Chapter 58

The brown shoe kicked the chair, which crashed backward with a loud noise. The wax from the candle dripped off the wick's end.

"Ah!"

Just before her head hit the floor, the chair stopped. In her dizzy vision, Winston was standing, pressing the tip of his shoe against the chair's leg.

Grace panted heavily, looking down between her legs. The candle was still there, its yellow flame flickering.

Most of the wax had fallen onto the chair, but a few drops had stuck to the rope tied around her lower abdomen. After confirming she wasn't burned, Grace felt relieved, but it was a bit premature.

A drop of wax that had pooled at the end of the wick began to slide down the smooth column. The liquid, surely as red as blood and as hot as the flame, slowly trickled down her skin.

Terrified, Grace looked up at Winston with pleading eyes. He stood with his hands in his pockets, watching her with indifference, as if he didn't care what happened to her.

"Winston, please, don't do this."

As his smooth brow furrowed, Grace quickly corrected her address.

"Master, please…."

Creak. The chair was instantly set upright. The wax that was about to touch her skin fell onto the chair.

"Ah…."

Tears burst forth again at the sight of her pitiful state. Winston cupped her cheek and gently pressed his lips to her forehead.

"You wouldn't have to go through this if you answered honestly. Right? I don't want to do this to you."

Disgusting devil. One day, I'll make you beg me, calling me 'Master.'

As he stared intently at Grace, who was secretly clenching her teeth, he stood up.

"Am I asking too much?"

He rummaged through a locked drawer and pulled out a file.

"In January, the Royal Heritage Bank's Billford branch was robbed by armed bandits, causing the royal family, the actual owners of the bank, to suffer losses."

Three mugshots were laid out in front of Grace.

"I believe this was the work of the Blanchard rebels."

The candle was now shorter than a thumb, but Grace shook her head repeatedly in response to his repeated questions.

"Ah, really, I don't know. Think about it logically. How could I possibly know all their faces? Are they all from our side?"

While it was true she didn't know all her comrades, they were all familiar faces. Grace continued to pretend to cry, acting as if she were mentally unstable, hoping to make Winston feel uneasy.

"You wouldn't tell me even if you knew."

He tried to get her to indirectly confess about the methods of funding and money laundering, but Grace gave no answers that could provide any clues.

'Just hold on a little longer. If I don't help, he might give up and throw me to the command.'

Grace, with a determined expression, pretended to sniffle and slowly pushed the candle away. The heat from the flame began to be felt gradually.

'Cunning little rat.'

Leon glared at the woman who still tried to manipulate him.

When other prisoners acted this way, it was merely laughable. After being bitten by Camden's vampires a few times, they would suddenly remember things they had forgotten and spill everything, even things they weren't asked about.

At that moment, Leon suddenly realized something.

"I was wondering why the rats have been so tight-lipped this year. It was because you were watching them."

He suddenly stood up, and Grace held her breath, expecting him to kick the chair again. Instead, he walked around and stood behind her.

"You're more terrifying than I am. So, you're not just a little fish. Who are you trying to fool?"

"Aah!"

The massage head, spinning like a drill, pressed against her clitoris, and Grace, forgetting about the burning candle between her legs, writhed in agony.

"Aah! Stop!"

The woman's scream tore through the air. The loud motor noise of the machine sounded like a whisper.

Extreme pleasure is no different from extreme pain.

Leon laughed, looking down at her pale, terrified eyes. He spread the flesh with two fingers, and a small, round bump popped out. He ruthlessly manipulated her most sensitive spot, exposing it completely.

"Ugh…."

It felt as if her throat was being choked, even though nothing was there. Her clitoris vibrated at a terrifying speed, sending tremors through every sensation point below it. A bolt of pleasure shot from between her legs to the top of her head in an instant.

While fighting the intense heat that threatened to burst her heart, her inner walls convulsed, gnawing at the candle.

"Ah…."

Her legs felt unbearably hot. It wasn't just because of the rush of blood.

Grace, who had managed to lower her head, which was tilted back, had eyes that trembled as much as her thighs.

The flame of the candle flickered just a thumb's length away from her anus.

"Please! Stop!"

No matter how she pleaded, Winston only stood there with an indifferent look, keeping the machine between her legs.

"Aah!"

Just as she was about to resort to the most shameful last resort, an excruciating climax, as harsh as being burned, hit her.

Her body, tied to the chair, shot up violently. The pain of the ropes chafing her wrists and ankles was nothing compared to the overwhelming pleasure that shocked her. Her lower abdomen tightened, and her insides clenched so hard that…

Thud.

The piece of candle fell onto the chair.

"Ha…."

Just as she slumped back into the chair in relief, the massage head, which had fallen away for a moment, attached itself again. Unlike before, when it only pressed against her clitoris, it now circled her entire genital area, following Winston's hand movements.

"Hah…."

Her body still trembled from the aftershocks of the climax. The explosive orgasm had left her feeling as if she had cracks all over, and another such climax would shatter her body into pieces.

"Haah! S-stop!"

Begging a man who never let go was futile.

Winston inserted two fingers into the spot where the candle had been. His thick fingertips, thicker than the candle, ruthlessly probed and thrust into the still pulsating flesh.

"Aah, it's…."

Every time his fingertips pushed up against the upper part of her vaginal wall, a strange sensation rose from below her clitoris. The initial tickling quickly turned into an urgent need to release something.

Each time Winston hooked his fingers and pulled, clear fluid spurted from between her clitoris and anus. As she tried to hold it in by tensing her lower abdomen, Winston whispered in her ear.

"Do you remember when I said that women, like men, can shoot fluid when they're excited? Show me."

"Ah, no…."

"If you can't be an informant, you should at least be a good prostitute. Show me."

"Haah!"

The moment the machine, which had been tracing her labia, pressed firmly against her clitoris, the tension in her lower abdomen released. A thin stream of fluid spurted out, and their faces showed a mix of emotions.

The candle, which had been dangerously rolling between her legs, was extinguished by the fluid that spurted from Grace's body. Winston's palm was drenched, dripping water.

"Good job."

"Please, stop…."

She pleaded with Winston, who kissed her forehead, but the hand and machine between her legs didn't stop.

The pleading stopped. The only sounds coming from the woman's open mouth were heavy, labored breaths.

Her anus, which clamped down on his fingers like its owner, also panted heavily. Leon, who had been softly caressing her hot, wet inner walls with his fingertips, exhaled slowly.

The feeling of the inner flesh, which had experienced several climaxes, was so soft.

She always had her thorns out, but inside, she was as soft as anything.

Her inner walls clenched and released his fingers repeatedly, tightening like a vise, and Leon recalled the feeling of his penis being squeezed in the same way. His own arousal, which had been throbbing, became even more rigid.

"Ha… Damn…."

But today, he had no intention of giving this cunning woman the ending she wanted.

The woman, with her neck bent back, looked up at him with unfocused eyes. Her face was exhausted. Just a few climaxes had left her looking as if she had been tortured for a week.

Leon turned off the machine and placed it on the table. The sound of water was still loud. His hand, buried in her, continued to probe the soft inner flesh.

He raised and lowered his thumb on the swollen nub, which felt like it might burst from the thousands of friction. Each time, the woman, who had been lying like a corpse, jerked as if receiving an electric shock.