I AM A MAGE BUT WITH MILF SYSTEM

“And here, we do just that,” the Marquis continued, his voice rich with pride. “I have set no limitations, Your Grace. Indulge in whatever you wish. Shed your morality, shed your fear, and simply desire.”

Julian’s smile widened, his eyes flickering with amusement as he scanned the sea of naked flesh. “Oh, that’s a bold claim to make, Marquis,” he teased, tilting his head slightly as he awaited the marquis to prove it.

The Marquis nodded, his smile unshaken. “But it’s the truth, Your Grace,” he said, stepping closer, his voice lowering to a whisper.

“See that?” He pointed to a bed where two men and two women were locked in an intimate embrace. “Those are from the same family—husband, wife, and their son and daughter.”

His tone was casual, but the words carried a wicked thrill. The family’s gasps were barely contained as they paused, their eyes flicking to Julian with hunger and awe. The daughter’s nails dug into her father’s back, while the son’s hands gripped his mother’s thighs tightly.

The marquis then gestured to another bed, where two women lay tangled, their lips meeting in a hungry kiss.

“These two are lovers,” the Marquis said, amusement lacing his voice. “Same-sex love is scorned in our society, so they hid their passion. But here, they can do anything.”

One woman’s fingers teased her partner’s nipple, drawing a soft moan, while the other’s thighs parted, begging for her touch. Their defiance and lust glowed in their eyes as they glanced at Julian, emboldened by the chamber’s freedom.

“And look there,” he continued, pointing to a woman bound to a wall, her wrists and ankles tied by leather straps. Red marks painted her flushed skin, her gasps and moans filling the air as she remained lost in her ecstasy.

“She craves pain,” the Marquis said, glancing to her partner, a man with dark, sadistic eyes and a whip in his hand. “And he loves inflicting it.”

The man dragged the whip across her inner thigh, drawing a shuddering moan from the tied woman before smacking it onto the soft flesh.

Satisfied, the marquis gestured to yet another bed, his smile widening with a wicked gleam. “Look at them,” he said, indicating a pair where a man with wrinkled skin and white hair moved with surprising vigor on top of a girl who seemed young and full of life.

“He’s 140 years old, sustained by magic and desire, and she’s fresh, barely eighteen.” The girl’s moans were raw and unashamed, her fingers clutching the sheets as the old man’s hands roamed her curves.

Beside them, a 90-year-old woman straddled a 19-year-old boy, his young muscles flexing as he thrust into her.

Julian’s grin grew, his gaze sweeping over the hall, over the mass of people lost in their raw desire. “A place where every desire is indulged,” he said, turning to the Marquis. “You have built quite the paradise, haven’t you?”

“I sure have, Your grace,” The Marquis replied with a slight bow. He then gestured to a pair of thrones positioned at the head of the massive hall. “Let’s sit, Your Grace,” he said, his voice warm with invitation as he walked toward them.

Julian nodded and followed, settling into the throne beside the Marquis. “It seems you have a habit of simply observing, Marquis, is that right?” Julian said, leaning back in the throne, one leg crossing over the other.

The Marquis chuckled, unbothered and unashamed. “What can I say, Your Grace? “I was born this way,” he replied, leaning forward, hands resting on the throne’s armrests. “Seeing others pleasure themselves—watching their raw, unfiltered desire—gives me a thrill I could never get from taking it for myself.”

His voice lowered, eyes flicking to the beds below.

Julian smiled, impressed by the ability of the Marquis to admit his want. “Haha, you’re the opposite of me. I love taking everything for myself,” Julian muttered, his voice low, laced with a playful challenge.

The Marquis raised his brow and then nudged him with a chuckle. “Seems like we can be a pretty good duo, right?” he said, his dark eyes sparkling with a thrill.

“So, who’s our first target then?” Julian whispered with a sly grin, a deliberate jab to see how far the Marquis would take this game.

The Marquis laughed again, the sound loud enough to make the participants of the chamber pause whatever they were doing.

“Who else, Your Grace?” the Marquis whispered. “My wife, Shayla.” The name hung in the air like a spark, igniting the already charged atmosphere. His badges gleamed proudly, showcasing all the power he had, yet here he was, offering his wife as the centerpiece of this sinful spectacle.

Julian’s smirk widened, a slow, dangerous grin spreading across his face as he tapped his hand on the armrest.

“Shayla, huh?” he murmured, curiosity rising in his heart as he recalled her charm, the faint flush when he had teased her about “someone like you” earlier. “A fine choice, Marquis,” he said, his voice smooth but edged with a challenge, leaning slightly forward. “You’re a man of… unique tastes.”

The marquis gestured grandly to the hall. “Unique, Your Grace? “I’d say honest,” he replied, a glint of pride in his gaze. “Shayla is the heart of Ravenswood’s allure—her beauty, her grace, her… willingness to serve our legacy.”

His words dripped with lewd implication, hinting at her role in their twisted rituals. His eyes flicked back to Julian as if daring him to imagine her here, amidst the sweat-slicked bodies, her gown discarded for something far more revealing.

“Watching her shine… that’s my pleasure,” he added.

Julian bit his lower lips, the heat inside him begging to spark. “Watching her, you say,” he murmured raising his brow in curiosity. “And what does Shayla think of being your… star attraction?”

The Marquis leaned back, his laugh softer now, but no less confident. “Shayla knows her place in our legacy, Your Grace,” he said. “She thrives in it—serving, pleasing, binding our family closer through desire.”

He paused, sipping the wine, his gaze never leaving Julian’s. “She’ll be here soon, dressed to captivate, ready to make this night unforgettable. You’ll see.”