My father sold me to the Mafia King

Chapter 351

Julie’s point of view

He moved his head with immense strain and exhaustion, trying to look up into my eyes to ask in a spent voice: "What is this cursed thing now?! Haven’t you had your fill of humiliating me?"

A dark, mysterious smile twisted the contours of my lips. "You will find out for yourself right now."

I spun my body around quickly, exiting the room with calm, audible steps into the outer hallway, which was drowned in silence. I violently flung open my brother Steve’s wardrobe, causing a loud creak, and my hand reached inside to pull out another leather belt harsh, wide, and exceptionally thick.

I returned with the same rhythmic paces, holding the belt and folding it between my hands. The moment Jake’s eyes landed on it from his position on the floor, his face contorted, and his features retreated in genuine dread.

"What is this nonsense?! What are you holding in your hand?"

I lifted the folded leather belt lightly, testing its flexibility in the air with an audible snap right before my eyes. "Nothing... just a little tool for us to have some fun together, in my own special way."

He tried to twist his massive, bound torso in a frantic manner, shouting with a voice that made his naked limbs tremble: "What the hell do you intend to do, Julie?! Enough torture!"

I tightened my grip forcefully until my knuckles turned white against the handle of the thick belt. I spoke in a sharp, dry voice, stripped of any feminine mercy: "You exploited my body and took your disgusting pleasure yesterday while I was completely drunk and entirely unconscious. Do you honestly think in your stupid mind that I will just forgive you and overlook this so easily just because you muttered an apology?!"

He gasps, trying to push his broad shoulders against the floor in hopes of finding an escape or breaking the leather strap bound behind his back. "You have already punished me and violated my pride, Julie! Damn you, look at my shameful and degrading state right now!"

I stared down at his exhausted features, his prominent veins, and his naked, bound body lying like a slaughtered animal on the cold wooden floor. But the boiling rage in my chest and the burning hatred in my spite had not yet been quenched or pacified. I felt something monstrous inside me demanding more of his screams, more physical pain to erase the shame of that night.

"No..." I delivered with absolute finality. "The punishment is not over yet, Jake. Now begins the real reckoning for your body."

I hoisted the end of the thick leather belt high into the air, and with every ounce of strength and accumulated rage in my arm, I brought it down. The first harsh, loud, and echoing strike landed directly across his thigh and extended leg. The darkness and cold breezes of the room were violently shattered by the convulsion of his massive body, which jumped against his will from the sheer agony. A burning, searing groan tore from the depths of his stifled chest:

"Ahhh!! Damn it!"

He continued, twitching sharply as his eyes dilated from the shocking pain: "Damn you and damn your madness, Julie... stop this instant!"

No response or sympathy left my lips; I was like a deaf machine. I raised the belt in a swift, mechanical movement and brought it down again with doubled cruelty, striking the center of his naked belly and abdominal muscles directly. He writhed his broad frame across the floor in sweeping agony, his stomach muscles contracting in a terrifying pelvic spasm from the severity of the leather lash, which left a bright red mark behind. His voice came out choked and rasped from between his teeth:

"Oh my God!! Screw you!"

I didn’t stop there; instead, I felt a rising euphoria coursing through me. I raised my arm yet again, delivering a third strike with shocking violence that landed heavily over his bound arm behind his back. He screamed at the top of his lungs, his voice filled with unadulterated venom and pure malice:

"You crazy bitch!! I will kill you if I break these restraints!"

In those terrible moments, I felt myself entirely detaching from reality... as if my soul had left my slender body to float above dark clouds, in another parallel world ruled and driven by nothing but the rhythmic, harsh sound of my strikes. I never knew in all my life that torturing someone, making them writhe in humiliation and pain beneath my hands, could grant a person this hidden, enchanting, and mind-numbing euphoria.

Damn it, I completely forgot in those burning seconds the reality that he had fucked me yesterday; all the feminine oppression and pain vanished, and nothing mattered or moved me anymore except one thing: seeing him suffer, ache, and break before me, completely helpless.

I raised the leather belt time after time without conscious thought, raining down the strikes in a continuous, hysterical, and rapid succession without stopping for a single second. His pained, pleading, and rasped screams flowed into my ears with a beauty and perfection that far surpassed Beethoven’s music. It was as if his rough voice groaning under my lashes was a sweet, rare musical masterpiece, crafted and composed solely to satisfy my vanity and madness.

My breath was coming in heavy pants, and my chest heaved violently when I finally stopped, my arm growing weak and my muscles tiring from the sheer exertion. I threw the leather belt aside, letting it fall heavily onto the floor, and slowly dropped to my knees on the wooden floor right beside his exhausted, sweating, and entirely lifeless body, which could no longer move due to the scattered lashes.

In a slow, strangely warm, and soft movement, I extended my slender fingers, trailing my palm with exquisite softness over the swollen red marks and deep crimson lines the harsh leather belt had left behind across the skin of his back and chest. His entire body flinched, shuddering at the painful sting of a touch that stood in stark contrast to the previous cruelty. He ground his teeth, muttering in a venomous, ragged breath:

"Damn you... damn you."

In that fleeting second, filled with psychological contradictions, a vague, strange, and warm sensation rushed through my veins one I didn’t quite understand. I lifted my palm, letting it rest lightly against his flushed cheek, which was sweating from the ordeal. I began to slide my thumb with absolute smoothness and tenderness over the rugged contours of his face, a sudden gentleness and calm that shocked his entire being.

He looked up at me with confused, frantic blue eyes, completely lost between genuine terror and absolute bewilderment at my sudden transformation from a ravenous beast into a tender woman.

I spoke in a faint, melting, and calm tone that filled the silence of the room: "Thank you... Jake... for making me feel my power."

The contours of his handsome face completely shifted. His brows knit together in deep agitation, disgust, and pure revulsion as he whispered in a broken breath, trying to pull his face away from my palm: "You are truly insane... you are a terrifyingly sick and psychologically warped individual that no human being could ever tolerate."

I bent my torso completely forward, leaving myself exposed, and brought my face close to his until our noses were practically touching. My hot, heavy breaths fanned the sweating skin of his face and his trembling lips with a mysterious arousal.

I delivered in a low hiss that filled the narrow space between us with pure madness:

"Maybe I am insane and sick, Jake, just as you say... because despite all this beating, the tears, and the oppression you caused inside me, I desperately want to violently kiss you on your lips right now, Jake!"