Little voyeur
Ijerk backward, breath catching in my throat as my chest stammers.
Too late.
The heavy oak door swings wide on soundless hinges, exposing me before I can even draw breath to bolt. Thomas fills the frame like an executioner stepping onto a scaffold, dark eyes locking onto mine with chilling, instantaneous precision.
God, of course he caught me! My stomach free-falls.
“Little voyeur,” he drawls, voice lethal. “Did you enjoy the show?”
“I wasn’t—I didn’t mean—”
“You were meant to be in your room,” he cuts in, stepping forward into the suffocating hall. “That was the one rule.”
Behind him Mag scrambles upright, frantically smoothing the torn fabric of her dress with shaking, submissive hands.
Look at her. Groveling like a whipped cur, completely devoid of backbone. I would rather die than look at a man the way she looks at him.
“Thomas, perhaps—” Mag begins, voice trembling.
“Silence.” He doesn’t even grace her with a glance. His gaze remains welded to my face, heavy as a tombstone. “Your door left unlocked was a test. And you failed it entirely.”
Rage flares hot through my terror, eclipsing common sense. I fling my chin up, refusing to shrink under his towering authority.
A test.
“What about the demonic shadows that forced me out of my room?” My voice vibrating with indignation. “How did you even orchestrate that? What I saw could not have been a simple trick of the light!”
A razor-thin smile curves his lips, devoid of all warmth. “What shadows? Don’t try to play the clever fool, inventing cheap excuses for your blatant disobedience. You probably listened to the estate’s local folklore and thought you could outsmart me.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about!” I snap. “I don’t know a damn thing about this place! But one thing is crystal clear: you and the other three masters are the ones pulling the strings, playing sick games with my mind.”
“Careful, little pet,” he murmurs, tone dropping into an arctic whisper that makes every hair on my arms stand on end. “Be extremely mindful of who you think you’re speaking to.”
Mag steps between us, a placating palm pressing against his chest. “Thomas, please… let me explain it to her. She’s brand new. She doesn’t understand the history—”
“Explain what, exactly?” I cut her off, skin crawling.
Mag darts a nervous sideways glance at Thomas before looking back at me.
“The Dark One. The man who built this manor two hundred years ago. He was a demon.” Her voice drops to a haunted whisper.
“A truly depraved human being. The local legends say he used to impale his enemies’ corpses all along the borderline of his property as a warning to keep out.
He tore out their hearts and ate them. He hacked off their heads and boxed them up as morbid holiday gifts for their families. ”
A violent shiver tracks down my spine, sinking icy claws into my muscles. Great. Now we’re trading campfire ghost stories like terrified schoolgirls. As if a bedtime story makes up for whatever gaslighting they’re pulling.
“He was an absolute nightmare,” Mag continues, swallowing hard.
“Finally all his rivals and the townsfolk banded together and breached his land to capture him. They hurled fire at him. He burned until death transformed into thick, choking smoke. The stories say you can still see his smoke curling in the corners of the shadows of the manor, whispering for you to follow him straight down to hell.”
My jaw goes slack. “That’s… that’s horrifying,” I mutter, staring at her wide-eyed. But my internal defenses spike at once. “Clearly he—or one of the other Masters—is using it to mess with me, Mag.”
Thomas does not answer with words. His hand strikes out like a viper, fingers twisting brutally into my hair.
I gasp, scalp burning as he yanks me forward.
“Insolent little bitch,” he hisses, breath hot and poisoned in my ear. “You will learn absolute obedience, and you will learn the exact weight of a punishment.”
He drags me across the office, my feet scrambling frantically against the floorboards to keep pace. He shoves me violently onto the couch.
Thomas stalks back to where Mag stands frozen, barking a single, merciless command. “Kneel.”
She drops instantly to her knees.
He turns his head, fixing me with a smile sharp enough to draw blood. “You wanted to spy behind the door, pet. Now you get to sit right there and watch the full performance.”
My stomach heaves, hot acid burning my throat.
“If you dare to shift an inch out of that sofa—or utter so much as a whimper without my explicit permission—you’ll be the one on your knees taking her place, swallowing every drop of me.” His threat hangs absolute, in the stifling air.
He finishes undoing his belt. The zipper rasps open. His hard, thick cock springs free.
I blink. It is the first time I have ever seen a man naked like this in front of me.
He reaches down, long pale fingers tangling brutally in Mag’s hair, wrenching her head back as her lips part on a submissive gasp.
He drives forward without preamble, thrusting himself deep into her mouth with cruel, rhythmic violence.
Mag chokes out a muffled, desperate whimper, hands clawing frantically at his thighs as he uses her throat with humiliating indifference.
‘They crave fresh meat to feed their depraved hunger.’ Echoes in my mind like a sentence.
The obscene sound of flesh meeting flesh fills the silent room.
But as I force my eyes away from the grotesque performance, my gaze snags on the left wall, right in front of me.
There hangs a massive, floor-to-ceiling masterwork.
My breath hitches, a sharp constriction seizing my lungs.
The portrait is life-sized, depicting a man of terrifying proportions—easily six-foot-nine, broad-shouldered, and draped in archaic blood-red velvet.
His jawline is carved from sheer unyielding granite, shadowed by raven hair.
But it is his eyes that paralyze me. Luminous, piercing violet-blue eyes that don’t just stare from the canvas—they track my every panicked breath with blistering intelligence.
He’s breathtaking. God help me, I’m powerless to look away. He is terribly, impossibly beautiful. And there is a dark, raw hunger in his expression, that calls to deep within me.
Thomas drives into Mag’s throat again and again, each thrust deeper, more punishing. The wet, choking sounds of her gagging around him fill the office, filthy and relentless.
“That’s it,” Thomas growls down at her, voice rough with pleasure. “Take it like the cock-hungry little pet you are. Open wider. I want to feel the back of your throat every time I push in. No teeth. Suck harder when I pull back. Yes—just like that. Good girl.”
He glances over at me, still seated frozen on the couch, and his lips curl into a cruel smile.
“Watch carefully, little voyeur. This is your punishment. You wanted to spy on us? Now you get a front-row seat while I fuck her mouth exactly the way I like it. Eyes on us. Don’t you dare look away.”
Mag whimpers around his cock, tears streaming down her cheeks as he uses her. He fists her hair tighter and teaches her with every stroke.
“Hollow your cheeks. Tongue flat against the underside. Take me deeper. I own this throat tonight. You’ll thank me later when the buyers pay extra for how well you’ve been trained.”
My gaze slips again—just for a second—to the massive portrait on the wall. Those luminous violet eyes seem to burn straight into me, tracking every shallow breath I take. Heat pools low and traitorous between my thighs.
“Lucy.” Thomas’s voice cracks like a whip. “Eyes on me. Not the painting. You are here to watch this, not daydream. Look at Mag choking on my cock. That is the only thing you are allowed to focus on.”
I snap my eyes back to them, heart slamming.
He fucks her mouth harder, hips snapping forward in brutal rhythm. “Almost there. You’re going to take every drop, Mag. All of it. But you will not swallow. Do you understand? Your blood stays pure for the auction. No swallowing. Hold it.”
Mag makes a desperate, muffled sound of agreement.
Thomas’s body tenses. He drives in deep one last time and comes with a low, savage groan, pulsing thick ropes of spend into her mouth.
“Hold it,” he commands, still buried in her throat. “Every last drop. Don’t you dare lose a single one.”
He pulls out slowly. Mag’s lips are stretched and glistening, cheeks hollowed as she keeps everything inside.
“Now spit it out,” he orders. “All over yourself. Make a mess for me.”
She obeys at once, opening her mouth and letting the thick, white spend spill out over her chin, down her neck, across the torn fabric of her dress. It coats her skin in glossy streaks.
“Good pet,” Thomas praises, voice dark with satisfaction. He reaches down and rubs his hand over her face, smearing his spent across her cheeks, her lips, marking her thoroughly. “Look at you. Covered in me. Perfectly tamed.”
He cups her jaw, tilts her head up, and commands, “Open. Empty.”
She parts her lips, showing him her clean tongue and empty mouth.
Thomas leans in and spits directly into it.
Mag swallows nothing. She simply holds still, obedient, waiting for the next order.
He turns his head and fixes me with that same sadistic smile.
“I’m taking Mag to her room where it’s safe,” Thomas announces, voice slicing through the air.
He points a long pale finger directly at my chest. “And you will stay exactly where you are. Do not move an inch. You are serving a punishment here until I find Cain, who was the one supposed to be taking care of you tonight. He will come here to escort you to your chambers. Girls are forbidden to walk this manor during the night. Disobey me again, and there will be permanent consequences.”
As he turns to the doorway with Mag trailing behind him like a broken doll, he pauses, casting one last cruel smile over his shoulder.
“Since you kept staring at him while I was fucking Mag’s throat, now you can keep the man in the portrait company.” A short laugh. “He’s the dangerous monster who used to own this place. The one from the stories. Enjoy your evening with him, little pet.”
The heavy oak door slams shut. The deadbolt slides home with a final, echoing thud.