"Feel that, you backstabbing bitch?" he growled, swinging again with precision. "This ass belongs to me, just like every inch of your traitorous body. Beg all you want—your slutty hole is clenching around me, loving the abuse, isn't it? You're nothing but a cum-hungry whore, Noelle, dripping for more."
I had no sense of time anymore. The whip's specialized leather kissed my skin repeatedly, not tearing but electrifying nerves in a haze where pain melted into aching desire. He'd alternate with wax, dripping scented drops down my back, letting them pool in the curveof my spine or trail lower, seeping into sensitive crevices as his thrusts grew more savage.
"You're mine to shatter," he'd rasp harshly, pulling my hair to arch my back further, exposing fresh skin for the lash. One vicious crack landed on my inner thigh, perilously close to where we connected, the vibration surging straight through me, forcing an involuntary clench around his length.
"Admit it," he commanded, slowing to agonizing, drawn-out strokes, using the whip's handle to tease my entrance before slamming back in himself. "Your family's scheme—confess!"
But I had nothing to admit, only sobs and pleas as he accelerated, faster and fiercer. The candles dwindled, wax building in sticky layers—hardening into tantalizing weights on my nipples that tugged with every jolt; tracing paths down my abdomen, cooling and fracturing under his gripping hands.
He flipped me once more, facing up, splaying me wide on the chair. The whip now teased with lighter flicks over my peaks, each one jolting me into writhing ecstasy. "See how you arch for it," he mocked, his voice roughened by lust and fury. "Greedy little whore—bet you'd come just from the lash if I allowed it, your body betraying you like the filthy liar you are."
But he edged me mercilessly, denying release. More wax followed, dripped in deliberate designs—circling my navel, then venturing lower, sealing over our joined bodies. The heat blossomed within, a peculiar, stimulating burn that rendered every inch hypersensitive, amplifying his every movement.
How long it lasted, I couldn't tell—minutes blurring into hours. He'd pull out only to substitute the whip's handle, twisting it deep while wax cascaded over my exposed form. My cries grew hoarse, my body a throbbing nexus of sensation—pain, pleasure, and degradation intertwining into an unrelenting tempest.
At last, he buried himself one final time, releasing deep inside with a guttural groan. I had no energy left for tears, lying limp and utterly spent beneath him.
"Ready to tell the truth now?" he asked, his voice still laced with frost.
I gazed into those amber eyes that had once made my heart flutter, summoning my final ounce of strength, and whispered, "Kholod, I wish you... burn in hell forever."
Chapter Thirty-One
Noelle
"Ma'am, you need to eat something."
Darya's voice sounded distant, as if coming from underwater.
I opened my eyes and stared at the ceiling. A blank expanse, just like my heart.
"Ma'am?" She called again, worry threading through her voice.
I didn't respond. Not because I wouldn't, but because I'd lost the strength to speak.
How long had it been? Three days? Five? A week? I'd lost count. Time had ceased to matter.
"Ma'am, the doctor is here to examine you," Darya said softly.
I remained silent, just lying there.
Emily entered, carrying her medical bag.
"Ma'am." She sat beside the bed, her tone gentle. "I need to check your condition."
I turned my head toward the window.
"Ma'am?" She tried again.
Darya explained quietly. "Doctor, she's been like this for days... won't speak, won't eat anything."
"I understand." Emily nodded. "Let me begin the examination."
She took out her stethoscope and placed it on my chest.
The cold metal touched my skin. Then came the blood pressure cuff, thermometer—one instrument after another.
I let her do whatever she needed, like a soulless puppet.
