THE BODYGUARD'S SECRET SERVICE

8

The mercenary attack on Thorne Estate was suppressed in less than thirty minutes. Maia and the Thorne shadow unit moved like ghosts, neutralizing enemies one by one in the darkness of the corridors. Seraphina Vance, who had been screaming hysterically with a detonator in her hand, now lay collapsed on the floor of Alaric’s soundproof private study.

The detonator turned out to be fake. Seraphina had lost everything and gone mad—this was her final attempt to gain the attention of the man she once looked down on.

Alaric sat in his chair, staring at the woman before him with an icy gaze. Seraphina looked disheveled; her gold dress was torn in several places, her blonde hair tangled, her breathing uneven from both fear and… misplaced desire.

“You wanted to blow me up, Seraphina?” Alaric asked, his voice low and threatening. “Or did you just want to get back into my room?”

Seraphina crawled closer, tears streaking down her flushed cheeks. “Alaric… you don’t understand. Dominic was a monster, but you… you are the true ruler. I just want to stand beside the winner. I did this so you would notice me! So you wouldn’t ignore me anymore!”

Alaric rose from his chair, slowly circling her like a predator studying its dying prey. “You want me to notice you? Fine. I see you now. And all I see is a woman willing to throw away her dignity for a drop of power.”

He stopped in front of her and lifted her chin with the tip of his polished shoe—the same shoe she once would have begged to wet with her tears.

“You used to tease me when I was your driver, didn’t you? You wanted to know what was beneath my cheap shirt,” he whispered. “Now you have your chance. But there’s a price.”

Seraphina swallowed hard, her eyes wide. “W-what do I have to do?”

“Kneel,” Alaric ordered sharply. “Strip away all that ‘Mrs. Vance’ pride you cling to. If you want to avoid prison tonight, you’ll prove you still have some use… as my plaything.”

Seraphina trembled. Her pride as a New York socialite screamed in protest, but her body betrayed her. For a year, she had imagined this moment—this moment when the mysterious man would finally touch her. With shaking hands, she began unfastening her dress, looking at Alaric with a pleading, yearning gaze.

Maia stood silently in the corner, her expression unreadable. There was no jealousy—only quiet observation. To her, Seraphina was nothing more than a tool to relieve her master’s tension. She stepped forward briefly, placing a small leather whip into Alaric’s hand before returning to her position.

Alaric accepted it, letting its tip brush against Seraphina’s bare shoulder. “Don’t make me wait, Seraphina. Show me how low you’re willing to fall for your Master.”

Seraphina closed her eyes, letting the last remnants of her dignity fall away onto the cold floor as she moved toward him in complete submission.

She crawled across the cold marble floor, her torn gold dress trailing behind her like a beggar’s cloth. With trembling hands, she removed the remaining buttons until the luxurious silk slid down to her waist, exposing her body.

She stopped between Alaric’s legs, looking up with swollen, tear-filled eyes—fear and shame mingling with desperate desire.

“Master…” her voice broke into a whisper. “Let me serve you… please.”

Alaric looked down at her with cold disdain. He lifted the whip and lightly struck her cheek—not enough to injure, but enough to make her flinch.

“Don’t call me Master. You’re not worthy of it. Call me Mr. Thorne,” he said coldly. “Now open your mouth and show me what you used to offer in that car.”

Seraphina obeyed immediately. She opened her mouth, her tongue slightly extended. Alaric calmly unzipped his pants, revealing himself, already half-hard from the absolute control he felt in this moment.

He tapped her cheek with it before pushing forward without warning.

Seraphina let out a muffled sound, her eyes instantly watering as he forced deeper. She choked slightly, saliva spilling from the corners of her lips, but Alaric gave her no time to breathe.

“No teeth,” he ordered, gripping her blonde hair tightly as he began to move with increasing force.

Wet sounds filled the soundproof room. Seraphina tried her best, her tongue working as she struggled to keep up. Tears streamed down her face, her makeup completely ruined, yet she continued desperately, as if her life depended on it.

Maia stood quietly, arms crossed, watching every detail without expression. Occasionally, a faint smile appeared as she observed the once-proud Seraphina now reduced to this state.

Alaric suddenly pulled her back, a humiliating string of saliva connecting her swollen lips to him.

“Get on the table,” he ordered.

Seraphina obeyed immediately, climbing onto the large desk with trembling legs. She knelt, her back arched low, cheek pressed against the cold mahogany surface, hands gripping the edge—completely exposed.

Alaric stood behind her and struck her twice, the sharp sound echoing through the room.

“You’re already so wet, Mrs. Vance,” he mocked, running his fingers over her. “So you really do enjoy being degraded.”

Without waiting, he thrust into her in one powerful motion.

Seraphina screamed, her body convulsing.

Alaric moved brutally, each thrust relentless. Her body jolted forward with every impact, her chest pressing against the desk.

“Ahh! Mr. Thorne… too big…!” she cried, her voice breaking between pleasure and shame.

Alaric gripped her hips tightly, leaving red marks on her pale skin. He pulled her hair back, forcing her deeper into the position.

“Say who owns you now,” he demanded.

“You…! You own me, Mr. Thorne…! I’m just your toy now… ahh! Harder… please…!” she cried, trembling uncontrollably.

Maia stepped forward silently, handing the whip back to Alaric.

Alaric smirked and lashed it lightly across her back, leaving thin red marks.

Seraphina screamed again as the sensation pushed her over the edge. Her body shook violently as she climaxed, completely overwhelmed.

Alaric didn’t stop. He continued relentlessly until, with a final deep thrust, he finished inside her.

He stepped back, leaving Seraphina collapsed on the table, completely spent.

Alaric looked at Maia, his breathing steadying.

“Clean her up. Put her in the downstairs guest room. Tomorrow morning, she can leave… if she can still walk.”

Maia nodded obediently, her green eyes gleaming with satisfaction.

“Yes, Master.”

Seraphina could only sob softly on the table, her body still trembling from everything she had just endured.