Try Begging Novel - Chapter 82

What new whim could this be?

When Grace finished breakfast this morning, Winston suddenly appeared. He always came to the interrogation room abruptly, but it was unexpected that he held her confiscated clothes and shoes.

She thought he might finally treat her like a human, but no. After she was fully dressed, he put the leash back around her neck and shackles connected by about two spans of chain on her ankles.

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 also treating her completely like a dog.

Winston stroked the side of Grace’s head like a dog with his palm, then brushed 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 tidied.

“Stubborn, aren’t you?”

She heard a short click of his tongue above her head. His hand rummaged through a drawer beside Grace, then pulled out a small box. Soon, she heard something being torn open on the desk.

She soon discovered the source of the sound. A hand extended back under the desk, holding a postage stamp.

“How about helping your master with his work sometimes?”

Grace looked up, glaring at the man.

“This act is pathetic now.”

She had been humiliated that day, but he acted as if he had been humiliated, saying such things, making her believe he would never do this again.

The tip of his index finger, with the stamp placed backside up, lightly twitched. It was unpleasant, but she had no choice. At Winston’s urging, Grace opened her mouth.

“Stick out your tongue.”

Yes, as you command. She hooked the tip of her tongue on her lower teeth and extended it.

“That’s right.”

His index finger flipped, then lightly brushed the stamp across the center of her swollen tongue before pulling away. The hand disappeared, and a rustling sound came from the desk, then another fingertip appeared, bearing another stamp.

Grace curled the tip of her tongue, moistening the back of the stamp, and thought.

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

How much she had worried he would starve her again for mocking him as an idiot. Fortunately, Winston acted as if nothing had happened.

However, his attitude had subtly changed.

He still didn’t bother using interrogation as an excuse, but his treatment of her as a sexual plaything became even more thorough.

One dawn, he suddenly appeared while Grace was asleep. She felt a presence at the edge of the bed and opened her eyes, startling at the faint silhouette of the man in the darkness.

The moment she confirmed it was Winston by the feel of his hand burrowing under the blanket, Grace felt relieved. Then, immediately, she felt self-loathing.

He kissed her, groped her body, plugged her cervix, inserted himself, and thrust his hips. He said not a word throughout the entire act of violating her. Grace alone let out vulgar, nasal moans like a harlot. Then, at the moment of climax, Winston withdrew, leaving without a backward glance.

Her body instantly turned cold.

It felt as though it had been a dream. But the heat the man left behind, feeling as though it was dripping from her body, was too vivid to be a dream.

Suppressed sobs pierced the chilling aftertaste left by the closing door. Humiliation, along with an intense loneliness, washed over her.

After that, Winston continued in the same manner. He satisfied his desires silently and left. She almost longed for the moments when they used to snarl and fight.

Now, she was afraid he had closed his heart to her. At the same time, she was afraid of herself, craving the heart of a man she wished to kill.

She must be going mad from loneliness.

Grace let out a self-deprecating sigh and licked the stamp clinging to Winston’s fingertip.

But this man, for the past few days, had been a little strange. He still spoke little, but he often stared at Grace’s face and then smiled.

It was quite an unsettling smile.

And today, though it was only under the office desk, he had brought her outside.

Perhaps, if she continued to behave, he might one day take her to the garden of the annex.

She stared blankly out the window, where a blue tit sang sweetly, when another fingertip offered a stamp. How many letters was he sending, she wondered?

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

“Hmph…”

A blunt fingertip pressed down hard on the center of her tongue. Grace, sensing the strong displeasure in his gesture, tore her gaze from the dazzling window and looked up at the man in the shadows.

A chill ran through her as their eyes met.

The stamp was already more than sufficiently wet, but his finger still pressed her tongue. Reading his intention, Grace curled her tongue, wrapping it around his finger.

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

The moment her tongue left his fingertip, Grace stuck out her tongue far. It was an invitation for him to take the stamp stuck to her tongue, but he didn’t seem to have that intention.

With the thin paper between them, his firm fingertip gently rubbed the soft flesh. The moment a hot sigh escaped Winston’s lips, his finger slipped off the edge of the paper and onto her wet flesh.

His fingertip stirred the flesh as if savoring its texture. As the piece of paper moved around in her mouth, Grace rolled her tongue to push it out. She picked it off her lips with her hand. The thoroughly wet stamp would now be useless.

As the stamp came out, another finger entered. Grace pushed the flesh between his index and middle fingers and licked it upward. Another heated sigh was heard.

She worked her tongue around each knuckle, then pursed her lips and sucked his finger. She clearly saw the part of the man’s body that knew this sensation best rise.

“How about helping your master with his work sometimes?”

Well, I don’t seem to be helping with your work at all.

The man moved his hand to his lower body. She thought he was going to pull something out of his trousers that was at her eye level, but he pulled a silk handkerchief from his back pocket.

Leon gently pressed the handkerchief to the woman’s mouth, which was drenched in saliva.

A woman drooling like a dog.

Indeed, dogs don’t know how to wipe their own mouths.

This woman was a dog. Just a dog he kept for personal reasons.

He needed to regain the swaying dominance. Therefore, he decided to expect only what a human might expect from a dog from this woman. But recalling what humans expect from dogs, treating this woman like a dog was a self-contradiction.

Hunting, obedience, loyalty, and affection.

He was crazy.

While he wiped her mouth, the woman’s hands busily fidgeted. He wondered what she was doing, then saw her skillfully manipulating her slender fingertips to smooth out the damp stamp.

It was amusing how engrossed she was in something so trivial, so he let her be, but then the woman did something strange. She affixed the neatly smoothed stamp to her left eye. It was where a stamp would be placed on a letter.

Then, for some reason, she grinned to herself. Her gaze was once again out the window. A feeling he didn’t want to acknowledge surged from his chest.

Whoosh. He tore the stamp from the woman. The crumpled wad of paper was thrown onto the desk.

I have no intention of sending it.

What was this woman expecting? He had only brought her out for a moment because she seemed to have lost her appetite and looked depressed lately. There would be absolutely nothing more than this.

He was about to grasp the leash lying on the floor, intending to teach her a lesson, when—

“Captain.”

Campbell called him from outside in an urgent voice, knocking on the door. The woman startled awake, then, without even knowing what was happening, hid under the desk.

“What is it?”

As he stood up and asked, the door burst open, and a visibly flustered Campbell exclaimed,

“The inspector has arrived!”