to escape Kilian, who turned to face Olaf.

"Oh but you will. I just need you to kill your son and adopt me as your twilight child. The official story will be that your son rebelled, killed your wife, and after executing him, out of grief you sought a commoner gifted in the arcane arts and took him as your twilight child," Kilian stated with a gentle smile while still stroking Ophelia's hair. Olaf's eyes widened in disbelief.

In Arcadia, old n.o.blemen had the habits of adopting talented children and raising them as their last child, the one that'd remain by their side in their waning years: the twilight child. Typically, they were handpicked from young orphan boys or girls; dest.i.tute n.o.bles or commoners gifted in the arcane.

And although their age usually ranged between five and seven, for n.o.blemen to adopt teenagers - especially the arcane gifted - wasn't unheard of. Olaf didn't care for the reasons behind Kilian's move. The road to life stood before him, fueling him with new waves of resolve.
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Standing up, the viscount turned toward his petrified son who met his murderous gaze with incredulity.

"Father, you can't possibly do this to me...ri..." The youth had not finished his words that Olaf unleashed his 125 units of dra and whispered:

"It's either you or us."

He then rammed his fists into his son's heart, killing him in one blow!

But in the moment he struck, blood gushed from Olaf's chest, mingling with his son's as a fist, his son's fist, tore through his chest. Instantly, Olaf realized the ploy, and his eyes widened in disbelief.

"I thought...you...said…" He stammered. The sensation of his life force slipping through the wound twisted his gaze with fright and sorrow. Yet, his brain remained lucid enough to realize that Kilian controlled and empowered his feeble son to deal him a lethal blow.

With a smirk, Kilian rested his chin on Olaf's left shoulder, and whispered in his ear:

"Oh but you'll live. As a flesh puppet bound to my will. You see, for the likes of you, I can't be bothered to waste one of my spiders. After extracting all the knowledge you possess, I will turn you into my very first guinea pig and restructure your brain, your heart, your everything to ensure you live for another 100 years. Congratulations, Olaf von Verden."

The words brought Olaf no comfort. But as he wept for one last time, the scenery around him changed, and he now stood before Kilian's Experience Refiner. Kilian tossed him right in. In less than a minute, the Experience Refiner devoured the entirety of Olaf's acc.u.mulated knowledge and experiences—transferring them to Kilian.

With the knowledge's drain, Olaf turned into a vegetable. His last lucid thoughts went to the riches he left behind; he died right afterward.

Exiting the h.e.l.lforge, Kilian lowered the two bodies on the ground, drew the Ouroboros Sigil on Olaf's chest and fueled it with his blood—allowing Olaf's soul to enjoy d.a.m.nation eternal.