Isayat was squeezed so tightly by Lingxia that she could hardly breathe, her bones seemingly mourning under the pressure.
She could clearly feel the trembling of Lingxia’s body.
It wasn’t fear, but a shiver born of extreme excitement and the satisfaction of possessiveness.
“Let go… let go of me!”
Isayat struggled in her arms, her voice carrying a calculated, exaggerated terror mixed with a hint of subtle, icy plotting.
“What exactly do you want to do?”
Her struggle and denial were like a needle, piercing the bubble of madness-wrapped tenderness that had just risen within Lingxia.
Lingxia’s body froze, and the arms holding Isayat slowly loosened.
However, the light in her eyes suddenly became dark and dangerous, as if destruction-bent lava was surging beneath the surface of a calm volcanic lake.
“Master…”
Lingxia’s voice was low and husky, carrying a trace of unbelievable hurt.
“What are you saying? Don’t you recognize me? I am Xia, your most loyal maid, your only Xia.”
“Maid?”
Isayat looked up, her gaze filled with “bewilderment” and “vigilance.”
She took a step back, distancing herself from Lingxia as if looking at a stranger.
“I don’t remember… I don’t have any maid. Who are you? Where is this? Let me out!”
Her words were like small hammers, relentlessly striking Lingxia’s taut nerves.
The smile on Lingxia’s face vanished, replaced by a nearly fragile confusion and a deepening disappointment.
‘No, it’s impossible!’
Lingxia shook her head violently, the confusion in her eyes replaced by an even stronger obsession.
‘Even if Master has forgotten, I will help her remember! Even if she doesn’t accept it now, I will make her get used to my presence again. She will belong to me once more!’
“Master, you are tired. You need to rest.”
Lingxia’s tone became calm again, but this stillness carried a heart-pounding sense of coercion.
She tried to approach Isayat again, reaching out her hand to touch her cheek.
“Don’t touch me!”
Isayat barked sharply, her voice shrill, carrying the warning of a beast whose territory had been violated.
“Get out! Stay away from me! Or… or I won’t be kind to you!”
This threat of “not being kind,” coming from the mouth of the once high-and-mighty Demon King who now appeared “full of bravado but weak within,” failed to act as a deterrent.
Instead, it completely ignited the fuse of “disappointment” in Lingxia’s heart.
“Not be kind?”
Lingxia repeated those words in a low voice and suddenly sneered.
That laughter was filled with desolation and mockery—mocking her Master’s forgetfulness, and even more so, mocking her own naivety.
Her gaze turned completely cold.
That madness was no longer wrapped in tenderness; it was exposed nakedly, carrying a cruel sense of reckless abandon.
“Master, you are always like this…”
Lingxia manifested a Long Whip.
The body of the whip traced a sharp arc through the air, letting out a crisp crack!
It sounded exceptionally piercing in the quiet room, filled with a threatening intent.
She gripped the whip, turned around, and walked toward Isayat one step at a time.
Her smile resurfaced, but it was like a poppy blooming on the edge of hell—beautiful yet fatal.
The madness and tenderness in her eyes intertwined, forming a hair-raising distortion.
“Master, do you know? I dislike disobedient babies the most.”
Lingxia’s voice was as soft as a lover’s whisper.
“I gave you a choice, but you gave it up yourself.”
Isayat’s body tensed subconsciously.
She could feel the dangerous aura radiating from Lingxia.
‘Perfect. This is the feeling—anger, disappointment, and violence about to spiral out of control… This is exactly what I wanted.’
“It doesn’t matter if you have forgotten, Master. Xia will help you remember.”
Lingxia held the Long Whip, walking toward Isayat.
Each step felt like it was treading directly on Isayat’s heart.
“It doesn’t matter if you don’t accept it. Xia will make you get used to it. You are mine. You can only be mine. This is something I must make you understand, even if I have to beat you until you remember, even if I have to beat you until you submit!”
Isayat sneered inwardly, but her face displayed a timely expression of terror.
She retreated several steps until her back hit the cold wall, leaving her with no way out.
“What… what are you trying to do? Lingxia, don’t come over here!”
Her voice carried just the right amount of trembling, contrasting with her previous toughness, further stimulating Lingxia’s sadistic desires.
“What am I doing?”
Lingxia stopped her pace, admiring the fear on Isayat’s face.
It gave her a morbid sense of satisfaction.
She flicked the whip gently once more, the tip cutting through the air with a soft whoosh!
“Naturally, I am going to make you understand who the Ruler of this place is, and who your only reliance is.”
Lingxia licked her lips, her eyes flashing with a light of excitement.
“I will let you know that only by obeying me and relying on me can you obtain true safety and… love.”
Before her voice had even faded, her wrist flicked.
The whip carried the sound of breaking wind.
Crack! It struck the wall beside Isayat, sending stone chips flying.
Isayat let out a short, coordinated cry of alarm, her body cowering.
Her eyes were filled with “fear” and “anger.”
“How dare you!”
“Why wouldn’t I dare?”
Lingxia was already standing in front of Isayat.
She lowered her head slightly, looking down at the former Demon King “forced” into the corner.
Her eyes shimmered with a complex light—a mixture of disappointment, anger, possessiveness, and a hint of… anticipation.
“For you, Master, I dare to do anything. Including… making you feel pain.”
She lunged forward suddenly, and the whip lashed heavily across Isayat’s back.
Crack!
The crisp sound of the whip echoed through the room.
The specially made tip carried a stinging bite, instantly penetrating the skin on Isayat’s body and leaving a striking red mark on her fair complexion.
Isayat let out a muffled groan, her body trembling violently.
The pain was real.
Although such pain was negligible given her constitution as a Demon King, she performed her reaction perfectly—an expression mixing agony, humiliation, and disbelief.
“Lingxia! You…”
She raised her head, her eyes brimming with tears (fake, of course), as she glared at Lingxia in rage.
However, her anger and tears fell into Lingxia’s eyes like the most wonderful catalyst.
Seeing that bright red mark, seeing her Master in pain because of her, and seeing her lose her composure because of her, a strange surge of pleasure rushed into Lingxia’s brain.
It was a feeling of absolute control—the pleasure of making the high-and-mighty Master submit at her feet and admit that she was her sole Ruler.
‘This feeling… is too wonderful!’
It intoxicated her more than any victory! It satisfied her more than any praise!
She had always thought she lived for her Master, but at this moment, she discovered that making her Master “hurt” for her and “submit” to her was the only way she could feel truly “alive!”
“Master, look. You still have emotional fluctuations because of me.”
Lingxia’s voice carried a hint of breathlessness, her gaze blurred and feverish.
“You still care about me, don’t you?”
She raised the whip again.
Crack! Crack! Crack!
The whip fell one after another onto Isayat’s back and arms, leaving behind crisscrossing red marks.
Isayat’s “screams” and “angry curses” followed, filled with “defiance” and “pain.”
“Stop… stop it… Ah!”
“Lingxia… you… bastard…”
“I won’t… submit…”
To Lingxia’s ears, these words sounded like the coquettish pouting of a lover.
They constantly stimulated her nerves, causing her to swing the whip faster and harder.
She could feel Isayat’s body trembling and her breathing becoming rapid.
That wasn’t faked; it was a genuine reaction to pain—
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