Harem Master: Seduction System

Chapter 70: Torturing Yvonne And Asmund

The air was thick with the scent of damp stone and the faint echo of distant moans. Alaric stood outside Yvonne’s cell, his expression cold and calculating. He had spent the past few hours interrogating Eskil’s comrades, and now it was time to deal with the mastermind behind the attack on House Galanis.

He signaled to the guards to open the cell door. The heavy iron door creaked open, revealing Yvonne huddled in the corner, her wrists and ankles bound with thick ropes. Her eyes widened as Alaric stepped into the cell, his presence filling the small space with an almost palpable tension.

Alaric approached her slowly, his footsteps echoing ominously in the silence. He knelt beside her, his eyes locked onto hers. "You’ve caused a lot of trouble, Yvonne," he said, his voice low and dangerous. "And now, you’re going to pay for it."

He reached out and removed the gag from her mouth, tossing it aside. Yvonne gasped for breath, her chest heaving as she struggled to speak. "Alaric, please—" she began, but her words were cut off as Alaric’s hand flashed out, striking her across the face.

The sound of the slap echoed through the cell, the sharp crack of flesh against flesh sending a shiver down Yvonne’s spine. She cried out in pain, her cheek flaming where his hand had struck. Alaric didn’t stop there. He grabbed her by the hair, forcing her to look at him as he spoke, his voice cold and unyielding.

"You dared to harm my aunt and my cousin," he growled. "You dared to threaten my family. For that, you will suffer."

Yvonne’s eyes filled with tears as she shook her head, her voice trembling. "Please, Alaric, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to—"

Alaric cut her off with another sharp slap, this time to the other cheek. "Save your apologies," he snarled. "They mean nothing to me."

He released her hair, only to grab her by the arm and force her to her feet. Yvonne stumbled, her legs weak from the hours of being bound. Alaric pushed her against the wall, his hand wrapping around her throat as he pinned her in place.

"You’re going to regret ever crossing me, Yvonne," he said, his voice a low growl. "You’re going to wish you had never been born."

With that, he began to beat her. His fists connected with her stomach, her ribs, her face, each blow sending a wave of pain coursing through her body. Yvonne screamed, her cries echoing through the dungeon as she begged for mercy. But Alaric showed none. He continued to pummel her, his anger fueling his strength as he unleashed his fury on her.

But physical blows weren’t enough to satisfy Alaric’s wrath. He wanted her to feel true pain, true suffering. He stepped back, his breath coming in ragged gasps as he raised his hand, his fingers glowing with the telltale signs of his magic.

"Firebolt," he intoned, his voice cold and steady. A bolt of flame shot from his hand, striking Yvonne in the chest.

She screamed in agony as the fire seared her flesh, the smell of burned skin filling the air. Alaric didn’t stop there. He cast spell after spell, each one more painful than the last.

"Ice Shard," he said, his voice like ice. A shard of ice materialized in his hand, and he threw it at Yvonne, the sharp projectile embedding itself in her shoulder. She cried out in pain, her body convulsing as the cold seeped into her wounds.

"Lightning Bolt," he said, his voice crackling with energy. A bolt of lightning shot from his hand, striking Yvonne in the leg. She screamed as the electricity coursed through her body, her muscles spasming uncontrollably.

Yvonne’s screams filled the dungeon, her cries for mercy falling on deaf ears. Alaric was relentless, his anger driving him to inflict as much pain as possible. He wanted her to suffer, to feel the same fear and pain that she had caused his family.

After what felt like an eternity, Alaric finally stopped, his breath coming in ragged gasps as he looked down at Yvonne’s broken and bloodied form. She lay on the cold stone floor, her body a mass of bruises and burns, her breaths coming in shallow, pained gasps.

Alaric knelt beside her, his hand grabbing her hair and pulling her up to face him. "Now," he said, his voice cold and steady, "you’re going to speak truthfully to me. Or else, I will throw you in a cage with drugged beasts who will then rape you continuously."

Yvonne’s eyes widened in shock and horror as she stared at Alaric, the reality of his threat sinking in. She could see the cold determination in his eyes, the unyielding resolve that told her he was serious. She began to sob, her body shaking with fear and pain.

"Please, Alaric, don’t do that," she begged, her voice trembling. "I’ll do anything you want. I’ll lick your feet, I’ll do anything. Just please, don’t do that to me."

Alaric’s expression remained cold and unyielding. He smacked her buttocks strongly, the sound of the impact echoing through the cell. Yvonne cried out in pain and shame, her body trembling as she struggled to speak.

"Why did you attack House Galanis?" Alaric demanded, his voice like ice. "You should have received the news of my family subduing the Farrow Family long ago. So why did you act against House Galanis so suddenly?"

When she finally emerged from the bathtub, she felt refreshed and rejuvenated. She wrapped herself in a towel, her body still flushed from the heat of the water. She made her way to her wardrobe set up for her by her sister Cassandra, her eyes scanning the racks of elegant clothing.

She settled on a gown of deep emerald green, the fabric shimmering in the soft light of the room. The gown was cut low, the neckline plunging to reveal the swell of her breasts. The skirt was slit high up the side, revealing a tantalizing glimpse of her thigh with every step. The fabric clung to her curves, accentuating her waist and hips, making her look every bit the regal matriarch she was.

She slipped into the gown, the fabric caressing her skin like a lover’s touch. She turned to the mirror, her eyes critically assessing her reflection.

She returned to the guest room, her eyes lingering on the sleeping form of her son. He looked so peaceful, so innocent in sleep. She hated to wake him, but she knew they had much to discuss, much to prepare for.

"Alaric," she said softly, her voice gentle as she shook him awake. "It’s time to get up."

Alaric stirred, his eyes fluttering open as he looked up at her. He smiled, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he stretched languidly. "Morning, Mother," he said, his voice still thick with sleep.

Lyra smiled back, her heart swelling with love and affection. "Morning, my dear. We have a long day ahead. Best not to waste any of it."

With a groan, Alaric swung his legs over the side of the bed and stood. "I’ll be ready shortly," he promised, heading toward the bathroom. Lyra watched him go, her chest tightening with maternal affection.

By the time Alaric emerged, clean and dressed in dark, tailored attire that highlighted his broad shoulders, Lyra was waiting by the door. Together, they made their way to the dining hall. The halls were alive with the morning bustle of the manor, servants moving about with purpose. The scent of fresh bread and spiced tea wafted through the air, guiding them toward their destination.

The dining hall was a picture of understated elegance. Sunlight streamed through high windows, glinting off polished silverware and crystal goblets.

Cassandra and Fiora were already seated, their faces lighting up as Alaric and Lyra entered.

"Good morning!" Cassandra greeted warmly, her voice carrying an unshakable confidence. She wore a striking red gown that clung to her curves, the neckline daring yet tasteful. She gestured toward the empty seats. "Come, join us. The tea is still hot."

"Morning, Aunt Cassandra. Fiora," Alaric replied, taking his seat. "I trust you both slept well?"

"Like a queen," Cassandra said with a smile. "Though I suspect you didn’t. You look... preoccupied."

Alaric chuckled softly. "You’re not wrong. There’s much on my mind."

Fiora, dressed in a delicate pink dress that complemented her gentle demeanor, chimed in shyly. "I slept like a rock," she said, her cheeks coloring as she avoided Alaric’s gaze. "No dreams at all."

"That’s probably for the best," Alaric said with a faint grin. "I’m beginning to think dreamless sleep is a luxury."

The light banter faded as the conversation turned to the pressing matters of the day. Cassandra leaned forward, her expression serious. "We need to decide what to do about the students in the dungeons. Eskil especially. He’s a political minefield waiting to explode."

Lyra sighed, her fingers drumming lightly against the table. "Eskil’s reputation is high enough to cause trouble if we mishandle this. A direct punishment could backfire but releasing him outright is out of the question."

Cassandra nodded in agreement, her brow furrowing in thought. "We need to find a way to break his pride, to make an example of him without actually harming him."

Alaric, who had been listening intently, spoke up. "I have an idea," he said, his voice steady and confident. "We announce the result of his duel against me. We make it clear that he was defeated, that he was no match for me. It will break his pride and make an example of him without actually harming him."

Cassandra considered his words, her eyes sharp and calculating. "It’s bold. Public humiliation can be as effective as any punishment. But we’ll have to ensure the narrative is controlled so that he feels particularly humiliated by this incident."

Lyra, thoughtful, nodded slowly. "It’s risky, but it might be our best option."

As they continued to discuss their plans, the dining hall filled with the sound of clattering dishes and murmured conversation. The aroma of freshly baked bread and sweet pastries filled the air, mingling with the scent of strong coffee and fragrant tea. The family ate in companionable silence, their minds racing with thoughts of the day ahead.