The doors opened again.
Four stepped through this time.
Lord Garvin Tolemar strode in first, cloaked in crimson and dripping entitlement. His regal jaw twitched beneath a well-trimmed beard, but his eyes immediately locked on the candle-lit dais—and froze. The moaning bodies suspended in shame. The scent of cum, wax, and humiliation that clung to the air like perfume.
Behind him followed Lady Meris, a striking woman with silver-blonde hair and the brittle poise of someone who knew her world was ending but didn't yet accept it. Her hand trembled slightly at her side.
Then came the sons—Kellen and Kaedric.
Twins.
Twenty years old, clad in tailored tunics that clung to their well-sculpted frames. They moved like they were still at a royal ball, chins high, boots clicking with precision—until they saw the hanging figures, the naked bodies, the branded shame leaking wax onto the floor.
Kellen's smirk faltered. Kaedric's brows drew together, confused and angry.
