She pressed down hard on one of his t*sticles with the toe of her shoe.

The muscles in his thighs shook violently with the tension.

His g*nitals, crushed and rubbed raw, blushed an angry red.

“Hnngh, haah, haah, hngh, hmpf-“

The man gasped, shaking from the waist down.

Finally, Martian grabbed his hair and lifted his head.

His prominent Adam’s apple bobbed erotically as he gasped for breath.

It made her want to press down and strangle him, just to watch him move.

Now was not the time.

She suppressed her desire and placed her hand gently on his cheek.

Even the slightest touch made him jump and stiffen.

An instinctive rejection.

Despite his *rousal, his pride hadn’t been completely broken yet.

Martian noted this with faint amusement and then, without hesitation, slapped him again.

All the while, her boot continued to grind mercilessly into his cr*tch.

His body had already learned to register pain as pleasure.

No matter how instinctively he flinched, his *rection betrayed him.

Martian was going to break every last bit of resistance.

“Say thank you.”

“Hngh, h-hngh, hmpf-“

Martian dragged the front of her boot across his perineum, pressing hard into one of his t*sticles.

His hips shook violently.

Another slap across the face.

This time there was no struggle.

He was too overwhelmed by the stimulation ravaging his body.

Martian concentrated meticulously on stamping and grinding into his cr*tch.

She knew exactly where to kick, how hard to press, to mix pleasure and pain perfectly.

Her former partners had always craved her skilful cruelty, even when they cried out in pain.

The man was sobbing and shaking when Martian finally stopped.

Her boot, her hand – both ceased their attack at once.

“Hngh, ahh—”

Just before he could climax, overwhelmed by the torturous stimulation, he instinctively reached down with his own hand.

His cheeks were burning and swollen from all the slapping, but he didn’t care.

He just wanted to grab himself and finish.

Just then, Martian stomped down hard on his thigh with the heel of her boot.

“Aaagh!”

The sharp pain made him twist and jerk violently, his *rousal instantly interrupted.

“Where do you think you’re touching? Do you want me to drive a stake through your skull? Or maybe tie up that useless c*ck?”

“Hngh, haah, ngh…”

“You think that thing is yours? If you’re going to act like this, why do you bother calling me Mistress?”

Grabbing his c*ck roughly, Martian demanded,

“Answer me. Is it yours?”

When he hesitated and did not answer, she slapped him hard across the face again.

“I asked you…Is it. Is it. Yours?”

“Hngh, huff… no. Ngh, no, mistress.”

“But when you are aroused, do you try to come without permission?”

Martian pushed back the skin of his c*ck as she asked.

When the man hesitated to answer, she crushed the tip of his gl*ns with her fingers.

“Hngh, aaah, ngh, ahhh!”

He cried out in high, broken moans, but his *rection refused to subside.

Sitting with his legs spread and shaking, he looked as if he didn’t even mind having something inserted into his urethra – be it a rod or anything else – which was perversely stimulating.

“You’d look pretty jerking off with something stuck in you.”

As she teased the tip of his gl*ns as she spoke, his c*ck grew even harder.

He was obviously aroused just by imagining what she was saying.

Even his ears turned red with shame.

Martian let out a short, delighted laugh.

“I bet even the male pr*stitutes at the Moonlight House act more like nobles than you do. Why not just live off selling your body?”

The harsh humiliation made the man reflexively raise his head.

It was an instinctive reaction, not a real act of rebellion.

Any noble born and bred would naturally flinch at such insults.

But Martian wasn’t inclined to overlook even that.

“What? Does the truth bother you? Don’t you want to be a dog anymore?”

“N-no, mistress.”

Martian withdrew her hand and stood up.

Alarmed, the man crawled closer to her.

“M-Mistress?”

“Who’s your mistress? I don’t need a dog like you. I’ll get someone else – a real ‘master’ who’ll give you exactly what you want.”

By “someone else” she meant one of the pr*stitutes at Moonlight House.

Whoever he had originally planned to meet.

But now he would no longer find satisfaction in such superficial encounters.

Predictable domination was little more than self-gratification.

It wasn’t what true masochists craved.

As expected, the man quickly tried to stop her.

“N-no! Please, not someone else—only you, Mistress!”

Hearing him dismiss the idea so easily made Martian smile slightly.

Those who frequented brothels like this, seeking only their own gratification, always acted that way.

They demanded what they wanted without shame and felt entitled to refuse what they didn’t like.

But now…

he would have to learn to submit.

When Martian didn’t answer, the man, blindfolded and unable to see, crawled desperately towards her, groping the floor with his hands.

Martian watched his pitiful performance for a long moment.

“Hugh.”

“Y-yes, ngh, yes, mistress.”

He froze, turning his head towards her voice.

Martian was approaching.

His c*ck was swollen, dark red and angry – clearly ready to explode.

‘Looks like he’s about to c*m already.’

She grabbed a handful of his hair, making him gasp, and dragged him over to the sofa.

Then she sat down and spread her legs as if it was the most natural thing in the world.

His face was between her legs.

“I don’t need a dog to come before its master. You’re only worth loving when you’re useful, aren’t you?”

The man began to lick her awkwardly.

Wet sounds filled the room, but he clearly had no experience of serving anyone in this way.

Frustrated by the lack of skill, Martian lifted her foot and pushed him backwards.

“You’re nothing but a mutt who knows how to get hard but not how to use his tongue. At this rate, you won’t be able to come all night.”

The man, thrown off balance, didn’t know what to do.

It was probably the first time he had ever been treated like this.

Had he ever been denied an *rgasm in this way?

“Hngh, ngh… I can’t take it anymore. Please, Mistress, ngh…”

His desperate whimper made Martian smile with satisfaction.

“If you want to come, start by thanking me properly for earlier.”

She placed her hand on his cheek, reminding him of what he had forgotten.

His skin burned hot – it would certainly bruise tomorrow.

The visible marks of cruelty always excited her.

They made her want to push him further.

She urged him again.

“Say it. Thank me for beating you, you arrogant little dog.”

His lips wavered.

Martian smiled at his stubbornness.

Anyone could see that he was wildly excited.

Only his noble pride held him back.

Deciding to be even tougher, she wrapped her hand around his throat.

Pressing firmly against his Adam’s apple, she expertly cut off his air supply.

His breathing became rapid and ragged.

“If you anger your master, you’re the only one who suffers.”

“Hngh… ngh…”

“Now. Say it.”

By making it clear that he was being forced to say it, she gave him a mental way out -he could tell himself later that he only said it because he was suffocating, because he had no choice.

His bare chest heaved violently.

He swallowed hard, several times, then finally opened his mouth with difficulty.

“Th-thank you, ngh… f-for beating, ngh, that arrogant dog. Thank you, mistress.”

Martian let out a small laugh and released his throat.

The moment she let go, sperm burst from the man’s c*ck.

It was a spectacular *jaculation.

***

Martian never bothered to confirm Hugh’s true identity.

Although the night had been immensely satisfying, she wanted to avoid any troublesome entanglements.

She usually never dealt with partners who tried to hide their tastes.

Those types, unaccustomed to having their deepest selves exposed, often fell into a dangerous delusion after their first real experience.

They believed they had found their ‘lover’.

A delusion that all too often became an obsession.

If she hadn’t had a title and ruled over her estate, and if the Doan viscountcy didn’t have its own long traditions, Martian might now have been forced into marriage – forced to play the role of someone else’s wife. forced to play the role of someone’s “mistress” for their pleasure.

Martian was loyal to her own desires, but she despised the unpleasant consequences of them. So she was content to enjoy a single night.

Striking pale skin and making her partners cry was pleasure enough for the moment.

Even if a mate wasn’t quite to her taste, there were always plenty of dogs willing to cry under her.

Because she was late returning from Moonlight House, Martian delayed her breakfast. But of course she couldn’t stay idle forever.

When she woke up later, she called for Ron.

She leaned back against the headboard and mentally reviewed the day’s events, Ron came in with a damp cloth and began to wipe her face.

The familiar, skilful touch was extremely reassuring. He wiped carefully around her neck and behind her ears, massaging lightly as he went.

Under his hands, Martian let out a lazy sigh. When he reached her collarbone and began to massage gently, she asked:

“How was yesterday? Did you learn anything from watching?”

Ron’s hand froze in mid-movement. Martian continued to press.

“Did you understand why I took you there?”

“Yes.”

And that was all he said.

His face was as expressionless as ever, and his manner hadn’t changed at all, which made Martian furrow her brow. It was easy to subdue an arrogant dog. But to make a dull, emotionless dog loving and charming -that was much harder. No, not hard, just boring.

The former simply required triggering their existing instincts.

But the latter required trying to change someone’s nature.

Naturally, this frustrated them.

“No, you don’t understand.”

At her words, Ron hesitated as if to speak, but soon knelt silently by the bed.

“I have failed you, Viscount.”

“Failed me at what?”

“I failed to live up to your expectations…”

“My expectations? What expectations did I ever have of you?”

Martian, sitting on the edge of the bed, placed her foot between Ron’s thighs.

As she pressed down with her foot, his body stiffened. She leaned forward and grabbed his chin.

“Ron, don’t you know what your role is?”

“I am… your concubine, Viscount.”

“Then you should act accordingly.”

If he knew his place, he should at least wag his tail,

or at least call her ‘mistress’.