NTR: Stealing wives in Another World

The Queen was still on her knees, cum-drenched and breathless, the velvet beneath her soaked through with sweat and seed. Her crown had tilted sideways somewhere during her descent, half-hanging in her pale white hair like a relic of a bygone era. She looked up at Allen with glassy eyes, mouth parted, utterly wrecked—and yet, glowing.

But Allen didn't look at her again.

His eyes were on the ornate silver doors to the side of the throne, tall and carved with the royal family's crest: a flame wrapped around a lily. He could hear movement behind it—hushed whispers, the rustle of silk, the panicked shuffle of feet trying to decide between flight or submission. The princesses were in there. They'd heard every moan. Every slap. Every dripping, filthy declaration from their once-imperial mother.

Allen stepped forward, dragging his fingers across the sticky trail leaking down Yssira's thighs as he passed her. She gasped, not in protest, but in longing. Her body shuddered at the loss of him.

He didn't knock. Didn't ask.

He kicked the doors open.

Inside, three princesses stood frozen in a lavish royal suite, its gold-plated furniture and perfumed tapestries looking gaudy and small under Allen's shadow. They were all dressed in ceremonial robes—transparent silk over tight corsets, like they had been in the middle of preparing for some formal bullshit. But now, their makeup was smudged, cheeks flushed, eyes wild.

The eldest, Princess Yllira, was tall, poised, with the kind of quiet composure that cracked when stared at too long. Her lips were painted red, her throat bare. She stood straight, fists clenched like she was trying not to tremble.

The middle sister, Seren, shorter and curvier, had already backed into a corner, one hand over her chest like it could shield her from the obvious heat between her legs. Her thighs were clamped tightly, but her eyes betrayed her—they flicked to Allen's crotch and lingered.

The youngest, Calia, barely out of her teenage years, looked like she was one gasp away from begging. Her pupils were blown wide, breath shallow. She was already on her knees—not out of submission, but shock. Her lip trembled.

"Which one of you," Allen asked, voice calm and cold, "was going to inherit the throne?"

Yllira stepped forward before either of her sisters could move. "I was."

He tilted his head. "Not anymore."

She hesitated, regal to the last breath. "You think you can break me like you broke Mother?"

Allen laughed. Not mocking—amused. Hungry.

"I don't think," he said, unbuckling his belt with one hand, "I know."

Fina and Rinni entered behind him, dragging Elira by her leash. The former maid was crawling again, still flushed, the words on her skin smudged but legible. Rinni kicked the door shut behind them, sealing the suite.

Allen walked past the trembling sisters and took a seat on a chaise long enough to drape a queen across. He sat wide-legged, cock already half-hard, glistening with the Queen's fading slick. He didn't need to speak again.

Yllira moved first—because power recognizes power. She stepped forward, hands trembling now, breath shaky. She dropped to her knees and bowed her head like a knight submitting to a conquering king. The moment she did, Seren followed. Slower, still full of shame, but curious enough to taste it. Then Calia crawled—no dignity, no restraint. Just raw need.

The three of them knelt before Allen, their royal robes pooling around them like silk surrender flags.

"You want the throne?" Allen said, voice low, full of danger. "Show me how badly."

Yllira moved first again. She gripped his cock with two hands and kissed the head softly, reverently. Then her tongue came out—long, slow licks like she was trying to memorize the taste of revolution. Seren watched, cheeks burning, before leaning in to kiss the shaft just below where her sister licked. Calia moaned quietly and began sucking on his balls like it was her calling.

The sound was obscene. Slurp. Pop. Schlick. Gag.

Allen leaned back, groaning. "That's it. Show me what royalty's good for."

Fina sat beside him and pulled Elira into her lap. The former maid immediately began grinding, desperate for friction. Rinni climbed onto the bed and spread her legs, watching with a dreamy smile as the three princesses devoured Allen like starving pups.

Yllira tried to stay elegant, but her moans betrayed her. She was sucking now—slow and deep, her lips wrapped tight, taking him in inch by inch while tears pricked her eyes. Seren was jerking what Yllira didn't swallow, her own mouth planting kisses down his shaft between strokes. Calia was on her stomach, face buried between his legs, tongue flicking against his taint like a depraved servant desperate to be noticed.

Allen grunted. His cock twitched.

"You're gonna make me cum," he growled. "Which one of you wants it?"

Calia shot up. "Me! Please—please, let me taste it first!"

Yllira tried to speak, but it was too late—Allen grabbed Calia by the hair and forced her down onto the head just as he exploded. Thick, royal-ruining cum shot down her throat, and the youngest princess gagged on it with teary eyes, swallowing furiously as Allen held her there. It spilled from the corners of her lips, dribbling down her chin and soaking her robe.

Seren came just from watching. Her robe was soaked between her thighs, and she collapsed to the floor with a gasping cry, hips twitching uncontrollably. Yllira, breathless and furious, jerked her own cunt through the fabric, growling, "I would've swallowed more…"

Allen stood.

"Line up," he commanded.

The sisters obeyed instantly, robes falling open, nipples hard, pussies dripping. He moved behind them like a predator choosing his meal. He chose Yllira first—not because she deserved it, but because she needed it. He bent her over the couch and slammed into her in one brutal stroke. She screamed—not from pain, but from the overwhelming realization that this was better than any coronation she'd ever fantasized about.

Seren leaned against the armrest, fingering herself feverishly. Calia crawled to Fina and began to beg.

"Please… please let me lick yours too… I want to taste everyone…"

Fina pulled her into her lap like a plaything, and Calia buried her face between Fina's thighs without hesitation.

Rinni leaned forward on the bed, whispering to Allen as he pounded Yllira with brutal, wet thrusts. "You should breed them."

Allen growled. "Oh, I plan to."

He flipped Yllira onto her back and shoved deeper, lifting her legs until her heels pressed to her shoulders. Her moans echoed off the gold ceiling, mingling with the wet slaps of skin and the desperate gasps of her sisters. Allen didn't give her a warning. He just slammed in and came, hard, cock buried deep in her womb as she screamed his name like it was law.

He pulled out.

"Seren," he barked.

She scrambled into place, already fingering herself. He didn't even let her adjust—just slammed into her dripping hole, and she came immediately, thrashing under him. Her climax soaked his thighs, squirting with every thrust as he fucked her through it like she was nothing but a warm hole full of moans.

Fina moaned too, Calia eating her out with such sloppy hunger that her thighs trembled and clenched. Rinni joined in, guiding Calia between both of them, using her tongue like a toy.

Allen finished in Seren too. No mercy. No pulling out. Her eyes crossed as he pumped her full, body twitching in overstimulation.

He didn't even look tired.

Calia turned her cum-coated face toward him, panting, eyes wide with heat and desperation. "Please… please me next…"

Allen nodded slowly.

"Come here, little princess."

She crawled into his lap, and he didn't even flip her—just guided her down on his cock, watching her stretch and sink with a sharp, choked cry. She rode him like she was born for it, hips bucking wildly, tits bouncing, hair a mess of sweat and ruin. When she came, it was loud and raw, her body spasming as she gushed around him.

He grabbed her ass and held her down as he filled her, one last thick pump of cum soaking deep inside her womb.

And when it was done, the suite was silent except for panting breaths and the slick-drip sounds of excess leaking out of broken royal holes.

Allen stood again. Naked. Calm. Kingly.

He looked at the three princesses sprawled and filled.

At Elira kneeling in cum, at Fina and Rinni basking in the aftermath, at the shattered luxury of the royal suite.

Then he said only one thing:

"Get the scribes. The Queen has abdicated."

And the throne?

It was already his.