Minutes later, the air in the room was thick enough to choke on, saturated with the iron tang of blood, the salt of sweat, and the overwhelming musk of spent climax.
Borius felt as though he were experiencing death for a second time, but this time, there was no peaceful passage to the beyond. This was a conscious, waking hell.
Every thrust he had witnessed, every degrading word Rex had spat, had acted like acid on his soul. He wanted to dissolve, to shatter into nothingness, to beg Rex to simply sever the chains and let him return to the void.
But Rex would not grant him that mercy. Rex wanted him to witness the aftermath.
Rex sat on the edge of the bed, his chest heaving slightly from exertion. Valentina lay beneath him, sprawled across the sheets like a broken marionette.
Her hair was matted with sweat and blood, her skin a canvas of crimson welts. Rex didn't pull away; instead, he shifted his weight, positioning his massive, still throbbing cock directly over her face.
