Page 110

(VIOLENT DETAILED ABUSE, READ WITH CAUTION.)

The stark white corridors of the castle’s top floor radiated an unsettling perfection, their pristine elegance masking the shadows of secrets few dared to explore.

At the farthest corner, hidden in isolation, stood a door that defied curiosity.

This room was forbidden—even to those with the rare privilege of stepping foot on this exalted floor.

Beyond that threshold lay a world so starkly opposed to the castle’s purity that it seemed born of a different reality.

Inside, darkness swallowed everything, an oppressive void that extinguished the pristine brilliance outside.

If one listened carefully, faint, broken sounds pierced the silence—whimpers and cries, the tortured echoes of something that might have once been human.

The source of this agony lay on the grand bed at the room’s center: a woman, her body a monument to suffering.

She drifted in and out of lucidity, her whispers incoherent, her gasps sharp and raw.

Madness had taken hold, and the isolation of this suffocating prison had dragged her mind to the brink.

Perhaps it was solitude that shattered her, or perhaps the horrors etched into her flesh had done the work.

Her body told its own story—a harrowing tale carved in scars and bruises, a canvas of brutality painted by an unseen hand.

With a sudden motion, she sat up. The heavy rings piercing her nipples clinked together, their weight swaying her enormous breasts with a cruel deliberateness.

Her dark, swollen nipples, stretched far beyond their natural limits, bore the evidence of relentless torment.

The slightest movement sent jolts through her, and she convulsed as a guttural moan tore from her lips, filling the room with its haunting resonance.

Her body was a masterpiece of desecration.

Scars crisscrossed her ample breasts and plump stomach, while her neck bore the vicious remnants of bites and claw marks, each a grotesque testament to her suffering.

The faint glow of her eyes, dulled and teary, flickered like a dying ember—a cruel parody of her former self.

She was Nocturnal, a creature of the dark, but this existence was a mockery of her nature.

In her madness, perhaps she had forgotten her immortality, her ability to heal.

Yet her behavior betrayed a brokenness that defied the resilience of even the most fragile human.

The gasps, the tears streaking her cheeks, the saliva that dripped from her parted lips—all of it reduced her to a pitiable shell of her identity.

Whatever she once was had been stripped away, leaving behind only the raw, visceral remains of suffering and despair.

The door creaked open. Her crimson gaze shifted to the entrance, catching sight of the figure that stepped inside.

His silver hair, shoulder-length and gleaming even in the dim room, framed a cruelly beautiful face, his piercing silver eyes locking onto her with predatory intensity.

His movements were deliberate, the air thick with the oppressive weight of his presence.

As he approached, her broken form reacted instinctively.

Like an animal recognizing its master, she crawled forward on trembling limbs, her enormous breasts dragging painfully against the bed, the piercing rings clinking softly with each tortured step.

The mutilated flesh of her swollen anus, scarred and puckered, came into stark view as she moved, a grotesque patchwork of new and old wounds that spoke of relentless abuse.

The man paused beside the bed, his cruel smile deepening as he reached down to caress her hair.

His fingers twisted into the muddy-white strands, yanking her head upward as she flinched but offered no resistance.

"How have you been?" he asked, his voice dripping with mockery, underpinned by a darkness that promised further horrors.

"I... I’m good," she whispered, her trembling voice carrying a hollow submission that only widened his smile.

"Come here," he commanded, seating himself on the edge of the bed.

She obeyed immediately, crawling toward him, her movements slow and deliberate under the weight of her disfigured body.

He hooked a finger through one of the nipple rings, tugging sharply.

She gasped, her head jerking back as the cruel motion sent jolts of pain coursing through her.

The sound of her anguish sent a visible shiver of satisfaction through his silver eyes.

"Good girl," he murmured, his tone dripping with condescension as his claws dug into the soft flesh of her breasts.

His grip tightened, the sharp edges of his claws slicing through the swollen mounds, drawing fresh rivulets of blood that painted her pale skin red.

Her cries echoed in the room, raw and unrestrained, as he took perverse pleasure in her suffering.

With a flick of his wrist, a shimmering silver rope materialized in his hand.

He wound it around her breasts, pulling with deliberate cruelty.

The rope bit deep into her tender flesh, the sensitive mounds swelling grotesquely as blood flow was strangled.

Her cries grew louder, a symphony of pain that filled the room.

Forced onto all fours, her massive breasts hung grotesquely, their weight amplified by the tightening rope and the heavy rings that adorned her nipples.

He rose, letting his robe fall to reveal his throbbing length.

She leaned forward instinctively, her broken mind trained to obey.

Gripping her hair tightly, he thrust his length into her mouth, forcing it deep into her throat without hesitation.

Her gagging and gurgling sounds were a perverse melody to his ears.

He held her in place, her throat constricting around him as he thrust with increasing brutality.

The force of his movements drove her head down harshly, her teeth scraping against his flesh before the brutal pressure shattered them, leaving jagged remnants.

Blood and saliva mixed as he continued, his clawed hands landing with force on her ass, leaving purple bruises that bloomed instantly across her scarred flesh.

Each slap sent ripples through her mutilated body, the impact resonating with sadistic precision.

He pressed her down onto the bed, pinning her beneath him as he shoved his length deeper into her throat.

His claws wrapped around her neck, squeezing just enough to feel the pulse of his own length beneath her struggling skin.

The silver rope tightened further, her swollen breasts trembling violently under the relentless pressure.

One hand gripped her mangled flesh cruelly, his claws digging deep into the engorged mounds until the skin gave way, splitting open with a sickening sound.

Blood gushed from the torn flesh, staining the sheets as her howls filled the room, the sheer agony of her suffering driving him into a frenzied state.

He thrust harder, faster, his own pleasure mounting as her body convulsed beneath him, a broken vessel reduced to raw pain and despair.

As his climax surged, he forced himself fully into her throat, her broken teeth grinding against his length.

The force of the final thrust was so brutal that her body spasmed uncontrollably, blood and bile spilling from her mouth.

He released his seed with a guttural moan, the warm liquid flooding her stomach as her trembling form grew still beneath him.

The smell of blood, sweat, and his essence filled the room, mingling with the acrid stench of urine that pooled beneath her.

He looked down at her ruined form, her bloodied hair and convulsing body a masterpiece of suffering.

For him, this was perfection—a tableau of violence and torment that fueled his unrelenting hunger for domination.