Dark Lord Seduction System: Taming Wives, Daughters, Aunts, and CEOs novel Chapter 187

Chapter 187: Three Goddesses of Carnality

A/N: These next Chapters I want to dedicate them to my top fans most especially @sgtcwby.

Thank you, guys, for the support this far!

**** 𝙛𝒓𝓮𝙚𝔀𝒆𝒃𝓷𝒐𝓿𝙚𝓵.𝙘𝒐𝒎

The thing is, Madison didn’t know her aunt’s "agency" had a quiet hallway that bled straight into the Wellness Center’s private wing. I did. So, I didn’t waste time pretending this was a mystery. These women weren’t hunting résumés—they were calibrating appetite, discretion, control.

I knew if I passed the test here, they would just direct me results directly to Meridian Agency and I will then start getting tasks.

So, I wasn’t gonna hold back babe!

The first round was paper dressed as confession: lifestyle, boundaries, medical history, stamina, aftercare. Green, yellow, red. I ticked boxes like I’d already played this level, added notes in the margins that made the brunette evaluator—Victoria Sinclair—press her lips together to hide a smile.

I slid the clipboard back. She didn’t even pretend to read.

"Next is your physical assessment," the silver-haired one said. Her badge read Dr. Ortega, clipped to a blouse that was more silk than lab. She gestured toward a frosted-glass door. "Locker room’s through there."

I changed, came back in the soft-issue shorts they’d provided. Thin fabric. Neutral gray. No hiding anything. Their gazes did that quick, involuntary slide—down, then up—professional on the surface, curiosity humming underneath. Noted.

I stood easy. Breathing slow. Heart a metronome.

We went through the motions: flexibility, grip, VO₂ estimate, heart-rate recovery. I hit their targets without breaking cadence, body moving with the kind of rhythm that implied endurance. The tablet chimed its polite little ding when the last metric logged, and Ortega tilted her head, studying me like she’d just found an outlier in her own data set.

"Numbers are promising," she said, voice low. "But numbers only go so far."

Victoria stepped forward then, perfume cutting through the cedar-scented air. Her clipboard lowered an inch. "This next part is hands-on," she said, tone professional, eyes anything but. "You’ll undress—completely. No modesty garments. We need to see the full form you’d be bringing into our spaces. After that, you’ll be tested on contact. First exercise: massage."

I didn’t flinch. Just nodded, peeled off the shorts, and folded them with the rest of my clothes in a neat stack on the bench. When I stepped back into the room, three pairs of eyes locked on me—clinical on the outside, betraying themselves in the dilation of pupils and the slow hitch of breath.

The air thickened.

Not an interview anymore. An initiation.

They didn’t say it, but I saw it: the subtle widening of pupils, the slow drift of their gaze down my chest, over my stomach, lingering low to the bulging cock in the tight pants before climbing back with that guarded-professional mask.

Victoria recovered first. "You’ll be assigned a single evaluator to work on—"

"Why not one of you?" I cut in, letting a smile edge my voice. "Better yet, all three at once."

A ripple passed between them—sharp, wordless. Anya, the silver-haired one, arched a brow. "Even if you were good, there’s no way you could keep three of us in rhythm at once."

I shrugged, slow and deliberate. "Then it sounds like the perfect test."

They didn’t re-enter the room. They conquered it.

Each breath made them swell, threatening to spill free. Below, the towel ended dangerously high on her thighs, leaving long, sleek legs completely bare, oiled skin gleaming under the light.

But the true invitation was below: every step made the short hem flicker, granting stolen glimpses of the firm, rounded swell of her ass cheeks, barely covered, the deep cleft between them shadowed and intimate. Her hips rolled with a deliberate, grinding sway, the muscular curves glistening, practically begging for hands to grip, for lips to press against their yielding warmth. She moved like sin incarnate.

Every sway was an invitation, a promise – her body whispered she knew exactly what she displayed, and she knew you ached to taste every exposed inch.

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