Chapter 1
“Useless. You’ve messed up this scene more times than I can count. You think we’re all going to wait out here in the rain because of you? Look at yourself! I’ll give you one last chance—get this right or Sage Rowan can pack up and leave.” Sir Magnus’s rough voice echoed through every corner of the Night Rain Players' Tent, where the cast and crew sparkled with tension. Lady Seraphine leaned back in her rocking chair, chin resting on her hand, her eyes half-closed in a state of weary contemplation. The shout pierced her moment of quiet, pulling her eyelids open just enough to see the shivering figure of The Squire beside the lighting rig. His hair was drenched from the drizzle, clinging to his forehead as he bowed slightly, apologizing to the director. Sage Rowan had a beauty mark on her right cheek, and she almost smirked, the corner of her mouth quirked up, mirroring the sly charm of her critically-acclaimed persona. Sage’s agent, a few steps away, leaned closer, speaking softly, “That guy just got here yesterday and hit on Lady Marigold. She shot him down hard, and now today she specifically told the director…” Sage Rowan turned her eyes to the far corner of the tent where Lady Marigold sat, maintained her youthful glow despite the years showing as subtle lines around her smile. She lounged elegantly, crossing her legs in a way that revealed the delicate skin of her thigh just above her split evening gown. Pushing forty, Lady Marigold was actively seeking a taste of what she could never have—fresh-faced youth. With an annoyed sigh, Sage closed her eyes again. “Do you even know how to act? I can’t believe you’re trained, yet your delivery is like a zombie. Honestly!” Sir Magnus brandished his script like a weapon, aiming it playfully at The Squire’s face. The Squire, shorter than him, bowed his head again, accepting the mockery as he apologized, “Yes, yes, I’m sorry! Just give me one more chance!” “Yeah, right. Even a statue performs better than you!” Lady Marigold, with her rehearsed smile, was about to join in when Sir Magnus cut her off with a snap. “Director Edmund!” The Squire straightened his posture, plastering a fake smile and nodding toward Lady Seraphine, “Lady Seraphine, no worries! We’ll nail this scene and get right back to the Wandering Minstrel!” “That was my point, moron.” Sage lifted her chin, delicate fingers pointing toward the monitor, her expression flat. “This scene was good the first time we shot it. It should have been wrapped up ages ago. If you need to vent, go find a boxing gym.” The crew knew all too well that just a week ago, The Squire had left the gym with a broken nose after upsetting a pro fighter, and an uneasy silence settled in as everyone struggled not to chuckle at his expense. “Wandering minstrel, wandering minstrel… So let's get that next scene underway!” He chuckled nervously, his grin unwavering. The assistant holding the lighting rig breathed a sigh of relief as the rain tapped steadily on the rooftop tent above them. Lady Violet clenched her teeth, her white smile flashing with irritation as she glared at him. Lady Seraphine noticed, and with a lazy flick of her wrist, she picked up her script to read, her dark hair elegantly swept back, exposing her long, graceful neck. “Violet… don’t. She’s got Sage backing her.” “I know,” Lady Marigold barked back, turning sharply in response. With every bit of influence she garnered since joining the troupe, every favor she earned brought her closer to the resources she needed. Even on the first day, the director and writer had treated her like a star, knowing the financial backing she brought to the production made her indispensable.
Chapter 2
Lady Seraphine had never thought the old man could find any worth in her mere appearance. After her scene wrapped, she slipped into casual attire and climbed into the chauffeur-driven car. Just as her manager, Old Sage Rowan, was about to close the door, she heard someone call out behind her. “Wait, hold on a second!” The voice was nervous and stuttered. Lady Seraphine turned her head to see a young squire in a formal outfit dashing through the rain toward her, his hair clinging to his forehead, an innocent smile on his youthful face. “Uh, Seraphine, thanks for today, I—” “Why are you thanking me?” she asked coldly, her expression unfazed as she glared at his surprised features. “Whoever Sage Rowan is to you today, I’d say the same. You’re the exception.” He looked at her with disappointment, but before he could respond, Old Sage Rowan shut the car door with a smile and a nod directed at the squire, then climbed into the front passenger seat, muttering to the driver, “Let’s go.” As the car revved to life, the boy stood frozen amidst the exhaust, the cold rain soaking him to the bone as his gaze followed the vehicle’s departure. The white luxury SUV navigated to the underground garage of The Five Stars Inn. Lady Seraphine stepped out, her long white dress brushing against her knees as she stepped onto the pavement, the stiletto heels of her stilettos clicking on the concrete towards a sleek sedan some distance away. The door opened, revealing Old Sage Rowan leaning against the shadows of the car interior, his sharp black suit hugging his long legs that were crossed casually as he focused on his laptop. She bent down, her knees meeting the vehicle’s seat, and as the door automatically closed, Lady Seraphine leaned closer, climbing onto his lap while straightening her posture and staring intently at his black leather shoes. Old Sage Rowan slid his computer aside, his deep voice echoing in the quiet car. “Do we have any gigs tomorrow?” “None,” she replied, forcing a smile that barely lingered on her lips. Before she could even finish her sentence, a large hand struck her right cheek. Smack. The sharp sound rang loudly, and her head met the armrest of the seat with a painful thud, echoing through the cabin. Roland, the driver, flinched, gripping the steering wheel tighter in silence. Her long hair fell messily over her shoulders, the impact disheveling it, showcasing the swelling mark forming on her soft skin. With a hand pressed against her face, she straightened herself up, forcing a pained smile back at him, something oddly tragic about it. Old Sage Rowan’s face remained partially obscured by shadows, the laptop screen reflecting off his striking features—high cheekbones and sensuous lips. He leaned in slightly, arms resting casually on his thighs, his perfectly styled hair tousled a bit by a few strands falling onto his forehead, enhancing the intensity of his gaze as it hovered over her face. “Don’t you dare smile,” he warned, his tone firm yet raspy. With her mouth pressed flat, Lady Seraphine tried to counter the sting on the right side of her face, where a beauty mark lay perfectly placed—she still appeared exquisite despite the bruise. The messiness of her hair only made her vulnerability more pronounced. Smack. Another slap landed, this time forcing her body to lean over onto the leather seat, unable to contain the pain that brought tears to her eyes. “Stay on your knees,” was his command to Roland as he added, “Drive us home.” “Yes, Master Glaston.”
Chapter 3
"Ah... Oh God, Rowan, please... I'm so close, please save me," Lady Seraphine gasped desperately. The silver collar around her neck tightened brutally, connected by a chain which Old Sage Rowan held firmly. He lifted her head, forcing her to look at him. His breath was hot against her ear as he asked, "Who do you want to save you, hmm?" "No one, Rowan, no one. Please, Master Rowan, release inside your submissive." Seraphine whimpered, dressed in a black and white bunny outfit. The fishnet stockings clung tightly to her slender legs as she knelt on the bed. Her skirt split to reveal her pale back, the fabric hugging her curvaceous figure, her ample breasts straining against the material, forming a deep cleavage. Old Sage Rowan's large, erect member, slick with lubricant, thrust through a torn hole in her fishnet stockings, pushing into her wet folds. With each thrust, her bunny ear headband bobbed erratically, her ears flopping along with the movement. Holding the chain, Rowan pulled tight, causing her to arch her head backward in near suffocation. His cool lips brushed against her ear, and his fingers pressed against her swollen cheeks. Lady Seraphine's face flushed a deep red, reaching a peak of both physical and emotional intensity. If one listened closely, her moans were filled with pain. Sweat trickled down her forehead, her abdomen tense as her body desperately resisted the massive intrusion. "Ah, please, just... kill me with this," she cried out. Rowan’s laughter was low and chilling in her ear. "And what if I did?" "Yes... yes, this wretched one's life belongs to you, Master Rowan," she whimpered, her face contorted with a mix of agony and relief. His eyes held no lust, only a calculating gaze as they studied her pain-stricken face. He glanced down at her tremendously swollen breasts, pressed together tightly. "Your body is made for this, isn't it? How does it feel to be just a piece of flesh for me, pet?" Rowan taunted, squeezing one breast with his massive hand, easily dwarfing its size. "It feels... Ah, wonderful, Master Rowan's... cock... fucks this slut's pussy so... good," she stammered, her lips trembling with the strain of her own words. His powerful member began the real torment she'd feared from the start. "Let's see how long you can last today, pet," Rowan mused, pushing her head down onto the bed. The chain fell, brushing against her face as she bit down on it, grasping the bed's soft sheets, tears streaming down her cheeks. Her inner walls clenched tightly around his shaft, the lubricant making each thrust unbearably smooth. His expression remained stern as his large hands gripped her waist, another slap landing on her reddened bottom. "Unnh..." Lady Seraphine muffled a scream against the chain, tears squeezing out from her eyes in thick streams.
Chapter 4
With sheer stockings hugging her thighs, her bottom was already purple, and the massive cock was pushing deep inside her womb, nearly reaching her stomach. This was all Lady Seraphine could take; every time she was thrown onto the bed, she would typically surrender within two and a half minutes. This time, it took only a few moments longer. "Oh, please, please, Sage Rowan, I can't take this. Please, stop, help me, I beg you," Seraphine whimpered desperately. The cock seemed like it could pierce her through. The last time, her womb had bled, and that memory still haunted her. Sobbing and trembling, she cried, drool dripping from her lips, "It hurts, Sage Rowan, please, I can't take anymore." Her words only spurred Sage Rowan to move faster, his balls slapping against her swollen lips. "Do you have any other way to endure this?" he said dismissively. His calm demeanor was a stark contrast to her agony. Seraphine wailed uncontrollably, her once beautiful face a mess of tears and pain, calling out to the heavens for relief as she tried to crawl away on her knees. "It hurts, it hurts so much, please, have mercy, Sage Rowan, save me...” Lord Dorian watched her struggle and finally let go. In the next moment, with a wet sound, she pulled away from the enormous cock. Screaming and crying, she crawled forward, only to fall off the bed, curling up in the corner by the nightstand. Trembling, she realized what she had done. Tears clung to her lashes, and she looked up in fear. Sage Rowan remained kneeling on the bed, his cock throbbing angrily with every heartbeat, his expression cold. Seraphine's whole body shook. She assumed he would stop her, but instead, he had given her a reason to punish herself. "I... I'm sorry, Sage Rowan, the pain was too much, but I understand now, I do..." His slight smile faded completely. "So you plan to keep begging?" "Yes, yes..." Seraphine knelt, dressed in a seductive bunny outfit that accentuated her curves, even with her tear-streaked face. She slowly crawled back to the bed, raising her hand to slap herself. "Sorry, I'm so sorry. I was wrong, I was wrong..." Her hand landed on her face, blow after blow. She was terrified of his punishment, so she hurt herself instead. Her palm swelled, and she relentlessly slapped herself, mingling her saliva and tears with her hair. Even though her crying was drowned out by the sound of slaps, Lord Dorian watched her emotionlessly. "Please, forgive me, I was wrong, I was wrong..." After fifteen slaps, her hand hurt too much to lift. Her face was red, bruised, and swollen, but the real despair came when Sage Rowan grabbed her hair and dragged her back to the bed without a hint of gentleness. He pinned her down by the throat, and Seraphine struggled for breath, her legs kicking wildly as her vision blurred. Sage Rowan positioned himself over her chest and, with no mercy, pushed his monstrous cock into her mouth, her cheeks bulging and tearing at the corners. "Gag—" he forced her to take it all, pushing her throat to its limits.
Chapter 5
Lady Seraphine's eyes widened with a look of suffocation, red veins covering the whites of her eyes nearly instantaneously. Her mouth twisted in agony as her skin stretched and split, tiny trickles of blood appearing. The massive intrusion into her throat caused her face to twist with a savage expression. She could feel it tearing through her esophagus, the pain unbearable, and her faint pleas couldn't escape her lips. She looked desperately at Old Sage Rowan, whose face held a mocking and derisive smile. His otherwise handsome features had turned monstrous, and he showed no signs of relenting, continuing to thrust forcefully. “Urgh... Urgh, urgh...” She was on the verge of suffocation, clawing at Old Sage Rowan's arm. The pain was excruciating, and she struggled violently beneath him, trying to make him see the pleading in her eyes. But he only looked down seriously, lifting a mocking grin. “Is this supposed to be impressive? Look at you, swallowing the whole thing. Open your mouth a bit wider, maybe then you'll be adequate.” Lady Seraphine tried to shake her head to escape the discomfort, her gagging growing stronger as she pounded on his chest. She continued to choke, almost dying from her own saliva. “Ugh—ugh. Ugh, ugh.” She was on the verge of fainting. She felt like she was about to suffocate. Even Lord Dorian standing off to the side watched her with a chilling, sinister smile. His long lashes cast shadows under the lights above, forming intense shadows: "Hold it in, I want to see if our little pet is any more obedient than yesterday." He stepped away, giving her no hope, before thrusting back in with renewed vigor. Her throat, still raw from recent trauma, was filled with new painful tears. Clear tears pooled in her eyes as despair washed over her. His movements were slow but deliberate, each thrust pushing completely into her throat. "Your lips are already so torn up, how pitiful," he said cruelly, extending his slender fingers to touch her cracked lips, blood oozing from the torn skin. “I made sure your teeth wouldn’t get in the way, so at least that's something.” “Ugh, ugh—ugh.” As he pulled back, Lady Seraphine's survival instincts kicked in. She tried to turn her head to eject the foreign object in her mouth, but Old Sage Rowan pressed her head down, forcing his way even more ruthlessly into her throat, her face buried in his dense pubic hair. “Discipline,” he ordered. Lord Dorian grabbed her by the hair, his fingers pressing into her delicate scalp. He gave her no respite, each thrust brutally stretching her throat further. His thick, veined shaft repeatedly battered her esophagus. Her pretty face contorted in indescribable torment, her eyes rolling back in a desperate plea for mercy. “Ugh…” Old Sage Rowan threw his head back in a sigh of pleasure, a calm bliss washing over his handsome features. He didn’t even glance at Lady Seraphine, treating her solely as an object for release, something he could replace after use. She feared as much, knowing that resisting could mean even harsher punishment. She didn’t even dare graze the massive shaft with her teeth. “Ugh, ugh, ugh—” When he finally withdrew, his member was smeared with blood. Lady Seraphine coughed violently, her throat destroyed, the metallic taste of blood filling her mouth.
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