Chapter 2-tormented

The war between the Eastern Holy Land and Ceragon had lasted for over two hundred years. However, now, there were no swords, no battles, and no deaths between the two nations. The conflict unfolded solely within the confines of a narrow and damp underground interrogation room, characterized by mutual tugging and assault.

Douglas had forsaken his fiancée.

Meanwhile, Dermat aimed to complete the insult to the Eastern Holy Land through a sadistic act. Nobody considered Margaret's feelings. Caught between two men, she could lift her head to see the handsome face of her fiancé, Douglas. Any attempt to bring her legs together resulted in Dermat striking her buttocks from behind.

"Don't move. If you don't want to be exposed to the people outside on your knees," Dermat spoke with an elegant yet crude tone, far from the demeanor expected of an imperial heir.

Margaret gritted her teeth. Bathed in Douglas's gaze, she felt like a lamb awaiting slaughter. Unable to see Dermat's face, she was unaware that he was fixated on her intimate parts. His beautiful dark golden eyes squinted slightly, as if savoring a delicious dish.

The erect member, with a glistening tip, protruded prominently. Dermat thrust his hips a few times, smearing the viscous fluid onto the inside of Margaret's thighs. Sensing Margaret's tremors, he decisively gripped one leg, supported his member with one hand, aimed at the narrow flower entrance, and slowly penetrated.

It hurt! More painful than the knife handle!

Margaret couldn't help emitting a sharp cry, and the next moment, tears of a physical nature filled her eyes. Unable to see Douglas's face anymore, relying on her pitiful dignity, she bit down hard on her lips, refusing to utter another whimper.

Dermat gasped, veins bulging on his forehead. He had only inserted a small portion and felt it difficult to proceed. The woman was incredibly tight, with numerous soft folds wriggling, pushing outwards at every moment while desperately trying to engulf him. If not for his strong will, he would have almost ejaculated directly.

But Douglas was watching. The useless man locked to the chair kept watching the debauchery outside the glass window. Dermat couldn't afford to lose. Grinning provocatively at Douglas, he forcefully thrust his hips, breaking through Margaret's flesh, reaching the deepest point.

His swollen testicles pressed directly against the tender flower entrance.

"Ha..." Dermat breathed lightly, finally able to grip Margaret's waist with both hands, vigorously thrusting again and again. The rod, entering and exiting, was stained with faint traces of blood, a scene intended for the best display.

"Margaret. Miss Margaret..." He squinted his dark golden pupils, cruel words flowing from his crimson lips. "Touch yourself. Another man is having you now."

Margaret lay on the ground, silent, with only the trembling of her shoulders revealing that her consciousness still lingered. Dermat bent down, untied the ropes around her wrists, and grabbed one of her hands to touch the throbbing member at her entrance. Her feeble fingers, as soon as they touched his genitals, fiercely struggled to retract.

Dermat laughed.

As he chuckled, he glanced back at Douglas. However, the imprisoned prince maintained a cold expression, a slight frown on his forehead, seemingly disdainful of this one-sided brutality.

Dermat's eyes gradually darkened.

In this position, he turned Margaret around to face him entirely. The robust member gyrated inside her, causing Margaret to cry out in agony. With tear-filled eyes, she finally saw the face of her assailant.

A man excessively handsome.

His slightly curled golden hair covered the tips of his ears, with slanting eyebrows and eyes that were subtly lifted. His lips were a vibrant crimson. He possessed a pair of beast-like, dangerously bright golden eyes, and now, those eyes reflected her exposed figure.

Dermat, the Imperial Lion.

Margaret noticed a ruby earring adorning his left ear. It was diamond-shaped, with the outer outline entwined in thorny patterns.

Countless unfamiliar images exploded in her mind, and a massive amount of information surged continuously. Thousands of words flowed before her eyes, eventually converging into a few concise sentences.

[Dermat is the Crown Prince of the Ceragon Empire, the future ruler of this continent. He has a cruel and ruthless personality, having once violated Margaret, the fiancée of the neighboring country's first prince.]

[He never repents for his deeds. Until later, he meets Charlotte and is deeply moved by the girl's pure and beautiful character, resolving to become her guardian.]

Margaret absorbed these pieces of information in a daze.

Her distraction was misunderstood by Dermat, who interpreted it differently.

"Lost in thought?" His smile was mocking, and he thrust upwards with force, his organ pressing against her soft entrance.

"Am I more attractive than your fiancé?"

Margaret hadn't fully come to her senses. Her mind floated in mid-air, while her body remained restrained by Dermat. The menacing organ at its tip was on the verge of prying open her delicate entrance and delving inside.

It was an acute pain. Margaret lowered her head and could see her widely spread legs, exposing her pitiful flower bud that had been stretched almost to paleness. The deep red flesh rod, with its terrifying size, thrust in and out rapidly, revealing a faint glistening sheen.

She was now seated on Dermat. The torn dress piled around her waist, leaving her upper body almost entirely exposed. Her trembling breasts swayed unsteadily, and the previously swollen nipples, rubbed against the ground, now displayed a deep red hue. Dermat's hands gripped her waist, the rough calluses pressing against her delicate skin, transmitting a scorching warmth.

His thrusts were chaotic, nothing but brutal force. Margaret felt like a shipwreck in the vast ocean, tossed into the air at times and plunged into the deep sea at others. She endured the ravages of the storm, her ears filled with the rhythmic sounds of flesh impact and occasional muffled panting.

Apart from that, there was no other sound in the interrogation room.

Douglas was too calm. In a daze, Margaret thought that if Douglas would just speak up to comfort her, even just half a sentence, it might alleviate her suffering. However, he merely watched.

His gaze was akin to voyeurism by a third party.

Margaret's brain was rapidly turning to mush. Her consciousness was not clear enough, but her body was undeniably in distress. Her abdomen was burning, as if a fireball was raging inside, licking at her organs, burning through her heart, crawling through her esophagus and throat.

She felt nauseous, pushing Dermat's chest with her hands, only to receive more intense thrusts in return. In the midst of her confused consciousness, her right hand uncontrollably swung out and landed on his face.

Slap

The sound of a slapped cheek was exceptionally loud. Dermat's head tilted to the side, and a quick flush of blood appeared on his cheek.

He licked his tingling lip, and his tongue touched the gum silently as he smiled. The golden pupils stared at her intensely, like a wild beast about to tear into its prey.

"Fuck,you little bitch."

Dermat's tone was surprisingly gentle. The next moment, he lifted Margaret, took a few steps, and forcefully pressed her against the cold glass. Simultaneously, his organ penetrated Margaret's body without leaving an inch of room.

Too deep, too deep, too deep!

Margaret didn't have time to organize the chaotic information in her mind. She screamed and tried to strike Dermat. She slapped his face, pounded his chest, only to receive more aggressive thrusts in return. Dermat's eyes showed a hint of redness, a few strands of disheveled golden hair soaked with sweat clinging to his forehead.

Finding Margaret annoying, he grabbed her delicate wrists and pressed them against the glass. Simultaneously, he held one of her thighs, forcibly hooking it around his waist.

The glass banged, and fragments of milky white sprayed upwards, slowly trickling down.

For the prisoner inside, this scene was both lascivious and filthy.

Douglas watched his fiancée. Margaret's body wasn't particularly curvy, even a bit too thin. Her back pressed against the glass, the contours of her shoulder blades were unusually clear, resembling the quivering wings of a butterfly. With each collision from Dermat, her waist would involuntarily shake, accompanied by a pitiful blush on her rounded buttocks. Beautiful platinum blonde hair cascaded down, rubbing against the transparent glass, forming strands clumped together by sweat and semen.

This was clearly a one-sided invasion.

Yet, from Douglas's perspective, it seemed like a scene of collusion.

He clenched his jaw, and deep, icy black eyes revealed a surge of disgust. The hands confined by iron shackles on the chair gradually tightened, veins bulging on the back of his hands.