You listen to your own flesh and blood whimpering and crying out as your hideous master pounds into him. Do you do anything to stop? Of course not. Because you can't do anything to jeopardize your position, whether or not it means you can't protect your own son. You look away, trying to stop the urges both to kill you lord and to join him in ravishing your son's thin body.
When the bastard tells you to come over as well, you think he wants you to take your boy. Turns out he wants to treat you the same way. You just lay there and stare at the ceiling, letting your eyes trace over the cracks in the stone and the darkness in the shadows. Once your master is spent inside you, he leaves unceremoniously. You look over at your small child who is curled up into a ball. So hurt, so young, so beautiful. You wrap your arms around him and try to be comforting while you hold down your own feelings. You fail and do worse than your dark leader.