Ruins of Chaos (Legacy of the Nine Realms #3) - Amelia Hutchins Page 0,209

her legs, arched her spine, and stuck her ass in the air. The male circled her, rubbing the crotch of his pants as he winked at the audience. She whined and tried to purr as he sunk to his knees behind her, bucking his hips against hers. She threw her head back, screaming in mock passion, and something black spread across the floor beneath her as if every thrust sent evil poison flowing from her body onto the ground.

“Though he loathed his place behind her rear, he plowed that evil cunt while we stood by and cheered.” The male grabbed the female by the hair, continuing to grind into her while other actors entered the stage to cheer him. Releasing the woman’s breasts from her dress, he grabbed one with his other hand and began pinching her nipple.

“Her body tired and beaten just right. Our king fucked his whore until she gave up her fight.” The man pulled the woman’s head back by her hair and pretended to slap her. She fell to the ground, whimpering. I turned to look at Knox, who stared forward with no emotion showing on his features, seemingly enjoying the show.

A new backdrop appeared of a forest with a campfire as the narrator spoke, “She tried to make friends with the witches in camp, but they knew when they saw her, she was a Hecate tramp. She was chained and cuffed to deplete all her magic. And a witch without her powers? Well, there’s nothing more tragic.” The woman thrashed around, crying and whaling, begging to fuck the males on stage who pretended to be Knox’s men in exchange for setting her free. It turned my stomach, and a slow rage began building within me.

The storyteller cleared his throat, and the actress went silent. “As fortune would have it, the witch did escape, then she got into trouble and cried out, ‘rape.’ Our king’s men lay bleeding except for one brother, and the two found her fucking one traitor then another. Betraying the king, his men slaughtered them all for a taste of that pussy was Andres’s fall.” More men entered the stage, acting out the events as the woman laid back and spread her legs. She begged the men to fuck her as they battled, who I assumed was Lord Andres and his men. Finally, the actor playing Knox shoved a wooden sword into the man, and he fell, pretending to be dead as the curtains closed.

My nails had extended and were now pushing through the skin as I gritted my teeth. And still, Knox did not show any emotion. The curtains opened once more, and the backdrop had changed. This time it was a crude painting of the Beltane ritual location.

“Our King, he was smart, and he bargained her heart; to give her family a home. For he promised her lies as he parted her thighs, and it only cost her the throne.” The male and female appeared on stage in wedding clothes, dancing around a maypole, batting their eyes at one another. “He married that witch, and he did not flinch when their hands were bound together. He took one for the team, all part of his scheme to keep the Hecate line tethered.” The couple on stage had ribbons binding one of their hands. The mock king slipped a rope around the female’s neck, leading her around the stage like an animal. My nails pushed through my palms, and the napkin on my lap soaked with blood.

“She couldn’t wait to be fucked, to be licked, and be sucked, so she pulled him along by his penis. Then she licked, and she sucked, and was thoroughly fucked by the king we would all call a genius.” The woman on stage sat the mock king in a chair and pretended to suck his cock. Then she lifted her skirt to straddle him as he freed her breasts from her dress. He sucked one into his mouth as she ground her body against his, whining and purring while the male pretended to rattle.

The narrator grinned as the crowd cheered, and he continued, his voice rising an octave. “For he took what he wanted and would never commit, so the things that she wanted, she’d never get. Love and affection won’t come for this heathen. The longer he keeps her, the more she will weaken. If it’s children she wants, to further her line, the king would spit on her grave before birthing her swine.”