Martian grabbed his cr*tch as if to crush it, causing him to double over like a shrimp, screaming.

“Aaagh! Aaagh! Please, p-please let go…”

“Do I sound like I’m joking? Just because this brothel has got a bit bigger doesn’t mean you should get c*cky. Stay in your lane or you’ll end up with no balls and no money.”

When she let go, the manager collapsed to the floor, tears streaming down his face.

She had pulled so hard that he would have trouble walking properly for a while.

Without a glance at him, Martian stepped over the groaning manager and entered the building.

This place was so familiar to her that it was almost as comfortable as her own villa.

Once in the room prepared for her, she washed up and waited.

The manager, when he came to his senses, would send someone to her taste.

Walking down a familiar path, she looked back.

Ron was following her.

“Watch carefully today. I’ll ask you about it later.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

came the belated, hesitant reply.

His face, still devoid of emotion, looked as impassive as ever, but there was a subtle difference in his demeanour.

He was clearly nervous and flustered.

After all, she had never let him witness her interactions with others so openly.

Although Martian often chose partners on a whim and sometimes brought them back to the Manor, she had never involved more than one partner at a time.

‘He needs to realise what he’s lacking…’

Martian thought as she walked away.

No matter how carefully she had trained him to her liking, a lover who wasn’t loving or couldn’t be charming was hard to love in the end.

The rooms of Moonlight House were as familiar to her as her own bedroom.

She came here at least once or twice a week.

After some time away under the guise of ‘reflection’, the familiarity felt almost stronger.

Feeling strangely relieved, she walked towards the bed.

Her clothes fell off one by one.

When she reached the bed, she was completely n*ked.

A neatly folded robe lay on the bed and she wrapped it loosely around her.

“Ron.”

At her call, Ron stopped awkwardly.

His hands were full of the clothes she had just removed.

Seeing him still performing the duties of a servant, even here, Martian clicked her tongue.

“Today you’re invisible. Don’t move. Don’t make a sound. Stick to the wall.”

Just as Martian lay down on the bed and started to get bored, the door opened and someone entered.

The first thing she saw was pale skin and a toned body.

Next came lush, thick blonde hair and similarly coloured p*bic hair.

Finally, a blindfold that covered half of his face.

Under the blindfold, bandages were carefully wrapped around his eyes, completely blocking his vision.

The blindfolded man had managed to enter the room, but stood frozen.

Martian watched him, muttering to himself.

“That bastard manager must have done it on purpose.”

Among the nobles who frequented the Moonlight House, some sought to indulge their tastes discreetly.

For such customers, the establishment provided pr*stitutes or courtesans who could satisfy these hidden desires.

This was very different from being introduced to a suitable partner.

The man, his face half covered by a blindfold and bandages, was clearly a nobleman.

The way his body was groomed and the natural upright posture gave it away.

‘He’s probably here to be trampled by a pr*stitute…’

Why he had been sent to her room was a mystery.

Martian rose and walked towards him.

A pendant with the name ‘Hugh’ was dangling from a collar around his neck.

She ran her eyes slowly down his meticulously groomed body, then lightly tapped the flaccid p*nis hanging between his legs.

The man, perhaps interpreting the touch as a signal, hesitated before speaking.

“I’m Hugh, mistress.”

Martian paused for a moment.

If she sent him away, claiming it was a mistake, that would be the end of it.

But the man’s appearance was far too much for her.

It was almost as if the manager had deliberately sent him to tempt her.

Her hesitation was interrupted by the man’s plea.

“I… ngh, I’m already hard, mistress.”

Apparently unaware that he had entered the wrong room, the man dropped to his knees and spread his legs.

His p*nis were completely exposed between them.

“Here… ugh… please, trample me.”

He fumbled with his half-*rect p*nis as he spoke.

The more vulgar his words became, the harder he became.

‘He gets off on being trampled, huh?’

From Martian’s point of view, it was an unexpectedly charming temptation.

The man held his c*ck in his hand and lifted his face blindly into the air.

His appearance – so shamelessly flaunted – was crude, obscene and yet stupidly innocent.

Martian let out an unintentional sigh.

It was as if she had been presented with a perfectly prepared feast while trying to suppress her hunger.

She fought to keep her sanity, but it wasn’t easy.

‘I should just send him away…’

Nobles, even when submissive, remained fundamentally self-centred.

Even when they acted sweet and submissive, they ultimately expected their desires to be fulfilled.

Martians despised this kind of selfish nature and often became harsher as a result.

Those who bought pr*stitutes to satisfy their urges were, of course, full of the same self-centredness.

She knew instinctively that this man was not a good match for her.

“Mistress, hurry…”

The man pleaded again.

Though his behaviour was so obscene that he could hardly be recognised as a noble, he pressed for satisfaction the moment things didn’t go his way.

Impatient, putting his own desires first – typical of such ‘dogs’.

The problem was that even this attitude aroused her.

The man, blindfolded and defenceless, was particularly vulnerable to violence and sadism.

The thought of overpowering him, making him cry and beg in terror, made her lower abdomen clench involuntarily.

Without thinking, Martian reached out and caressed his cheek.

His skin was smooth and soft under her fingers.

“Mistress,”

He trembled slightly with excitement as he spoke.

There was no fear or nervousness in his manner – only anticipation.

After all, when you bought a pr*stitute for such a game, it was natural to expect to get exactly what you wanted.

The pr*stitutes who served the masochistic nobles were always extremely cautious.

Most of the time, the nobles themselves would say vulgar things to excite themselves, and the pr*stitutes would verbally shame them and delay their responses slightly, adding to the humiliation by words alone.

None of them ever used real violence.

None of them had ever really hit this man hard enough to leave bruises on his snow-white skin.

Feeling her sadistic urges boiling, Martian spoke coldly.

“I haven’t even kicked you yet and your d*ck is already hard?

What have I done? Just thinking about it makes you ready to come, doesn’t it?”

The man flinched at her words.

The cheek she was caressing grew hotter – he was aroused by the shame.

Watching, Martian licked his lips.

The man moved closer.

“N-no, mistress. Please, ngh, hurry, hngh, step on me.

I want to c*m from being trampled.”

Trampling c*cks and balls was nothing new to her.

She had done it countless times.

But Martian had no intention of complying with his request.

She was the master in this room.

Even when she called her master, this dog dared to make demands.

Unacceptable.

Without hesitation, Martian slapped him hard across the face.

The blow was so sudden that the man didn’t even manage a proper cry.

“A lowly dog making demands…Where did you pick up such bad habits?”

Without mercy, she slapped him again.

A loud slap echoed through the room.

Slapping the face was the most humiliating form of corporal punishment.

In the Moonlight House, such slaps were strictly forbidden unless the client specifically requested them – insulting a noble without permission could result in death.

This was certainly a first for the man.

Watching him freeze in shock, Martian felt a rush of satisfaction.

She kicked him lightly on the inside of his thigh and spoke.

“You should be thanking me. You’re not that stupid, are you?”

“Ngh, t-that’s…”

“And who do you think you are, talking back?”

Martian grabbed his hair and pulled his head roughly.

It was common for newcomers to lose their concentration when confronted with real violence for the first time.

Even among those who came begging to be their ‘dogs’, many broke at this point.

Martians knew exactly how to handle them.

A strong shock early on usually brought them quickly into line.

Resistance was simply crushed with more force.

And this man, blindfolded and wrapped in bandages, couldn’t even see what was happening.

She pulled at his hair again, cursing him for being “a dog in heat who can’t even recognise his master”, until a frightened whimper escaped his lips.

“Ngh, wh-what, hngh, are you…”

As he tried to speak, Martian pressed her boot firmly into his cr*tch, just as he had so vulgarly demanded.

“Ugh, hngh, haah!”

Like all those who hid behind the mask of role-playing, he was weak to real stimulation.

Shock and humiliation were quickly drowned out by excitement.

All that remained was a deep blush of excitement.

“A dog trying to act like a man, uh? If you’d just acted like the dog you are, I’d have been a lot nicer to you.”

“Hngh, aah, ngh… it h-hurts, ngh… but, it feels, ngh, good, haah!”

Martian ground her boot harder into his c*ck, ignoring his whimpering.

The more he screamed, the harder it became.

With a hard stomp, she crushed it even more brutally, making him hiccup with a choked moan.

The sounds of pure, unfiltered pain and pleasure – they were just what she loved.

Every sense – touch, sight, hearing – was utterly delighted.

“Hurts, huh? Funny, your c*ck seems to love it.”