Finally, with the first rays of dawn creeping through the cracks in your shutters, you manage to free yourself from the cloth gagging you. Your voice comes out raw and hoarse from being muffled for so long. Tears streak down your face as you climb out of bed, wincing at every movement that reminds you of what has just happened.

You don't know what to do now. You can't go back to sleep; the thought of ever feeling comfortable in your own skin again is gone.

The mother's voice cuts through your pain, her eyes narrowing as she takes in the state of disarray you're in. "I see my son has been using you again," she says coolly. There's no accusation in her tone, only a weary resignation. She reaches out and runs her hand gently through your hair before turning on the shower, washing away the evidence of their coupling.

"Get dressed," she says softly when you're both clean. "And then come to my room."

With tears streaming down your face from the pain and humiliation, you nod numbly and move to obey your master's command. The cool air on your flushed skin feels oddly refreshing as you wash away the remnants of his seed and the evidence of your submission. As you return to cleaning his room, you can't help but feel a new sense of determination growing within you. You will not be broken so easily.

The son watches you with amusement as you clean up, his expression thoughtful. Despite the rough treatment he's given you so far, there's something about your resilience that intrigues him. Perhaps it's this strange mix of pain and pleasure that makes you such a fascinating plaything... or maybe it's just that deep down, you still fight against his control, refusing to fully submit. Either way, he knows now that breaking you will be an interesting challenge indeed.

Alaric leads you to the bathroom, his touch firm but gentle as he guides you through the door. The warm water envelopes you, soothing your skin and erasing any lingering traces of fear or shame. He steps in behind you, his hands running along your back before moving lower to soap up your hips and thighs. You lean back against him, feeling oddly content in this new role as Alaric's pet.

As Alaric continues to wash you, his hands moving with increasing confidence and familiarity, he begins to speak softly, telling you about his life and what he expects from you as his pet. You find yourself listening intently, growing more comfortable with the idea of belonging to him. The water slowly cools around you, a sign that it's time to get out. He helps you out of the tub, drying you off carefully before leading you back to your room.

Lord Rathburn arches an eyebrow at your eagerness, his expression amused. "Very well, Samuel," he says with a sly grin. "You'll have plenty of time to explore that side of things once you've proven yourself useful." He pauses for a moment, considering something before continuing. "For now, why don't you start by familiarizing yourself with the servants and other members of my household? They will be your main point of contact aside from myself." His voice takes on a tone of command, emphasizing that this is an order rather than a suggestion.

Lord Rathburn's manor is teeming with life and activity, making it easy for you to find your place within the household. You quickly learn the names of the servants and other members of his staff, as well as their duties and responsibilities. Some are tasked with maintaining the gardens, others with preparing meals or cleaning the manor. All bow respectfully when they see you in Lord Rathburn's presence, acknowledging your new status as his pet.

As days turn into weeks and then months, you settle into a routine of serving Lord Rathburn faithfully while also learning to navigate the complex web of relationships within the household. Your duties are many, but they keep you close to your master, allowing you ample opportunities to please him in more intimate ways...

The slave handler grins and leans closer to you. "You think one person can help you, little slut? You're wrong. No one here cares about your suffering but me." He squeezes your breast roughly again before pushing it away from him with a smirk. "Now dance for them!"

The crowd laughs and jeers as they watch the display, their arousal clear in their eyes. Some of them are already fantasizing about what sort of things they'll do to you once they take you home...

The crowd laughs even harder at your pathetic attempt to beg for mercy. The slave handler grins wickedly and replies, "Oh, I could finish you right now if that's what you want. Or...maybe I'll just sell you off to the highest bidder." He leans in close again and whispers cruelly, "You're mine for now, little slut. So dance for them and hope they don't buy you."

"Very well, then." John leans in close once more, his lips brushing against yours. You feel the warmth of his breath and the press of his body against yours as he begins to explore your mouth with his tongue. He moans softly into your mouth, encouraging you to reciprocate as he skillfully guides you through this first step in your training.

When he pulls away, he grins wickedly down at you. "Now," he says, "I want you to do exactly what I say..."

You nod eagerly, your heart racing in anticipation of whatever John has planned for you. He laughs softly, the sound a mix of amusement and desire, before leaning in to capture your lips once more in a deep, passionate kiss. His tongue twines with yours as his hands roam freely over your body, teasing and exploring every inch of skin they touch.

When he finally pulls away again, you're panting heavily and flushed from head to toe. "Good girl,"