The great hall of the Obsidian Spire thrummed with a silence so absolute it felt like the stones themselves were holding their breath. Torchlight danced across the marble altar at the center, where Aiden stood like a god carved from shadow and sin—tall, bare-chested, his cock still glistening from the last noblewoman he had claimed.
Around the perimeter, the enchanted mirrors that had once hidden the husbands shimmered once, twice, then dissolved into glittering dust.
Every chained husband was suddenly, brutally visible.
A collective gasp rippled through the assembled noblewomen. Some clutched their throats in horror. Others—far more—moaned openly, thighs clenching at the sight of their once-proud lords reduced to naked, collared figures bolted to iron rings in the floor.
Tear-streaked faces, cocks straining uselessly against enchanted cock-rings that prevented release, mouths still gagged until Aiden raised one lazy hand and whispered a single word.
"Speak."
