Sehir had no recollection of how much time had passed. All traces of time in the room had vanished completely from Isri's sight, and Sehir had no idea what he looked like now.
After finally managing to move himself to the bathroom door, Sesil breathed a sigh of relief and pushed the door open.
A clean, soapy scent filled his nostrils, and compared to the unchanging air outside, Cecil actually found it rather pleasant.
Sehir staggered to the mirror, and the first thing he saw made him completely stunned.
It turns out that so much time has passed.
Sehir slowly raised his hand to touch his hair, which had grown to his neck and whose bangs almost covered his eyes.
Her slender body, concealed by her loose clothing, made her look extremely frail. Cecil tucked her hair behind her ears, revealing the shocking smears on her neck.
Even after so many days, the color was still a clearly visible red. Cecil ran his finger lightly over that spot, and he couldn't bear to think how terrifying the color must have been back then.
Sessil slowly reached towards his collar, pulling the loose neckline down gently, exposing his entire collarbone to the air.
Several marks, some deep and some shallow, were scattered across her small and delicate collarbone.
Beneath the clean robe lay a body that had been pleasured, both clean and filthy, an eyesore. A flicker of horror crossed Cecil's eyes.
“Young Master.” Isri’s voice suddenly rang in his ears. Cesil turned around and stared at Isri with wide eyes.
Seeing this, Isri took a step forward, but the next second, Cesil seemed to be stimulated and quickly retreated.
Because of the extreme tension, the chain on his feet hooked around his knees, and Cecil fell backward.
Fortunately, Isri reacted quickly, stepped forward, grabbed Ceshir's wrist, and pulled him back.
Due to the force, his head slammed into Isri's chest, and Sehir felt a wave of dizziness.
Isri released Ceshir, took a step back, and whispered, "Is the young master so afraid?"
Sehir, head bowed, was still in shock, his mind reeling. He didn't answer Isri's question, and instead turned to leave.
But after taking only a few steps, he suddenly aggravated the wound on his back, lost his footing, and fell forward again. Cecil made a move to hold onto the door frame.
Isri turned around, ready to reach out to help, but the next second, Ceshir raised his head, his eyes filled with malice, and slapped Isri's hand away.
"Don't touch me!"
Cesil practically roared those three words, his body trembling with rage. As he bent over, his shirt slipped down, revealing the marks underneath to Isri almost without any attempt to conceal them.
Isri's hand froze in mid-air. Looking at the suddenly agitated Cesil, and recalling the mirror in the bathroom earlier, Isri couldn't help but smile to himself.
Sehir looked at Isri, who was smirking, and his anger became even more apparent. He glared at him fiercely before turning and walking toward the bed.
The window had been opened beforehand, and Cecil unconsciously looked up and glanced outside. Coincidentally, a squirrel was perched on a tree branch outside, staring longingly into the room.
Suddenly, his heart felt like it was on a rollercoaster going off the rails. Instinctively, Sehir immediately turned his head to the side, no longer looking at the squirrel in the tree outside.
Standing behind him, Islam turned his head and glanced out the window. The squirrel looked at him as if it had seen a sworn enemy from another world, and jumped down from the tree in a panic.
“It seems the young master will still listen to reason.” Isri walked around to the front of Sehir and closed the window again.
Upon returning to Cecil's side, Cecil instinctively dodged to the side once more.
Isri frowned slightly, pushed the food cart next to him halfway to the side, turned to meet Cesil's gaze, as if wanting to confirm one of his ideas.
Isri took a step forward, and just as he raised his hand in mid-air, Ceshir shrank back, a look of fear flashing in his eyes once again.
"Is the young master so afraid of me?" Isri's voice was very soft, but every word hit Cesil's ears like thunder.
As Isri approached, the panic in Cesil's eyes became even more apparent, and he eventually collapsed onto the bed.
Sehir gripped the sheets tightly, his eyes filled with nothing but fear and rage.
Isri drew closer and closer, and with a sudden surge of courage from who-knows-where, Sehir stood up abruptly and raised his hand as if to slap Isri.
How could Isri possibly understand Sehir's wishes? He reached out and grabbed Sehir's wrist, pulling him into his arms, while his other hand slowly roamed over Sehir's back.
"Let me go!" Sehir panicked and struggled.
As Sehir struggled most fiercely, Isri suddenly released him, and Sehir's eyes widened as he fell onto the bed.
Isri's expression darkened, and he leaned down, pressing himself against Ceshir. Ignoring the resistance of the person beneath him, he gently twirled Ceshir's earlobe with one hand.
“Young Master~” Isri suppressed his displeasure and slowly opened his mouth: “I think I have been very lenient with you.”
Sehir's heart was pounding so hard it felt like it was going to burst his eardrums. His chest was pounding with tension, and he was so breathless that he forgot to even try to fight back.
“Young Master, do you still want to go back to the cage?” Isri’s voice was low, his breath brushing against my ear like it was on a hot stove: “I don’t mind locking you up again.”
As he spoke, Isri raised his hand and stroked Ceshir's neck, then traced his hand down the neck.
Chapter 99
In an instant, Cecil seemed to be stimulated, and the voice he shouted was slightly distorted.
"Bastard, don't touch me!"
Cecil's eyes widened, and he slapped Isri's hand away again with a reckless slap, making a loud "smack" sound in the quiet room.
Sehir was panting heavily, glaring at Isri, his body trembling even more violently than before, and unconsciously, his body began to move.
Isri's face visibly darkened. Today, Isri was not wearing gloves, and the veins on the back of his fair hands were throbbing, as if he was furious.
Isri shook his hand, straightened his body, pulled Sehir off the bed, and led him to the bathroom with his arm around his waist.
The clanging of chains echoed continuously in the room, each strike stimulating Isri's cerebral cortex.
Sehir didn't shout any curses, as that would only excite Isri more. Sehir kept prying Isri's fingers apart with his hands, leaving a trail of nail marks on the porcelain-white back of his hand.
But all of this seemed to have no effect on Isri. In the end, even Cesil couldn't bear to look at the red marks on the back of Isri's hand and could only keep prying Isri's fingers apart.
—
It was the same familiar scene. The table had been cleaned by Isri again, and the mirror in front of him seemed to be wiped even cleaner.
With his hand twisted behind his back by Isri, Sehir's arm felt like it was dislocated with pain whenever he moved his body slightly. Involuntarily, Sehir could only lean back to relieve the pain.
The chains were still fastened to his ankles; this tabletop was the limit of the chains, and he couldn't even move one leg.
Sehir gritted his teeth and stared intently at the person in the mirror.
Looking at Isri alone, with her elegant butler's uniform, neatly trimmed hair, and perfect figure, she looks like a noblewoman who has stepped out of a painter's painting, gentle and elegant.
But that was just a superficial effort.
Isri didn't speak, but lowered his eyes and reached forward, hooking the hem of Ceshir's clothes and slowly lifting them up.
As the spring scenery on her legs was gradually revealed before his eyes, Cecil was unable to move and could only grit his teeth and close his eyes.
"Why isn't the young master resisting anymore?" Isri's hot breath brushed against his neck. "Or perhaps, the young master likes it this way?"
Suddenly, Sehir opened his eyes and glared at Isri. He made a move, and a sharp pain shot through his shoulder.
Sehir frowned, gasped, looked up at himself in the mirror, and gritted his teeth: "Didn't you say it was up to me to do it willingly?"
Isri smiled, lifted his shirt to his waist, and asked in a slow, deliberate voice, "So, are you willing?"
Sehir was taken aback by Isri's question and remained silent for a long time. Isri increased the force in his hand and pulled him back a little.
"If you'd like, I'll arrange for you to leave."
Sehir's breathing became heavier, and he frowned, saying fiercely, "Impossible!"
Isri seemed to already know how Ceshir was going to answer, and his expression didn't change much. He simply bent down slightly and slowly stroked Ceshir's angry face.
"Young master, then you can't blame me for this."
The sound of chains being pulled was even more jarring in the empty bathroom. A flicker of panic crossed Cecil's eyes as he looked at Isri's hand in the mirror and his own naked body.
"What do you want to do!"
Sehir was getting anxious. Memories of that night flooded back into his mind, and Sehir trembled even more violently than before.
"I...I haven't recovered yet...please don't..." Cecil tried to raise his voice as much as possible so that Isri could hear him clearly.
No, he can't right now.
Isri stopped what he was doing, exhaled, and spoke again: "Young Master, don't worry, I won't do it."
Cecil was forced to lean forward, her loose clothes bunching up at her waist, and a special chain around her slender ankles.
Like the tenderest part of God's fruit being peeled open, it is filled with rich nectar, inviting others to admire and pick it.
In the empty bathroom, the sounds of resistance only fueled the madness of the person behind him.
Unfortunately, it's not the right time yet, so this suppressed desire can only be endured.
Sehir held back tears, his eyes tightly shut, pleading with the person behind him.
"Please don't...Isri...I beg you, please don't..."
Looking at the person in the mirror, Isri wasn't in a hurry at all. He leaned down and gently took Cesil's earlobe into his mouth, slowly caressing it.
"Ugh..." Cecil shrugged, his breathing quickened, and his cheeks burned red.
Isri's hands were very cold, and every part of his hands was perfectly covered. With the slightest pressure, Ceshir's body would tremble violently.
"So young master is so sensitive."
Isri opened his mouth, and a low, suppressed voice filled with desire rang in Cesil's ears.
“Bastard… ugh!” Sesil gasped and cursed.
Isri didn't speak, but continued what he was doing.
At first, Sesil was not used to it and his whole body was in a state of resistance. But as time went on, his breathing began to become disordered and his tightly closed eyes became slightly narrowed.
The increasingly strange reactions in his body intensified Sehir's fear, yet he had no choice but to succumb to the sensations.
He's going crazy.
Isri seemed to have noticed Ceshir's reaction, so he stopped what he was doing. Almost instantly, Ceshir let out a sound of impatience.
Isri's hands were still very cold, and when he suddenly moved them away, his whole body seemed to be resisting his attempts to hold on.
Sehir opened his eyes a crack, looking somewhat dazed at the mirror in front of him. His body was flushed, and the original marks were more noticeable as his body heated up.
No… he doesn’t want to… Cecil looked at himself in this state, a hint of disgust flashing in his eyes.
But with the slightest movement of her body, that empty feeling instantly enveloped her tightly.
Cecil kept twisting and turning, trying to recover, but the more she moved, the stronger the feeling became, until finally, she couldn't help but breathe out soft, delicate air.