Severin smirked as he watched Isolde suddenly summon courage from nowhere. The way she sucked on his erection no longer seemed stiff or hesitant. Isolde stared at Severin with a bold gaze, causing his erection inside her mouth to react, hardening thoroughly once more.
Severin, of course, wouldn't allow himself to release into Isolde's mouth twice. He gripped her hair, forcing her off his length.
Standing up from his seated position, Severin tightly grasped the chain of the collar around Isolde's neck, forcing her to follow his steps unless she wanted to choke to death.
It turned out Severin was heading toward the bed. He shoved Isolde roughly onto the mattress, forcing her onto her hands and knees. Without warning, she was thrust into it without even being prepared. He brutally pushed himself inside her, making her scream in pain.
Isolde wasn't a virgin, but being penetrated so forcefully, especially considering Severin's considerable size, which had already given her trouble when taking him in her mouth, naturally made her wince in agony.
She clutched the sheets with both hands, every thrust from Severin sending sharp pain through her. There was no pleasure in any of it, just pain. Severin spanked her ass, adding to the torment. It stung, ached, felt overwhelming, and was humiliating.
"Look forward," Severin commanded, yanking the collar chain and forcing Isolde's neck to arch back, making her raise her head before she was a large mirror facing the bed.
Her heart twisted at the sight of her reflection kneeling naked, hair dishevelled, lips bruised, cheeks swollen, her thin frame.
Isolde grimaced at her pitiful state. Her brows furrowed as she stifled any sound when Severin pulled out of her. From the mirror's reflection, she saw him pick something up among the displayed objects.
She thought he would grab a whip to torture her, but instead, Severin returned with a lit candle.
Isolde bit her lip as he joined their bodies again without warning. Though he had already thrust into her before, she still wasn't accustomed to his size and with no arousal whatsoever, the pain only intensified.
"Argh!" Isolde screamed as Severin deliberately dripped hot wax onto her back.
"You refuse to moan, and instead, you put on that pathetic expression. Fine, I'll make you cry for real," Severin whispered before slamming into her again.
"If you don't want your skin burned by this wax, then you'd better moan. Put on your best face. Every mistake you make, your back will pay for it," he added, letting another drop of wax fall onto her skin.
Isolde, gritting through the pain, forced the corners of her lips upward. In the mirror's reflection, she smiled a strained, artificial smile, enduring the searing pain of each wax droplet because she still hadn't shown the expression Severin wanted.
Her hands clenched the bedsheets tighter, forcing herself to mimic pleasure, pretending to enjoy every thrust, even though she felt none of it.
Her pupils rolled back, her lips parted, her brows furrowed, and she let out a fake, breathy moan.
But Severin wasn't satisfied. Instead, he brought the candle flame dangerously close to her skin, letting her feel the scorching heat of the fire itself along with the dripping wax.
"You still don't sound like you're enjoying it. You'll have to do better."
Isolde tried again, altering her moans to sound as natural as possible, and this time, it worked. Severin blew out the candle and tossed it aside carelessly.
He gripped Isolde's hips, yanking her back until her ass pressed flush against his body. Her eyes widened as Severin's erection plunged even deeper inside her, pounding into her relentlessly.
Her gaze remained locked on the mirror, watching her pitiful reflection, while Severin smirked behind her, a satisfied grin on his face as he watched her through the glass.
That smirk made one thing clear to Isolde. Severin enjoyed her pain. He relished her shame, her humiliation, her suffering.
He enjoyed it so much that Isolde could feel Severin's erection grow even thicker inside her.
.
.
.
Isolde woke up with pain coursing through her entire body. She couldn't leave the bed. The collar around her neck was still locked to the bedframe.
Sitting up weakly, she clutched her sore throat and stared ahead at the large mirror positioned directly across from the bed.
Her reflection stared back at her, pitiful and bruised, her body covered in marks from Severin's roughness the night before.
Last night, he had treated her as if she weren't even a living, feeling being. He had thrown her onto the bed and forced himself into her without a second thought, without even bothering to prepare her.
Isolde wasn't a virgin, but she had bled because Severin had been so brutal, slamming into her when she wasn't ready. It had been torture, like hell itself.
After spilling himself inside her for the second time, Severin had left Room 429 without a word, abandoning Isolde as her vision darkened and she passed out.
She hadn't been able to keep up with him, and her body was already weakened from the beatings she'd endured from other prisoners before this mission. She had arrived here injured, and Severin's cruelty had been the final blow that broke her.
She must have disappointed him by fainting. She had panicked, terrified that he would send his men to carry out the threats he'd made last night—but nothing had happened.
Then, the door suddenly swung open. Isolde's body tensed. 'No… Had Severin sent his men after all?'
But she let out a shaky breath of relief when she saw it wasn't a man—but a woman—the same woman who had cried over her yesterday.
This time, too, the woman arrived with tear-filled eyes, slowly stepping closer to Isolde. Isolde couldn't quite remember her name.
"Big Sis Rena—ah, I mean, Big Sis Isolde..." The woman sat on the edge of the bed, her gaze filled with pity as she took in Isolde's thin, bruised body, marked by both the prisoners and Severin.
Slowly, she reached out and helped unfasten the tight collar around Isolde's neck. Once it was removed, Isolde could finally breathe easier, though her throat still ached.
"Who are you?" Isolde asked.
"I'm Liraine. I'm Severin's little sister."
Little sister? A cruel man like Severin had a younger sister? How could someone with a sister be so ruthless toward another woman? Had Severin never considered that the same brutality he inflicted on others might one day happen to his sister—or even his future daughter?
"You're the reason Severin didn't kill me," Isolde muttered.
Liraine nodded. "I knelt before him and threatened to kill myself if he harmed you."
"Why? Because I look like that woman… Renata?"
Again, Liraine nodded. "At first, I didn't believe it when I heard Severin raging at his men for letting Lucien send someone who resembled Renata. He ordered Nikhael to kill you, so I ran as fast as I could to stop it."
Liraine looked troubled, her slender fingers fidgeting restlessly. "I don't understand how you could look so much like her. I just… I couldn't bear to see Renata's corpse again. I didn't want to feel guilty for failing to save her, as I had back then. But..." Her eyes darkened as she stared at Isolde's battered body.
"I never thought Severin would be this cruel. He wasn't like this with Renata. Back then, he was gentle with her."
"Because I'm not Renata. No matter how much I resemble her, I'll never be her."
Liraine's expression grew even more sombre. "I'm sorry..."
"No need to apologize. If anything, I should be thanking you because, thanks to you, I'm still breathing right now. However, my current state isn't much better than being dead. This is just the beginning - your brother will surely torture me even worse from now on."
"I'll beg Brother Severin not to hurt you, Sis Ren- I mean, Sis Isolde."
Isolde scoffed at Liraine's words, "I'm an intruder who got caught. I'm Lucien's operative, your brother's enemy. Do you think your brother would let his enemy's agent live peacefully here like some recreational guest?"
Liraine fell silent. What Isolde said was true. Yesterday, when she pleaded with Severin, he only agreed not to kill Isolde because Liraine threatened to commit suicide if he did.
But yesterday, Severin had told Liraine that he would torture Isolde until she killed herself with her own hands, of her own will - out of despair, unable to endure the suffering he would inflict.
Liraine felt guilty toward Isolde. "I-I'll help you clean up, Sis Isolde."
"I can do it myself. It's fine."
But when Isolde tried to get off the bed, she collapsed onto the floor as her legs couldn't support her weight.
Reluctantly, Isolde had to accept Liraine's helping hand. She needed to cleanse herself - to wash away the sweat, the burns from the wax drip on her skin, and the remnants of Severin's fluids that soiled her body, including her most intimate parts.
…