Page 8 of The Monster I Am

He deserved this.

Rhys, on the other hand, deserved only pain of his own, the sort of torture that would surely be inflicted upon the slave when he’d had his fill of him.

It ached.

He started to thrust, and each time, the slave rewarded him with another sound. Gods, he was perfection. Surely it would be worth it to have this sort of human to come home to in the evenings? It would help him keep up appearances, then he’d only have to torment one human at these parties instead of choosing from Russell’s stock.

Wouldn’t it be a mercy, in so many ways?

He bit his lip, fucking the slave harder as he dug his fingernails into his skin hard enough to draw blood. With every thrust he gave, the slave fucked back against him, that divine hole squeezing around his cock.

Fuck.

He picked up the pace, and some of the beads of blood began to trickle down his skin. It marred the design, but that was fine, because he was almost finished. Just a few more strokes⁠—

Before he could find his own completion, the slave let out a loud cry, and he reached around just in time to feel cum all over his fingertips as he grasped the slave’s hard cock. He’d come untouched. He’d come simply from the pain, from being fucked.

Gods, Rhys wasn’t going to be able to let him go.

He stroked the slave through his climax, fucking him harder until he was burying himself deep in his ass and coming so hard he saw stars.

Who knew that a sadist like him could get off so hard from fucking someone who got off on it, too? Someone who⁠—

He didn’t want it, you fucking asshole.

He stayed buried inside of the slave as he fought to catch his breath, and it was only when he began to soften that he withdrew with reluctance. He patted the slave on the shoulder. This was going to be it for him.

This was going to be such a waste.

No. No, he couldn’t do it. He couldn’t leave this beauty to a certain death.

Fuck the money. Fuck what the others thought. Fuck what this could do to⁠—

His mission.

He had a mission. He could ruin everything by taking a slave and potentially being seen to be too soft on him.

But Dominic had hinted so strongly that Rhys should take him, and he used pleasure as a weapon against the very slave Rhys was there to keep an eye on. If the Bancroft witch could do as much, surely Rhys could as well.

He closed his eyes, thinking furiously.

Finally, he tucked his cock back into his pants, exhaling slowly, shakily. “I’ll be right back,” he told Alastair, whose eyes were glittering greedily as he watched the slave. “If you’d be so kind, make sure no one touches him before I speak to Russell.”

Alastair’s expression soured with irritation at the request. “Sure,” he said. “I want a go at him, though.”

Rhys gave him a hard stare. “We’ll see.” Then he turned to find Russell.

He was taking this slave home. One way or another, he’d make the human his.

Russell gave Rhys a puzzled look when he approached. “Yeah?” the slaver asked.

Rhys gestured in the direction of the slave. “The masochist. How much?” No sense in beating around the bush. He would have him.

Russell frowned at him, glancing towards the slave and then back at Rhys. “He’s already paid for.”

Rhys’s heart dropped into his stomach. Had someone beat him to it?

“I told Dominic I’d send you the ownership papers after the party,” the slaver continued.