The Dread of Damned

I lay on the bed, the room now empty as my sister had risen a while after the moonlight poured through the windows.

"I've almost regained my essence, thanks to you, brother, but I still need to stabilize myself," she had said as she got up, adjusted her dress, and looked at me as if seeking permission. Her eyes, still innocent, didn't seem to recognize the change in her. She didn't need my permission.

"Come here," I had said gently, and she obediently walked around to my side of the bed. I raised my hand, and she bent down slightly, making it easier for me to reach her as I cupped her cheeks, causing them to redden.

Her posture, however, made her cleavage more pronounced, drawing my eyes for a moment before I let her go.

"Alright," I said, allowing her to turn and leave.

As I reflected on our exchange, my mother entered the room quietly, lying down beside me and resting her head against my chest. Her sudden arrival or her actions didn't surprise me. I had grown used to this. I raised my hand, stroking her hair, which made her sigh contentedly, though my thoughts were elsewhere. A vivid image of Elara's cleavage flashed through my mind, causing my hand to clench roughly around the hair of the woman in my arms, earning a sound of deep satisfaction from her.

A knock echoed from the door.

"Who is it?" I asked, my voice commanding.

"It's me," came my father's voice.

"Enter," I responded, my tone unchanged.

"What is it?" I asked, the irritation in my voice unmistakable as I was pulled from my peaceful reverie of Elara while absently petting my mother. The absence of any inner beast became clear to me—it was all me now. I was both the man and the beast, though far more beast than I had ever been before. My actions were spontaneous, unhinged, and wild. As I realized this, I found myself twisting the nipple of the woman in my arms, making her tremble and rub her thighs together.

"I wanted to inform you of the conclusion," my father said, his voice gentle but with a subtle edge that I might have noticed if I had cared enough to listen.

"I investigated Westian. He confessed to aiding them in invading the estate and sheltering them, though he claims ignorance of the assassination plot," he explained.

"How did they know which floor we resided on, the layout of the castle, and how to lie in wait in the garden nearest our quarters without being noticed? Westian may have been a member of House Noctarian, but he wasn't skilled enough. If he were, I wouldn't have been able to kill him," I said, watching my father nod.

"That was my question too. He admitted he shared that information some time ago but didn't realize it would be used against us," my father said.

I waited for him to continue, impatiently.

"There will be a meeting of all the elders in a few days to determine his sentence. He will likely be sentenced to death for betraying us so gravely," my father added.

"Good," I commented, my hands now kneading the woman's breast, causing her to leak milk and tremble violently.

"I wanted to discuss his wife and daughter. I proclaimed that the traitor's entire family would be executed, but they are innocent," my father said. I could hear the softening in his voice—he was struggling with the fact that his own brother was facing execution. He wanted, at the very least, to spare his brother's descendants.

His appeal for mercy made my blood boil, a dull ringing echoing in my head as my nails dug into the soft flesh in my grasp.

I looked at him, my eyes glinting dangerously, waiting for him to continue. He paused for a moment as if thinking about something before shaking his head and speaking again.

"I can't go back on my word, not now. I hoped you might take them under your care and pardon them in my stead," he asked, his voice almost faltering.

"We will see," I replied. Perhaps by the time of the meeting, I would have calmed down, but the memory of the danger was still too fresh. I wasn't my father—I wasn't kind, especially not now. The merger had made me more violent, more unstable, and less inclined to show mercy.

"Leave," I said coldly, as my hands opened my robe, revealing my throbbing erection filled with veins as is stood almost 6 inches tall and as girthy as a babies arm. I glanced down at the woman in my arms, making me notice the bloody mess in my hands, along with her eyes rolled back in a daze, her body twitching.I saw the door close from the corner of my eye.

"I told you, you cannot come without my permission. How dare you?" A voice carried down the hallway, followed by the sharp sound of a clap. Behind the burly man who was walking with steady steps.

As he reached his room, the head of House Aesterisn—who had ruled proudly for thousands of years—turned to close the door. If one were to observe him then, they might see the powerful leader, but if they looked closer, they would notice the raised tent between his legs, nearly three inches tall, with a wet spot forming at the tip. His face flushed red, his eyes almost teary, as he shut the door behind him.

And then, silence, broken only by the occasional sound of grunting that one could hear if they listened closely.