Victor returned the next afternoon.
The bell chimed once, soft and almost gentle, and Liora was already ready.
She had not sewn a single stitch all morning.
The shop was dim, curtains half drawn, bolts of wool untouched. She knelt in the center of the worn rug, exactly where she had knelt the day before, skirt already rucked to her waist, bodice unlaced to the navel. Breasts bare and heavy, nipples peaked from the chill and the anticipation that had been gnawing at her since dawn, a vicious ache that left her thighs slick and trembling. Between her legs: glistening, swollen, dripping onto the floorboards in slow, insistent drops. No smallclothes. No resistance. Only raw, desperate need.
When the door closed behind him, she did not look up at first. She simply lowered her forehead to the rug once, then twice, then rose onto all fours and crawled the three paces to his boots.
Victor stopped just inside the threshold.
He watched her approach, slow and reverent, hips swaying obscenely with every movement, the wet, slippery sound of her thighs sliding together echoing in the quiet shop like a damning confession. Her heavy breasts dragged against the rug, nipples scraping raw, sending jolts of electric pain pleasure straight to her core.
She reached him. Pressed her lips to the leather once, soft and lingering, then sat back on her heels and looked up.
Tears already streamed down her flushed cheeks. Eyes glassy. Pupils enormous. Lips parted, swollen from yesterday's use.
But her voice came first, whispered, urgent, laced with fresh horror.
"Aiden is home today. Upstairs. He came back early, sick with fever. He's sleeping, but the floorboards creak. He could wake."
Victor's expression did not change. His black eyes darkened further, a slow smile curving his lips, not cruel but victorious, as though the risk only deepened the thrill.
"Good," he murmured. "Then you'll have to be quiet while I ruin you one last time in this shop."
Liora's breath hitched, a sob catching in her throat. The thought of her son upstairs, innocent and vulnerable, while she debased herself sent a fresh wave of shame crashing through her. But it only made the heat between her thighs burn hotter, her clit throb with traitorous urgency. She hated herself for it. She craved it more.
Victor unfastened his trousers with calm precision.
Liora opened her mouth before he asked, wide, tongue flat, eyes pleading.
He entered her throat in one long, brutal glide, past lips, past tongue, past the soft gag reflex that barely resisted anymore. She took him to the root without hesitation. Nose pressed to his pelvis. Throat convulsing in frantic, milking swallows that pulled wet, obscene gurgles from her chest. Tears poured freely now, mixing with thick saliva that dribbled down her chin, onto her bare breasts, tracing slick paths over her heaving curves.
Victor held her there, twenty heartbeats this time, longer than before, until black spots danced behind her eyes and her lungs burned for air. Her hands clutched his thighs desperately, nails digging in, but she did not pull away. She worshipped deeper, tongue curling even as she choked.
He withdrew just enough for her to drag in a ragged, wheezing gasp, coughing wetly, strings of spit connecting her lips to his glistening cock. Then she leaned forward on her own, taking him back down her throat with a muffled sob, bobbing frantically, cheeks hollowing until her jaw ached and fresh tears blurred her vision.
The floorboards upstairs creaked once, faint and distant. Aiden shifting in his sleep.
Liora froze for a heartbeat, eyes wide with terror. Victor simply gripped her hair tighter and thrust deeper, forcing her to continue, the risk amplifying every sensation until her body trembled on the edge of shattering.
When her throat could take no more, when her swallows turned frantic and desperate, saliva pooling on the rug beneath them, Victor pulled free with a wet, popping release.
He hauled her up by the hair, firm and unyielding, ignoring her choked gasp.
Liora rose on trembling legs, knees threatening to buckle.
Victor turned her roughly, bent her over the worktable in one savage motion. Her palms slapped the scarred wood, loud enough to echo. Ass presented high. Sex gaping, weeping, clenching on nothing as slickness ran down her inner thighs in thick rivulets. The shop reeked of her arousal now, musky, overripe, damning.
He entered her without pause, deep, brutal, claiming every inch in one punishing thrust that slammed against her cervix.
Liora's mouth opened on a silent scream, biting her own forearm to muffle the raw cry that threatened to tear free. Blood bloomed on her tongue from the force of it.
Victor fucked her relentlessly, harder than before, strokes that slapped wetly against her ass, dragged along every swollen ridge inside her, bottomed out with cruel precision that made her vision white out. One hand fisted her hair, yanking her head back until her back arched painfully, breasts bouncing free and dragging across the wood, nipples scraping raw against old thread grooves and dried seed stains. The other hand clamped over her mouth, fingers digging into her cheeks, to stifle her whimpers.
Upstairs, another creak, louder this time. Aiden turning in his fevered sleep.
The sound sent a spike of terror through Liora, but Victor only thrust deeper, grinding mercilessly against her most sensitive spots. Her body betrayed her utterly, walls fluttering wildly, nectar gushing with every plunge, soaking his balls, dripping in obscene puddles beneath the table.
"Quiet," he growled against her ear, voice rough with his own fraying control. "Or your son wakes to his mother coming apart on my cock again."
Liora shattered then, violently and silently, walls clamping down in frantic, rhythmic pulses that milked him desperately. Nectar flooded around him, hot, thick, uncontrollable, her muffled scream vibrating against his palm as tears streamed unchecked.
He drove through it without mercy, faster, deeper, chasing her into a second orgasm that ripped through her before the first had ebbed, then a third, each one crashing harder, leaving her a quivering, sobbing wreck, body seizing in endless waves of ecstasy and shame.
Only when her legs gave out completely, when she was nothing but boneless surrender draped over the table, did Victor bury himself to the hilt and erupt. Thick, scalding ropes flooded her depths, overflowing in creamy torrents that spilled down her thighs, mixing with her own release in a sticky, ruined mess.
He stayed locked inside her, grinding slow, possessive circles, drawing out every aftershock until she twitched and whimpered beneath his hand, the risk of Aiden waking making every pulse feel like blasphemy.
When the tremors finally ebbed, he withdrew slowly, watching his seed pour from her gaping, abused entrance in slow, obscene pulses.
Liora slid off the table, legs trembling, skirt falling back into place but still stained, still dripping.
She crossed to him, slow and unsteady, then knelt.
Right there on the worn rug in the middle of her shop.
She looked up at him, tears streaming, cheeks flushed, blood trickling from her bitten arm.
"Make me your maid," she whispered, voice hoarse and broken. "Please. I need it. I need you. I'll serve. I'll clean. I'll kneel. I'll beg. Just don't leave me empty."
Victor cupped her chin and tilted her face higher.
"You understand what this means, especially with him upstairs."
Liora nodded once, sharp, her eyes flicking to the ceiling where another faint creak sounded.
"I will belong to you completely. Like Seraphina. Like Agnes. I will wear your collar. Your mark. I will come when you call. I will spread for you whenever you want. I will even serve them if you wish it. Even if Aiden hears, even if he knows."
Victor's thumb traced her lower lip, smearing the blood and saliva.
"You will leave this shop. You will live in my villa. You will serve my women. You will serve me every day, and every night. And you will tell Aiden the truth or a lie. It matters not to me."
Liora's tears fell faster, freezing for a heartbeat before melting on her flushed skin.
"Yes."
Victor smiled, slow, dark, victorious.
"Then rise. Pack what you need. Aiden will wake soon, perhaps he already stirs. Tell him you are leaving for a better position. Tell him you love him. Then come to the villa at dusk. If he suspects, let him. It will break him beautifully."
Liora stood, shaking, then nodded, her body still trembling from the aftershocks, seed leaking steadily down her thighs.
Victor kissed her once, deep and claiming, tasting blood and surrender, then turned.
The bell chimed softly as he left.
Liora remained standing in the center of her shop, dripping, trembling, collared in spirit if not yet in flesh.
Upstairs, Aiden stirred, fever breaking, eyes fluttering open, unaware that his mother had just sold her soul while he slept mere feet above.
And when he came down…
The woman who had raised him would confess her ruin.
And the villain would have claimed another piece.
Forever.
XXXX
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