Page 16 of Taken By the Dark Billionaires

“We don’t know how to explain any of this, Masters,” one of the older councilmen said, shaking his head in disbelief.

It had been merely two hours since the virgin ritual. They had taken a shower and changed into fresh suits, ready for their ceremonious supper with their virgin, only to discover that the woman whose virginity they had taken was not the one who was meant to bear their heir. It was strange, though they still remembered her scent on their fingers. How their cocks thickened at the thought of the impressions her honey-sweet pussy had left on their dicks.

So, who was this girl? And where did she go?

As scripted by the ritual, her face had to be covered from their sight because she wasn’t meant to deter them from branding her or taking her virginity.

Just like the ball gag was meant to contain her cries, she was supposed to be willing, but she was also only human, without the kind of training they had undergone. Branding her would, without doubt, make her scream out loud, as would taking her virginity, and her screaming would be considered an insult to them and the entities.

Essentially, that also meant they were unable to see who she was or hear what she had to say, … if she had anything to say at all.

They hadn’t cared what she looked like, although she had to be beautiful and of the right heritage and blood. They were just going to perform their duties of the sesquicentenary out of respect for their parents and the Empire. But then the sight of her—her mere presence, her body, her whimpers around the ball gag, her scent—intrigued them.

Their cocks had hardened naturally, involuntarily, and uncontrollably. Another surprise for them, considering they were the personification of control—mental, physical, and sexual.

Then they touched her.

Drank from her.

Tasted her.

And stopping themselves from emptying their seed deep inside the absolute splendor of her sweet pussy had weakened them as they had never been weakened in all their lives.

Breeding her was not going to be a hard task at all.

Except, now she was missing. No one knew who she was or what her agenda had been.

“Our deepest apologies that this has happened. We have questioned our priestesses and our security, and we’re going to find her and get to the bottom of this,” another younger councilman said, volunteering nothing new.

“What does she look like?" Maxim asked.

“I’m afraid we have a very generic description of her. Brown hair, brown eyes. Pretty. That is all. When she arrived at the door at the prescribed time, the priestesses assumed she was the chosen one, and unfortunately... We’re sorry, Masters. You have our word that this will be resolved timeously."

Jensen turned his attention from councilman to councilman as they each spoke.

“In the meantime, Master Cethagus, Master Fredagard, and Master Bafrax, we must appease the entities and give due respect to the Sesquicentenary. I say we prepare for another ritual with the right girl—”

“We can’t do that. The scriptures are very clear. Only one virgin can wear the brand of the Basilisk Empire. While she was a virgin,” a stout, stern-looking man said before he shifted his attention to the three white handkerchiefs stained with her virgin blood lying in a heavy, priceless chalice.

“There can’t be two girls wearing the same brand,” he continued. “We must first find the girl and see if she is an impostor or a deceptor, or if we’re lucky, she might have the right blood to carry your heir, Masters, and this rite would not have occurred in vain.”

“But we can’t rule out the fact that she might be working for our enemies, Masters.”

“That is a risk we can’t take,” someone else said.

“But that is why I called her a deceptor as well. Until we have answers, we have to put the ritual on hold. We have the dusk of three more days in which to do the offering. By then, we will have gotten to the bottom of this. I give you my word.”

“I agree with Councilman Stevens,” one of the oldest gentlemen at the table said. “We wait until we have answers. In the meantime, we must find this girl.”

Who was their little virgin who had bled so prettily for them?

Had fed them so generously from her breasts.

Who tasted better than the sweetest ambrosia?

Who was she who had turned the blood in their veins to lava when she came for them, her body so sleek, soft, and velvety-smooth in their arms, it was a wonder they hadn’t ripped off her veil so they could suck on her lips while they fucked her, not satisfied until she wore their brand inside her, when their seed filled her and not just on her skin.

She’d had the fortitude to disguise herself as a priestess to make her escape while everyone else was getting ready for the celebration supper—that was the only way she could have gotten away.

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