Chapter 52

The next target for the living prostitute was to become a free prostitute.

She tightened and relaxed her inner muscles in rhythm with the thrusts from inside. This time, she didn't close her eyes but read Winston's expression.

"Ugh..."

Soon, Grace, who had quickly learned the technique, applied pressure downward when his penis was about to withdraw. The foreskin, caught by the contracted inner muscles, was pulled up, roughly rubbing the sensitive tip.

"Ah, your technique with your lower lips is different from yesterday."

His voice was amazed that she was going all out, even doing things he thought she would never do to win. Then, as a twisted person would, he mocked Grace.

"Yes, that's it. You're doing well. Using the method I taught you yesterday, with your mouth, like this. Your adaptability is impressive."

Their hot skins were tightly pressed together. Drenched in sweat, Winston clung to her body, continuing his rough thrusts. His penis, which had just hit the end of her vagina, was pulled out, scraping the inner walls.

His praise might not have been a lie. Grace's efforts seemed to be working, as his thrusts became irregular, just like before he climaxed the previous night. It meant his body, overwhelmed by pleasure, was slipping out of his control.

His lips, too, seemed to be out of control, greedily devouring Grace's lips and exploring her wet insides with his tongue.

"Ah, it feels really good. You're doing great."

Go ahead and talk all you want. I'm the one who will win this battle.

Buoyed by the expectation of soon gaining freedom, she even shook her hips, vigorously stimulating his penis. Then, a long finger slipped between her pubic bones.

"Aah, stop! That's a foul!"

"Rules should be set in advance."

With her hands tied, she couldn't remove the finger that was furiously rubbing her clitoris. She tried to avoid it by moving her lower body, but it was futile, pinned under Winston's body.

His finger movements were truly relentless. Her clitoris, already swollen from repeated friction, began to throb painfully.

"Hmm, no..."

She clenched her fists, digging her nails into her palms, and gritted her teeth to suppress the rising climax, but it was useless.

The more she tensed, the more her inner muscles contracted, and each time the firm flesh pressed against her, fireworks exploded in front of her eyes. He seemed to have already mapped out Grace's body, relentlessly pounding one spot.

Thud.

"Ah!"

Winston pressed her down and cruelly thrust his hips, again and again.

"Ha, stop."

To give him a pleasure-filled defeat and me a bitter victory.

The lower part she had been teasing was already out of her control. She had no leisure to stimulate Winston, so she relaxed her aching lower body, but her inner walls contracted on their own.

"No. Ah, no..."

"It's not that it can't be done. Just go."

"Huh! No, ah!"

In the end, when the flesh that had been gently rubbing her inner walls pressed down, she couldn't resist the overwhelming pleasure. Grace trembled all over on the sweat-soaked table and climaxed helplessly.

A pleasure-filled defeat and a bitter victory...

In the end, it was just a defeat filled with intense pleasure.

"Already finished? You lost too easily."

"Ugh..."

"Did you want to be pounded so badly? As a lady, you couldn't say you wanted to be pounded until you were sore. Oh, I was inconsiderate."

The hot flesh licked away the tears streaming down her eyes.

"At least, you should have pretended to try to win to save face, right?"

As the lips that had been whispering deceitfully in her ear pulled away, his penis was slowly withdrawn from her still convulsing inner walls. The reddened flesh, pressing against her lower abdomen, parted and dripped a thick, white fluid.

"Ha..."

The deep frown on his forehead relaxed, but the intense heat in his eyes didn't fade.

After that, the same thing happened as the night before in bed. It was just a matter of being pounded, and pounded, and pounded endlessly.

"Aah, no more..."

"Go. As much as you want to be pounded."

After that, Winston proposed a few more "battles." How many times did she reluctantly agree and lose miserably? Grace had no energy left to say she wanted to stop.

The cold eyes looking down at the completely defeated woman turned icy, the opposite of her still heated lower body.

"You thought you could control me as you pleased, didn't you? Even though you can't control your own body."

The unfocused green eyes regained their focus. Meeting his icy, pale blue gaze, Grace's eyes wavered.

He saw through everything.

He had seen through from the beginning that Grace was secretly trying to seduce him to avoid torture.

"You'll have to pay for your arrogant schemes."

I'm already paying. Grace only replied with her eyes and turned her head away.

"Do you know how many people your mother ruined or killed? If they were lined up, they would extend from here to the entrance of the mansion and beyond. In other words, the line of men who are eager to do this to you is that long."

Throw me to them. Take me out of here and throw me to the Western Command or the detention center, wherever those men are. Please, just get me out of here.

The scenery in front of her eyes changed several times. The black ceiling, the sweat-soaked table, the various ropes and shackles, and the walls with leashes.

"Ha... Lie down again."

The table shook again with the force of his thrusts. Grace stared at the hand pressing down on her wrist in her blurred vision.

The hands of the watch on her wrist had long passed the evening hour. Mrs. Winston probably thought her son was busy with the rebels and missed dinner.

'Maybe I'm wrong.'

The cold table had long been heated. Winston pressed her body, which kept slipping on the metal surface slick with semen and vaginal fluid.

Her legs dangled weakly at the end of the table, and each time they moved, the chains, like snakes, wrapped around her ankles, dragged across the floor.

Clank, clank. Thud, thud.

The dry metallic sounds and the wet, squelching sounds of flesh didn't match at all. Grace, in a daze, stared at the hand pressing down on her wrist.

Her body and mind were both battered and bruised.

The shackles had been removed long ago, but Grace couldn't move. She lay sprawled on the table, still in the position Winston had left her after his final climax, struggling to breathe.

Her dazed eyes were fixed on the bathroom without a door. The man standing in front of the mirror, fixing his tie, was about to leave.

He walked out of the bathroom, carrying the scent of soap. The man, putting on the jacket he had hung on the chair, narrowed his eyes.

The milky liquid still trickled down her trembling legs, dripping onto the black floor. She wanted to close her legs in shame, but her thighs were too weak.

Thud, thud. The sound of approaching footsteps. Grace turned her gaze with great effort to meet his eyes.

The man, dressed in a neatly pressed officer's uniform, looked down at the woman, still panting from the forced climax, with an indifferent gaze.

To an outsider, it would look like she had done this to herself.

He must have reported to the command. I'll be taken somewhere soon. Then I'll be rescued. Just a few more days.

She was repeating the words she had been chanting to herself while he was showering.

"Three meals a day. If you have any requests, tell the guard. Cleaning is your job, so you'll do it. Give the laundry to the guard when you receive your meals."

Grace's eyes trembled.

Why are you telling me this? Why are you setting rules for someone who will only be here for a day or two?

She glared at him, but Winston continued to recite the "torture room rules" in a businesslike tone.

"Interrogation and training will be once or twice a day, if there are no issues. I'll conduct them myself."

"...Training?"

She managed to squeeze out the question, and he twisted one corner of his mouth.

"Your body is that of a top-tier prostitute, but your skills are poor. Your Commander-in-Chief sent you without teaching you anything, so I have a lot to teach you."

"Wait, just a moment..."

Struggling to sit up, Winston turned his back and walked to the other side of the table.

Rip. The cheap stockings hanging on the chair were cruelly torn.

"Wear the stockings I bought for you."

"Winston, wait. Don't go. Let's talk..."

"I already told you. You're in no position to give me orders."

It was the same as the night before. Grace could only look at his retreating back with despair.

Yesterday and today. What did I expect from a man who endlessly gave and took away hope?

"Still, please..."

Bang. The door closed. Click. The sound of the lock followed.

"Let me go."

The beast, wearing the mask of a nobleman and a capable military officer, Captain Leon Winston, left, leaving behind the woman who was evidence of his savage lust.