NTR: Stealing wives in Another World
Chapter 184: Ceremony of ownership (18+)

Chapter 184: Ceremony of ownership (18+)

The council hall was nearly empty now, save for those who mattered. Fina stood by Allen’s side again, resting her crop over her shoulder like a war trophy. Rinni sat cross-legged at the base of the throne, stretching her arms with a lazy yawn, her eyes still locked on the trembling, slumped figure on the polished floor.

Soreya hadn’t moved since Allen’s last words. Her breath came shallow and unsteady, eyes wide but unfocused. Her thighs remained parted, sticky with the dried remnants of shame and attention, and the skin of her knees had turned slightly red from hours of service. A long string of saliva still dangled from her mouth, curved against her chin. She wasn’t even trying to look dignified anymore.

Allen descended the steps of the throne once more. Each bootstep echoed—measured, slow, and deliberate. He didn’t need to speak. The room itself seemed to hold its breath.

He reached her and crouched down beside her, his hand sliding along her cheek, then gripping her jaw—not hard, not cruel, just possessive.

"Do you remember what you asked me the first day we met, Queen Soreya?" he asked quietly, tilting her chin toward him.

She blinked slowly. "Y-you said... you said I was nothing."

Allen chuckled. "No. You asked if I understood what it meant to rule."

He leaned in, his breath brushing her lips. "And now I’ve taught you."

She shivered.

He gestured toward Kael. The loyal man returned with a thin metal case and offered it silently. Allen flipped it open, revealing an ornate black collar—not leather this time, but dark iron lined with runes. Cold and unyielding.

Soreya’s breath hitched. "W-wait..."

Allen pulled the wooden tags off her old collar. They clacked as they fell to the floor. Then he slowly, unhurriedly, slid the new collar around her neck. The runes shimmered faintly as the clasp locked into place.

The hall grew colder.

Soreya gasped—just a little—but it was enough. She could feel it. This collar wasn’t decorative. It was binding. It sealed away the last scraps of resistance in her soul, like a lid clamping down on a screaming flame.

"You are no longer a slave of flesh," Allen said, his tone ceremonial, heavy. "You are my owned soul. My claimed will. My tool."

Soreya’s mouth opened, lips trembling, but no words came.

He stroked her cheek again. "You may speak."

"I... I am yours, Master," she whispered, her voice faint but clear. "Only yours."

Rinni clapped softly. "Damn, she really gave in, huh?"

Fina stepped forward now, lifting a heavy velvet curtain that had concealed a peculiar metal frame behind Allen’s throne. It looked like a throne itself—only smaller, shaped not for sitting but kneeling. A hollowed platform with restraints at the arms, knees, neck, and thighs. Gleaming with polish and cruel craftsmanship.

Allen beckoned.

"Crawl."

Soreya didn’t hesitate. She pulled herself forward, knees dragging over the cold stone, her head low, her body moving like muscle memory had replaced thought. Fina and Rinni guided her into the frame—gently, almost reverently. They locked her wrists and thighs in first, then pressed her chest forward against a padded arch, forcing her back to curve and her ass to lift, fully exposed.

The final restraint clicked into place around her neck. Her hair was brushed aside. Her mouth remained open—tongue resting out like a display for the next command.

Allen stood behind her.

"She will remain like this for one full day," he said, voice ringing through the chamber, "as a symbol."

Kael nodded. "Shall we inform the couriers?"

"Let the world see who truly rules here," Allen said. "They sent a queen. I’ve returned a receptacle."

He stepped forward and without another word, buried his cock into her with a deep, unforgiving thrust, his cock went deep inside her with a squelch.

Soreya choked on a cry, muffled only by the gag that Rinni had slipped between her lips at the last second. Her body jolted forward, but the frame held her firm—her breasts squished against the leather pads, her thighs twitching helplessly as Allen began to fuck her in full view of his court.

Fina stood proudly by the side, watching with hungry eyes. Rinni, ever playful, leaned in to whisper filthy encouragements into Soreya’s ears between Allen’s thrusts.

The wet slaps of flesh filled the chamber.

Loud.

Unrelenting.

No music. No distractions.

Just the brutal rhythm of dominance and submission echoing off marble.

Each time Allen bottomed out inside her, the runes on the collar pulsed, and Soreya’s body trembled harder—like it was branding the memory into her soul. Each thrust forced her open wider, dragged a fresh groan from her throat, and blurred the lines between degradation and worship.

She wasn’t just being used.

She was being consecrated.

Allen’s hand gripped her hair tightly, yanking her head back so her moaning, drooling face was fully visible to the emptying chamber.

"This," he said coldly, to any watching eyes, "is what the old world offers me. A broken queen. A hungry cunt."

He thrust again—harder. Deeper.

Soreya’s eyes rolled back.

And then he came—deep inside her, hips flush, cock twitching with a brutal finality that made her body convulse in the restraints.

But he didn’t pull out.

He stayed there, buried, breathing into the nape of her neck, hand still in her hair, the moment stretched thin and trembling.

When he finally moved, it was slow, dragging his cum-slick cock out of her used, twitching pussy. A wet string of seed clung to her lips before dripping onto the stone floor.

Allen looked down at her, utterly ruined in the ceremonial frame, legs spread, ass raised, her new collar humming softly with its magical weight.

"She’ll remain here," he said, turning away. "On display. Any beast, noble, or knight who doubts me... let them come kiss the feet of their fallen queen."

He didn’t look back.

He didn’t need to.

She was his.

Forever.

And the empire had a new kind of throne.