The lavish carriage rolled agonizingly slowly down the packed dirt road. From its gilded windows, the passengers could finally admire the massive, imposing silhouette of the Karsfeld fortress standing proudly atop the central elevation of the valley. The grueling journey from the capital of Tyravia had dragged on for nearly a week, and it was finally coming to a merciful end.
Inside the carriage, however, the air was suffocating - thick with heavy tension and raw, lecherous cruelty. Vivienne von Drachenberg lounged luxuriously against the plush blue velvet upholstery, casually resting her chin on her hand, a freezing, bored smile playing on her lips as she watched the barony’s rolling landscapes drift past the window. She was draped in a sheer, diaphanous silk gown with an aggressively plunging neckline that shamelessly flaunted the heavy, swaying swell of her breasts with every jostle of the carriage.
Kneeling between her thighs, completely at the absolute mercy of her sadistic fiancée, was Cordelia Karsfeld. Stripped bare from the waist up, violently trembling from a intoxicating cocktail of sheer humiliation and involuntary sexual arousal, Cordelia dutifully buried her face between Vivienne’s parted thighs, aggressively licking the slick moisture from the aristocrat's sensual flesh.
Vivienne barely paid her a fraction of attention, thoroughly enjoying the view out the window, though she made sure to regularly, violently remind the younger futa of her pathetic station. Suddenly, her slender hand - tipped with long, razor-sharp nails - darted down and ruthlessly clamped onto Cordelia’s bare, sensitive breasts. She violently twisted the nipples with such crushing force that the girl gagged on her own choked whimper of agonizing pleasure and pain.
A split second later, without ever tearing her gaze away from the castle spires, Vivienne delivered a lightning-fast, vicious backhand straight into Cordelia’s exposed, swollen testicles.
The younger futa instantly curled into a violently trembling fetal position, whimpering pitifully in sheer agony, her face buried into the fragrant silk. Vivienne merely let out a soft, deeply predatory laugh, raised her riding boot, and violently ground her heel into the girl's thigh, issuing a freezing command:
"Keep licking, you useless bitch. You should count your blessings that your mouth is good for absolutely anything."
The sole anchor that allowed Cordelia to endure this relentless, agonizing torment was the absolute certainty that Seraphine’s days were mathematically numbered. She firmly believed that the second her elder sister was violently eliminated, she would become the undisputed, sole heir to the Barony, and Vivienne would finally look upon her with genuine respect.
An outrider had been aggressively dispatched ahead to ensure the Karsfeld court was well aware that the daughter of Eleonora von Drachenberg was rapidly approaching.
While she was technically traveling alongside the younger futa of the house, showing up utterly unannounced would be a massive, calculated slap in the face to Adelgarde Karsfeld. However, Vivienne had deliberately chosen not to dispatch a raven weeks in advance - she absolutely refused to give Seraphine any tactical window to prepare a defense.
If Cordelia's pathetic intelligence was accurate, the firstborn heir had proven to be vastly more cunning than previously projected. Vivienne squarely blamed every single catastrophic failure regarding the assassination plot on the sheer incompetence of her submissive fiancée.
If her meticulous, lethal scheme was to succeed, she needed to engineer an isolated, one-on-one summit with Seraphine. She fully intended to ruthlessly play with her, violently shatter her pride, and then quietly snuff the life out of her.
She idly wondered exactly what the heir’s dying screams would sound like - would they be pathetic and shrill like Cordelia’s, or would Seraphine unleash a deep, guttural howl of absolute despair?
The mere thought of inflicting such agonizing pain upon a fresh victim sent a scalding wave of heavy arousal pooling in Vivienne’s lower stomach.
When the heavy carriage finally rolled into the inner courtyard, Adelgarde Karsfeld and her wife, Isolde, had already assembled to formally welcome the daughter of the terrifyingly powerful House von Drachenberg.
Even Rosalie von Rosenfeld was present, fiercely representing her own house, maintaining the icy, unyielding pride of an equal-status heir from the Greifenmark.
But the moment Vivienne gracefully stepped down from the carriage, the heavy velvet of her skirts rustling violently against the cobblestones, her rigorously trained, freezing mask nearly shattered into a million pieces.
There was absolutely no one in the welcoming committee who mathematically matched the physical description of Seraphine.
This brazen little bastard dares to ignore me?! A violent, burning fury detonated in Vivienne's chest.
She was the daughter of their direct sovereign! Violently choking down her rage and actively visualizing the brutal, agonizing torture she would inflict as payback for this slight, she offered only the barest, stiffest nod of her head.
"Vivienne von Drachenberg extends her gratitude for your hospitality," she announced with freezing, crushing superiority.
Deep down, she utterly despised simple barons, viewing them as marginally elevated dirt-farmers, but court etiquette rigidly demanded the theatrical illusion of respect.
Adelgarde and Isolde bowed with appropriate deference. Only little Rosalie remained rigidly upright, pinning the newcomer with a cold, terrifyingly proud glare from her sapphire eyes - House von Rosenfeld bowed to absolutely no one.
Adelgarde welcomed the guest with a booming, authoritative voice:
"You honor us with your presence, my lady. Welcome to the humble halls of Karsfeld. We trust your stay will be exceptionally fruitful."
The razor-sharp Baroness, however, instantly detected the venomous falsity rolling off the girl. Vivienne aggressively projected an aura of raw superiority, treating their heavily fortified stronghold like a pathetic mud hovel.
"I suppose it will suffice," Vivienne cut in with freezing indifference, before her patience finally completely snapped. "Your younger daughter mentioned she has an elder sister. Where exactly is she? Did she not deign to inform herself of my arrival?"
A suffocating, agonizingly awkward silence dropped like an anvil over the courtyard. Adelgarde and Isolde had long viewed this snobbish, hyper-arrogant lady with deep apprehension, privately pitying Cordelia’s fate. Had they known a fraction of the sadistic degradation their younger daughter was currently enduring in the shadows, they would have violently shattered the betrothal on the spot.
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Adelgarde cleared her throat, visibly uncomfortable:
"I am afraid she is currently absent from the fortress. She rode out into the fields at the crack of dawn, aggressively detailing some engineering project regarding steel irrigation pipes. On her behalf, I formally apologize for the - "
Before the Baroness could even finish her sentence, Vivienne’s hand violently shot up, ruthlessly cutting the sovereign warlord off.
"Spare me the pointless excuses. I fully expect to hear a groveling apology directly from her own lips when we sit for supper. I assume she will at least deign to make an appearance at the feast?"
Adelgarde violently ground her jaw together. This girl was absolutely insufferable. However, the Baroness was forced to play by the rigid rules of feudal politics to avoid dragging the terrifying military wrath of House von Drachenberg down upon her domain, so she personally escorted the arrogant guest to her lavishly prepared chambers.
***
Meanwhile, out in Marta Reiss’s sprawling fields, the work was boiling over. Early that morning, Sabine Keller had formally signaled that the massive first batch of heavy steel pipes and rotary sprinklers was completely finished.
Seraphine didn't hesitate for a fraction of a second - clad in rugged women's riding leggings and a tightly bound sports wrap, she aggressively worked shoulder-to-shoulder with the peasant women, violently hauling and assembling the massive sections of the pivot irrigation network straight across the furrows.
When the massive installation was finally locked in, she was granted the absolute honor of cranking the heavy main valve open. Driven by the violent, terrifying pressure generated by the mechanized river pumps, water roared through the steel arteries, violently erupting from the sprinklers in a massive, sweeping arc, aggressively drenching the parched earth.
A deafening, explosive wave of sheer, unadulterated cheering ripped across the valley. Marta Reiss aggressively wiped tears of profound joy from her dirt-streaked face. The grueling nightmare of hauling wooden buckets by hand was permanently dead!
Seraphine, wiping the glistening sweat from her deep cleavage, threw her hand into the air, her booming, authoritative voice instantly silencing the roaring crowd:
"People of Karsfeld! Behold the era of mechanized irrigation! Our manufactories are already forging the next wave of steel to aggressively bind this entire valley in this network! Let this mark the dawn of absolute relief and unending prosperity!"
Deafening applause and roaring cheers echoed violently all the way up to the castle walls.
Upon returning to the fortress, Seraphine scrubbed the heavy sweat and grime from her body in the scalding bathhouse and aggressively dressed for supper: she donned an incredibly elegant, deeply cut black doublet featuring a tightly laced feminine corset heavily embroidered with gold thread, paired with skin-tight crimson velvet trousers that violently accentuated her long legs and firm, athletic buttocks.
The absolute second she crossed the threshold of the dining hall, every single pair of eyes instantly snapped toward her. Seraphine’s gaze, however, completely ignored Cordelia and aggressively locked onto the breathtaking beauty seated right beside her.
The girl with the strawberry-blonde hair and angelic features was, without a shadow of a doubt, the absolute most stunning creature she had laid eyes on across both her lifetimes.
God damn it... Seraphine thought, a sharp, involuntary spike of bitter jealousy twisting in her chest.
Exactly what kind of catastrophic luck does it take for me to be shackled to a twelve-year-old cousin, while this treacherous little viper Cordelia manages to bag an absolute goddess?!
Simultaneously, something inside Vivienne completely shattered. When she laid eyes on the towering, fiercely athletic, and aggressively charismatic heir of Karsfeld, her heart detonated like a blacksmith’s hammer against an anvil.
Seraphine bore absolutely zero resemblance to the pathetic, sickly wreck Cordelia had described. She was tall, breathtakingly distinguished, possessing a statuesque, commanding physique and a terrifyingly piercing sapphire gaze.
It took Vivienne exactly three seconds to permanently, violently scrap her assassination plot.
Murder someone like this? Absolutely out of the question! This magnificent creature cannot be allowed to rot in a grave - she must become my personal, utterly devoted, groveling slave!
If she could successfully break Seraphine, force her to her knees, and violently claim her as submissive property, she would possess the absolute greatest prize on the entire continent. Beside this towering firstborn, Cordelia was nothing but a pathetic, cheap imitation.
Which absolute fucking idiot told me she was a lazy, sickly twig?! I will personally order their tongue ripped out for such an egregious lie! Vivienne’s mind boiled with aggressive lust, utterly incapable of tearing her eyes away from the elder Karsfeld’s narrow, corseted waist and flare of her hips.
The raw, blatantly aggressive sexual tension suddenly crackling between them was so incredibly thick you could butcher it with a broadsword. Cordelia aggressively ground her teeth in impotent, boiling fury, while little Rosalie von Rosenfeld violently sulked at the table, shooting murderous glares across the hall:
Just because that treacherous viper has a massive chest, Seraphine is undressing her with her eyes?!
I will absolutely not forgive this!
The suffocating silence was finally shattered by Adelgarde’s freezing voice:
"Seraphine, are you not going to sit?"
Seraphine violently snapped herself out of her infatuated stupor. She took her seat at the table, ruthlessly forcing her mind into a state of ironclad, tactical vigilance. This girl was the fiancée of her sworn enemy - surrendering to her terrifying allure could easily trigger a lethal, inescapable trap.
But before she could formulate a single word, Vivienne struck, her voice dripping with an aggressively sweet, velvet tone, shooting her a devastatingly sultry look through her long lashes:
"Vivienne von Drachenberg, daughter of Eleonora von Drachenberg... It is an absolute, profound pleasure to finally meet you, my lady."
Seraphine, acutely feeling Rosalie’s burning, murderous gaze boring into her skull, fired back with a flawlessly smooth, devastatingly charming courtly bow, completely failing to suppress the involuntarily seductive edge in her own voice:
"Seraphine Karsfeld, sovereign heir of this humble barony. I assure you, the pleasure is entirely mine."
Vivienne let out a sparkling, theatrical laugh, aggressively fluttering her eyelashes, which caused little Marielle to violently choke on her drink in sheer indignation. This arrogant stray from Arnsbruck was brazenly trying to aggressively seduce her older sister right in front of them!
When the massive silver platters loaded with Seraphine’s culinary masterpieces were finally hauled out, Vivienne launched into an incredibly theatrical, highly aggressive display of sheer ecstasy with every single bite, letting out quiet, blatantly lecherous moans of pleasure designed for one singular purpose - to drive Seraphine absolutely insane with lust.
The elder futa felt a violent, agonizing war detonating in her skull between cold rationality and blinding arousal; this aristocrat was simply vastly too shameless a succubus to remain calm around.
Absolutely refusing to risk a catastrophic loss of control, Seraphine abruptly apologized to the table, rose sharply from her chair, and marched straight for the bathhouse.
Aggressively tracking the firm sway of Seraphine's buttocks straining against the tight velvet trousers as she left, Vivienne smiled with pure, predatory intent. Her tactical assault was finalized.
Once the fortress plunged into the dead of night, she would violently infiltrate Seraphine’s bedchamber wearing her most sinfully sheer, devastating lingerie, carrying a heavy crystal jug of wine aggressively spiked with a terrifyingly potent aphrodisiac.
Once Seraphine’s ironclad control violently shattered, Vivienne would ruthlessly bind her, violently force her into absolute submission, and claim her as permanent property, reveling in her body and successfully forging a fake pregnancy to violently seize absolute control over the entire valley.
As far as she was concerned, it was an absolutely perfect strategy.