Chapter 72

'Should I go and surprise them? No, if I do, the duchess might get scared and end the relationship, which would be a waste.'

This might turn out well. Leon quickly thought of ways to use the two people who were exchanging whispers to his advantage and calculated the pros and cons.

A childish melodrama began, with two black silhouettes overlapping. After finishing his calculations in a short time, Leon left the theater with a sneer, watching his younger brother and the intended fiancée kiss.

* * *

Grace stared at the black ceiling and squeezed her eyes shut. But the scenery didn’t change at all.

Whether she opened or closed her eyes, all she saw was a black room, and all she felt was regret.

I shouldn’t have gone to Peter that day.

As she sighed and turned her body, a rattling sound came from under the blanket.

Stupid. There’s no second escape.

The price of trying to escape and being caught was severe.

Winston put on the shackles and didn’t come to see her for nearly a week. At first, she thought it was for the best, but as the days passed, her thoughts changed. He didn’t even come for meals.

'Fine, let’s see who wins.'

He can’t kill me. Who would be sorry if I died?

Grace decided to hold out without begging. The first few days were manageable. She filled her stomach with water from the bathroom and slept all day.

But after about five days, she reached her limit.

Hunger was one thing, but the lack of external stimuli was unexpectedly the hardest to endure.

Trapped in a space where the only sound was the ventilation, the only human voice she heard was the occasional guard checking on her. There were no books or radios to entertain her, so her mind felt as trapped as her body.

She felt like she was going mad.

Finally, after a few more days, she couldn’t hold out any longer and lowered her pride. When she pleaded with the guard to call Captain Winston, the devil finally appeared with a meal.

The first person she saw in a week, the first meal she received in a week.

It was a miserable moment when the devil looked like an angel again.

Winston didn’t even glance at Grace as he sat at the metal table. Whatever was on the tray, it smelled sweet and rich.

I’m hungry. I’m so hungry. I feel like I’m going to die from hunger.

Grace had no strength left to fight. She discarded all her pride and, with trembling legs, shuffled over and sat on Winston’s lap.

I must have been out of my mind. I really wasn’t in my right mind then.

The moment she clung to his neck, Winston’s victorious smile was unforgettable.

"Is our puppy hungry?"

He patted Grace’s back as if soothing a crying puppy, savoring his victory. He enjoyed her begging for a while, then made her sit between his legs like a dog before opening the tray.

Winston lifted a spoon and scooped up a large portion of custard pudding. Grace’s eyes followed the pudding, which was dripping with caramel sauce and jiggling.

But the spoon, which she thought would reach her mouth, stopped in mid-air. Her mouth watered, and the hand gripping Winston’s thigh trembled.

"No, Bella. Wait."

"Please…."

At that moment, the man who had been looking down at her from beyond the spoon laughed.

"By the way, Bella was still here? I thought you had run away."

Realizing his intentions, Grace suppressed the rising anger and shame and gave him the answer he wanted.

"I won’t run away again, Master."

"Why? Try it."

"I’ll listen to you now, Master."

The spoon, which had been paused, moved downward. Grace, forgetting her human dignity in the face of hunger, eagerly opened her mouth. But the spoon stopped again, a few inches away.

"Are you happy?"

"Yes."

"Is the pudding happy?"

"…I missed you, Master. So much, black…."

As the complex emotions burst forth with tears, the spoon finally entered her mouth.

The sweetness exploded on her tongue, which hadn’t tasted anything for a week, and her mind went blank. In front of the survival instinct, she forgot all the emotions she had felt just moments ago.

For the next few days, it was like this. Winston fed her a little at a time, like training a dog, only when she did what he demanded. And Grace, like a dog, happily accepted it. If she had a tail, she might have wagged it.

After her body recovered enough to eat solid food, he hid food under his tongue.

To make her kiss him willingly.

Grace, who wanted to kill the man, had to clutch his cheeks, wrap her arms around his neck, and deeply insert her tongue into his mouth to fill her stomach.

Now, free from hunger, when she thinks back to those times, she feels so angry and ashamed that she wants to scream and tear her hair out.

"Aaaah! I’ll kill him!"

Kicking the blanket, the chain that crossed the room lashed the floor like a whip. Grace, who had been seething alone, looked up at the black ceiling and then cast her gaze down to her feet.

Beyond the railing, a small wooden table was placed. The hands of the clock on its edge pointed to 10 PM.

'I forgot…'

Remembering the unpleasant task she should have done three hours ago, Grace reluctantly got up.

"Ugh…."

Grace groaned, standing with one leg on the edge of the bathtub. Two fingers were deeply inserted between her legs.

"I feel bad."

Her face was contorted as if touching something disgusting. After feeling around in her moist insides for a while, her fingers finally emerged.

On the tip of the index finger that came out was a small rubber cap, a pessary used to prevent pregnancy by covering the cervix.

After having intercourse, it had to be left in for at least six hours before removal. Winston had put it in himself during lunch and it was time to take it out in the evening, but she had forgotten in her daze.

She had to learn how to use and maintain the contraceptive device eventually, but she didn’t want to learn from Winston.

Grace, washing the pessary thoroughly at the sink, repeatedly muttered harsh words.

"I feel bad. I’m annoyed. It’s terrible."

These words were directed not at the pessary but at the man who made her use it.

"His head is only filled with that kind of thing…."

It was fortunate that she didn’t want to have his child, but the fact that she needed it made her feel angry and miserable.

Washing the innocent rubber cap as if to vent her anger, Grace placed it on the shelf to dry and left the bathroom. She wrapped the cold, naked body in the blanket.

All her clothes had been taken away. Not just her clothes.

All her personal items had been taken away. The tools used for torture, from tools to ropes and chains, were all locked in a cabinet with a large lock.

The iron door had been replaced with a more terrifying one, with multiple bolts and locks.

In addition, a small door that could be opened and closed was made in the floor, through which she had to receive meals and exchange sheets and towels. Because of this, she hadn’t seen anyone other than Winston since she was locked up again.

Even a prisoner in a concentration camp wouldn’t be isolated so perfectly.

The only things Winston left Grace were the furniture, the ankle shackles, the dog collar, and the stockings.

'Pervert.'

Grace recalled a few days ago.

"Why are you breaking the rules?"

When she refused to wear the stockings as demanded, Winston put them on himself. He sat in a chair while making Grace sit at the end of the table.

What Grace could do in 10 seconds, he took over 10 minutes to finish.

Or rather, he didn’t finish.

He spent at least a minute touching each toe as if inspecting them. The desire in his eyes grew as he gently rubbed and pressed the plump, soft flesh with his fingertips.

He looked like he was about to kiss her feet.

Grace looked down at the man who was admiring her feet as if they were a work of art. A spark of desire flashed in the reversed roles of master and servant. Even if it was just a display of lust for him, she wanted to see him submit to her.

Grace lifted her foot and extended it toward his mouth.

Kiss it. Suck it. Do anything, act like a slave.

But Winston wasn’t an easy opponent. He scowled and looked up at Grace.