Rykard headed towards the table. He stood next to the cushioned darkwood chair for the moment, fingers lingering on the polished surface of the backrest. Vyra was halfway in the motion of sitting down, when she noted that Rykard took another step forwards. His hand jumped from backrest to tabletop, glided along its curve, until he had made it around the small table.

  Vyra’s elegant smile trembled while Rykard’s own became all the more certain. The vampire dy stepped away from the table. He stepped after her. Repeatedly, she ceded ground and he took it with confident strides. Eventually, her smile was gone entirely and repced with an expression difficult to read - one that Rykard had caused many women to show him before.

  Hard, the white-haired woman hit the wall. The intense backstep had her tits jiggle in all their absurdly enormous glory. Enticing as that was, Rykard continued to stare into her red eyes.

  Hard, he smmed his right hand against the naked stone next to her head. The vampire woman barely suppressed her jump, reducing it to a surprised twitch. Her eyes widened, her lips trembled between frown and smirk. Her entire body was trembling now.

  Hard, Rykard stared into her eyes. The entire force of his personality and of his rich mana id behind the emerald green. Vyra swallowed audibly. She was a tall woman, taller than Miyo, still not as tall as he was, and still she looked tiny at that moment. Her knees buckled and she glided a bit down the wall, letting Rykard bow over her, until she fully existed in the shadow he cast under the crystal chandelier above.

  Wordlessly, they remained like that, one trembling, the other smiling a cocksure smile. Rykard knew that expression on her face. The eyes barely containing nervousness, the lips unsure whether she should scowl disapprovingly or grin like a doe-eyed girl. Women often reacted like this to the pressure of being pinned against the wall suddenly. Noblewomen doubly so, their confident upbringing making them entirely unprepared for this degree of confidence being wielded against them.

  And sexually submissive noblewomen? They reacted the most intensely of all.

  Rykard put his left hand on the vampire dy’s chin, gripping it between the side of his index finger and the tip of his thumb. Colour flushed into her paper-white cheeks. As a pureblood, she was no undead. Feeding was mandatory only on occasion. She had her own blood, needed to draw her own breath, and definitely could get excited by a dom softly making her tilt her head to expose her neck.

  Bowing down, Rykard teased the smooth skin with his exhale, but never pressed his lips on it. After a few seconds he drew back slightly again, to whisper into her pointy ear: “I rarely negotiate. I usually just take what I want.” He studied her reaction, staring at the profile of her features.

  Vyra made a half-hearted attempt to turn her head, but the gentle presence of his hand on her chin kept her fixed as she was. “Ah…a…” A sigh followed by a gasp, followed by another heavy gulp. She could only stare at him from the corner of one eye, and did so, while her bountiful chest rose and fell in trembling irregurity. “You are a brutish man, then?” she asked.

  “If it is desired.” Rykard let go of her chin and brushed down the curve of her neck. His knuckles, one after another, jumped over the elegant rise of her colrbone. Just below that, he could already feel the soft rise of her tits. He raised his hand, hovering over the mounds, trembling with each accelerating breath.

  Then he withdrew entirely. As if his shadow had been keeping her upright, Vyra suddenly colpsed to the ground, legs spyed, ass on the naked stone. For a few seconds, she was on the border of hyperventiting, staring at the air in front of her, pointy, pearly white fangs revealed behind her dark lips.

  “I take what I want, when it is ready to be taken,” Rykard told her and fixed his colr. “Only savages take enjoyment in unripe fruits or force cattle to march. I have very… refined tastes.”

  Vyra’s gaze snapped to him, the dited pupils slowly narrowing back down to slits. “You do exceed my expectations, milord,” she purred, her voice swinging with the sweet tone of attraction. He extended a hand to her and effortlessly pulled her to her feet. A visibly glistening spot was left on the stone.

  “Let’s talk about those expectations,” Rykard said, magnanimously, offering his arm to her. She hooked in and gracefully they walked in unison back to the table. Pulling out the chair for her, he gestured for her to sit down, then he pushed her back in. In parting, he ran his fingers through her soft white hair. It was a lot like Miyo’s - long and silky, with just a bit of wave to its volume.

  The touch created another wanton sigh. Sound transted into sight, the eyes that followed Rykard around the table roaming what of his chiseled physique was visible under the custom-tailored uniform. Once he sat, a seductive silence fell over the room. The vampire dy did not even attempt to hide the excitement all of this had awoken in her, nor did she try to recim the momentum.

  Rykard was exactly where he liked to be: in control.

  He began with what interested him most on this entire Hexagon. “Tell me about you. Vyra VanRaab. Who are you? What brings you here?” He gestured at their surroundings and, by widening the arch of the wave, the Hexagon as a whole.

  Folding her hands on the table, the vampire dy sorted her thoughts for one moment. Then she began. “My story best begins with the traditions of the VanRaab family. Our great ancestor was an elf who was bestowed with the pureblood during the same divine game that you currently partake in. He would go on to be victorious in the great struggle and usher in an era of prosperity. The VanRaabs became great hunters, exterminating the unusually sized game other contestants had brought into the world. A pureblooded dynasty of heroes, governing over many races.”

  “A pleasant tale,” Rykard commented. “In my own world, the winner of the contest struck a terrible deal and his descendants were murdered the night of his passing, causing a long history of power struggles.”

  “Few worlds are as blessed as mine,” Vyra agreed readily. “Something our great ancestor also realized. Following the pacification of the Exile Hexagon, he bestowed on our noble house the Decree of Honour Across Worlds. Always, our most capable shall dwell in this great tower, governing the nds of the Exile Hexagon. We are to ensure that the meadows are fertile and untapped, for whoever summons the Hexagon to use it as they desire. We are to give counsel to the contestant, to guide them towards prosperity for their realm.”

  “Very noble - and likely useful for spreading your line through multiple worlds,” Rykard analysed.

  Vyra gave him a sly smile. “A purely benevolent man would not have managed to come out on top in the contest, milord. The goal to spread our pureblooded heritage as wide as the gods will cast us is indeed embedded in the decree as well. Certainly, an immortal dynasty is of use to everyone, yes?”

  “How would you retain your pureblood if there is only you?” Rykard asked, half-expecting a very unwanted reveal.

  “There’re three ways, milord. A sufficiently powerful mage could mantle the appropriate magic signature to assure his seed would not interfere with the forming of a child of its mother’s blood. Then there is the potential for a sufficiently powerful dhampir to awaken to their true calling over the course of their life. Lastly, there is the…” She stopped to lick her fangs, “...traditional method of assuring the partner is as close as a pureblood themselves.” Coquettish blinks preceded her next question. “I take it you have a reason to ask, Rykard? Are you unspoken for?”

  “I have every reason to ask and I am spoken for, in a sense. Let me expin. The realm I aim to create is one of few great men and many women who can find worthwhile partners in them. I wish for a kingdom in which everyone deserving of it can build themselves a harem. Naturally, mine will be the greatest of all.”

  Vyra chuckled behind a raised hand, her eyes never stopping to linger on him. “A polygynous man, not unusual, although your aim to extend this privilege to your entire nation certainly is. How many women does your harem span thus far? How many Hexagons have you summoned?”

  “One and two, respectively,” Rykard responded, causing the vampire dy to blink in surprise. “You meet me early in my conquests, Vyra. Enough of the hypothetical future, for now. I want to hear more about you. You have told me of your family, but not much of you.”

  “Hmmm, very well,” the vampire dy shifted her position slightly - that was still enough to make her enormous tits jiggle in their tight confinement. Rykard realized why her dress didn’t have any cleavage: to make sure that one of those massive mounds did not immediately spill out would have been a matter of difficult tailoring. “Much of my life is of little interest. I grew up as one of the rare children purebloods are blessed with in the main line of the VanRaab family. As I reached maturity, I excelled in most matters, offering to me a choice: I could marry an accomplished new man, using my blood to welcome him into the dynasty, or I could govern the Exile Hexagon. Putting it bluntly, I was wondering what a true conqueror would be like. My home has been safe and prosperous for many generations, governed by near-immortal lords of great wisdom. Spells keep the days short and the nds fertile. To find an interesting man in such peaceful times is… difficult for a woman of character.”

  “Then you found what you seek,” Rykard stated.

  “It certainly appears that way,” Vyra crooned. “You have quite the presence, milord.”

  “I prefer ‘Master’.”

  Those three words were like a drug to the vampire dy. Her pupils visibly dited, until the slits in the sanguine pools of her eyes outcompeted the red with bck of wanton crity. Vyra took a deep breath, then formed the single word carefully with her full, dark lips. “Mas-ter.” She licked her lips, as if she could taste the sylbles in her mouth. “Is that what you want to hear, master?”

  Rykard shook his head, as he stood up. “There is a purpose to that word, Vyra,” he lectured her. Two steps, then he stood over her, leisurely leaning onto the table. Still seated, she looked up at him, the entirety of her legs hidden behind the rise of her tits. “To call a man your Master is to acknowledge your surrender of autonomy. You pce yourself in his hands. You trust him to do with you as you both please.” Rykard brushed her white hair back - then suddenly bundled up her mane and yanked. With a moan, Vyra’s head was forced back, until her chin pointed towards the ceiling. “You decre yourself a sve,” the king continued. “Women like you don’t become sves to someone who’s not worthy of veneration.”

  Rykard knew little of her, yet he knew everything. Before him was every bit the bundle of competence and sexual urges that Miyo had been, just that Vyra had grown a little older on her own. Enough time to realize what she wanted and to seek it with all the more intensity. Her breathing hitched when he pulled her white hair a little harder. Masochism was delightfully common alongside submission, although it was the tter trait that he truly loved in his women.

  “So, if you call me ‘Master’...” He suddenly let go of her hair and returned to his seat. “...keep that in mind. You decre me your owner and a man worthy of being your owner. Do not sell yourself short. Surrender your worth at its value. Address me as the man that deserves all of you, or do not address me by that title at all.”

  Under his firm stare, Vyra shivered. Hard nipples poked through the fabric of her bck dress. The taut fabric strained further under each deep breath. “Let us sort a few things out,” she said in a voice barely elevated above lustful quivers. “You wish to create a world for men like you, correct?”

  Rykard gave a deep nod. “Those that would try to emute my greatness anyway. You must have felt that my power is far above even outstanding.”

  Vyra’s nod was almost groggy. “You radiate might, m… Rykard.” Addressing him by name seemed to be her temporary workaround to her predicament. “What else do you want your rule to bring?” A shrug was clearly not what she was expecting. “You do not know?”

  “Rather, I am not committed to anything definitive,” Rykard corrected her. “I’m king and I will be king, but I do not need to oversee all the details of my realm if my realm operates well on its own. I do not wish to institute a military culture if I don’t feel it's needed, nor will I encourage mercantilism when local provinces are self-sustaining. I will govern my domain as it is needed.”

  “That is quite the healthy head for a leader,” Vyra complimented in a sultry tone. “Say, that harem you wish to gather…”

  “...It will consist of the greatest minds and most capable hands my realm has to offer,” Rykard finished her sentence for her. “Advisors that will know what my realm needs. Administrators capable of governing in my stead.” His smile took on a purely complimenting tone. “Do not mistake my desire to see you on your knees with an impression that you, or other women, are less than me. It is exactly because of your brilliance that your surrender is so sweet.”

  The mixture of demands and compliments was getting to the vampire dy. Biting her lower lip, she showed her pronounced fangs. Pointier and longer even than Miyo’s canines. One of her hands was under the table stroking her own thigh in an attempt not to reach any deeper. “I remind you that the Decree of Honour Across Worlds demands I become your advisor.”

  “Then what do you offer for me to let you into that position?” Rykard asked.

  “This Hexagon, given to your wise rule without further resistance,” Vyra immediately responded. “I, Vyra VanRaab, recognize your capacity to rule and your vision. Take me as your advisor a-”

  “No,” Rykard interrupted her.

  Her red eyes went wide, while the king leaned back in his chair, beholding her curves tremble with excitement and uncertainty. An intoxicating mixture, for any sufficiently submissive woman in the presence of a dom she trusted. “You do not want this Hexagon?”

  “This Hexagon doesn’t suffice. I want something more,” he told her. Even though New Eden had little to offer, even though he needed her fealty to do anything in the future, Rykard confidently negotiated. Because he had her figured out. Still staring into her eyes, he waited for her to cave.

  Vyra raised a hand to the shoulderless top of her dress. Her fingers tapped the endpoint of a barely visible line that ran down the middle of the bck satin. For a split second, her red eyes gazed down, then they returned his gaze again, conviction and heat reflected in them. Her finger trailed down.

  The binding magic that kept her dress tightly closed loosened. Fabric split rapidly, the sheer size of her chest prying open their confinement. As the embrace of the dress loosened, the tightly packed mounds began to part. They sagged, as natural breasts had to, creating a wide valley between them. The drooping came to a halt, leaving behind the suggestion of firm teardrop shapes that were confirmed the moment Vyra pulled the loosely attached halves of her dress down.

  Jiggling to freedom, two tits, each rger than her head, instantly drew all of Rykard’s focus. Pink nipples sat atop the white mountains, perky crowns on pure softness. Vyra leaned forwards. Underboobs fttened on the tabletop. A pure ocean of sinful flesh, spilling far beyond the width of her shoulders.

  “My offer. If you do not want the Hexagon, perhaps you will be content with the woman who rules it?” she suggested. “My body and fealty, in exchange for your ear… Master.” Both of them shivered, when the word crossed her lips with the proper veneration bound into its letter. “Master,” Vyra sighed again, craving that moment of surrender again. “Master!” she moaned, when it hit her with growing intensity.

  Rykard knew, because his own lust only surged further with each repetition. “No.” He denied again. Vyra’s eyes went wide once more, doubly so when he shot up with enough intensity to make the chair fall over. “Not your body, not your fealty - You.” He pointed at her. “All you are. For my harem. You are a woman worthy of joining me. All beyond this is just formality. Say it again and surrender yourself. Let me take what I want.”

  “I offer myself, Master,” Vyra gave instantly, no shame or resistance left to crumble. “Take me as yours. Prove you are worthy of owning me, each and every day, through wise governance, charming conversation, and dominant manhood. Do that and I will keep surrendering myself to you with every waking moment.”

  Growling with animalistic approval, Rykard pushed the table aside. It flew almost two metres, leaving the half-naked vampire dy fully exposed. That only sted for a moment, Vyra immediately sliding off her seat to kneel on the carpet in front of him. She left a wet spot on the cushion of her seat. Gently, he pced a hand on the vampire dy’s cheek. She nuzzled into the touch. “Then you will be my sex sve, whenever I wish, and my haremette, at all times.”

  The little nod was pure formality. Already, Rykard could feel the little change in his spirit that confirmed the annexation of the Hexagon into his realm. Everything had aligned perfectly for him today. He had gone to the right pce immediately, proven himself in a way that was irresistible to this vampire, seduced her through dominance and honesty, and earned himself a new submissive and Hexagon - all in the span of about twelve hours.

  Now it was time to reward himself.