100x Rebate Sharing System: Retired Incubus Wants to Marry & Have Kids-Chapter 317- Elara’s past few days

The merchants stumbled over themselves to explain. Goods were displayed—fabrics, tools, foodstuffs. Credentials were shouted. Promises of fair prices and reliable delivery filled the air.

Viktor let them talk for exactly ten seconds.

Then he raised his hand again, and they fell silent.

"I’m not talking to all of you," Viktor said flatly. His eyes locked onto Aldrin. "I’m talking to ’him’."

Every head turned.

Aldrin felt the weight of multiple hostile glares as he stepped forward, keeping his eyes respectfully lowered. He approached Viktor and gave a deep bow—the formal merchant’s greeting to a lord.

"Greetings, Lord Viktor," Aldrin said, his voice steady despite his hammering heart. "I’ve returned from—"

"Did you bring your carriage?" Viktor interrupted.

Aldrin blinked. "I... yes? Of course. I—"

"Good." Viktor gestured toward the vehicle. "I need to go somewhere. You’re driving."

A smile split Aldrin’s weathered face before he could stop it.

He understood immediately what had just happened.

Lord Viktor—in front of a dozen competing merchants—had just chosen ’him’. Publicly. Unmistakably.

The message was clear: Aldrin had the lord’s favor.

Every merchant here would now know that any business in Millbrook went through Aldrin first. His position had just become invaluable.

"Indeed, my lord!" Aldrin said quickly, barely containing his glee. "The carriage is ready! I’ll prepare it immediately!"

He practically ran back to his wagon. The goods he’d brought—fruits from the eastern markets, some basic supplies—were unceremoniously dumped on the ground near the gate.

"Watch those!" he barked at a nearby merchant, not caring if they did or not. "I’ll collect them later!"

He cleared the carriage bed of everything except a single cushioned seat he’d installed for comfort during long trips. It wasn’t much—certainly not noble quality—but it would have to do.

"Ready, my lord!" Aldrin called out.

Viktor approached, the two women following close behind.

The other merchants stared in open disbelief as Viktor—a ’lord’, a ’noble’—climbed into what was clearly a goods wagon rather than a proper passenger carriage.

The blonde priestess followed, her thick figure causing the entire carriage to rock slightly as she stepped up. Her breasts bounced with the motion, and Aldrin caught several merchants staring before quickly looking away.

The pink-haired woman—Elara, or whoever she was—climbed up last, moving with surprising grace. Her hips swayed as she settled onto the bench, her dress riding up slightly to reveal a flash of pale thigh.

Viktor sat between them, completely at ease despite the humble transport.

"Let’s go," he said simply.

Aldrin didn’t need to be told twice. He scrambled into the driver’s seat, grabbed the reins, and urged the horse forward.

As they began to move, Viktor called out over his shoulder to the stunned merchants still standing at the gate:

"Start your businesses. I’ll send the permits. Come back in two days when I establish the merchant guild here."

The carriage rolled away, leaving behind a chorus of shocked murmurs.

"Did he say... merchant guild?"

"Exclusive for Millbrook?"

"That’s... that’s huge. You can’t just—"

"He’s actually doing it. He’s turning this backwater into a trade hub."

"Fuck. We need those permits."

Aldrin heard none of it. He was too busy grinning like a fool, his mind racing with possibilities.

’Merchant guild,’ he thought gleefully. ’Exclusive contracts. First trader status. The Tower bringing in adventurers and nobles with money to burn.’

’And I’m the one with Lord Viktor’s ear.’

He glanced back briefly through the small window connecting driver’s seat to passenger area.

Viktor sat calmly, speaking quietly with the two women.

’Shit... did that Elara curry favor with him? Good at least—I will be going to be filthy rich!’

"Hic!"

The sudden sound made Aldrin’s weathered hands twitch on the reins.

He glanced back through the small window connecting the driver’s seat to the passenger area, merchant’s instinct making him check on his valuable cargo.

What he saw seemed normal enough.

Viktor sat in the middle of the bench seat, relaxed, one arm draped casually along the back.

To his right, Priestess Olivia—the blonde woman with the impressively full figure—was leaning slightly forward, looking out the small side window at the passing landscape. Her large breasts pressed against the window frame as she craned her neck, the white fabric of her robe stretching taut.

To Viktor’s exact opposite sat Elara, the pink-haired woman. Her face was slightly flushed, hands folded primly in her lap, eyes downcast.

’Must be the rough road,’ Aldrin thought, turning back to his driving. ’Should I purcahse a new carriage for seatings and sell this out?’

He had no idea what was actually happening behind him while he was thinking to permanently sell of his precious goods selling carriage.

Olivia’s golden eyes widened as she took in the view outside.

Fields that had been barren and poisoned when she’d first arrived now showed signs of cultivation. Villagers worked in organized rows, their movements purposeful rather than desperate.

"When I first came here," Olivia said softly, her voice carrying genuine wonder, "things were not this good. The village seemed... defeated. Like people had given up hope."

Viktor nodded, his expression calm. "Infrastructure takes time. And money. But mostly, it takes giving people a reason to believe things can improve."

"You pay them, don’t you?" Olivia turned to look at him, her blonde hair swaying with the motion. "For their work. I’ve heard the villagers talking. One copper per day for manual labor. Two for skilled work."

"I do."

Olivia shook her head, a soft smile on her full lips. "No, Lord Viktor. You’re not just paying them. You’re helping them. Giving them dignity. Most lords don’t pay their subjects for work on their own lands. They consider it... obligation. Duty."

Viktor’s mouth quirked. "Most lords are short-sighted fools who wonder why their people revolt the moment pressure builds."

Behind them, completely unnoticed by Olivia, Elara’s body gave a subtle tremor.

Her pink eyes were hazy, unfocused, staring at nothing. Her hands—folded in her lap—trembled slightly. Her thighs pressed together, muscles tense.

Because between those thighs, hidden beneath the flowing fabric of her dress, Viktor’s foot rested.

His left leg stretched out casually, crossing the space between them. To any observer, it would look like a man simply stretching on a long journey. But the reality was far more intimate.

His big toe—covered only by the thin fabric of his sock—pressed firmly against the gusset of Elara’s panties. The material was already damp, clinging to her swollen pussy lips. And with each small, almost imperceptible motion, Viktor rubbed.

Up. Down. Circles.

The pressure was maddening. Not enough to satisfy. Just enough to torment.

Elara bit the inside of her cheek, trying desperately to maintain composure.

’Please stop,’ she thought, even as her body betrayed her by getting wetter. ’Not here. Not now. Olivia will notice. Aldrin will hear. Please—’

Viktor’s toe pressed harder, parting her puffy labia through the fabric.

Her pussy was swollen. Sensitive. Used.

For four—no, five days straight, Viktor had been insatiable. Every night. Sometimes during the day. He’d fuck her until she passed out, then continue with her succubus form when it took over her unconscious body.

All his wives had received the same treatment. Bella, Kaida, Helena, Mira—all of them pregnant, all of them in the early stages, all of them fucked relentlessly.

Viktor claimed it was to "stretch them for childbirth." To prepare their bodies.