Master of Lust

Chapter - 142

"Please, old man, I don't know what you want from me, but I can't take it anymore," Roy sobbed, blood mixing with his tears as he struggled against the restraints. "Just let me go. I won't tell anyone about this. I swear."

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Roy felt his world unraveling, his world crumbled on him, the physical onslaught from Rick, pushing him to the brink. Tears streamed down his face, mixing with the blood that seeped out from his wounds. His hands, still bound to the chair, trembled as he begged Rick, the disguised old man, for mercy.

"You still got a voice, huh?" Rick, maintaining the facade of the old man, observed Roy's anguish with an unreadable expression. The moonlight cast a haunting glow on the scene, emphasizing the desperation etched on Roy's face, "You are one tough, son of a bitch, young master."

It wasn't about Roy flexing his muscles or proving his toughness; it was Rick's calculated move that kept the guy alive and well. Rick, in a fit of rage, didn't hesitate to drop a substantial number of Ero points to ensure the stubborn fellow's survival. He bought a dozen of low level, elixirs to keep the bastard alive and kicking from the system's marketplace.

Rick bought the Verdant Vitality Serum from the system. Derived from the essence of ancient Sylvan Trees, this serum enhances the body's natural healing abilities. When ingested, it stimulates the growth of new cells, knitting together wounds. And Each of the bottle cost him 3,500 Ero points.

But Rick was so angry that he didn't really care about spending a few thousand of his precious Ero points.

On the other hand, Roy's eyes or should we say the leftover eye, once filled with defiance, was now swollen and bloodshot from the relentless stream of tears. The moonlit landscape reflected the torment etched on his face, every drop a testament to the shattering of his illusions. The disheveled strands of his wet hair clung to his forehead, mingling with the blood that now stained his face.

Roy could barely feel the taste of salt mixed with the metallic tang of blood in his mouth.

Roy's anguished pleas echoed in the dimly lit room, his face contorted with fear as he begged for mercy. Tears streamed down his face, mixing with the dirt on his cheeks. "Please, have mercy. I'll do anything, anything you say. I won't breathe a word. Just let me go back home," he pleaded, his voice quivering with desperation.

Roy, unable to withstand the physical and emotional torment, whispered through sobs, "I promise, I won't remember any of this. Just let me go, please."

Roy's desperate pleas for mercy hung in the air, but Rick, still disguised as the ominous old man, looked down at him with a devilish smirk.

"I know what happened to Emily," Roy stammered, his voice barely audible over the wind that carried his pitiful cries.

"I..." Between labored breaths, Roy managed to croak out, "I know... I know what happened to Emily. Just let me go, and I'll tell you everything."

Rick's smirk widened, a sinister dance playing on his lips as he addressed Roy with a bone-chilling tone, "I don't want to know, my young master. I am starting to enjoy it now. Hang on a bit more. I have a few more things to try," Rick laughed, the sound echoing through the desolate landscape like a twisted lullaby.

Roy, teetering on the precipice of unconsciousness, struggled to summon the strength needed for coherent speech. His mumbled words were a desperate plea, a last-ditch effort to share information that could potentially spare him from further agony. Rick, leaning in with a perverse sense of curiosity, strained to capture the fragments of Roy's whispers.

Panting and barely audible, Roy struggled to form coherent words. With great difficulty, he mumbled something about Emily, his voice barely rising above a tortured whisper. The words hung in the air, a macabre revelation that left Rick intrigued and unsettled.

"Emily... She... She..." Roy, on the verge of losing consciousness, mumbled something through his battered lips. His words were almost indecipherable, a feeble attempt to communicate the haunting truth he held within.

Rick, with an air of nonchalant intrigue, leaned in, his sharp eyes fixed on Roy's weakened form, "Speak up, young master. Is that a last wish I am hearing? Sorry, but I can't hear you." His words dripped with a subtle threat, veiled beneath a veneer of sophistication.

Rick, frowning beneath his disguise, asked Roy to clarify, "Now you are stretching a little too much young master. I don't have whole day. I have got more important matters to attend to. My preparations for the main course cannot be delayed."

Roy, teetering on the brink of consciousness, struggled to articulate the damning truth. The words were a mere whisper, barely audible to Rick, "Emily... she's dead."

Rick's eyes, seasoned and weathered, widened in response, etching deeper lines of astonishment onto his artfully concealed countenance. He couldn't hide the shock that flickered across his features.

"Dead?" he muttered, almost to himself, before turning back to Roy, "What do you mean, dead? Speak, you bastard!" Rick couldn't keep pretending any more.

But Roy, barely holding himself together, had lost too much blood. The energy to speak, to let the words escape his battered lips, eluded him.

Frowning beneath his disguise, Rick demanded, "What was that? Speak up, damn it! What about Emily?" Rick, growing frustrated, shook Roy violently in a desperate attempt to extract the information he sought.

"Speak, you idiot! What the hell happened to Emily?" Rick barked, his patience wearing thin. He pulled a belt from his pants in a swift motion, the metallic buckle glinting ominously in the moonlight.

Without warning, Rick started hitting Roy mercilessly with the belt, each strike punctuated by Roy's agonized screams. The blows rained down on him, and with each one, Rick demanded answers about Emily's fate.

Roy's screams echoed through the desolate landscape with each brutal strike of the belt. Rick, driven by a manic determination, demanded answers with every merciless blow. The sound of flesh meeting leather and the guttural cries of pain created a symphony of horror that seemed to punctuate the desolation.

"What's going to happen with Emily?" Rick yelled, the strikes punctuating each word. The atmosphere was charged with tension and brutality as the moonlight bore witness to the sadistic interrogation unfolding in the forsaken landscape.

Roy, battered and broken, gasped for breath between agonized screams. But Rick did not stop. He did not want to stop. And the merciless beating continued, a relentless barrage that seemed to extract both pain and fragments of the horrifying truth.

Rick, frustrated by the lack of a coherent response, continued his relentless assault. "What's going to happen with Emily? Speak, you son of a bitch!"

The blows continued, the metallic snaps of the belt against flesh creating a twisted scream of agony. Roy's screams echoed through the desolate landscape, each cry punctuated by Rick's increasingly manic demands for information.

The savage assault finally came to an end, a brutal symphony of violence that seemed to stretch into eternity. Rick stumbled backward, his chest rising and falling with labored breaths. In his hand, he clutched the belt, now tainted with the grisly aftermath of Roy's blood and torn flesh, hanging limply from Rick's hand.

Roy, slumped in the chair like a lifeless puppet, had ceased his groans and grunts. His battered body seemed to hang in a grotesque tableau of agony, the only audible sound the ragged wheezing of his breath echoing in the desolate environment.

As the brutality subsided, a heavy silence descended upon the scene, a sharp contrast to the earlier cacophony of pain and suffering. The moon, an indifferent spectator to the horrors below, cast an eerie glow upon the twisted landscape, adding an unsettling ambiance to the aftermath.

As the eerie quiet settled, Rick took a couple of deep breaths, savoring the taste of the sadistic conquest. With a deliberate and calculated motion, he leaned forward, fingers closing around Roy's battered face. He grabbed Roy's swollen and bloodied face, turning it towards him.

"What's going to happen with Emily?" Rick demanded, his tone laced with a blend of impatience and anticipation. The question hung in the air, a haunting reminder of the purpose behind the merciless assault.

In the eerie stillness of the night, Roy slowly roused from what seemed like a lifeless state. His swollen eye creaked open, revealing a painful and defiant scene. His lips curved into a smirk, showcasing bloodstained teeth in a grotesque grin. A sinister chuckle slipped through his battered throat, followed by words that sent shivers into the desolation.

"That bitch is going to die today," Roy declared with a twisted satisfaction, his voice a sinister melody that echoed in the desolation, "Hehehe... That slut's days are over."

The words hung in the air, a chilling proclamation that seemed to reverberate through the silent landscape. Rick, momentarily taken aback by the unexpected response.

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