Chapter 18 - 17 : Shattered Pride and the Merchant (r18)
Victor tossed Lyra onto the grand bed and climbed over her, pinning her wrists above her head with one hand. His knee forced her thighs apart as he yanked her dress up to her waist, exposing her already soaked panties.
"These holes were made for me," he growled, ripping the thin fabric aside. "Every inch of your noble hole belongs to your master."
He freed his thick rod and drove it straight into her dripping wet hole in one brutal thrust. Lyra cried out, her back arching as he stretched her open. He didn’t give her time to adjust. He fucked her hard and deep, each stroke pounding her into the mattress.
"Say it," Victor demanded, gripping her throat. "Who owns this hole?"
"Y-You, Master!" Lyra sobbed, her walls clenching around him. "My holes belongs to you!"
He flipped her onto her stomach, yanked her hips up, and slammed back inside her from behind. His hand fisted her silver hair, pulling her head back as he railed her.
"This hole was created to take my cock, not to question me," he snarled, pounding her cervix with every thrust. "Your noble blood means nothing when you’re bent over and dripping for your master."
Victor pulled out and dragged her to the edge of the bed. He stood over her and shoved his rod past her lips, Thrusting into her throat without mercy. Saliva spilled down her chin as he used her mouth like a toy.
"This throat exists to suck your master’s shaft" he said, holding her head still while he buried himself to the base. "Not to accuse me. Not to cry. Just to swallow."
He returned to her wet hole, flipping her onto her back again and driving back inside her. His pace turned savage. Lyra’s legs shook violently as he hammered her g-spot with ruthless precision. Her eyes rolled back, her mouth falling open in a silent scream.
"I’m comming-.. Master, I’m..!"
Her orgasm crashed through her like lightning. Her pussy spasmed and squirted around his rod, soaking the sheets. Victor didn’t stop. He thrusted her straight through it, forcing another climax to tear through her trembling body.
Lyra’s mind shattered. All that remained was the overwhelming need for his rod. She clawed at his back, begging incoherently.
"Forgive me, Master! I won’t question you again—never again! Your rod is everything please, use me, ruin me, make me your slave!"
Victor flipped her onto all fours and mounted her again, driving his rod so deep her belly bulged with every thrust. Her noble pride crumbled with each brutal stroke. She came again, and again, her voice hoarse from screaming his name. Every time she tried to form a coherent thought, another orgasm ripped it away.
By the time the first light of dawn crept through the curtains, Lyra was a broken, drooling mess. Her hole gaped and leaked his com in thick rivulets. She lay on her stomach, twitching, whispering the same mantra between ragged breaths.
"Master’s rod... only Master’s rod... I belong to you... forever..."
Victor finally pulled out and let her collapse. She didn’t move. She simply lay there, completely addicted, her once-proud noble mind reduced to nothing but desperate, helpless worship of the man who had dismantled her with his shaft.
The rough, relentless rhythm finally slowed as the night dissolved into the pale gray light of morning. I stepped back from the bed, watching as Lyra collapsed entirely into the tangled sheets. Her breathing was shallow and uneven, her body still occasionally trembling from the sheer overload of sensations. Every ounce of her fierce noble pride had been systematically stripped away, replaced by a hollow, addictive devotion that hung onto every lingering echo of my presence.
I adjusted my coat, looking down at her with a cold, satisfied smirk. The message had been delivered, and her volatile jealousy had been permanently crushed underfoot, replaced by absolute, unquestioning submission.
Turning away from the bed, I walked toward the heavy oak study doors, pulling them open. Aria was already waiting in the corridor, standing silently in the shadows like a faithful hound, her dark purple hair neat and her expression unreadable.
The heavy oak doors clicked shut behind us, sealing Lyra in her delirious, broken silence. The corridor outside was dim, lit only by the faint, cool amber of the wall sconces as the last traces of night faded outside the tall stained-glass windows.
We moved away from the private quarters, walking in unhurried step down the grand marble hall of the east wing. This estate was more than just a residence; it was a sprawling, fortress-like manor that mirrored my standing in the capital high-ceilinged, imposing, and fortified against prying eyes.
Aria walked slightly behind me, her boots clicking softly against the stone floor, completely attuned to my pace.
Passing through the arched glass conservatory, we stepped out into the private inner garden. The morning air was crisp and damp, carrying the clean scent of dew-soaked grass and blooming nightshade. High stone walls draped in creeping ivy enclosed the courtyard, keeping the rest of the world at a safe distance.
I kept my hands buried in my coat pockets, my gaze fixed on the winding stone path ahead.
"My Lord," Aria murmured, bowing her head slightly as we walked beneath the shade of the weeping willows in the private courtyard. "I found the information on Elena Vesper’s residence and her family."
"Good," I muttered, keeping my gaze forward.
Aria continued, her tone steady. "Her family appears ordinary on the surface, but there is one suspicious detail they regularly purchase a medication called moon-bleed petal a herb primarily used to suppress anger and volatile emotions, though some lower-district addicts abuse it to get high."
A cold smirk touched my lips. "Bring me evidence of it. A ledger, a receipt, or any tangible paperwork."
A sharp thought crossed my mind. Kael. In the original progression of the novel, Kael possessed a latent berserker trait a dangerous flaw that warped a person’s sanity if left unchecked. If his family was secretly dosing him with moon-bleed petals to keep his violent outbursts under control, it meant his berserker nature was active. In the rigid hierarchy of the Academy, such barbaric traits were strictly forbidden. If exposed, Kael would be expelled in disgrace. That kind of leverage was far too valuable to leave sitting in the dark.
"What else?" I asked, turning my attention back to our immediate threats as we continued our stroll. "What is the Church doing?"
Aria’s expression tightened slightly. "They have received an urgent directive from the higher-ups an oracle has commanded them to locate the Saintess immediately."
I paused, resting a gloved hand against my chin as the morning light caught the frost on the stone path. "So the plot has accelerated to this phase, has it?"
If the Church was actively hunting for the Saintess, time was running out. I needed to move faster securing the economic chokeholds, turning the pieces on the board, and pulling both the Saintess and the berserker into my sphere of influence before the high clergy could sink their claws into them.
I dropped my hand, resuming my steady pace down the gravel path as the crisp morning air filled the space between us.
"Aria," I said, turning my head slightly toward my shadow. "Did you find the man I asked you about? Silas Kross of the Kross Merchant Guild?"