Chapter 82

Is it another whim?

This morning, after finishing breakfast, Winston suddenly appeared. While his visits to the torture chamber were always unexpected, it was surprising to see him holding the clothes and shoes he had confiscated in his hands.

I thought he might finally be treating me like a human, but that wasn't the case. After I put on the clothes, he put a collar around my neck and shackles on my ankles, connected by a chain about two feet long.

Then he brought Grace to his office and made her sit under the desk, like a dog. Throwing her two cushions from the sofa was a complete dog-like treatment.

Winston stroked Grace's head like a dog, pushing her hair behind her ear, and asked, "Puppy, are you bored?"

Grace didn't answer. When his hand withdrew, she shook her head, messing up the hair he had neatly arranged.

"Anyway, you're not listening."

A short click of the tongue came from above. His hand rummaged through the drawer next to Grace and pulled out a small box. Soon, the sound of something being torn on the desk was heard.

The source of the sound was soon revealed. His hand, holding a stamp with the back facing up, was extended under the desk.

"How about helping your master sometimes?"

Grace raised her eyes to glare at the man.

"This is just pathetic now."

I was the one who was humiliated that day, but he acted as if I was the one who was humiliated, and I thought he wouldn't do this again.

The tip of his index finger, with the stamp placed on it, flicked lightly. Annoyed but helpless, Grace opened her mouth at Winston's urging.

"Stick out your tongue."

Yes, as commanded. She extended her tongue, resting the tip on her lower teeth.

"Right."

The index finger flipped, and the stamp slid along the swollen middle of her tongue and fell off. His hand disappeared, and a rustling sound came from the desk before another stamp appeared on his fingertip.

Grace curled her tongue to moisten the back of the stamp, thinking to herself.

A well-fed dog is better than a starving human.

I was so worried that he might starve me again because I had mocked him as a fool. Fortunately, Winston acted as if nothing had happened, but his attitude had subtly changed.

He still didn't bother with the pretense of newspapers, but he treated me more thoroughly like a sex doll.

One night, he came to her while she was sleeping. The moment she sensed movement at the edge of the bed, she woke up and saw a vague silhouette of a man in the darkness, which startled her.

The moment she confirmed it was Winston's hand reaching under the blanket, she felt relieved. Then she immediately felt self-loathing.

He kissed her, groped her entire body, inserted a plug into her cervix, and thrust into her without a word. Throughout the act, he remained silent. Grace alone let out cheap moans like a wanton woman. When he climaxed, Winston pulled out and left without looking back.

Her body quickly turned cold.

It felt like a dream. But the heat he left behind, trickling down her body, was too vivid to be a dream.

A suppressed sob pierced the cold air left by the closing door. A sense of humiliation and intense loneliness washed over her.

Since then, Winston continued in the same manner. He came silently, satisfied his lust, and left. I even missed the moments when we used to argue and fight.

I was afraid that he had closed his heart to me. On the other hand, I was terrified by the fact that I unconsciously yearned for the heart of a man I hated so much.

I must be going crazy from loneliness.

Grace let out a self-deprecating sigh and licked the stamp on Winston's fingertip.

However, this man had been acting a bit strange for a few days. His words were still few, but he often stared at Grace's face and smiled.

It was a rather unsettling smile.

Today, although it was only under the desk in his office, he brought her out.

Perhaps, if I continue to behave well, he might eventually take me to the garden of the annex.

She stared blankly at the window where a bluebird sang sweetly, and his index finger extended another stamp. How many letters was he sending?

Grace opened her mouth without complaint. Her gaze remained fixed on the lush greenery outside.

"Ah..."

A blunt fingertip pressed firmly on the middle of her tongue. The gesture, filled with displeasure, made Grace look up from the bright window to the man in the shadows.

A chill ran through her as their eyes met.

The stamp was already sufficiently moist, but his finger remained on her tongue. Understanding his intent, Grace curled her tongue around his finger.

As she licked his index finger with her soft tongue, his hard gaze gradually softened.

The moment his fingertip left her tongue, Grace extended it again. She meant to remove the stamp stuck to her tongue, but he didn't seem to want to let her.

His firm fingertip, separated by a thin layer of paper, gently massaged the soft flesh. A warm sigh escaped Winston's lips, and his finger slid from the edge of the paper to the wet inner flesh.

His fingertip swirled over the flesh, savoring the sensation. As the paper fragment began to move around in her mouth, Grace rolled her tongue to push it out. She used her hand to remove it from her lips. The soaked stamp was now useless.

As the stamp was removed, another finger entered. Grace pushed the flesh between her index and middle fingers and licked it thoroughly. Another excited sigh was heard.

She ran her tongue over each joint, then pursed her lips and sucked his finger. The part of his body that best knew the feeling from her mouth clearly rose.

"How about helping your master sometimes?"

Well, I don't seem to be of any help at all.

The man reached for his lower body. Grace thought he was going to take something out of his pants, but he pulled out a silk handkerchief from his back pocket.

Leon pressed the woman's saliva-soaked mouth with the handkerchief.

A woman drooling like a dog.

Dogs don't know how to wipe their mouths, after all.

This woman is a dog. Just a dog kept for personal use.

He needed to regain control. Therefore, he decided to expect only what a human would expect from a dog. But when he thought about what a human expects from a dog, treating this woman like a dog was a contradiction.

Hunting, obedience, loyalty, and affection.

He must be crazy.

While wiping her mouth, the woman busily fiddled with her hands. She was skillfully unfolding the wet stamp.

He found it amusing that she was so focused on this task and let her be. But then she did something strange. She stuck the neatly unfolded stamp above her left eye, where a stamp would be placed on a letter.

She then smiled to herself, looking very pleased. Her gaze was once again on the window. A feeling he didn't want to acknowledge welled up in his chest.

He quickly tore the stamp off her. The crumpled paper was thrown onto the desk.

I have no intention of sending it.

What does this woman expect? I only brought her out because her appetite has decreased and she seems depressed. This will never happen again.

Just as he was about to grab the leash on the floor to teach her a lesson, a knock came from outside.

"Captain."

Campbell knocked on the door. The moment the sound was heard, the woman hid in the corner of the desk, still having some pride and not wanting to be seen being treated like a dog. It was convenient for him that she didn't need to be told to stay out of sight.

"Come in."

As Leon placed the handkerchief in the corner of the desk and sat down, the door opened. Campbell entered, carrying two thick brown envelopes under his arm.

"Additional materials for the Sinclair case."

Campbell stood in front of the desk and placed the thicker of the two envelopes in front of Leon.

"The results are as expected. If there are any deficiencies, please let me know."

Deficiencies. A very subtle word.

"The VIP will find it deficient."

The results are as expected, meaning there's nothing to nitpick.

"I'll read this and judge. Good work."

"And the Davies case, which you said to prioritize..."

Just as Campbell was about to mention the commander's name, a clinking sound of chains came from Leon's feet.