Asmodeus System: Stealing My Bully's Mother

​KNOCK! KNOCK! KNOCK!

​"Mother? Are you still inside?"

​Kurt von Rosenberg’s voice pierced through the tightly shut mahogany door, shattering the silence of the office now thick with the pheromones of Sin Mana.

​Isolde’s body instantly went rigid.

​Her breathing, previously ragged from the surges of the Incubus Mark, hitched in her throat.

The mask of composure she had desperately tried to maintain was now wholly replaced by sheer panic. Cold sweat beaded on her temples.

Her gaze darted frantically between the door and Ethan, who stood mere paces away.

​"N-no..."

​The whisper was barely audible.

​If Kurt walked in right now and saw the state of this room it wouldn’t just be her reputation crumbling.

Her entire life would be over.

The Duke would have her head on a pike.

​"Mother? Why is the door locked?"

​The doorknob rattled aggressively from the outside. Clatter! Clatter!

​"I know you’re in there. The lights are still on."

​Isolde instinctively took half a step back.

​But Ethan was faster.

​Before she could even scramble away, Ethan’s hands slid under her arms.

With one firm, measured heave, he hoisted her to her feet.

​"Calm down, Isolde."

​Ethan’s voice was low, flat, yet brimming with absolute conviction.

The cold baritone dripped with authority, resonating directly with the black rose seal on the Duchess’s chest.

Under the thrall of the Incubus Mark, the terror in Isolde’s mind was forcefully suppressed.

It was instantly replaced by a primal obedience that turned her knees to jelly.

​"W-what if he comes in... he’ll break the door down if I just stay quiet..." Isolde trembled.

Her icy blue eyes looked up at Ethan in total submission.

​A faint smirk carved itself onto Ethan’s face. A smile that made Isolde’s blood race in the most bizarre way.

​"Then answer him. Open it just a crack. Leave the chain lock on. Show your face, and tell him to go away."

​"Y-you’re insane! If he sees you—"

​"He won’t see me."

​Ethan positioned himself right behind Isolde.

So close that the Archmage’s back was pressed flush against his broad chest.

The searing heat radiating from his body seeped right through her thin gown.

She had to bite her lower lip desperately to swallow down a moan.

​"Open it, Duchess. Show your son the imposing authority of the Vice Principal," Ethan whispered.

His breath brushed against her slender neck, sending agonizingly pleasurable shivers down her spine.

​With trembling hands, Isolde turned the steel lock.

​Click.

​She took a deep breath, then pulled the door open.

The brass security chain pulled taut, leaving a gap only a few inches wide.

Just enough to reveal her face and one of her shoulders.

​In the dimly lit corridor, Kurt stood wearing his casual uniform.

His typically arrogant face was now painted with confusion.

​"Mother? Why are you so pale? Are you sick?"

​"I’m merely exhausted."

​Isolde scraped together every last ounce of her sanity to put up her signature icy facade, even as her heart hammered frantically against her ribs.

​"I have a mountain of reports to finish tonight. Why are you here, Kurt?"

​Behind the door, completely veiled in darkness, Ethan smiled in satisfaction.

​His left hand crept up from Isolde’s hips.

Slowly, possessively, it wrapped around the Duchess’s slender waist.

​Isolde gasped softly. Her blue eyes widened a fraction, but she fought tooth and nail to keep her expression neutral in front of her son.

​"Oh... I see," Kurt replied, completely oblivious to the fact that his mother was being groped.

"I just dropped by after the training grounds. I thought you were still dealing with that trash, Ethan. Did you force him to sign it yet?"

​Hearing his name spat with such disdain, Ethan’s hand squeezed Isolde’s waist hard.

A brutal, physical reminder of exactly who was Master in this room.

​Ugh...

​Isolde held her breath. Her head was spinning wildly.

Having a conversation with her son while her waist was being kneaded by the very man violating her body.

The sheer humiliation, the sinful guilt, and the bubbling lust twisted together, absolutely annihilating her common sense.

​Scold him, Ethan mouthed soundlessly.

His lips were practically grazing Isolde’s earlobe.

​Isolde gulped.

She glared at her son through the crack in the door, lowering her voice into a razor-sharp reprimand.

​"Watch your mouth, Kurt!"

​Her son fell silent.

​"Your father sent you to this Academy to train as an Aura Knight! Do not make more trouble for me."

​"Mother...!"

​"Enough. Return to your dormitory. Right now."

​Isolde’s voice had returned to that of the Duchess everyone revered.

Yet, at the very end of her sentence, there was a tiny, almost unbearable tremor.

Behind the door, Ethan’s thumb was now tracing slow, agonizingly gentle circles on her flat stomach, sparking a wildfire of heat through her veins.

​"Focus on your exams tomorrow. Stay out of trouble, Kurt."

​Kurt froze for a few seconds.

​Finally, all he could do was nod meekly.

​"...Yes, Mother."

​His footsteps echoed as he walked away, carrying with him his confusion and bruised ego.

​The second the sound completely faded, Isolde slammed the door shut.

​SLAM!

​She twisted the lock forcefully.

Isolde leaned her back against the wooden door.

Slowly, her body slid down until she collapsed onto her knees.

She buried her beet-red face in her hands, panting heavily as if she had just run a marathon.

​Ethan Valen stood towering over her.

A euphoric sense of victory flooded his chest.

His revenge was playing out absolutely flawlessly. He had just trampled all over Kurt’s arrogance using his own mother.

​"Excellent work, Isolde."

​Isolde lowered her hands, staring up at Ethan with a profoundly complex look in her eyes. "You... you are a literal demon, Valen."

​"I am your Master," Ethan retorted. He raised his left palm.

"And speaking of being your Master... there’s an interesting theory I’d like to test."

​Freezing mana coalesced in the palm of his hand.

The room’s temperature plummeted instantly.

​A second later, a crystalline ice rose bloomed in his grasp, radiating a pure, High-Tier aura.

​However, something utterly insane happened.

​"Ahhh...!"

​Synchronized with the blooming of the ice rose, Isolde let out a muffled shriek.

​The woman’s back arched violently.

Her hand clawed desperately at her left breast.

The black rose tattoo etched into her skin glowed a blinding crimson, throbbing wildly in perfect rhythm with the fluctuations of the ice magic in Ethan’s hand.

​"W-what is... ugh... stop it...!" Isolde whimpered, biting her lip until it nearly bled. Her body writhed on the carpet.

​Every single time Ethan manipulated the ice, Isolde felt an electric jolt slam directly into her pleasure receptors.

It was as if her hijacked mana core had become an invisible thread, linking Ethan’s magic directly to her very womb.

​Ethan’s eyes widened slightly, before a truly demonic grin stretched across his face.

​"Hoo... fascinating," Ethan muttered. He deliberately expanded the size of the ice rose in his hand.

​"Ngggh... ah! P-please... this... it’s too much...!"

​Isolde convulsed.

Tears streamed down her face.

This sensation was infinitely more agonizing than any physical whipping.

She couldn’t fight back.

Her body was being forced to respond to her own magic, now puppeteered by another man.

​Ethan clenched his fist. The ice rose shattered into a fine mist.

​Instantly, the throbbing of the tattoo on Isolde’s chest subsided.

The woman collapsed limply. Her chest heaved as she gasped for air.

She looked at Ethan with eyes now brimming with absolute, unadulterated terror.

​"This is only 30%, Isolde," Ethan stated coldly. He stepped closer.

"And this was merely a low-tier freezing spell."

"magine... what if I use your strongest spell right in the middle of a council meeting?"

"Or... while you’re serving your husband in bed?"

​Isolde’s face turned pale as a corpse.

​Reality slapped her across the face. She hadn’t just lost her freedom.

Every single drop of her magical power was now a switch that Ethan could flip anytime, anywhere, reducing her to a moaning whore in broad daylight.

​"W-what... do you want?" Isolde whispered in sheer defeat. The last embers of her resistance had crumbled to dust.

​Ethan crouched down. He lightly patted the Archmage’s cheek.

​"It’s simple."

"Starting tomorrow, you are my shield."

"Process my compensation."

"Grant me access to all the premium facilities—the high-tier magic libraries, and an unlimited supply of gold coins from your husband’s vault."

​Ethan leaned in, staring straight through Isolde’s very soul.

​"If you fail, or even think about betraying me..."

​Ethan’s fingertip brushed against the black rose tattoo on Isolde’s chest.

A tiny surge of mana triggered a searing jolt that made the woman let out a soft yelp.

​"...I will have you begging on your knees in front of every single student in this Academy."

​Isolde gulped. Tears of pure despair rolled down her cheeks as she nodded weakly. "Y-yes... Master..."

​Ethan smiled, entirely satisfied. He stood up, smoothed out his jacket, and walked over to the giant window.

​With a casual wave of his Ice Manipulation, the window’s lock froze over and shattered to pieces.

The night wind immediately rushed in, brushing against his face.

​Ethan stepped up onto the windowsill, throwing one last glance back at his new servant.

​"A long night awaits you, Duchess. Sweet dreams... and prepare yourself for tomorrow."

​The young man jumped, swallowed by the pitch-black night along with his newfound power.

​The room fell silent once again.

​All that remained was Isolde, still slumped on the floor, staring blankly at the open window.

​A muffled lament for her soul, now eternally chained to the demon.