is a dish better served while breeding...

Stefano’s new office already smelled like a fucking brothel.

"Hmmmph!"

Sunlight streamed through frosted glass walls, casting geometric patterns across the polished desk where museum paperwork should have been—had Emma not swept it all aside to make room for her worship.

*Shluck!*

*Shluck*

*Shluck!*

The Filipina trainee knelt between his spread thighs, the exotic beauty's lithe body bare beneath the open blouse of her discarded uniform, glossy black hair spilling over his lap as she swallowed his cock with the devotion of a zealot.

Her violet-pink serpent tattoo pulsed with each bob of the exotic beauty's head, the mark of his corruption glowing faintly against her golden skin.

"Good girl," Stefano purred, fingers tightening in her hair, guiding her rhythm.

Emma moaned around his girth, the young woman's free hand working between her own thighs, three fingers plunging into her dripping cunt with obscene wetness. The sound of her arousal—her need—echoed off the soundproofed walls, a private symphony of submission.

"Don't forget to clean my balls...I'm having a special guest today."

She only hummed against his throbbing shaft, the slender cumslut was too cockdrunk to understand anything beyond servicing her master's raging boner.

Stefano's deep baritone burned with ambition,

"What a productive day..."

The Osiris Gambit – The Archivist’s Fall

The heavy oak door of Stefano’s new office clicked shut behind Emma, the Filipina trainee once-pristine pencil skirt still clinging to her cum-slick thighs as she limped out, her **** training complete. The young woman's lithe fingers still absently tracing the sticky remnants of her master’s creamy load on her lips.

Alone now, Stefano leaned back in his leather chair, the Osiris Ring pulsing faintly against his finger. The game was far from over.

A sharp knock echoed through the room.

“Come in.”

The door swung open, and there she stood—Veronica Moretti, Chief Curator of the Egyptian Museum, her towering frame silhouetted against the dim hallway lights.

"Are the rumours true? I swear Emma was limping after leaving his... A-And that white stuff on her lips, it can't be..." A mental echo, it seemed Stefano's corrupt influence was catching on.

At fifty-eight, she carried herself with the effortless grace of a woman who had spent decades bending academia to her will. Her fitted navy blazer hugged her still-voluptuous curves, the silk blouse beneath it straining slightly over her full breasts. Her white hair—always her most striking feature—was pulled back into a severe chignon, the kind that had intimidated generations of graduate students. Only the faint creases around her sharp green eyes and the delicate veins on the backs of her hands betrayed her age.

“Stefano.” Her smoky contralto was cool, clipped. “You requested my presence.”

Stefano smirked, steepling his fingers. “Veronica. Still as regal as ever.” He gestured to the chair across from him. “Sit.”

She didn’t move. “I’d prefer to stand.”

“Of course you would.” His grin widened. “Always so stubborn.”

Veronica’s jaw tightened. “If this is about the Etruscan collection—”

“It’s not.”

Stefano reached into his desk drawer and slid a thick manila folder across the polished surface. It landed with a damning thud at the edge. Veronica’s gaze flicked down, her breath hitching almost imperceptibly as she recognized the embossed seal of the museum’s financial oversight committee.

“Open it,” Stefano purred.

Her fingers—steady, always steady—brushed the cover. The first page was a ledger, rows upon rows of numbers, dates, and initials. Her initials. Enrico Montanelli’s initials.

“This is—”

“Proof?” Stefano tilted his head. “Yes. It is.”

Veronica’s composure cracked. Just a hairline fracture, but enough. “Where did you get this?”

“Does it matter?” He leaned forward, his golden eyes locking onto hers. “You betrayed me once, Veronica. Now, you’ll pay for it.”

She scoffed, but her fingers trembled against the paper. “You’re still bitter about that thesis? After all these years?”

“Oh, professore,” Stefano chuckled darkly, rising from his chair. “This isn’t about the thesis. It’s about loyalty.”

He circled her like a predator, his voice dropping to a whisper. “You chose Enrico over me. You let him ruin my career before it even began. And now?” His fingers brushed the nape of her neck, making her stiffen. “Now, I have you.”

Veronica spun to face him, her green eyes blazing. “You have nothing.”

Stefano’s grin turned feral. “Don’t I?”

With a flick of his wrist, he twisted the Osiris Ring.

Veronica gasped as the dark energy washed over her, her body locking in place, her mind flooded with heat.

“W-What—?”

“You feel it, don’t you?” Stefano’s voice was velvet-wrapped steel. “The pull. The need.”

Veronica’s breath came faster, her nipples pebbling beneath her blouse, her thighs pressing together involuntarily.

“N-No—”

“Yes.”

His hand gripped her chin, forcing her to meet his gaze. “You’ve spent your life controlling everyone around you. But tonight?” His thumb brushed her lower lip. “Tonight, I control you.”

Veronica whimpered, her body betraying her as her hips rocked forward, seeking friction.

Stefano laughed, low and dark. “On your knees, professore.”

The command lanced through her, the ring’s power forcing her obedience. Her legs buckled, her knees hitting the plush carpet with a thud.

“G-Good girl,” Stefano purred, his fingers tangling in her pristine white hair. “Now. Open.”

Veronica’s lips parted, her breath hitching as Stefano freed his cock, already hard and glistening with pre-cum.

“L-Look at you,” she whispered, her voice trembling. “Still the same arrogant boy.”

“And yet,” Stefano mused, slapping his length against her cheek, leaving a sticky trail, “you’re the one on your knees.”

With a snarl, he gripped her hair and shoved forward.

Veronica gagged as his cock plunged into her throat, her eyes watering, her nails digging into his thighs.

“D-Deeper,” Stefano growled, his hips pumping relentlessly. “Take it all, professore.”

She choked, her throat clenching around him, her body fighting even as her arousal drenched her thighs.

Stefano groaned, his free hand groping her breast through her blouse, his fingers pinching her nipple ruthlessly. “F-Fuck—you’re tight—!”

Veronica’s moans vibrated around him, her humiliation fueling his lust.

“You betrayed me,” he hissed, yanking her head back by her hair, his cock sliding out with a wet pop. “You ruined me.”

“Y-Yes—” she panted, her lips swollen, her mascara smudged.

“And now,” Stefano grinned, slapping his cock against her face again, smearing pre-cum over her flushed skin, “you’ll beg for my forgiveness.”

Veronica’s breath hitched, her guilt and lust colliding in a volatile mix.

“P-Please—”

“Louder.”

“PLEASE!”

Stefano roared, his seed erupting across her face, stripes of white painting her cheeks, her lips, her eyelids.

Veronica trembled, her body thrumming with degraded pleasure.

And as Stefano leaned down, his lips brushing her ear, he whispered the words that would seal her fate:

“This is only the beginning, professore.”