"Harder... my darling boy... bury yourself in me until I scream..."
The vulgar invitation detonated through Victor's consciousness like a thunderclap, scorching away any innocuous context in which he might have deluded himself about the depravities unfolding some steps away.
His hands clenched into mangled talons, nails biting deep crescents into his calloused palms as Rosy's escalating throes lacerated him with every syllable.
In his mind's eye, the images played out in sordid, unavoidable clarity - his depraved wife writhing shamelessly in the throes of defiled passions, welcoming the loins of the very progeny she claimed he was too ignoble to acknowledge.
As if the ultimate intent behind her exquisitely orchestrated return was to reign as a debauched queen over the ashes of Victor's legacy, indulging her every carnal whim to the deafening chorus of his humiliation.
The fantasies roared through Victor's psyche in a torrent of fury and bitter self-revulsion, transporting him back to the anguished nadir of his life when Rosy's desertion had first gutted him so completely.
Yet now the trauma mounted upon itself in compounding layers, curdling into apoplectic outrage hardened by decades of numbing disillusionment.
How dare this duplicitous harlot parade into his domain like a conquering sovereign?
Flaunting her debased couplings with the progeny she had denied him in a deliberate effort to flay every lingering shred of dignity from Victor's being?
He would see the entire estate, every brick and indelible foundation, reduced to smouldering ruin before permitting this insult against his lineage to go unpunished!
Even as Victor raged against the injustices spurred by Rosy's malicious hand, her cries reached a soul-withering crescendo of rapturous excess.
The profane sounds of an inescapable condemnation reverberated through the vacant halls and corridors he had once overseen as supreme patriarch.
"Yes!....make your mother come on that… darling!"
Each syllable lashed at Victor's sanity like a sadistic torturer's lash rending flesh from bone. His throat constricted with a mixture of disgust and visceral anguish until even drawing breath became a Sisyphean labour.
Through it all, Rosy's sordid commentary and debauched invocations flowed in an inescapable torrent, stripping his remaining composure down to its emaciated foundations.
"Claim what's yours…split open your mother's… like the… I am for your…, my sweet bo-- _OhhhhhFUCKKKKKK_!"
Victor instinctively recoiled from the chamber doors, revulsed by the sheer implication of the incestuous profanities echoing through the hardwood barrier.
His surroundings blurred and wavered as a surge of uncontrollable nausea churned through his gut, the combined fury and disgust overwhelming his senses like a toxin.
He could scarcely process the words exchanged between Rosy and her vile paramour in the aftermath.
Her throaty taunts and mockery of the torment to which she had just subjected Victor rang in his ears, dull and indistinct as if heard from the depths of a smothering well.
Even the young man's smooth, urbane acknowledgement of his mother's provocations washed over the Valtor patriarch in a meaningless drone, eclipsed by the howling psychic whirlwind of revulsion that threatened to tear him asunder from within.
Through sheer force of will, Victor struggled to regain his moorings in reality before the riptide dragged him down into irrevocable madness.
Every shallow exhalation sawed through gritted teeth as he ruthlessly reasserted his dominion over senses by the barest margins.
Allowing this grotesque tableau of incestuous blasphemies to sunder his composure so irrevocably would be tantamount to conceding victory to Rosy's machinations.
And that, Victor swore with a grim finality that seemed to echo through his bones, would never transpire, no matter how staggering the psychic toll being levied upon him.
Victor felt the fragile threads of his composure fraying once more as the sated murmurs between Rosy and Adrian reached his ears with horrifying clarity.
He instinctively braced himself, girding his willpower against whatever fresh depravities awaited to assail his senses.
"Looks like seeing Victor made you more in heat and yet, You seem to relish indulging in this...mother-son frisson, my dear," Adrian's honeyed baritone carried through the door, dripping with sated indulgence.
"Does playing out those taboo fantasies make your womanly desires burn all the more fiercely?"
A husky chuckle, one that Victor recognized all too viscerally as Rosy's trademark expression of sardonic amusement in the face of scandal.
"Of course, it does, my sweet boy," she purred in response, the endearment carrying an unmistakable undercurrent of possession.
"There's something so deliciously illicit about surrendering to these profane appetites while that pompous bastard remains utterly oblivious.
Can you imagine the sheer devastation that would crease his austere features if he could see his wife and heir revelling in such delicious, unrepentant sin?"
Another throaty laugh, this one edged with an almost feral delight that caused the hairs at the nape of Victor's neck to prickle.
"But we must maintain this facade a while longer, darling. At least until I've thoroughly unravelled your father's pathetic delusions of control and you've cemented your place as his heir..."
There was a pregnant pause then, thick with unspoken implications and the residual charge of their recent intimacies.
Victor could practically envision the predatory gleam kindling in Rosy's eyes, the feline curl of her lips as she delivered the final salvo.
"Once you've gained Victor's trust and been anointed as the Valtor dynasty's sole successor...we can be rid of his wretched puppet Elara once and for all.
Then this entire decadent empire will be ours to indulge in as we see fit - wealth, status, and the keys to unbridled dominion over the world itself!"
The words seemed to detonate through Victor's consciousness like a fusillade of artillery shells, each syllable rupturing another compartment of his sanity until his vision wavered and his surroundings pitched violently.
Rosy's depraved intentions, laid out with such brazen finality, detonated through his senses in merciless concussive waves of incandescent fury and mortification.
Not only had this malicious succubus violated every tenet of feminine decorum and family sanctity through her lascivious couplings with his estranged progeny, but she now flagrantly declared her ambition to further defile his life's legacy!
To wrest the Valtor empire he had consecrated decades of his existence to build, unmake, and remake it into a garish monument to their most depraved hedonisms?
The sheer, unmitigated gall of those profane machinations ignited a conflagration of rage within Victor's breast, searing through his very marrow until his muscles trembled from the effort of containing it.
His hands clenched into mangled claws, nails biting deep crescents into his palms as the urge to strike out, to rend and destroy surged through him like a tidal forces.
"Did you see his face?" Rosy chuckled her voice husky with satisfaction. "Oh, my dear boy, I haven't seen Victor so utterly undone in decades. It was... exquisite."
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VICTOR