Chapter 14

Dazedly, I stared into Riorem’s eyes.

My reflection flickered in his blue irises—a disheveled mess compared to how I’d looked before leaving.

Strands of red hair, which he’d meticulously tucked under my veil earlier, now stuck out haphazardly.

His fingers, calloused and scarred, toyed with those unruly locks.

“But to return only to find you’ve seduced another man,” he said, his voice icy.

I struggled to steady my breath.

I didn’t argue.

Whether it was a ten-year-old boy or anyone else, Riorem clearly didn’t care.

My throat burned, swollen from choking on water earlier.

“Do you know what masters do,” he continued, “when slaves fail their duties?”

“They punish them,” I replied flatly, echoing his own words back at him.

Riorem smiled.

“Then lift your skirt and raise your hips. Surely you can manage that.”

I sighed. 

Is he planning to spank me, not fuck me? Hesitantly, I lowered my gaze.

The strained bulge in his pants glared back.

He’d never let me touch his cock—not with my mouth, hands, or even between my legs.

Instead, he’d teased me relentlessly with his fingers and tongue, as though I were the one using him.

At least this punishment makes sense.

Slowly, I gathered the heavy fabric of my dress, my hands trembling.

My lower half was soon exposed, thighs dotted with red bite marks—his marks.

A shiver spread from my hands to my shoulders.

This wasn’t shameful, just exhausting. 

Why so much fabric? Is this a wedding dress?

Riorem misinterpreted my trembling.

“You’re shaking,” he observed, eyes glinting coldly.

I forced myself to meet his gaze.

He smirked. “Interesting. You feel humiliated.”

I glared, too hoarse to retort.

But my throat’s ordeal wasn’t over.

Suddenly, the chain around my collar yanked taut.

“Ghk—!” I crumpled onto the bed, gasping.

The pain from earlier flared, suffocating me.

The bed creaked as Riorem climbed over me.

Face down, I couldn’t see him—only the heated swell beneath his tight ceremonial clothes.

The outline of his erection twitched visibly, unabashed.

I swallowed dryly.

For years, it had been nothing more than a massive cock swaying before my eyes.

While I couldn’t tear my gaze from Riorem’s groin, his voice whispered above my head.

“I didn’t realize it back then… but this view isn’t half bad. A perspective where you dare not even look at my face, no less.”

As he spoke, the jeweled button on his trousers trembled—likely because the cock beneath it twitched sharply.

Riorem wasn’t wrong.

At this height, even if I craned my neck, I wouldn’t see past the edge of his jaw.

But… even if I were still his master, I might’ve found myself staring at this very spot.

As Riorem had said, this was the typical difference in stature between a master and a slave.

Which was why this was the first time I’d seen Riorem’s cock so directly.

The shock of witnessing it up close, rather than from the sidelines, was overwhelming.

Heat pooled deep in my lower belly.

It felt as though a hunger I’d never fully shaken off was pressing down on my womb.

But then—

Whoosh.

My body lifted into the air.

Riorem had hoisted me up with both arms, moving as effortlessly as if handling a sheet of paper.

Holding me, he sat on the bed and laid me diagonally across his lap.

The facedown position was slightly uncomfortable, my weight tipping forward.

I buried my face in the bed, peering back over my shoulder.

My hips were slightly raised, my lower stomach resting against Riorem’s thighs.

Thud!

A dull smack struck my backside, sending a sharp sting through me.

“Ah!”

A hoarse cry escaped my lips.

The pain flared briefly before fading—he hadn’t hit me with much force.

“Did that surprise you?”

His tender voice drifted from behind.

I nodded.

It hadn’t hurt—only startled me.

Perhaps sensing my answer, Riorem murmured in a low tone,

“Then I’ll have to make it hurt more to properly punish you.”

With that, his hand came down again.

Crack!

A sharper sound echoed through the room.

“Ngh…!”

I pressed my face deeper into the bed.

This time, I’d braced myself.

I clenched my teeth, swallowing the scream that threatened to rise.

My throat still ached from the earlier cry.

The problem was the pain.

It hurt far more than I’d expected.

My skin burned, the heat lingering.

Yet it wasn’t unbearable.

A strange thrill pulsed in my chest—the lingering tension from the moment the pain had spread through my body.

Crack!

Riorem struck again.

A merciless ache spread through my soft flesh, unaccustomed to sitting anywhere as hard as a dining chair.

Riorem’s palm struck fiercely against me again.

Slap, slap.

The sound of skin meeting skin echoed sharply.

“Hng… Ugh…”

I muffled my moans into the bedsheet.

Each time his large, calloused hand—warm and scarred—struck my buttocks, a stinging heat bloomed.

With every repeated strike, the heat grew sharper, pooling into a hardened, throbbing ache.

“Mmm…”

Riorem’s low hum rumbled behind me.

His hand gripped my buttocks, lingering near the inflamed, feverish skin.

But then, another sound cut through the air.

Squelch—

A wet, sticky noise reverberated in the bedroom.

Riorem’s gaze slid downward, past my reddened cheeks to the tightly closed hole below.

He pried my buttocks apart.

Schlick—

A smaller, but unmistakably slick sound rose from between my thighs.

He spoke mockingly, “Did it hurt that much? Enough to make you cry down there?”

His own pants strained against his arousal, the fabric damp where it pressed against my navel.

Riorem released his grip, letting his fingers trail down my cleft.

“Even your thighs are soaked.”

His hoarse voice tickled my ear.

Smack!

Pain flared across my buttocks, sending a tingling rush to my toes.

A familiar sensation.

Slap, smack, slap.

Each strike sent dull, thin waves of pleasure rippling through me.

Maybe it was the tension of anticipating pain—the way my body tightened and then melted, akin to the crest of arousal.

The ache, over time, began to blur into something like desire.

Of course, that’s not the point…

I bit back a whimper as Riorem’s cock pressed against my stomach.

Truthfully, it wasn’t just my thighs that were wet.

My slick had soaked through his pants, pooling where our bodies met.

The reason he’d only just noticed was obvious: he’d been too consumed by his own heat.

I knew what he’d do next—deny his desire by pushing me further.

Crack!

“Hah…!”

A sharp sting bloomed, mingling with an itchy, unbearable throb.