Stolen by the Rebel King
Chapter 411: Garden of Secrets I

Chapter 411: Garden of Secrets I

"Sunshine, do you know what you’re holding?" Atticus asked hoarsely.

In contrast to Atticus’s internal meltdown, his wife seemed particularly unbothered as she perused the arrangement of lewd carvings.

Ignorance was truly bliss at times like this.

"Probably just an ornament. Maybe it’s a blessing for good luck?" Daphne shrugged casually, turning it over in her hands before putting it back to examine the next one. This time, it was even bigger than before, and her hands couldn’t encircle the whole thing. "You could kill someone by throwing this at them. Do you think Queen Lavinia had this put in our rooms for self-defense?"

"No, she wouldn’t insult our magical abilities like this." Atticus cleared his throat and decided to destroy Daphne’s innocence. "Sunshine, those are... toys for carnal pleasures."

"What?!" Daphne paled and gazed back at the object in her hand in shock, not understanding Atticus’s words. "What do you mean..."

Then, she finally realized why the shape was so familiar. Those objects weren’t made in the resemblance of plants; they were made in the shape of men’s cocks! She had only seen one, namely the one belonging to her husband, but that was enough for her to join the dots now that Atticus had pointed it out.

Oh gods! To think Daphne was holding such an object in her hand!

Her face burned as she let out a tiny shriek, accidentally dropping it. It would have shattered into smithereens if not for Atticus using his powers to keep it afloat. Gingerly, Atticus set it back on the mantelpiece with the rest of its companions.

There was an awkward silence as Daphne caught sight of all of them, she could see her distorted reflections in each of the carvings, and they all reflected the same beautiful woman whose cheeks were flushed red in embarrassment, but her wide eyes were still full of dangerous curiosity.

The scent in the room seemed to grow heavier, and Daphne wanted to loosen the lacings on her dress. Her eyes automatically darted to Atticus’s crotch, where she saw a tell-tale bulge forming in his pants.

"How... how would they even work?" Daphne asked, her words escaping in a panicked babble. "Do they just― Why― How―"

"Sunshine, if you want a demonstration, you just have to ask," Atticus replied impishly. He couldn’t help teasing Daphne, and she smacked his arm in retaliation.

"Why? Are you going to strip and use this on yourself?" Daphne asked challengingly, grabbing one of the toys and waving it in his face.

Atticus flinched and took a quick step back.

Daphne had enough knowledge to know which hole it should be used on a woman, but with a man...there was only one orifice that would suffice.

"I would like to know how a man can use this on himself. I think it’ll be very knowledgeable," Daphne finished, a wicked grin blooming on her face.

Now, it was Atticus’s turn to panic.

"No, no, darling, I’m not interested in being penetrated," Atticus denied quickly, "And you’ll find that my manhood far exceeds any substitute carving."

Daphne snorted. "I highly doubt so. Atticus, you’re a mere mortal, and you’ll tire soon enough."

There were so many of those obscene sculptures in the room, surely one could do Atticus’s job well enough to replace his marital duties.

A more cynical part of her mind reminded her that this would be a good alternative if Atticus betrayed her so thoroughly that she would never touch him again. At least her libido would be satisfied, even if her heart laid in pieces.

And using these... implements would mean she wouldn’t get pregnant. That was a good thing, she tried to convince herself, even as her heart twinged painfully at the thought of not having her own child to love.

Atticus growled at the implied insult to his manhood. That decided it. He was going to plan more carefully to broach the subject of having children, but now, the only thought in his mind was satisfying his wife. He wasn’t going to be replaced by some stupid rock carved in the image of a human dick

He took a step forward, and then another. Daphne instinctively took a step back, and another, until her back was against the wall, and Atticus’s body was blocking the mantelpiece of obscene figurines from view.

"Atticus?" She blinked in surprise at the sudden change in Atticus’s mood.

"You won’t get the baby you want from these useless rocks," Atticus said, his voice dark with promise as he grabbed Daphne’s hand, his fingers a hot brand around her wrist.

She knew she should want to get away, but she couldn’t muster up the strength.

"What you need is me."

He pressed closer, and purposely brought Daphne’s hand to the front of his pants, where an impressive tent formed. He pressed her hand against the bump.

Suddenly, Daphne couldn’t breathe. The carved toys were cold to the touch, but Atticus’s manhood felt like it was boiling even under the fabric of his pants.

Logically, Daphne knew she should not be having children with Atticus. She and Atticus were going to inflict ’emotional trauma’, in Cordelia’s apt words, to an entirely innocent being.

But Daphne also knew first-hand how pleasurable it was to make children, as well as how unlikely it was that she would find herself pregnant.

The tiny spark that Queen Lavinia created had caught aflame, burning down Daphne’s rationality and doubts, leaving behind a growing need that was threatening to consume Daphne from within.

"Prove it then," Daphne said breathlessly, tilting her chin up to gaze into his eyes. "Prove that you can get me with child."

At her words, Atticus’s eyes grew darker than before as he gazed at her, hunger in his irises. The sharpness of his features was further highlighted by the soft, flickering candlelight, and Daphne felt desire engulf her.

It was hard to tell who moved first, but their lips clashed. Daphne tugged Atticus down by his neck while he wrapped his arms around her waist, hiking up her skirts with practiced motions as she helplessly grinded on his manhood.

"You want a baby so badly? I’ll give you one." Atticus’s eyes glowed with a wild promise. "You’re not leaving this room until you’re stuffed full of my seed."

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