Try Begging

Chapter 73

“Sorry, but my nickname is Vampire, Cannibal… No, would it be okay to become a cannibal?”

“Ack!”

He bit her toe hard.

Grace shuddered as his wet tongue licked the tips of her toes. She didn’t feel any of the superiority she had so wanted to feel, even for a moment. She got humiliated instead.

“Pervert.”

Has he finally figured himself out now? He didn’t react to being called a pervert now.

The pervert let go of her feet and picked up her stockings. The place where he put her feet was also perverted.

Because it was in the middle of his lower body.

As he put on her stockings, the texture she felt on the soles of her feet gradually changed. The flesh, which was unpleasant because it was soft, became more and more hard. Even though it was hard, it still felt bad.

Grace tried to remove her foot, but Winston grabbed her by the ankle. In the end, she had to hold down his bulging front with both feet while having the two stockings worn over.

Even after putting on the stockings, he didn’t let go of her legs. He swiped up and down the smooth silk-wrapped calf, touched the flesh of her thigh that had protruded from the pressure of the band, and buried his lips into the calf.

The arrogant Leon Winston bowed his head beneath her and kissed her calf.

Seeing it, she finally felt the sense of superiority she longed for.

‘That’s right, keep being a slave. Worship me.’

Intoxicated with the ephemeral sentiments, she let him do what he did, and in the end, after thirty minutes…

“The ideal sexist b*stard who should be locked up in a mental hospital for the rest of his life…”

She had to sit in the bathtub and wash her toes and calves, which were clotted with his seeds and throw away the stockings that were full of holes.

“Ha…”

Grace soon lay back on the bed, wrapped in nothing but a blanket and stockings. This time, instead of staring at the ceiling and regretting useless things, she grabbed the magazine and pencil that were lying beside the bed.

This was what she got when she begged him a while ago. When she asked for a radio or newspaper, his first reaction was not good.

“Do I look so sloppy?”

He said he would not give it because she might receive an order disguised as an advertisement or article. It made sense.

“Seriously, I’m bored out of my mind. You should spend just two days here. Then you will understand.”

“I’m not even a prisoner, so why would I do that?”

After replying that way, he coldly left, bringing several magazines and a pencil. The magazines were all issued before her capture, so she would not be able to take orders.

“Smart asshole…”

After going halfway through the crossword puzzle, an article about the Queen’s third pregnancy appeared.

Grace quickly read through the article full of praise. It was way too fast to read. She paused her finger every once in a while when she thought she had found something and lightly traced one of the letters in pencil.

“If you try to escape again, I’m thinking of putting a small door in that door and tying you up so that only your butt sticks out. The morale of the soldiers will increase considerably.”

“Good. Even if it wasn’t so, your thing is boring. Shouldn’t I try different flavors as well? Oh, there’s already a door over there. Shall I go and lay my butt?”

One day, after that angry retort, while being punished, all the soldiers in charge of the torture chamber were replaced by female soldiers. After confirming once more that Winston wanted to own her body, she became genuinely curious.

‘…Is my body really the only thing that man wants to monopolize from me?’

So she created a code by drawing letters sparsely one by one in the magazine.

Then, she asked the woman who was giving her the meal to throw away the magazine because it was no longer interesting. Of course, she expected that it would end up in Winston’s hands.
And that night, she suffered just as badly as the day she was discovered.

Winston pushed her relentlessly, his face flushed with anger. He would usually let her go after a while if she quietly cried as he wished, but not that day.

Still, he didn’t even say he had found the message, let alone question her. His intentions were quite understandable. It would be humiliating to admit with his own mouth that he got upset over a line of affection Grace left for another man.

‘Why does he like me?’

She wanted to ask the whole time she was panting under the man’s weight.

‘This is the third time. I cheated on him twice, and I’m even the daughter of the enemy who killed his father… why does he still like me?’

Maniac.

Idiot.

After that day, both her body and mind sank like water-soaked cotton.

She stopped exercising for a living and just lay in bed all day. If she was in the blanket, the feeling of that night at Abbington Beach, hiding under the covers and crying, soaked into her mind like bitter seawater.

She even heard a voice calling out to Daisy.

I’m sorry. I hate you… No, I’m sorry, but I will kill you! No, it’s not… I don’t want to kill you.

Her feelings toward the man changed rapidly.

Grace, you idiot.

No, lunatic.

Being locked up for a long time and only looking at him made her go crazy. Grace continued to pencil out certain letters from the article. Perhaps Winston, having found this, would frantically try to spell it out, thinking it was another message to Jimmy, but…

What kind of face would he make if he knew it was actually a message sent to him? The moment she wrote down the last letter, she heard footsteps.

It was a man’s footsteps.

‘You came back as soon as I took out the pessary, that b*stard.’

Lately, Winston had been looking for her unexpectedly.

Grace sighed and remembered the story he had told her during the day. A scientist had successfully trained a dog to salivate at the sound of a bell. He said he would train Grace like the dog.

“I’m curious. Maybe as soon as you hear my footsteps, you will start to get wet.”

But so far, all that came out was a sigh.

As the sound of unlocking the locks one by one began to come, Grace put down the magazine and picked up the dog collar that was hanging over the bed rail. He said that if she were caught undoing the necklace again, he would then change it to the same iron ring as the shackles.

That was bad.

As soon as she quickly put on the dog collar, the door opened.

“Hello, Bella.”

It was like a greeting from an owner returning from work to the dog guarding the house. In Winston’s hands were a chair and two cardboard boxes.

Grace let out another sigh.

The more things the man brought, the more difficult times awaited her. He put the chair and the black box in the middle of the room and came to the bed with only a small box tied with a pink ribbon.

“Did my puppy have fun on her own?”

With that, she reflected on what she had done alone during the time he was gone and replied with a bitter smile.

“I’ve been thinking of you all day.”

He hesitated as he was about to give the box to her. Still, the man, not stupid enough to romanticize the words, soon twisted his lips into a laugh.

“Why? Did you imagine killing me painfully?”

“I’ll get sick of it.”

“Good job. You’ll have to do it without even imagining it.”

Saying so, Winston placed the box on her lap and began to remove the jacket from his officer’s uniform.

Grace looked up at him without opening the sweet-smelling box.

‘Why is he buying me something like this?’

The man, who received questioning eyes, narrowed his eyes before turning around and walking to the opposite wall to answer.

“I didn’t know because I’ve never packed leftovers, but people say they give them to dogs as an excuse. I really brought it to the dog.”

Sitting at the wooden table at her feet and opening the box, Grace glanced at the back of Winston’s head as he hung his jacket on a hook on the wall. The dessert in the box was undoubtedly not a leftover. In the end, he was just giving ‘leftovers’ to ‘dogs’ as an excuse…

If he had really given her leftovers, she might have enjoyed them with a much lighter heart.

Nonetheless, she was in no position to refuse. After starving, Grace stopped putting emotions ahead of food.

At first glance, it was an expensive dessert. Even the disposable paper plates underneath were luxuriously engraved with lace patterns. The chocolate sauce pooled on the plate was glossy. It was a swan-shaped choux with a lot of custard cream in the middle, between its back and wings.

It was so pretty that it was a waste to touch it though it smelled so good that it made her heart run away easily.

First, she picked up the long, thin neck and scooped up a lot of chocolate sauce with the sharp beak.

Dipping the chocolate-covered pastry into the yellow custard cream, she popped it into her mouth. The cream melted on her tongue, and the sweet scent of vanilla spread in her mouth. In addition, the bitter and rich flavor of chocolate and the crispy texture of the choux harmonized perfectly.

Grace fantasized about getting out of here for a while and enjoying dinner at a fancy restaurant.

“Is it good, my puppy?”

However, the illusion was shattered the moment the man sitting on the edge of the bed behind her stroked her head like a dog.