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Have you learned your lesson?

Author: Cra4writes
last update Huling Na-update: 2024-10-19 12:20:04

Sherry was staring at Dallion, listening to his serious words about the plants in front of them. The topic had shifted from the weeds to the plants she had mistakenly pulled out. There was a certain earnestness in his voice, as if he had planted them himself. Narcissist, she thought.

This was her punishment, but here he was, crouching next to her, though in far better condition. Her drenched clothes clung to her body, heavy with moisture, and she felt like she was freezing in the middle of winter. She glanced at his muddy hands, which were busy replanting the uprooted plant. "Did you get it?" he asked, flicking his hand across her forehead, sending specks of mud onto her nose. "Stop daydreaming and staring at me. I know I’m handsome."

Narcissist man, Sherry thought again, only to see Dallion narrow his eyes as if he had heard her. Could he read her mind? She gulped when his intense gaze didn’t leave her face.

"I apologize for my rudeness," she said, ducking her head, wishing his hand would move away. It was better to have him keep his distance—anything to avoid further punishment.

"Why does it feel like your apology is not sincere?" He tipped his head. Rising from his crouched position, he stood tall, looking down at her. "Don’t try to play me, little mouse. I can sense a lie a mile away."

"I wouldn’t dare," Sherry replied, keeping her voice calm and submissive.

"Look at your hand, clutching the dirt beside you," he said, pointing out how tense she was. "Passive-aggressive much? Did you know that seventy-four percent of passive-aggressive people are more likely to kill someone than those who are outright expressive? They’re the ones to watch out for, bottling up their anger until it explodes." He tapped the side of his temple.

Was he implying she’d kill him one day? Maybe she would, Sherry mused to herself, considering how he'd dragged her out here in the rain. Dallion’s grin widened, making her heart skip a beat—but not for romantic reasons.

"Are you thinking that I deserve what’s coming, huh?" he said, and her eyes widened at how accurately he’d guessed her thoughts. "I should probably kill you right now. You’d make great fertilizer for the plants you so brutally tore out." He stepped closer to her, and Sherry backed away, falling flat on the muddy ground.

"I didn’t mean to offend you, Dallion," she stammered, fear starting to set in. He crouched back down, but this time, he was facing her. The glint in his eyes made her heart race—he seemed to enjoy her fear.

"Everyone says that," he murmured, his voice low and dangerous. "But don’t worry, little mouse. I’ll make it quick." When his hand reached for her, Sherry instinctively closed her eyes, bracing herself for what was to come. "Not only did you tear up the plants, but you got me involved. A peasant making her master do her work," he scoffed.

"You were educating me," she blurted out, eyes still shut. "I’ll do anything, please!"

"Anything is vague," he mused. "Would you dedicate your life to serving me?"

"Yes!" she answered like an arrow released from a bow.

"You’ll never disobey me? Full sentences, Sherry. My patience is limited," he said with a tut, clearly enjoying her desperation. Sherry knew better than to test him—his earlier threat felt far too real.

Silence stretched between them, heavy and suffocating. When she felt the heat from his hand near her cheek, she gulped. Though people often said mafiosos like Dallion had cold brutality in their blood, his touch was surprisingly warm—a testament to his pureblooded mafia lineage.

When his fingers grazed her cheek, turning it muddy, Sherry’s eyes snapped open. Dallion’s smile had faded, and his gaze had softened. It confused her to no end. He was toying with her, and she was too worn out from fear to make sense of it. His hand lingered on her face, a calm warmth settling in.

"Aren’t you cold?" he asked suddenly.

"What?" she blinked, thrown off by the question. Of course, she was freezing! But the way he looked at her made her wonder if she had misunderstood.

With his hand still on her cheek, Sherry found it difficult to speak, like a butterfly afraid to move lest it get caught. When he finally moved his hand away, she managed to answer, "Yes. I am cold."

He nodded, mischief returning to his eyes. "Did you learn your lesson, or should I make you pull more weeds?" His playful tone made her stomach twist.

"I’ve learned, Dallion. Please forgive me. I won’t repeat my mistakes," she said, bowing her head. She was soaked, covered in mud, and starving. All she wanted was something warm to eat, though she doubted she’d get it. She wasn’t even treated like a servant here—more like an animal.

But weren’t pets supposed to be loved by their masters?

Sherry glanced at him again, her thoughts drifting. She shook her head, banishing the image of herself being petted by this dark, possessive man. Finally, she stood, shivering in the cold.

"Go through the back entrance," Dallion said as he walked away. "We wouldn’t want you dirtying the halls of Cross Manor, would we?" He stopped at the door, turning to look at her over his shoulder. "Sherryl."

Sherry froze at the mention of her full name. "Don’t follow the wrong people in this mansion with an empty head. You’ll be dead before you know it." His smile sent a chill down her spine, and she watched him disappear into the manor.

She made her way to the back, entering through the kitchen where the staff bustled about. Nickison was nowhere to be seen, but a group of maids caught sight of her.

"Look at that, it’s the master’s little mouse," one of the maids, Mary, sneered. Sherry ignored her, but Mary wasn't’t done. "I heard he paid a thousand dollars for her. Can you believe it?"

"She doesn’t look like much," another maid chimed in, eyeing Sherry up and down. "Probably overpriced."

Sherry stopped in her tracks. "You’ve got it wrong."

"What?" Mary asked, her tone mocking.

"I said, you’ve got it wrong," Sherry repeated, turning to face her. "I was bought for five hundred thousand dollars." She spread her fingers to emphasize.

The maids gaped at her. "No cheap captive costs that much!" Mary shot back, eyes narrowing.

"Guess I must be special," Sherry replied with a sweet smile. "But even if it were a thousand, that still makes between as two, you cheaper."

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  • The Devil's Claim... His little mouse.   Get in.

    The butler, Nickison was outside running his errands, trying to avoid the looming wrath of his boss, Dallion Cross, as he had failed to follow orders of watching over the room he'd locked Sherry in. When he reached the garage, he overheard the staff speaking loudly—a rare occurrence, as they usually spoke in hushed tones. The butler’s eyes widened at the mention of five hundred thousand dollars. He had heard that this girl was bought for a thousands of dollars, a rumor spread by the housekeeper who had, in turn, heard it from the security team. But five hundred thousand? Was this girl really worth that much? Was she made of diamonds? Nickison thought to himself, glancing at the girl who looked like she hadn't showered in days. The shock mirrored on the faces of the house staff before he composed himself and stepped into the garage, resuming his role of checking the new kitchen products that were brought . "Making a mess where cars are cleane

    Huling Na-update : 2024-10-20
  • The Devil's Claim... His little mouse.   I can make you sit if I have to

    Sherry didn't object, but neither did she make a move for a good ten seconds. Seeing Dallion with his legs parted as he sat at the edge of the king-sized bed, she wondered what to do. "I can do it myself, Dallion. You don't have to," she said, her tone careful. If there was one thing she had learned during her punishment, it was that the rain didn’t matter when you were in it, but after, when the wind blew through drenched clothes, that was the true punishment. It made her shiver violently. The storm clouds still hung outside, ominous and dark. She couldn’t afford another round in the rain, and who knew what worse torment Dallion had in store for her if she defied him? The thought alone made her feel like she was walking on glass, afraid of each step. "Rubbish. I don’t want you catching a cold. Sit." His tone was firm, leaving no room for argument, while he waited with a towel in his hand. And whose fault was it? He had lef

    Huling Na-update : 2024-10-21
  • The Devil's Claim... His little mouse.   Do you need an invitation?

    It seemed like an open warning to her that this was what was going to happen if she ever tried to escape. Sherryl didn’t know if it was a mafia thing, but why did he want to keep her here? Was she just part of his amusement, something to toy with while he enjoyed threatening and terrifying her? He could have chosen any other captive, but, to her misfortune or maybe fortune, this man had bought her—not for a small price, but for thousands of dollars. When the door to the room was knocked upon, Dallion didn’t even bother looking up as he said, “Come inside, Nickison.” It seemed like he could tell who it was just by the sound of the knock or the timing. The butler entered, pushing a trolley of food. “Leave it here. Dismissed,” Dallion’s words were brief, and the butler didn’t stay a second longer than necessary. He stepped out, closing the door behind him. Sherryl eyed the food. It looked mouth-watering, and the smell was magnificent, making her stomach ru

    Huling Na-update : 2024-10-22
  • The Devil's Claim... His little mouse.   Sharing a bed

    It appeared that they were not only sharing the same bed but also the same blanket. Sherry gingerly lifted the covers and got inside the bed, making sure she stayed as far as she could from him. If she were to move further to her left, she would only fall flat on the sleek marble floor, cold and unforgiving. She had slept on this bed before, so she remembered how soft it was, but with Dallion next to her, she doubted she would be able to sleep soundly. Taking a quick glance at him, she noticed the glasses perched on his nose, something she hadn’t seen before. Did mafia bosses like him need glasses? How odd, Sherry thought to herself. Seeing that he was no longer talking to her and had immersed himself in reading, the man seemed somewhat calmer—his usual cold, intense aura replaced with something that seemed... reasonable. For now, at least. The dim lighting from the lamp on his nights

    Huling Na-update : 2024-10-23
  • The Devil's Claim... His little mouse.   A comfortable bed, doesn't assure a good sleep

    Sherry hurriedly dashed to the bathroom again, hoping she had escaped Dallion's watchful eye. She wondered if he had been awake the whole time. But then, his voice cut through her thoughts, “I give you a bed that’s custom-made, unrivaled in these parts of Bone lake city, and you say it was just okay?” Sherry quietly thanked her stars that he wasn’t speaking of what she feared. Maybe he had been asleep at the time. “A comfortable bed doesn’t assure anyone a good sleep. Sometimes a hard floor with freedom brings more satisfaction than the confinement of any room, no matter how luxurious the bed.” Sherry wasn’t trying to provoke him, but he had told her to speak freely what was on her mind the night before. Taking a small risk, she spoke a little bolder than usual this morning. Dallion’s eyes gleamed with amusement as he observed her defiance. This little mouse was still trying to run, unaware that her fate was already sealed. He’d let her believe there was hope, for now. But soon, s

    Huling Na-update : 2024-10-23
  • The Devil's Claim... His little mouse.   Don't test me, little mouse.

    Sherryl didn't understand his expression, subtly going back to eating her food while occasionally glancing at Dallion, who hadn't spoken about the matter. She didn’t understand the mafia families here. She had heard about celebrating birthdays, but celebrating the ones who had already passed away and weren’t even around? She didn’t know why they were still counting the years. Every once in a while, Sherryl glanced at him, and at one fine moment, Dallion’s eyes snapped at her, clearly annoyed by her constant stares. Sherryl quickly looked away. How could this man sense everything around him, as though he had invisible eyes at the back of his head? "Dallion, aren’t you going to take part in the celebration?" asked his stepmother, her voice sweet as sugar, making Sherryl twitch slightly. She could see why Dallion didn't get along with his stepmother and stepsister. They were overly sweet to the point of making her skin crawl. Their attitude, mixed with their superficial charm, didn't

    Huling Na-update : 2024-10-23
  • The Devil's Claim... His little mouse.   They sold you

    Sherry hoped that her father was still alive and safe. A number of possibilities could be pulled up on what might have happened that the man had to leave his wife and daughter alone. One of them, the worst that her mother had to hear the most, was that her father had run away with another woman. Sherry didn’t believe it, though. Not with the stories she had heard from her mother about how they had spent their few years together. Another possibility that had come up was that he had been taken away by a rival mafia group. Because her father was a manager at one of the largest technological companies in the city and thinking about it now, she realized it was the Cross technology company. Though not many outsiders dared to mess with the Cross empire’s territory, it didn’t stop the lesser gangs residing in the shadows from taking people for their own personal use, even killing them. "You’re still waiting for his return," Dallion stated. Sherry didn’t answer him and instead stayed qui

    Huling Na-update : 2024-10-23
  • The Devil's Claim... His little mouse.   Eyes off my mouse

    "When I was in the confinement cell, there was a nail lying on the ground which I didn’t know of," no one could know with the full darkness one was surrounded by and left to spend time in. "I stepped on the nail." "Must have hurt really bad," his words suddenly turned gentle, but Sherry wasn’t sure if she heard it right. Dallion ran his thumb much more gently from one side to the other, making her heart leap and her body jerk. His grip remained firm around her ankle. Sherry could feel his hand touching her skin, the warmth of it making her fret. "Dallion?" she spoke softly, for him to respond with a hum. "What is it?" What was what? He was holding her ankle without letting go. "Could you please let go of my leg?" She kept her speech docile, with a certain passive aggressiveness in it, wanting him to drop her leg. But instead of listening to her request, Dallion only ran his finger over her feet. "Why, little mouse? Let me demonstrate something for you, so that you can keep

    Huling Na-update : 2024-10-23

Pinakabagong kabanata

  • The Devil's Claim... His little mouse.   I need a taste

    When an unintended sigh slipped past her lips, it only seemed to fuel the fire already burning in Dallion’s touch. His grip on her tightened, his heart beating steadily, his eyes alive with something dark and dangerous. His control was slipping, and he knew it. Without another word, his teeth extended, sharp and eager. "I need a taste," he murmured, his voice rough with hunger. Before Sherryl could react, Dallion sank his teeth into the side of her neck. Her skin was —warm, rich, intoxicating, it was sweeter than anything he had ever tasted. It made him wonder if it was because of who she was, something about her making it more potent, more addictive. It was like drinking from something rare, something otherworldly. Dallion never cared for attachments, never let himself be bound to anyone. He had always been clear about that. Women came and went, serving a purpose but never staying long enough to matter. But ever since he had laid eyes on

  • The Devil's Claim... His little mouse.   i don't share... little mouse

    Sherryl stared at him. Was she imagining things, or was Dallion actually jealous? The thought alone sent an odd, fluttery feeling through her stomach, one she didn’t quite understand. "I don’t share, little mouse," Dallion said smoothly, as if reading her thoughts. "Did you really think I’d be fine with you standing on a stage, under bright lights, with hundreds of eyes fixated on you?" His tone was calm, but the possessiveness in it was unmistakable. He leaned in, his forehead almost touching hers. "Do you want to know when and how I fell for you?" His voice dropped to a whisper, his dark eyes locking onto hers. "I think it’s time I told you properly." Sherryl’s heart pounded. "I think it’s okay if you don’t," she blurted out, already anticipating the embarrassment that would follow. Dallion clicked his tongue. As she raised her hands to push him away, he caught them effortlessly, pinning them against the bed with a smirk.

  • The Devil's Claim... His little mouse.   Seduce men with your voice

    Sherryl, still quietly eating her apples, wished she could finish quickly and leave as well. Every meal in this house felt like a battlefield, tension thick in the air. She continued eating as discreetly as possible. Then, his father spoke. "You should stop spoiling the girl, Dallion. Your sister is right. We don’t want you being manipulated." His cold gaze flickered toward Sherryl, and she felt a lump form in her throat. "There have been plenty of cases where a simple girl like this has twisted her owner into doing unspeakable things—even wiping out their own family just at her word. And we both know you’ve already had your fair share of experience with betrayal." Dallion’s smirk didn’t falter. "Don’t worry, Father. I care about my family too much to kill them. Well… at least you and Grace. The rest? I can’t make any promises." His eyes drifted toward his younger half-sister. Rose’s expression darkened,

  • The Devil's Claim... His little mouse.   Screwing each other like animals.

    Here’s the revised version with the name changes.In the grand estate of the Cross family, the evening air was thick with the promise of an impending storm. The sky remained overcast, and a biting wind whispered through the halls. With winter creeping closer, the temperature had plummeted to an unforgiving low. If not for the warmth provided by the mansion’s insulated walls and flickering fireplaces, those unaccustomed to such cold would have perished.For the staff working in the Cross estate, survival was a luxury they didn’t take for granted. The grand halls and well-kept quarters provided a stark contrast to the bleak streets they might have otherwise called home.As the evening descended into dinner time, Dallion Cross and Sherryl Rain made their way into the dining room. Plates were brought out by silent staff, each movement practiced and precise. Sherryl, however, found herself staring at what was placed before her—a thick slab of raw meat, still red wit

  • The Devil's Claim... His little mouse.   I tolerate her

    Dallion studied her intently, his sharp eyes reading every flicker of doubt on her face. But he still answered, "You said you walked there because riots had blocked the main road. You took a different route and eventually found him. Later, you mentioned bringing him back, but by then, it was too late. Your mother’s condition had already worsened. What’s going on, Sherryl? Speak." His voice was firm, demanding. There was an unsettling confusion in Sherryl’s eyes as she tried to piece together the past. Then, out of nowhere, she asked, "If my mom could still be alive… does that mean she would allow me to look for him?" Dallion exhaled deeply, his expression unreadable. "Yes."He didn't want to give her false hopes, he knew her father left them and he was sure her mother wouldn't have allowed her to look for him. Sherryl nodded slowly, but she wasn’t convinced. If her father had left only to return years later, what

  • The Devil's Claim... His little mouse.   Has someone touched you before?

    Dallion held her closer, his grip softer now, unlike before. His hands weren’t restraining her wrists anymore—they were holding all of her, as if anchoring her. It wasn’t just his touch that had changed, but his voice too. It was calm, quieter than usual when he spoke. “Tell me, Sherryl. Do you find it difficult to trust someone with your feelings?” His words were firm yet patient. “You do realize I’m not letting you go until you tell me what’s going on?” Something had shifted in her. He had noticed the change immediately. Moments ago, she had been fine—her pupils had been dilated, her breathing slightly unsteady—but then, suddenly, she had gone still. Her heartbeat had steadied unnaturally fast, and her eyes had turned hollow, like she was somewhere else entirely. There was only one conclusion Dallion could come to. Had someone touched her before? Her voice was low when she finally answered. “It’s nothing serious.” Slowly, Dallion loosened his hold but didn’t let her mo

  • The Devil's Claim... His little mouse.   did something happen?

    Sherry barely had time to process the overwhelming sensations before her legs gave out. With a strangled yelp, she toppled sideways, arms flailing—only to land in an ungraceful heap on the floor.Dallion stared down at her, blinking. Then, slowly, a smirk curled his lips. “Well, that’s one way to show appreciation.”Sherry groaned, hiding her burning face in her hands. “I hate you.”“I know.” He crouched beside her, entirely too amused. “But if you were going to throw yourself at my feet, you could’ve at least done it with some dignity.”Bluebeard Lady chuckled from her corner. “She’s a fast learner. Even her falls are dramatic.”Sherry shot them both a murderous glare as Dallion effortlessly scooped her up. “Put me down!”“Not a chance,” he said, carrying her outside like she weighed nothing.The drive back to the Cross’s mansion was filled with Dallion’s teasing remarks—each one met with Sherry’s grumbled threats. But

  • The Devil's Claim... His little mouse.   You're mine to teach.

    The tent’s lanterns flickered softly, casting golden light over velvet drapes and aged artifacts. The scent of incense thickened the air, mingling with something more primal—the slow hum of anticipation.Sherry sat in the center of the room, wrists bound in silk, the smooth fabric a whisper against her skin. The ties weren’t meant for struggle, but for awareness—of herself, of the watchful presence behind her, and of the woman before her.Bluebeard Lady circled her like a patient instructor, a delicate silver chain swaying between her fingers. “Restraint,” she murmured, “isn’t about holding back. It’s about extending sensation, drawing it out until it becomes something unforgettable.”Sherry swallowed hard, feeling the heat of Dallion’s gaze from his seat across the room. He had yet to speak, but his presence was a force in itself—a quiet command.The woman knelt before Sherry, her fingers ghosting over her skin, feather-light. Even with

  • The Devil's Claim... His little mouse.   Beginning to understand

    Sherryl Rain kept her head low, focusing on the lesson, even though she knew how rare it was for someone of Grace’s status to take the time to educate a mere servant. Most high-ranking figures in the Cross Empire saw little value in teaching those beneath them. Grace glanced at the worn parchment in front of her before turning her cold gaze to Sherryl, the little mouse that belonged to Dallion. “We’ll stop here for today,” Grace decided, stretching as she closed the book. “I need to take my mother and sister out to the Valley. Would you like to come?” The offer sounded casual, but Sherryl could hear the subtle test in it. “Ever been there before?” Sherryl gave a slight nod. “Master Dallion is taking me somewhere today.” A truthful excuse, but also a way to avoid the suffocating tension she’d have to endure with Grace and her ever-judgmental sister. Without pushing for details, Grace dismissed her, and Sherryl exhaled a brea

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