Three Square Meals Ch. 140

"Idenvae was definitely aware that her House was part of a new alliance with you. I'd be astonished if Vestele hadn't informed them both that you were in command of her fleets in times of war, which would make you their de facto leader if she was incapacitated for any reason. You were quite right to reprimand Idenvae for not informing you, and the fact that they were being so secretive only confirms that they knew what they were doing was wrong."

"We also need to figure out what we're going to do if Vestele dies in transit before I can heal her," John said, rubbing the bridge of his nose. "Even if she survives, I'm faced with the same issues I had over rewarding Emandra Holaris with immortality. Vestele's people obviously hate her guts, so would I be doing the right thing inflicting her on them all over again?"

Edraele smiled and kissed him tenderly. "I'm sure you'll make the right choice."

"Thanks for the vote of confidence, but I was hoping for something more tangible," John said with an exasperated sigh.

She pulled back and made eye contact with him. "I can tell you what I would do in your situation, but I don't believe it would be helpful."

He frowned and looked at her in confusion. "I'm not sure why you'd think that... explain it to me in a minute. First though, what would you do in my position?"

"Assuming Vestele lives?" she asked. When he nodded in confirmation, Edraele continued, "I would handle her exactly as you did Emandra. Make Vestele the same enticing offer and warn her of the inevitable side-effects of the Change. She'd ignore my warnings of course, because she's vain and arrogant, and will be desperate to restore her youth. Then I'd simply wait and let my irresistible influence break the cruel monster she's become. After she'd endured weeks of agonising soul-searching, I'd help a kinder, better Vestele rise from the smouldering ashes of her old personality, then welcome her to the fold with open arms."

John winced as she bluntly outlined the elder matriarch's most likely future. "And if she dies?"

"Then I'd be faced with two choices: either select the most competent candidate to replace her, or simply dissolve House Waephyra. They're only ranked seventeen, so their territory could easily be divided up between their neighbours. Of those two options, I'd choose a worthwhile candidate to replace her as matriarch; some nubile, doe-eyed beauty, that you'd thoroughly enjoy impregnating."

"Of course you would," he said, rolling his eyes and laughing. John considered her replies for a moment, then continued, "That was useful advice. So why did you think it wouldn't be helpful?"

Edraele caressed his cheek affectionately. "Because I'm not ruling the Maliri... you are. This is a new role for you, one that's far outside your comfort zone. I would warn you if I believed you were making a catastrophic error in judgement, but making these decisions for yourself will give you more confidence leading our empire."

"Yeah... you're right," he conceded with a rueful frown. "I always feel under huge pressure to make the right decision because there's so much at stake when you're ruling an entire civilisation. I suppose the more practice I get, the easier it'll become."

"Don't worry yourself unduly, you've been doing an marvellous job so far."

"Thank you. That's a relief to hear," he said gratefully.

Edraele slid off his lap and offered John a hand. "Now, I better not keep you up any longer, you have a busy day tomorrow." She raised an eyebrow and said with a saucy smile, "Unless you've decided to punish me for my earlier transgressions?"

He rose to his feet and gave her bottom an appreciative squeeze. "That's a very tempting offer, but I should get back to bed. I still need to feed four more matriarchs before the party, don't I?"

She nodded in confirmation. "Luna and I are looking forward to accompanying you after each pair."

"Yeah, me too," he agreed, stifling a yawn when he glanced at the chronometer and realised it was 4:36 am. "Goodnight, honey."

Edraele kissed him goodbye and John headed back to his bedroom.

Sarene was still seated in her chair and she greeted him with a smile. "Welcome back. Was the disaster averted?"

"We found out what happened to Vestele Waephyra," John explained, fighting back another yawn. "She nearly died fighting her family. Vestele's in critical condition and none of her daughters survived the battle."

The young woman's face fell and it was easy to see that she was blaming herself.

"Hey... I wasn't trying to make you feel bad," John said, squatting down beside her. "This wasn't your fault."

Sarene frowned and shook her head. "I planned this. I knew the matriarchs and their daughters would fight to the death to be with you."

"No. Sarinia planned this," John said firmly. "You're Sarene now, remember?"

She nodded, but didn't look convinced.

"You're just going through a period of adjustment," he said, gently clasping her hand. "You still have all of Sarinia's old memories, but you're not that same person anymore. Sarinia suffered horrific abuse when she was a child and it twisted her into a deeply troubled woman."

"I know that I'm supposed to be Sarene now... but who is she?" the unsettled noblewoman asked, gazing at him for guidance.

"A very bright, sweet-natured girl, who cares deeply about her friends and family," John said emphatically. "You're still Sarinia at your core, with all the natural gifts and talents she possessed. But instead of withdrawing into yourself as a child, you emulated Tehlariene as you grew up, learning to share your heart with everyone you love. Now you'll lead House Baelora as a benevolent matriarch, seeking to better the lives of all the Maliri under your rule."

"Love my friends and family, and honour my duty as a matriarch," she murmured, looking calmer and more confident. "Thank you, Baen'thelas... that was very helpful."

"Your personality has gone through a huge metamorphosis, Sarene," he said with sympathy. "It'll take a little time for you to adapt, but I'm here to help you."

"Thank you... for everything you've done for me," Sarene whispered, her eyes welling up. "I can remember how lonely Sarinia was... how empty her life was for so long. I feel different already... and it feels wonderful."

He leaned in and gave her a hug. "You're welcome."

John held her for a long moment, then pulled back and shared a smile with the earnest Maliri noblewoman. Now that he was right next to her, he caught a glimpse of the digital canvas on her easel and turned to see what she'd been working on.

"Wow... this is really impressive," he marvelled, studying the portrait in fascination. "You've really captured her likeness."

Sarene had painted a picture of him holding Kali in his arms, the Loraleth matriarch sleeping peacefully with a beautiful smile on her face.

"She's deeply in love," Sarene murmured, her gaze softening as she studied her muse. "Safe and content in your protective embrace."

"You're very talented," John said, admiring her work. He remembered that Sarinia's sister had avoided portraits and focused on sweeping natural scenes instead. "Tehlariene preferred landscapes didn't she?"

She slowly nodded and gazed down at her slender fingers. "You were right earlier, about me being Sarinia at my core. She favoured portraits because she was interested in people... and they fascinate me too."

John couldn't stop himself yawning this time and gave Sarene an apologetic smile. "I'd love to stay up chatting with you, but I can barely keep my eyes open. Come on, let's go to bed." When she nodded in agreement, he asked, "What were you doing up so late anyway?"

"I woke up feeling full of energy and couldn't get back to sleep," she replied, taking his hand and sliding into bed with him. "I saw the two of you together and felt inspired, so I went to Tehlariene's quarters and borrowed her easel and canvass."

"You left here in a robe?" John asked, raising an eyebrow.

She giggled and nodded. "I got plenty of curious looks, especially with my new hair and a big tummy."

"Yeah, I bet," John said with a chuckle.

He ran his hand over her stomach, which had flattened out now, her body eagerly absorbing his load. They were still linked though, and he could sense her presence in his mind, the active connection between them strong. When he looked into her golden eyes, John could see a new flare of arousal as she responded to his caresses.

"Maybe I should feed you again... just to make sure you're okay."

"We shouldn't take any chances..." Sarene agreed, licking her lips in anticipation.

John lay back and let the enthusiastic Maliri tend to his burgeoning erection. She knelt between his legs and admired him for a long moment, as if trying to commit every inch of his body to memory. Then she treated him to a delicious blowjob, taking her time to lick and stroke his length, building him up higher until he finally exploded down her throat. John ran his fingers through her long silky hair, stroking her affectionately as she sucked out every last drop of cum.

Sitting upright afterwards, Sarene cradled her rounded belly with an enigmatic look on her face. She glanced at John and smiled when she realised he was watching her.

"Baen'thelas... will you hold me? Like you did with Kali."

He nodded and beckoned her to join him. "Of course, honey."

As Sarene lay with her back to him, John stroked her new curves, drawing soft sighs of contentment from the blissful Maliri.

She turned slightly and looked up at him, her brow furrowed with concern. "I honestly had no idea that Kali was going to ask you to get me pregnant at the same time as her."

"I know," he said with a reassuring smile.

Sarene's frown deepened. "I don't want you to think that I manipulated her to get what I want. That's the way I used to behave, but I wouldn't do that to her, or to you... I promise."

"It's okay, I know you wouldn't, not anymore," John said again. "I rebuilt your mind, Sarene. Nobody knows you better than I do."

She relaxed, the tension easing from her beautiful face. "I just wanted to make sure."

"Is that what you want?" he asked, kissing her bare shoulder. "To have my children?"

The Maliri noblewoman blushed, looking more vulnerable than he'd ever seen her before. She looked into his eyes and nodded, her yearning desire plain for him to see.

"Good," John said, holding her closer. "I'd be disappointed if I put all that effort into making you my perfect woman and you left me for another guy."

She looked at him wide-eyed with astonishment. "Really?!"

"Mmm hmm... very disappointed," he teased her.

Sarene laughed quietly, trying not to wake Kali. "No, not that, the other thing."

"Oh, you mean me making you my perfect woman?" John asked, pulling the covers over them. "Sure. Admittedly you did a lot of the hard work for me. You were already very bright and talented... I just helped you rediscover that lovely kind-hearted girl you used to be."

Her eyes welled up with tears and she melted into his arms. "You're so wonderful, Baen'thelas," she murmured, looking up at him in adoration. "I'd do anything for you."

John leaned down to give her a tender kiss. "The first thing I want you to do is start calling me John, just like the rest of my girls."

"Okay... John," she said with a shy smile. "Anything else?"

"For now, I think we should get some sleep. We've got a whole lifetime together to look forward to... as long as you don't mind sharing."

She snuggled into him. "I think sharing you with Kali could be a lot of fun."

"I think so too," he agreed, stroking her until she fell into a deep contented sleep.

*Goodnight, my Lord,* Edraele purred, sounding slightly giddy.

*Sleep well you three,* John murmured, then smiled as Alyssa and Jade drowsily echoed the Maliri Queen.

His eyelids grew heavy and he quickly joined his three matriarchs in a restful slumber.

***

"Hey! Wake up!"

Benedito Almada groaned in protest as the bedroom shutters were flung open, the dazzling sunshine indecently bright at this hour of the morning. He'd enjoyed a splendid evening in the company of two delectable young nymphets, but instead of waking in their tender embrace, some loud-mouthed braggard was barking orders at him.

"Get the hell out!" Almada snorted indignantly, covering his eyes with a flabby arm. "Don't you know who I am? Dijkman will have your hide for this!"

"Mister Dijkman sent me here," the stocky intruder explained, throwing some clothes at him. "Get dressed. He doesn't like to be kept waiting."

Almada grumbled sourly as he pulled on his shirt and trousers, imagining all the horrible things he'd like to do to this upstart for ruining his morning. After fumbling around for his shoes, he covered his corpulent frame with his crumpled suit jacket.

"Alright, let's go," the henchman said, jerking a thumb at the door.

They left the gaudily opulent room and weaved their way through a warren of corridors in the huge hotel. To someone from the Core Worlds, the Infernal Delights seemed cheap and sleazy, but Almada didn't visit the Outer Rim to appreciate its hotels. Life was cheap on the fringes of the Terran Federation and all sorts of unsavoury desires could be indulged if you greased the right palms.

Almada followed Dijkman's lackey to an elevator door that was guarded by two men armed with submachine guns. They entered the black steel conveyance and his guide tapped one of the lower buttons on the control panel, closing the doors behind them. The elevator began its rapid descent, the sudden drop making Almada's stomach lurch.

Rocky walls gave way to open air, giving them a spectacular view of the underground cavern below. There were fields of glowing magma in every direction, illuminating the subterranean facility with a fiery orange glow. The elevator shaft dropped straight down to an administration complex in the centre of this infernal hellscape, the black heart of Dijkman's notorious enterprise.

Chotis III had once been a lucrative mining colony, until eco-terrorists activated seismic charges in a dormant volcano. The subsequent eruption caused widespread devastation, killing thousands of miners and causing a public outcry at the horrific loss of life. The mining corporation quietly paid off the miners' families, then had the eco-terrorists hunted down and butchered.

That was seventy years ago now, but the mining companies had never returned, the cost of excavating the solidified magma proving too expensive to make further drilling worthwhile. In their absence, men like Jarl Dijkman had moved in, quickly establishing Chotis III as one of the premiere tourist attractions for those wanting to indulge in pleasures of the flesh. Benedito Almada had been a long-standing customer for over two decades.

The elevator reached the bottom level and the two men headed deeper into Dijkman's inner sanctum. Almada gazed longingly through glass-panelled walls at intriguing acts of debauchery, wishing he could quickly get this meeting over with and join one of the orgies. There seemed to be no limits to the depravities that could be experienced in this place, and he should know, having explored some very dark lusts himself.

They reached some double doors inlaid with cavorting satyrs and naked maidens, then his guide led Almada into Jarl Dijkman's private office. Dijkman was seated behind a desk, his focus on the holoscreens in front of him. He looked up when they arrived, then broke into a broad smile.

"Ah, Benedito! I trust you had a pleasant night, yes?"

Alamda shot a furious glance at the burly henchman. "I was having a very good time, until he showed up and scared away the girls."

"Ah... please accept my apologies for that. Don't blame Hans... he's a good boy and was just following orders."

Harrumphing with irritation, Almada turned his attention to Dijkman. "So why did you get me up at this ungodly hour, Jarl?"

Giving him a rueful shrug, Dijkman replied, "You know the rules: everyone settles their debts at the end of every month. We charged your account but the payment was rejected, so let's just settle up and you can get back to Lottie and Greta, yes?"

"It was rejected?" Almada muttered with an angry scowl. "Let me take a look."

"Be my guest," Dijkman replied, rotating the holo panel with an accommodating smile.

Almada had been siphoning off money from his primary bank accounts for years to fund his illicit lifestyle. He withdrew the funds as credsticks, then opened new accounts with different banks under a variety of pseudonyms. The account Dijkman was attempting to charge held enough money for him to stay at the Infernal Delights for the next three years, so Almada was certain there must have been an error with the transfer system itself.

He went through the authentication process, then shrugged confidently. "I'm logging in okay. How much is my current tab? I can make a direct transfer to your account."

"You've been a busy boy," Dijkman noted with amusement, scanning through the bill. "Over two-dozen girls, each staying for multiple days with lots of premium services requested. I see you even asked for some of our more... exotic... packages."

"Worth every credit," Almada snickered, remembering the delicious look of pain and revulsion in the girls' eyes. "I needed a bit of cheering up."

"That comes to a grand total of 154,000 credits," the proprietor noted, idly examining his manicured fingernails.

"No problem," the former Admiral said nonchalantly, checking his balance.

Account Balance: 0 credits.

Almada stared uncertainly at the screen, figuring that there must be some kind of mistake. He went back to the main menu, then requested his account balance again. The number remained unchanged. With trembling fingers, he swiped back to check the transaction history, panicking that ISD had tracked down his secret account. What he found there was so much worse.

Balance transfer: -6,214,936 credits.

"The Lion Foundation thanks you for your kind donation. Your generosity will help fund orphanages throughout the Terran Federation, giving hope and a fresh start to thousands of young children."

He gaped at the message in horror, wondering how the hell John Blake had tracked down his secret bank account. With shaking hands he logged into the next account and the next, finding the same message over and over again. Growing increasingly frantic, Almada checked them all... and was met with the same message in every one. He'd been stripped of every credit he owned, leaving him a penniless pauper... who owed a lot of money to some very bad people.

"Ready to begin the transfer, yes?" Dijkman asked, studying Almada's ghostly pale complexion. "Or is there some kind of a problem?"

Almada gulped, his eyes bulging as he turned to the brothel's owner. "Ahh... there's no problem. I just need to r-return to my hotel and check my l-login details for another account."

Dijkman frowned and waved a finger at the sweating man. "Now, now, Benedito... you wouldn't be lying to me would you?"

"Of course not, Jarl!" Almada stammered, staggering back a step and bumping into the chair behind him. "I've got the money... I swear!"

"Are you sure?" the other man asked, his eyes narrowing. "Because you don't look so good all of a sudden. Why don't you take a seat? I wouldn't want you passing out on me and hurting yourself."

"I-I'm okay..." Almada blurted out, feeling his heart hammering in his chest. "I'll be right back... just let me get those account details."

"Hans, why don't you help Benedito into a chair?" Dijkman suggested with concern. "He really does look most unwell."

"Of course, Mister Dijkman," Hans growled and slammed his meaty fist into Almada's rotund stomach. "Sit your ass down, fat man!"