Chapter 3

Thinking about it made her feel a bit amused.

Even after reaching such a status, she couldn’t properly handle a single slave.

She had thought this even back when she couldn’t properly control a woman’s neck.

It seemed she still hadn’t completely broken free from the education she received during her days as a slave.

“Of course… it’s not like nothing has changed.”

She closed her eyes and thought of Riorém.

Not the beast-like, dangerous-smelling triumphant general of Arete—

But the temple slave that the head maid had “brought in” so the capricious and unruly noble lady could break him however she pleased.

My father, Duke Peroa, was a man with no luck in children.

Since his days as a young duke, he had tirelessly worked to produce heirs, but the children all died before they turned thirteen.

Out of hope, he divorced and brought in a new wife, but the result was the same.

The children kept dying.

Eventually, one son from his third wife managed to live past thirteen.

However, perhaps because he kept making her bear children without showing her any affection, the duchess ended up dying.

Now he had an heir, but ideally, he also needed a daughter.

In order to stabilize the nation, more royal marriage alliances were necessary.

Yet no daughters were born, nor any sons who might rival the young duke.

So my father arranged a contract marriage with a duke from the Serpantov of imperial family, known for producing strong and healthy children.

The duke, having received a large sum of money, gave the Duchy of Peroa three daughters.

I was the second of those daughters.

I resembled the Serpantov of duke rather than my father.

With red hair and golden eyes.

What’s more, I inherited the temperament of the imperial family, who treated the act of bearing and weaning children like manual labor.

In short, I wasn’t much of a human being.

As if lacking humanity weren’t enough, I also had a terrible personality.

Especially as a child, I never controlled my impulses, and most of those impulses turned violent.

As more and more people died, Pelbiche Palace suffered a severe manpower shortage.

Not even the maids, let alone ladies-in-waiting, wanted to serve in my palace.

That continued until I finally lost interest in tormenting people.

Eventually, the head maid came up with a new policy: to assign slaves to positions most likely to provoke my anger—that is, positions where death was likely.

Riorém was one of the slaves brought in under that policy.

The boy, whom the temple had received in place of a debt, had strong endurance and a good stomach.

Since he was a slave previously used by the temple, he could even perform basic healing.

Because of that, he was pushed into the most dangerous position—foot-washing duty.

Those who put on and removed my shoes and washed my feet were kicked by me several times a day.

It wasn’t that I particularly hated them.

I just couldn’t stand the boredom.

But once Riorém arrived, the time spent washing and re-shoeing my feet became much more bearable.

Because the face of the trembling ten-year-old boy who poured water over my foot was quite pleasing to look at.

The head maid, noticing that Riorém was injured less than the others, began to replace the slaves one by one.

They were all handsome young boys.

However, as I mentioned earlier, violence didn’t decrease until I lost interest in tormenting others.

Of course, things might have been different if there had been more slaves as good-looking as Riorém.

Unfortunately, I couldn’t find another slave as pleasing to the eye as Riorém.

Even though numerous slaves were replaced during this time, Riorém remained the slave who endured the least amount of beatings in Pelbiche Palace for nearly ten years.

Of course, it wasn’t that I didn’t torment Riorém.

On the contrary, I was quite harsh with him.

For Riorém, it must have been quite difficult.

Therefore, I wouldn’t have been surprised if he had killed me last night.

“Since he didn’t kill me, I guess it can’t be helped if he torments me as much as I tormented him.”

It was then that I thought about the man who had said he would make me his lowest slave.

His face, which was much sharper and more dangerous than I remembered, carried a murderous aura.

I persistently tormented Riorém.

I also enjoyed making things difficult for him.

But the truth was, none of the actions I took against him held much meaning for me once they were returned to me.

The same goes for the things done to me—violations and insults.

I was born of a noble bloodline, destined to give birth to a child worth as much as I did.

Such acts couldn’t possibly make me feel humiliated.

In the first place, I don’t understand the difference between that and being violated by a slave.

If I were to differentiate, the greatest punishment for me was being thrown into boredom.

For someone like me, who had a congenital lack of pleasure, nothing could be more torturous than monotony.

However, if what Riorém wanted was to make me his sex slave and humiliate me, that was still an unlikely task.

Boring sex would surely torment me, but… remembering Riorém’s expression from before, it seemed like a difficult thing for him to do.

“What is he thinking?”

It had been a long time since I was so curious about someone else’s thoughts.

Of course, with my limbs bound to the bed, there was nothing else I could do.

The windows were all covered with curtains, but that didn’t mean I couldn’t tell the time.

Compared to when I first woke up, the shadows had lengthened, and red light was seeping through the fluttering curtains.

Evening was approaching.

Sexual desire was something that should be fulfilled at night.

Naturally, bedroom slaves were mainly used in the evening.

Slaves used in the master’s private space are dressed up before use, so the maids would likely come soon to bathe me.

I waited for those who would release me.

Then, as the shadows no longer crept under the curtains, and no light filtered through, just as I expected, a few women entered the bedroom.

While I bathed in a tub full of petals, the maids taught me how to please a man.

It was only after hearing that that I realized Riorém had not disclosed my true identity to them.

Sex education for the second princess of Peroa, who had been engaged six times? It was like teaching a fish how to breathe.

After finishing the bath, I returned to Riorém’s bedroom, wearing only a thin nightgown so revealing that I was nearly defenseless.

The maids laid me down on the bed and took out silk cords to tie my wrists together.

This time both wrists were tied together and secured to the head of the bed.

The rest of the maids extinguished all the lights except for the scented candles, making the room dark.

Somehow, it felt more like an early night than a day of taking in a new slave.

After a short preparation, the maids all exited the bedroom.

I waited for Riorem in the silence.

I knew instinctively that this wait would not be long.

Nevertheless, I was haunted by memories of six years ago.

I didn’t remember much of what Riorem had said.

But I still remembered his blue eyes as he stood between my legs and continued to masturbate without breaking his gaze.

‘You said you wouldn’t do it then.’

That night.

Riorem just stared at me.

I pulled off my pyjamas and spread my legs, and he revealing a hideous cock that didn’t match his pretty face in the slightest.

So I allowed him to climb into bed.

It wasn’t that I wanted him, or that he was special.

A slave who dared to fuck his master was enough of a turn-on for me, an innately free woman.

But Riorem refused.

He even ran away from the castle within days.

And now, here he is, inviting me into his bedchamber.

It must have been then that I heard the sound of a cow.

Bam.

The flame of the scented candle flickered wildly in the sudden gust of wind.

The cool night air hit my across my skin.

Jab, jab, jab.

I jerked my head up at the sound of bare feet on the dry floor.

Moving like shadows.

It sounded nothing like Riorem’s footsteps.

‘Isn’t that Riorem?’

But then he appeared from the other side of the cubicle.

He was still in his bathrobe.

I stood still and watched him.

Each flicker of candlelight caught her still-damp.

But that wasn’t what caught my eye.

It was the way his loosely tied gown flapped with each step he took.

When I could see his face, even from my position on the bed, I could see his scarred face.

His chest was bare and his lower belly was exposed.

There was an erect lump of flesh between the gaping apron.