Under His Rules

Sam grinned. He took another drag of his cigarette, smoke billowing high. He moistened his blackened lips with the thick liquid available next to him, skipping the glass and going straight from the dark bottle that contained several types.

"Giving up, huh, sweetheart?"

"You bastard!"

The man laughed loudly. "Your sweet foul mouth is so clever." He stood up. He casually tossed away the remaining cigarette. The room was stuffy, and the lighting was dim, but he could clearly see how beautiful the girl in front of him was.

His hidden desires ignited and rose uncontrollably.

Since the first time Sam saw her, he knew that sooner or later, this girl, bound and kneeling, would be his.

Only his.

He knelt to bring himself to the same level as the girl. He forced her to look at him. He firmly grasped her face, which turned out to be incredibly smooth against the surface of his hands. It was her eyes that were dangerous. Black, intense, shining brightly with passion, yet doll-like.

So beautiful.

Just a fleeting glance from her drove Sam crazy. Before, two years ago, it was filled with anger and hatred. Just like now. But this time, the anger burned much stronger within him. The directed hatred towards him was immense, but Sam didn't care.

As long as he had her, he didn't care what this girl felt.

"Brother wants to hear your curses again," Sam said with a thin grin. His eyes didn't stray anywhere except to the eyes as lovely as a doll's.

"Asshole!" the girl hissed sarcastically. Although she struggled a bit, she managed to utter those words.

By any means, she swore she would curse the man in front of her until death. Every offensive remark that she had never imagined would slip from her lips, she now spoke with full confidence. She didn't care if her safety was at risk. And everything she owned could be cruelly snatched away from her.

She didn't care.

Ever since she was dragged into this mess to free her father from these loan shark thugs, her hope had died. She was merely a piece of flesh valued at a hundred million dollars. A piece that would be squeezed until every drop of her essence was gone.

She was certain of that.

When they met again in this stuffy room reeking of alcohol, a scent she disliked, she vowed not to forgive anyone who had made her like this. She would demand retribution for all the pain she endured in the court of God someday. It didn't matter if she became trash in this world. It didn't matter.

As long as everything received just punishment. That was her vow.

"Have you ever worn lipstick?" Sam asked, leaning closer. He spoke right above the girl's lips that he still held onto her face. "Seems like you have. I can smell the sweet aroma of strawberry." Sam grinned again.

"Let go!" Beatrice whispered. Beatrice Catalina, to be precise.

"Fine." Sam simply released his grip. A soft moan escaped from the girl's mouth, the scent of which he had caught a whiff of earlier. It was an intoxicating aroma. "You know what you have to do here, right?"

Beatrice chose not to answer. She turned her face away from the man who was still staring at her intensely, full of intimidation.

"First rule," Sam no longer grasped Beatrice's face but pressed on the lower part of her neck quite firmly, making her eyes widen in surprise. Once again, she had to face Sam's fierce gaze. "Never disrespect me when I'm speaking."

Sam pressed harder as Beatrice remained unresponsive. "Do you understand what I mean?"

He received a small nod as a response, satisfying Sam, albeit slightly. He loosened the pressure on Beatrice's slender and smooth neck just a bit. He had the urge to crush and suck on it forcefully. But it wasn't the right time yet.

"Second rule," Sam spoke again. "Every time I enter the room later, you must wear the clothes provided there. Serve me with your best smile." Then, Sam moved closer and whispered with emphasis. But before that, he deliberately blew his desire onto Beatrice's earlobe. It made her tightly shut her eyes, and her body began to tremble. "Fill the room with moans and my name."

Beatrice desperately wanted to cry out loud, run as far as possible, and escape from this place she despised. In her closed eyes, the vision of her future had already ended. No more attending classes with her favorite professors. No more cozy conversations with friends in the library, accompanied by numerous assignments. No more working hard to earn extra money for her tuition fees.

Everything had vanished.

There was no response from Beatrice, which made Sam click his tongue. Once again, he pressed on the girl's throat, this time even more painfully than before. "Don't make me angry, okay?"

Still, there was no response, which only fueled Sam's passion and anger even more.

"Answer!" Sam demanded, his voice thundering. It was terrifying and caused Beatrice to quickly nod.

That made Sam smile with satisfaction, but he still didn't release his grip. There was one more thing he needed to emphasize to Beatrice.

"Third rule," Sam said. This time he spoke with commanding eyes. It was not to be questioned, and Beatrice knew that if she violated it, severe punishment would follow. What exactly it was, Beatrice didn't know.

"Once you become mine, you'll always be mine. You won't be able to escape because..." Sam released his grip. Beatrice took the opportunity to inhale the air as freely as possible. Although the oxygen supply in the room was mixed with smoke from the cigarettes, it was still better than when his strong hand was pressing on her throat.

Beatrice also coughed because her breathing was too rushed. It was met with a foolish grin from Sam, as if it were a common occurrence. He walked towards his desk, opened a tightly closed drawer, rummaged through it for a moment, and found something important to him.

The stamp of the twin dragons.

A symbol that showed his authority in the Southern Division. There were two stamps there. One of them he used to mark special individuals by his side. The other one was for those who submitted to his power, often becoming members of the Twin Dragons.

He pondered for a moment. Which stamp would be suitable for this girl? The cunning grin returned. In his hand, he had already chosen what he deemed appropriate.

He prepared the stamp by activating the automatic button. The part of the stamp that had felt cold on his back began to warm up, indicating that the tool was working properly. While waiting for it to reach the right temperature, he approached Beatrice once again.

"Undo your clothes."

Beatrice's eyes widened.

"Oh, I forgot. You're tied up," Sam chuckled, as if mocking his own forgetfulness. "Let me help you then."

"No!" Beatrice shouted in protest. She tried to retreat and remove Sam's hand that was starting to unbutton her shirt. But her efforts were in vain.

Sam could have reminded her of the two previous rules, but he didn't. He wanted to play with his prey for a while. It was enjoyable to have a new toy in his life.

Until finally, Beatrice's shirt was completely open. The buttons were forcefully pulled by Sam with satisfied laughter in each pull. Beatrice's face pleaded for mercy, screaming for forgiveness, but Sam didn't care. In front of him now, there were two beautifully shaped mounds of breasts. They rose and fell with Beatrice's irregular breaths.

The girl's pleading eyes fixed on Sam. "Forgive me, please," she pleaded.

"I'm not God, just so you know," Sam smirked. His opponent couldn't do anything. The proof was that she couldn't even push away the hand that was now starting to explore her breasts. The skin was as soft as silk, so tempting. The perfume scent Beatrice wore intoxicated Sam completely. Although her breasts were still confined by the bra she wore, their beauty tempted Sam to squeeze them.

But not yet.

He could restrain himself for now. What he did instead was lick them. Very gently, full of emotions, full of temptation, and... he gave a strong suck on the right side. At first, Beatrice didn't respond until a stifled moan reached Sam's ears.

After satisfyingly leaving many red marks there, Sam wiped his wet lips. He couldn't hold back any longer, but... ah! The stamp!

Immediately, the prepared stamp met the surface of her chest. Making Beatrice scream in pain.

Pain.

While Sam grinned with satisfaction. The mark would leave a red trace that could never be erased.

"Welcome, my woman."