The bitch claims to be my cousin, but I’m not sure about that. There’s a long history of everyone trying to relate back their lineage to the most recent master, to present their blood as pure to the Witherborn line.

It doesn’t matter. I won’t be breeding with her, but she looks strong—an ideal candidate for pairing with a mainlander.

Parting ways, I retreat to my chambers, with Mary following like the devoted pet that she is. Once inside my room, I address her quietly. “Keep and eye and ear on Jasmine. Though she is still somewhat obedient, I’m still willing to nip the problem in the bud if she shows the slightest signs of defying me.”

“Yes, Master,” she mutters before walking into the hall with determined haste. I close the door behind her and lock it shut. It’s time for me to do some reconnaissance. I find the hidden switch and open the portal to my own world.

Though my grandfather died without making me the master, I still claimed his bedroom as my own, and that meant free-reign of the underhalls. When this expansion to the original castle was built, hundreds of years ago, the insane and paranoid Master made sure that he would be in complete control of the manor at all times. To that end, his room—and only his room—was used as the entrance way to secret halls, built between the rooms and halls of the manor proper. Nobody but the current master knew of the hallways, and it wasn’t until after I claimed the bedroom that I knew they even existed.

Stone corridors stretch in three directions. Glimmers of light shine against the walls every thirty feet or so, marking the spots where I can gaze into the inner workings of the manor. Most of the maids don’t even know these corridors exist, and the few counterexample wishes she didn’t. I reach the end of a long corridor and descend down the dark flight of stairs. At the bottom is a thick metal door, and behind it lie my most precious secrets. I open the door and enter.

Three former maids line the walls, blindfolded and gagged, completely bound with chains. These were my grandfather’s private pets, the final resting place for defiant maids and servants that could not be domesticated. Once they enter here, they can never leave alive, for they know too much about the manor they were born to serve.

The only one I recognize is the young one, a twenty-year old brunette that disappeared without a trace six months ago. Everybody in the manor thought that grandfather had her killed for disobedience, but it seems like he found a much better use for her.

The other two maids I don’t recognize at all, and I suspect they’ve been down here decades. One looks to be about forty-some years old, her . The other’s hair has gone completely white, but her body is still firm. My grandfather must have let them exercise and fed them well.

They almost died of starvation before I discovered these underhalls, but I’ve taken great care of them since then. Cum pools from their cunts onto the floor from the past few days. I need to take care of them while I have the chance. I undo their ballgags, one by one, and feed them like babies. I spoon the health food into their mouth, and put a glass of water to the lips to wash it down. They don’t even speak a word the entire time, no matter what I ask. The youngest almost answers but swallows her words, while the other two pretend not to hear me at all. What did my grandfather do to them that was so brutal? Do they even remember who they are, decades after spending a life in these tiny cells? I’ve been wondering a lot over the last week, but my concerns for their mental well-being don’t keep me from using what should be mine.

I crawl between the legs of the middle-aged woman and lick her cheek. She twitches, but then allows me free reign over her body. I caress her smooth, tight skin as a pump gently into her cunt, soon dumping my load. Her pleasure is none of my business.


Once my duties are done, I return upstairs to spy on my competitor. She’s bathing, and I can’t help but admire her body. I pause to savor the moment before returning to my chambers to take an afternoon nap—one of my favorite past times. I fall asleep with a hard-on, dreaming of what I will do to this Smythe woman once the game begins. My traps and schemes are already falling into place.