Demonic Witches Harem: Having Descendants Make Me Overpowered!-Chapter 136: Blow Job By The Queen*

Today, Claude and Emmalise finally had a moment to sit down and discuss many pressing matters—but none more surprising than what he blurted out casually:

"So… when are you going to marry me?"

Emmalise choked on her wine, coughing violently. She waved her hand at the maids, silently instructing them to leave the room.

But instead of answering, she stood and walked toward the fireplace. Resting on the mantle was a small decorative doll.

She opened it, revealing a tiny clear bottle tucked inside. With a sigh, she returned to the sofa and uncorked the bottle, pouring its contents into her glass.

"Why do you keep asking that?" she said, not looking at him. "Aren't you supposed to be busy with your envoys?"

Claude raised a brow as he watched the bottle vanish into her hand again. "They'll be fine. I already gave them a detailed protocol—step by step. The rest is in their hands now." He took a sip of his own wine, savoring the taste.

In truth, he had instructed the envoys nearly two months before Cortinvar declared itself plague-free.

The plan was simple: release the pathogen discreetly into the wells of the slums, allow it to fester and spread, and then let traveling merchants carry it across borders.

After that, initiate the containment protocols and present the witches as saviors.

The results exceeded expectations. The disease had quietly reached nearly every kingdom on the continent, paralyzing trade routes and freezing entire economies.

Though the envoys had yet to report the exact numbers of deaths or recoveries, the second phase of the plan was already underway.

That was to introduce the witches.

Claude leaned back, eyes gleaming. "I wonder what's happening in that so-called Promised Land... I hope the plague wipes them clean off the map," he said with a cold smirk.

Emmalise pressed her fingers to her temple, massaging the headache forming there. She couldn't recall exactly when Claude had grown so comfortable sharing his twisted thoughts with her.

But every time he did, it sent a chill through her. He wasn't just cunning—he was terrifying.

"Anyway, about the marriage... I think as soon as possible would be ideal," he added, his tone casual.

Emmalise's hand trembled slightly as she downed the rest of her wine in one gulp, the heat rushing down her throat like fire.

The potent liquid she'd added—known as Haven Crack—was no ordinary alcohol. A single drop could render even the most seasoned drinker completely wasted.

It was her secret indulgence—necessary, perhaps, because her tolerance for alcohol was unnaturally high.

And tonight, she needed to feel numb. Because with every word Claude spoke, she wasn't sure whether to feel flattered… or utterly terrified.

She didn't want to think about the marriage between them—it frayed her mind. The past six months had already pushed her to the brink. One more burden and she might truly lose her sanity.

"Emmalise, are you drunk?" Claude asked with a laugh. It was the first time he'd seen her like this.

"Yeah. And?" she hiccupped, cheeks flushed red and burning hot.

Without warning, she slipped off her dress right in front of him, revealing nothing but a thin white undergarment that clung to her skin. The light behind her traced the outline of her curves.

She was small—but damn, she was fine. Those hips, that ass, and her full breasts made her irresistibly sexy and endearingly adorable.

"And you! Stop talking about marriage!" she slurred, pointing a wobbly finger at him.

Claude stared, speechless.

"Do you think I have time for that? My kingdom's in ruins! My treasury's empty! And you're talking about marriage!?"

She staggered forward, closing the distance between them. Bracing herself with one hand on the back of the sofa, she leaned in close, their faces mere inches apart.

"I know what you want," she whispered, breath laced with alcohol.

"You just want to fuck. So let's fuck—and forget that damned marriage!"

Claude burst into laughter. Her drunken honesty was cute, and he couldn't help but wonder what secrets she might spill next.

"Calm down, Emmalise. You're a queen, remember? You don't want to end up with a bastard child, do you?" he teased his tone light.

"Besides, it'd be a lot more enjoyable if you were sober."

"What!? I am sober!" she yelled, hiccupping again before suddenly dropping to her knees in front of him. Her fingers clumsily fumbled with his pants.

"I'll give you a good blowjob!" she declared.

Claude smirked, letting her do as she pleased. "Have you ever done this before?"

"Of course not! But I'm good at everything!" she shot back, finally tugging his pants open.

His cock lay soft and heavy, yet thick and long even in its resting state.

She blinked, her curiosity taking over. How much bigger would it get when it woke up?

"Emmalise," Claude murmured, gently brushing a hand over her head. "Are you sure you want to do this?"

"You know I've got, like… a 99% success rate of getting women pregnant, right?" he added with a teasing grin.

"Huh? Wha' are youhh sayin'—hnngghh!" Emmalise frowned, her words slurred and heavy with drink. "I wan' to do thiss!"

Claude sighed, leaning back. "Alright. Just don't puke on me."

Emmalise grinned drunkenly and wrapped her fingers around his cock. It twitched to life quickly in her grasp, thickening under her touch.

She then leaned in and licked it slowly, tracing the veins with her tongue as though trying to memorize every texture and taste.

Claude hissed sharply. It had been nearly three months without a touch like this since Aubree's morning sickness got worse and worse, she was laying on the bed almost all day.

And now, a beautiful drunk queen was stroking and licking him with such a messy, sexy move—it was driving him insane.

'Damn, I really am one strong man,' he thought with smug satisfaction.

Emmalise focused on the tip, circling it with her tongue, teasing him. Claude groaned low in his throat, gripping the edge of the sofa.

"Emmalise," he growled, voice low and strained, "put it in your mouth. Make me feel good."

She nodded eagerly and lowered herself, parting her lips and taking him in. Her mouth stretched wide around him, gagging a little as the thickness filled her.

She paused, collecting herself, and then tried again—carefully, determinedly.

She was nervous. That much was clear. After all, she was a virgin. Everything she knew about intimacy came from whispered conversations, rumors, and a few stolen books.

But now? Now it was real.

Bit by bit, she managed to take half of his cock into her mouth, the tip nudging against the back of her throat.

Claude watched her with a hungry gaze. Her lips were warm and wet around his shaft, her inexperience painfully obvious in the way she moved—but it didn't matter.

The sight of a flushed, tipsy Emmalise kneeling between his legs, brows furrowed in concentration as she tried her best, was enough to drive him wild.

She pulled back, coughing lightly, a string of saliva still connecting her lips to his cock.

"Sorry…" she murmured, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand.

"You're doing fine," Claude said gently, his hand cradling her cheek. "Just go slow. There's no rush."

Emmalise nodded, her expression turning more serious as she lowered herself again, taking his cock back into her mouth. Even drunk, she knew how to suppress her gag reflex.

She started slowly, her tongue tracing along his length, slicking him up to make it easier to move. Claude placed a hand gently on her head, guiding her with care—urging her to go faster, but not too fast.

He couldn't risk pushing her too hard. The last thing he wanted was for Emmalise to regret this and cancel their marriage plan, though that seemed unlikely.

"Good... just like that. Keep the pace until you're used to it," he murmured, enjoying the wet heat of her mouth.

Every time she gagged slightly, it sent a delicious tremor through his shaft, making him throb even more.

But Emmalise knew she could do better.

She picked up the pace, bobbing her head more quickly now, bravely taking him deeper. Her throat stretched to accommodate him, her eyes watering as her breath caught—but she didn't stop.

Claude groaned, louder this time, his grip tightening on her hair. Her throat muscles convulsed around him, trying to force him out, but that only made him twitch harder.

"Ahh… fuck…" he gasped, barely able to hold back. The sight of her, tear-streaked and determined, only drove him closer to the edge.

Emmalise could feel it too—an unbearable heat pooling between her thighs. Her pussy clenched, wetness soaking her inner thighs, aching for attention.

Then Claude suddenly thrust deeper, controlling her head with both hands as the pressure inside him broke.

"I'm cumming, Emmalise—swallow it all, alright? Don't spill a drop," he growled, releasing with a sharp groan.

Thick spurts of semen filled her mouth, hot and overwhelming, some of it leaking from the corners of her lips and dripping down her chin.

Her cheeks puffed out slightly from the volume, but she kept gulping, swallowing every drop.

It was laced with aphrodisiac—she could feel it, her body burning hotter, trembling with need. The taste lingered on her tongue, making her even hungrier for more.