Recharging and Imperial Theology

Perhaps it said a few things about John that his method of coping with denying Esmeralda was to tie Eliana up and use her as his personal cum-depository.

The pretty little psycho still wore her harness around the house. She made an announcement that she would take it off once her maternal instincts told her that rough play would be too much for the baby. It was part of the same discussion during which they had managed to talk her into accepting that stopping with the cussing before any of the children were out the womb was too cautious.

“That’s a good cocksleeve!” John had to raise his voice to overpower both the smacking of her hips and the muffled screams. The ball gag did only so much to keep the confined (and highly willing) sex slave from making her orgasms audible.

John wasn’t even going to pretend he wasn’t putting the frustrations of the conversation with Esmeralda into those thrusts. As the premiere hyper-masochistic submissive in his harem, Eliana was far from minding being used that way. Being his helpless relief tool was exactly what she had signed up for.

Her plump thighs framed her entire torso. Her ankles were tied to a hook in the mobile construct of steel and hardwood that they used for BDSM play outside of the Sex Dungeon. Her wrists were shackled underneath her ass, red from the persistent abuse it was receiving. Medium-sized breasts jiggled back and forth in the confined space between her legs. Not only was she gagged but also blindfolded. That she was allowed to hear was a temporary mercy he granted her. The earmuffs were within reach.

“Fucking adorable…” John muttered between grunts. Climaxing over and over again, melting in bliss, that really was the best way to describe Eliana. He grabbed her by the throat and peeled the blindfold back. He wanted to see her eyes roll up into her pretty skull while he squeezed her airpipe shut.

Her pussy gripped him in turn. With a last groan, John stopped deep inside her. Tightening balls pumped the fourth load of the hour into her. One could have thought that filling an already bred cunt up would have been less satisfying, but John found the exact opposite to be the case. More than ever, his third wife was his woman and he was going to use her body for their mutual bliss.

When he pulled out, he left her pussy gaping. Pussy juice still gushed in his absence, stretched walls twitching around the void he left behind. Seed trickled from her hole, renewing the rivulets that had turned the leather cushion beneath her ass sticky already. The only break in-between was the ornate plug snugly fit into her backdoor.

John’s desire to use that hole may have diminished in recent weeks, to the point that he really only did it for and with the women that had a fetish for it or no other choice, but that only went for direct application. All of his women were trained and enthusiastic about wearing remote control vibrators in both of their holes, many of them did it on a daily basis. Even if he wasn’t going to actually fuck that hole, he did like having the control over teasing them with it, both with the vibrator and by making them think he might fuck that hole. A diminished interest did not equal no interest at all. Anal could be quite empowering or otherwise satisfying.

John lovingly moved the blindfold and earmuffs back into their proper place. Eliana would still be able to hear enough, courtesy of her absurdly keen senses.

For his part, he dropped back into his chair. The paused game on his screen was almost secondary to his relaxation. The turn-based strategy game was noise for his mind while he listened to the professional voice of the narrator quote to him a modern interpretation of Meditations by Marcus Aurelius.

It was borderline useless. The original texts of the stoic emperor were practically perfect in getting the intended message across, so John had wondered what the point of modern commentary even was. The answer appeared to be digestibility, though John was questioning if the kind of person who needed help understanding Marcus Aurelius was the kind of person who should be engaged in studying philosophy in the first place.

All the same, he listened to the narrator. If nothing else, trying to draw something useful out of the commentary was itself a useful exercise.

“If I may intrude?” Lorelei asked, already stepping into the room. There may come such an unholy day where John would have denied his women their mutual company, but it was not this day. “I observe your sense of stimulation.”

“Oh, I am plenty stimulated,” John hooked into her particular choice of words with a broad smile. Rapt attention narrowed in on Lorelei’s body. She often wore a nun-like garment around the house, though it was much too wispy and tight-fitting a thing to be truly compared to such modest a robe.

Just his drilling gaze had the seer’s approach turn quivering. Her second sight allowed her to perceive the world differently. Part of that perception was to experience his desire for her as an almost physical force, manifesting in a pleasure that coursed through her being. Had it not been for the chastity belt beneath those grey, gold-trimmed robes, she would have climaxed already.

Lifting the lock did occur to him, but only briefly. Lorelei had not climaxed since that wet t-shirt contest almost a month ago. Why ruin that deprivation streak now when her impregnation was so close?

One final step and Lorelei managed to plant her shapely derriere on his lap. The heat, the scent, of the submissive woman immediately had his cock surge to full hardness again. “I’ve cum once every seven minutes so far,” the Gamer groaned. “Feels like I might be going down to five.”

“To relieve yourself is your right,” Lorelei remarked. “May I suggest that you use my body to satisfy yourself?”

John found the idea of using a woman without allowing her pleasure (or at least orgasms) of her own mildly odd. All of his dominance and sadism was anchored to the fundamental understanding that the enjoyment was mutual. The most important part of having ‘willing sex slaves’ was the ‘willing’.

Though physical pleasure may have been capped, it was hardly the case that Lorelei would go without psychological gratification.

Letting his motions be his answer, John guided the white-blonde woman to straddle him. The short skirt of her wispy robe was easily pushed up. The silk sash that stretched between front and back of her magical chastity belt disappeared in accordance to the owner’s will. The juices were already flowing. Lorelei cooed with great satisfaction as she took him inside.

Satisfaction was all she experienced. No great release, no explosive orgasm, just the satisfaction of taking him inside, swiftly followed by the beginnings of the growing and desired frustration of being unable to orgasm.

“What bores you so?” Lorelei asked, her voice warmed by the heat radiating from her core.

“It’s just a dull audiobook,” John responded with a shrug. Hands on her ass, he guided her to move in a gentle up and down. Though her lack of sharp cries rankled something inside him, he could not deny the appeal of her truly operating just for his pleasure. They had done it like this a few times before, but it remained rare enough to retain its novelty. “If you have more interesting matters to discuss, I am all ears?”

“Lorelei!” Moira strutted into the room with all the confidence of a paladin. Like Lorelei, the Shield Warden of the Order of the Golden Rose had elected to stay dressed even in their private retreats. Her choice of garb was even less of a pretension of modesty. The red nightgown was so sheer that John saw every detail of her midriff through it, including the Lover’s Will mark so prominently placed on the promised womb. The gold-trimmed skirt would have offered views of her pussy as she walked even if it had been made from a thicker material. Though, on that front, the duality of tools she had him insert during their morning routine could be seen.

Not too long ago, Moira would have scrunched her nose in response to the sight and scent of the room she barged into. Now, her reaction to picking up the scent of the half litre of semen that had been dumped into Eliana was not just muted, it was the opposite. An aroused, pink blush crept up from her cleavage to the roots of her hair.

She approached, then let an intrusive thought win. Holding onto the bars of the steel cubicle that Eliana was tied to, the Warden bent down. Her ponytail dangled next to her head as she took a thorough sample of the erotic mixture of juices running from Eliana’s cunt. The pretty little psycho strained inside her bindings, trying her best to press her eager hole into the greedily moving tongue.

“Oh Lady, why did you make it so delicious…?” Moira muttered, then snapped back into a straight posture. “You were supposed to wait!” she continued in her accusatory tone, as if she hadn’t just scooped a tongueful of cum out of another woman.

John elected not to tease her about it, he enjoyed the normalization of such acts.

“I witnessed the Saint’s boredom through the walls and decided to intervene.” Lorelei wrapped her arms around John’s neck and pulled him into the silk-covered softness of her decently large breasts.

John, regretfully, had to lift his head enough that he wasn’t silenced by her cleavage. “Since you both came in here, I assume it has to do with that whole ‘Saint’ thing?”

“Quite,” Moira confirmed and crossed her arms. “As you know, the Order has begun to record you as ‘Saint John Newman’ in internal notes and even has begun to proclaim such to the outside world, though sparingly.”

“Indeed, I also remember them dodging proclaiming the Imperial Choir a sacrosanct institution,” the Gamer responded. “Delaying it until we tie the knot in a proper ceremony.”

“Y-yes…” Moira shifted bashfully, somehow still embarrassed at the idea that they were going to marry. God bless that woman, the gap between being a stern paladin and a super feminine redhead was just too cute. “Though you have invoked what has changed and charged events to that end.”

“The Imperial Choir?” John caught on. “Let me guess: since it now has a name and a position in the imperial political structure, the nature of it fundamentally changes?”

“Erudite as always, my Saint,” Lorelei purred, pulling his head back between her tits.

John was happy to remain there for a bit – and to cum inside the seer – while Moira explained the rest of the situation. Receiving his seed made the religious nymphomaniac coo with joy.

“To declare your personal harem sacrosanct was itself controversial, intense as a break as it is with established Order doctrine of clear monogamy preference.” Moira crossed her arms, the persistent conflict between what she lived out and what she had been raised in evident in her body language. “The debate had been settled as a resignation to the strength of Lorelei’s arguments. Theologically, opposition to it was borderline impossible, though emotions remained strong.”

“They should’ve fudging chilled out.”

John hadn’t noticed, among his orgasm, that Eliana had freed herself. Like every good confinement for his women, the chains and ropes had both a way that even a muffled woman could signal her safe word and an emergency release option. John typically left a knot or other mechanism within reach of the fingers that, once loosened, allowed the wrists enough wiggle room to then remove other bindings. It was neither a swift nor too easy process, that would have diminished the fantasy of being bound, but it was all the same possible.

Eliana hung the earmuffs over a crossbar, then put her arms over it. “Their dusty old butt cheeks should be debating what angle to present their asses to the sky, not our private life.”

“You are being disrespectful to those of faith once again,” Moira chastised her fellow haremette.

The mouth of the Lady Sanguine opened, then closed again with a loud clack. “Yeah, I am,” she admitted with a groan. She had gotten much better about not letting her bias dictate every utterance on this topic. “I guess they are at least accepting that the harem exists at this point.”

“Indeed, the Order is – or at least the Shield Branch is.” Moira swung her hips left to right in a tiny motion. “Which, due to the emergence of this branch as the dominant one, is the only opinion that truly matters.”

“You can get up now,” John whispered to Lorelei.

“Can I or should I?” the seer whispered back. “I confess to my thorough enjoyment of being your… fleshlight, as it is crudely titled.”

John’s still hard cock twitched inside her. Hips rotated in little circles. ‘Well, if she wants this, I am not going to make her move,’ he thought. “It is still interesting to me that I have never met the other two Wardens,” he confessed, refocusing on the conversation. “I sort of get the Spear Warden, since she is stuck in India, but the Sword Warden, at least, I should have encountered at some point during my trips to Germany.”

“Though this is an admission of our weakness, the branches of the Order were middling powers at most and you have long since eclipsed dealing with middling powers.” Moira pulled her shoulders back, allowing herself a bit of pride. “I am the only one of us three that has Awakened the Blessing to such a degree.”

“In any case, in the current paradigm, what the Shield Branch decides, the other two will have to follow,” Moira declared.

“Though I believe fully in the necessity to declare the Gamer’s Sainthood, I do not exclude the possibility of a schism with the Spear Branch,” Lorelei remarked. “Having not witnessed firsthand the miracles of his love, they may not understand the propriety of the given acknowledgements. While the Sword Branch is influenced by Lydia, the Spear Branch sits in isolation in the chaos of India.”

‘What an island India is,’ John thought. The subcontinent was a not-so-little microcosm of the Abyss. Since the destruction of the British Abyss during World War 2, the area had been shattered in a similar way the American Abyss had been. There was a chance that, after the Great Re-Alignment of the Abyss, a Latebloomer could sweep through there and unify the area in a similar fashion as John had.

There were various areas of the globe that were similar. Much of sub-Saharan Africa was united only under local warlords, which had slightly more structure than the anarchy of North America of yesteryear but was also ripe to be united by one very capable warlord. Something similar could be said for the Barbary Coast and the Middle East, from the Caucasus down to the end of the Arabian peninsula. Hell, for all they knew, a new lord of the Eurasian Steppes could suddenly rise from the middle of Turkmenistan.

In the grand scheme of things, less than a third of the global Abyss was actually stable. John had changed the balance of power tremendously. Someone else could come out of the woodworks and do the same tomorrow.

“If you got the tangent out of your system,” Eliana remarked, “could we get to the actual thing you came in for, you duo of pervy nuns?”

‘Moira, Lorelei and Hailey and nun outfits…’ John made a mental note for a future foursome.

“Patience is a virtue,” Moira reminded her fellow haremette. “So is brevity, however… The point is that the Imperial Choir is an institution of Fusion, which has reignited the debate about the holiness of the harem. Factions have emerged.”

“Let me guess,” John groaned, pulling Lorelei’s braid for a little spike of sadistic indulgence. “There are those that see no distinction between the harem and the Imperial Choir, those that consider it better to give it a name and those that consider it best to tie the harem to Fusion itself?”

“Astute and -ah-,” Lorelei moaned in desperation, “accurate, Master.”

“Alright, that’s all the cock you are getting,” John decided. “If you are switching titles, you are as desperate as I want you.”

The seer mewled, but obediently raised her hips. As she straightened up, Eliana and Moira exchanged a glance. The non-verbal communication between them ended with the submissive blood mage and Warden both gliding to the floor. The former was soon lapping the juices out of Lorelei’s cunt, while the latter decided to treat John to the service of her hand.

“You must be able to predict the difficulties we are now encountering?” Moira asked. The question felt like an excuse so she had a moment to add her lips to her service for a bit.

“The faction that doesn’t see a distinction is correct in reality, but in terms of a doctrine, it’s easier to sell an institution with a name than simply ‘this man gets to put his dick in as many women as he wants,’” John groaned. Moira’s technique had improved drastically since those fledgeling attempts to get his cock into her throat. “Simultaneously, the faction that wants to tie it to Fusion is effectively proclaiming that the privilege is hereditary.”

A loud pop marked the temporary stop put to the oral service. “Which has the faction split again,” Moira told him. “It has been decided to call an ecumenical council on the question.”

‘My harem is the focus of religious debate.’ John shook his head in disbelief. ‘I love my life, but sometimes it feels a bit absurd.’ “Am I expected to attend?”

“You are.”

“When?”

“13th of April.”

That was two months from now, a fair bit of time away. “Unless something unexpected happens, I will put it in my schedule.”

“Good. Perhaps it will be your opportunity to meet the other Wardens.”

The Gamer did not approve of his body choosing that moment to blast ropes of thick white all over the redhead’s face. In his defence, her hand did not stop pumping. All she did was close her eyes, then raise one of her brows when it was over.

“Lorelei, is that a sign of things to come?” Moira drawled.

“The Lady grants me no insight on this matter – though rebinding the lineages of the Wardens through the blood of the Saint would be a blessed event.”

“I have no intention to add the other two Wardens to my harem,” the Gamer stated clearly.

“I’m not going to make a poopy joke about your lack of self-control less than an hour after you showed the feisty pussy out the door,” Eliana chimed in, stopping only to lick the mixture of juices from her lips. “But also: you’re seriously going to tell us that your retarded inner completionist isn’t the slightest bit interested in completing the set.”

“…No, my inner retard is definitely interested in that,” the Gamer relented. “Which does not mean I am going to do it.”

Pleasingly, there were trusting hums all around him in response.