It was predictable, the storm of fury in his eyes. What was surprising was the small dash of regret. Where he had been rubbing her chest, his hand moved to a breast and began to roll and pinch the nipple until the soft pink darkened and the bud elongated under his fingers.

Of course he would fuck her again no matter how unappealing Claire found the idea. That was always his recourse for her mouth. That was his answer every time she was resistant or unhappy.

Lying still, too tired after hours of struggling to put up a fuss, she remained limp… ready to get it over with.

The other nipple received the same treatment; all the while Shepherd watched her with that calculating gaze. A thumb traced over her lips and dipped just a bit between them to play against the flat of her tongue. The growl was made, the aroma of her slick scented the air, and his free hand began to play with her pussy.

Shepherd pressed his chest to hers, growled low and deep once more, watching so very carefully.

She closed her eyes and chose to ignore him.

With his fingers coated in her slippery fluid, he began to speak. “In the Undercroft, I had my mother for so short a time, I hardly can remember her face. She died from the harsh use of many men.” A slippery finger slid to her puckered anus and Claire started. Shepherd slowly added pressure against her rectum, her breath catching at the uncomfortable cramp of that place being stretched. Wide eyes showed her distress. Claire reached down to grip the wrist of the offending limb, her complaint lost around the thumb still teasing her tongue.

When she had stilled, realizing he was not moving, not penetrating further, Claire watched him with absolute attention.

“As women never lasted long, prisoners took their pleasure from men in this way.” The probing finger slipped past Claire’s clenched ring. “Or by using the mouth of another. The beasts in that hole would howl in the dark as they gratified their bodies on the small and weak. The sounds of screams, of tortured begging—even the moans of those who took pleasure in such things—that’s the lullaby that lulled me to sleep every single night.”

The sensation he was creating was unpleasant, the tip of his finger wriggling. Claire tried to squirm but his weight was on her, and Shepherd growled again until more slick dripped down to coat what penetrated her rectum.

She whimpered.

“I was smaller than you are now the first time I was cornered. My back was to the wall, a man with sores on his face pulled out his member and reached for my throat. What he didn’t know, what nobody knew, was that my mother had whored herself for a knife. I shanked my attacker. During the struggle, I earned the scar across my lips that you in your estrous called beautiful.”