She Used Me for a Dare… Now I Own Her Mother Chapter 360: The Archive of Sin(2)

Stopping near the row's entrance, Jennifer let her fingers brush against the freezing, metallic spine of a massive bookcase. She cast a piercing gaze behind her, scanning the gloom of the corridor to ensure no insects or patrolling guards were watching.

Finding nothing but heavy, stagnant air and flickering shadows within the archives, she felt a thrill of illicit excitement.

She was entirely alone. No one had trailed her.

Turning back, she moved fully into the heart of the library's restricted section.

The environment struck her immediately; a thick, suffocating olfactory blend of decaying parchment, ancient leather, and cold stone enveloped her.

Illumination was dismal, reduced to a heavy gloom that stretched long, skeletal shadows across the floorboards. The shelves looked like the ribcage of some colossal, long-dead creature.

As she ventured deeper, the stillness became absolute, disturbed only by the rhythmic, faint creaking of boards under her heels.

Jennifer took a long, deep breath, allowing the parched air to fill her lungs.

"Master certainly chose the perfect location," she mused, a shiver of dark appreciation tracing her spine.

It was essentially a tomb for those still breathing. Here, screams would vanish into layers of ancient paper, isolated from a world defined by pathetic norms, grades, and trivial rules. Deep within the library’s belly, only his will and her total submission held any significance.

She followed the movement of the shadows, her heart hammering a frantic rhythm. Suddenly, she caught the scent—a sharp, unmistakable mixture of salt and heat piercing the musty archive air.

The further she moved, the more the air seemed to thrum with a heavy, restless energy. She was moments away from him, her pulse drumming in her ears, when a sharp, visceral sound sliced through the silence.

"Ghk—glrk! Cough... cough!"

The sound was raw, wet, and desperate—it was clearly someone gagging while struggling to breathe.

Jennifer froze mid-stride, her body snapping into a state of alert. Her gaze narrowed, darting into the murky darkness between the massive mahogany shelves.

"What was that?" she wondered, confusion flickering across her features.

She had assumed she would find him alone, perhaps lounging on a chair or leaning against the shelves with his usual regal arrogance.

For a fleeting second, she contemplated the possibility that some annoying bugs had wandered into this private territory.

The very idea sent a surge of hot, jagged fury through her blood. Her jaw tightened; the thought that some bottom-feeding student might be present, potentially ruining her long-awaited moment with her Master, was an insult she could barely endure.

Her time with him was sacred, and she felt ready to dismantle anyone foolish enough to breach her sanctuary.

Just as she prepared to rush forward, the voice pierced the darkness again.

"Ghk—glrk! Cough... hhh..."

It was the same raw expression of respiratory struggle, but this time, it followed with a fractured, feverish plea that stopped Jennifer dead.

"Sir... please... I want it... give it to me..."

The voice was feminine, high-pitched, and laden with agonizing desperation. Jennifer felt her breath hitch.

The reality hit her instantly. It wasn't the sound of an intruder being caught; it was the noise of a servant being satisfied.

A cold, serrated blade of jealousy cut deep into her chest, causing her heart to slam against her ribs.

"Did Master bring some other bitch here?" The thought turned her vision red for a brief moment. She was his—she alone deserved his focus, his cruelty, and his presence. The realization that someone else knelt where she belonged made her want to scream.

Yet, she suppressed the urge. She inhaled sharply, the freezing archive air chilling her throat as she reigned in her impulse to lash out.

She was far above a petty outburst. Recomposing her features into a mask of cold, calculated indifference, her eyes remained fixed and lethal.

She didn't stop, nor did she retreat. If anything, the sound of someone else’s desperation drove her forward faster.

She needed to see who was failing to satisfy him; she needed to identify the person occupying her place.

Rounding the final set of shelves, her heels silent on the worn carpet, the scene finally revealed itself.

Bathed in a dim, amber light, she saw Alex leaning back against the shelves, his hands tangled in the hair of two girls who lay like broken dolls at his feet.

Jennifer’s breath caught, not out of horror, but due to a sudden spike of territorial hunger.

"Good girls," Alex growled, his voice a low, gravelly vibration that caused the floorboards to hum.

With a sudden, sharp thrust of his hips, he pulled away.

Jennifer watched with wide, unblinking eyes as he finished, his release landing with rhythmic, forceful precision. Thick, white ropes of his essence splattered across their upturned faces, coating one girl’s flushed cheeks and the trembling lips of the other.

It was visceral and messy—a total, public branding of his property.

One girl let out a soft, whimpering moan as she felt his residual heat, her eyes rolling back into a trance of total, exhausted submission.

The other didn't move; she remained with her head tilted back, wearing the evidence of her 'sin' like a medal, her chest heaving as she fought for air.

Jennifer felt a surge of heat so intense it made her lightheaded. She took in every shudder, every drop, and every desperate look of longing on their faces. They weren't merely serving him; they were being utterly consumed.

A cold, triumphant smirk spread across Jennifer’s lips. She felt no disgust, nor pity. Instead, a jagged, competitive fire burned within her. They were merely the appetizers, the entertainment—she, however, was the main course.

Emerging from the shadows into the dusty, dim light, the sharp clack of her heels finally shattered the silence.

"A bit messy for a library, isn't it, Master?" she purred, her gaze fixed on the two ruined figures. "Though I suppose some bitches never learn how to properly swallow what they're given."

The archives' silence was shattered as the two girls on the floor scrambled upright at the sound of her voice. Their eyes, already glazed with exhaustion, widened in sheer, paralyzing shock.

Madison and Emma stared at her, their hearts pounding. They recognized that face immediately.

Jennifer was the campus's ice queen, a girl who moved through their elite circles with effortless, terrifying superiority.

Being caught in such a state—marked, ruined, and kneeling—by her was a nightmare they never anticipated.

But the title she used hit them even harder.

Master.

The word hung in the heavy, stagnant air like a physical weight. Madison and Emma snapped their heads toward Alex with a synchronized, frantic motion.

Their eyes searched his face for any hint of surprise or confusion, but found none.

Alex showed no shock. He didn't even shift his posture. He merely looked down at the two girls, dark amusement dancing in his eyes.

"Madison, Emma... meet Jennifer," Alex murmured, his voice a low, vibrating growl of approval. "She is the one I mentioned to you."

Jennifer didn't wait for an invite. With fluid, practiced precision, she shrugged off her expensive coat, tossing it carelessly onto a stack of books. She strode into the center of the row, her heels clicking with finality before she dropped to her knees between the two trembling girls.

She didn't glance at Alex yet. Instead, she fixed her gaze on Madison and Emma, her lip curling in a sneer of calculated disdain.

"You both look pathetic," Jennifer whispered, her voice cutting through the gloom. "Look at this mess. You have squandered so much of what he gave you. You clearly lack appreciation for the value of what is sitting right in front of you."

She paused, her gaze flickering over their marked skin, before a cruel, hollow smile touched her lips.

"Still, I suppose I owe you some thanks," she added, her tone dripping in mock-gratitude. "Thank you for tending to my Master while I was occupied. You were such… dedicated little seat-fillers."

Then, she pivoted to Alex. Her icy mask vanished instantly, replaced by a look of starving, raw devotion. Gazing up at him, her chest heaving, her eyes pleaded for the only thing that mattered.

"Master," she breathed, her voice dropping into a register of total submission. "Please... may I?"