A Dark Lords Harem: Where Power and Seduction Reign Supreme

Indulge in a world of forbidden desire, where a dark lords power and seduction reign supreme, and his harem is his ultimate prize

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A Dark Lord's Harem: Where Power and Seduction Reign Supreme I had sent for three girls from the harem. Marina, to begin attempting to put an heir in her, as well as two other consorts. Miri had skin the color of dark rum, was lithe and tall with small breasts and a long, black braid. At only 16, I had high hopes for her when she showed an uncommon lust for life during her training, but in normal use she lacked enthusiasm in pleasing me, and no matter how many times I pushed her right to the edge so she could see just how close she was to finally dying, she refused to fully engage. I couldn't make her an established part of my stable. Dalquess, Dalsa for short, was skilled at making me cum buckets, and had quickly earned her gold chain. She was pale with long silvery hair and magnificent breasts on a petite frame. A while ago she had become pregnant, but had lost the child, a girl. I was more than happy to try and provide her with another, but since then she'd just seemed distant and a little sad. Even when riding my cock to orgasm her eyes betrayed some kind of preoccupation. What was worse, in my eyes, was that she had started to let herself go. Her tits had only gotten bigger, which was mildly gratifying, but fat had started to accumulate around her body in ways that were failing to titillate. She was still more attractive than any unwashed wench on the street, but I feared for her body in the future. “You sent for me, my lord,” Marina said tentatively from the top of the stairs. I looked at her. She was a gorgeous sight in a midnight blue gown and silver chain necklace. I was glad she was summoned first. “Yes, Marina. Sit down.” I gestured at one of the plush couches. She daintily perched herself on the edge of the seat. I walked over and put my hand on her shoulder. “Relax, you may be comfortable, here.” I gently urged her to recline against the arms of the couch. I sat down near her and put her legs across my lap. Her thighs and calves were strong and graceful, surprising for the daughter of a farmer. Usually girls raised in the fields had legs sinewy and gnarled, with scars from fields of brambles. Not Marina. Her neck, though, showed deep purple bruises where the noose and stocks had abused her, and some of the skin was red and raw from were the rope had chafed. …and then things took a turn

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