Chapter 50

Struggling to suppress her surging emotions, Minji bit her trembling lips, and the oppressive silence was suddenly broken by a mocking tone.

"Get up."

Winston pointed to the metal table with his eyes. As she straddled the end of the table, he stood up and approached. The tip of the whip lightly pricked Grace's shoulder, indicating that she should lie down.

The table was icy cold. Winston grabbed her curled-up limbs, and the shackles at the table's legs were fastened one by one.

"You really suit this."

The black ceiling, where even blood wouldn't be noticeable.

The man looked down at her with a mixture of slight interest, anticipation, and a profound sense of distance.

Lying on the cold metal table with her limbs spread and bound, Grace felt the bone-chilling reality of her situation.

A mouse on a dissection table.

The cruel pleasure began to faintly reflect in the eyes that looked down at her, now reduced to a powerless creature.

The officer's jacket was neatly draped over a chair. As Grace watched the man approach, rolling up his sleeves, her eyes trembled violently.

That man, who seemed more like a mad scientist in a white lab coat than a soldier in a white shirt, holding a scalpel and forceps, ready to turn her into nothing more than a piece of meat.

He paused as he approached. His cold gaze lingered on the box of high-end stockings placed at the edge of the table.

Soon, the box was removed, and a file with Grace's name on it was placed there. The sound of flipping through papers was followed by the sound of footsteps moving away.

While Winston leisurely prepared for the "physical examination," Grace began to tremble uncontrollably. She tried to curl up her limbs, but in vain. The tender flesh was painfully pressed by the shackles.

Clank.

The sound of heavy metal scraping against something made her catch her breath.

'Please, no... That can't be...'

The sound of pliers being taken from a drawer. Knowing too well what was in this torture chamber was itself a form of torture.

'Damn...'

Her ominous premonition came true. The pliers in Winston's hand, slowly approaching, gleamed menacingly.

She instinctively curled her fingers to hide them, and he sneered.

"You act like you're fearless, but you're just a human after all."

Yes, unfortunately.

Grace was a human who could feel pain. Though she had been trained to endure torture, the training only taught her how to endure, not to dull the pain of having her nails pulled out.

Or perhaps the pain of having her teeth pulled out.

The cold edge of the pliers traced her lips, and Grace clenched her teeth.

The cold metal soon left her lips. Winston gently cradled her head and leaned down, his eyes meeting hers from a mere inch away. He slowly traced her naked body with the pliers.

"You and I have a rather intense connection. Or should I say, the Blancharde family has an intense connection?"

"Hmm..."

"You sent a prostitute to kill my father, and now you send me the daughter of that prostitute."

This was a mockery of his father's death and a way to belittle him. Leon couldn't stand it.

Neither could Grace, who couldn't tolerate the mockery of her respected mother.

"If my mother was a prostitute, then your father was a pathetic soldier who died at the hands of a prostitute."

Arrogant woman. She didn't know her place.

Leon twisted his lips. This woman would soon beg for mercy like the other rebels.

"Such touching affection. Your mother in hell must be so proud of you, failing the mission and ending up as a prostitute in my torture chamber."

Bang.

The pliers, which had been hovering over her body, fell between her spread legs. The table resonated, and Grace trembled. She knew without looking that the edge of the pliers was aimed at her genitalia.

"Miss Ridley, thank you. For being caught by me. Thanks to you, I can fully enjoy the feeling of revenge. I now have a face to show my father in heaven."

He kissed her cold lips solemnly and stood up.

"Do you know what your parents did to my father?"

"..."

"If you don't, I'll tell you."

This time, the tip of a riding crop traced Grace's body. Each time the triangular leather lightly tapped her fingernails, Grace turned pale.

"Pulling out all the fingernails..."

Now she understood. Why she was tied to the table. What he intended to do with her tied up like this.

'Richard Winston's autopsy.'

Tying the revolutionaries to a dissection table and reading his father's autopsy report to them, pointing out each body part.

After finishing the report, he would reenact its contents on the prisoner's body, stopping just short of the direct cause of death... or sometimes not stopping at all.

This was one of the reasons Leon Winston became infamous among the many torturers.

'He's going to do this to me. I don't want to die.'

Those who survived this torture, by some miracle, all went insane. Grace trembled like a leaf. She was more afraid now than when this man tried to brutally assault her yesterday.

"And the left side of the scrotum... Wait, you don't have a scrotum. This is a first. Hmm... What should I do?"

His voice was quite pleased.

"Aah!"

Winston pushed the tip of the whip between Grace's legs. The flat leather parted the clitoral hood and rubbed her clitoris mercilessly.

In that moment, Grace saw a glimmer of hope.

Rather, let him lust after me.

"Aah, please, hmm, stop..."

She deliberately moaned and writhed her body. Her breasts, which he couldn't let go of last night, jiggled. Winston's eyes gradually changed.

Yes, please lust after me.

"Aah, hmm, is this... revenge? At least your father wasn't raped like I was yesterday?"

"Raped? It was a deal. Ah, this is rape."

Winston finally lusted after her.

He quickly unbuckled his belt and pulled out his erect penis. The moment his aroused member, as angry as its owner, was revealed, it was thrust into Grace's mouth.

"Ugh, hmm..."

Her body was pulled up mercilessly. Her head, hanging off the table, bent backward as the merciless serpent invaded her wide-open throat.

"Hmm..."

The heavy table creaked with his fierce thrusts.

"Haa..."

Winston, letting out a groan that was almost a sigh, caressed her neck as his thick member plunged in and out. Grace could vividly feel the thick shaft penetrating deeply and withdrawing, even though she couldn't see it.

His eyes, devoid of any human soul, burned with the same lewd pleasure as last night. Grace shed tears of relief as she looked into the eyes of a beast.

It was a miserable thing to take pleasure in being violated. But humans want to avoid terrible pain and death, even if it means doing something despicable.

"Do you know what a prostitute is?"

A woman who sells her body for money.

If selling her body to save her life makes her a prostitute, then yes, I'd rather be a living prostitute than a dead saint.

"Ugh..."

Winston pulled out his penis, now soaked with saliva, as Grace gasped and writhed.

"Haa, let's continue the physical examination."

From then on, the cruel autopsy transformed into a lewd physical examination. Grace occasionally resisted lightly and moaned seductively to keep Winston's desire from waning, submitting to his rough touches.

"Aah, it hurts... Stop..."

"This is the mark I bit you yesterday. I was quite beastly, even to myself."

Winston continued to act like a scientist dissecting a mouse. Fortunately, he was a lecher rather than a madman. He touched various parts of Grace's body, "examining" them, and recorded his shameful observations as if writing an experiment report.

"Hmm... Should I write that it feels like kneading a marshmallow? What do you think?"

Winston, kneading her breasts like dough, asked with a despicable smile. It was a terrifying thought that the sensation of her breasts would be recorded in a document that anyone in the military could see.

"..."

But Grace remained silent. Begging him to stop would only result in more humiliating words being written in the document.

"The sensation of touching and sucking..."

He deliberately sucked on her nipple, making a loud popping sound.

"Hmm..."

"Excellent. The once scrawny girl has grown quite lewd. I like that."

It's terrifying. To think that the once affectionate boy grew into such a vicious man.

His hand, which had been on her chest, moved down to her flat stomach and delved deep into her damp folds.

"Ugh, huff, stop, aah!"

"Feeling good? I can tell you really like it, but can you let go of my finger?"

Snap. As his finger was pulled out...

"Aah!"

Clang. The chains on her ankles clattered against the table.