Chapter 57 : You Haven’t Tasted Yourself, Have You?

“Psycho! Pervert!”

She should’ve known. A monster like Stacy wouldn’t just give up. Her choked-out “Master” had been nothing but an aphrodisiac.

“Do you really think those adjectives suit your Master?”

Stacy’s icy voice snapped her back. She’d slipped up—said it aloud. In those mocking eyes, she saw a predator savoring its prey.

“No… I didn’t…”

Her denial died as Stacy’s fingers brushed against her. A sudden jolt made her bite her lip, but a broken whimper still escaped.

“I thought you were so tough,” Stacy taunted. “Let’s see how long you can last.”

A test of willpower? Fine. Stacy hadn’t restrained her hands. Milly gritted her teeth and dug her nails into Stacy’s calf.

Damn it. A normal person would’ve recoiled. But Stacy… she was like a machine, immune to pain.

The counterattack failed. Her mind held firm, but her body… was betraying her.

“Your mouth is so stubborn, Little Milly. But your body… is far more obedient.”

As Milly’s breathing grew ragged, Stacy suddenly let go.

“Here, Little Milly. Want to try this?”

She… what was she doing?

A flicker of true terror crossed her face. Stacy had surpassed “pervert.” The word was now an insult to perverts everywhere.

“No…”

“You don’t have a choice.”

She pinched Milly’s chin. The girl clamped her mouth shut, refusing to open.

So, a little force was needed.

As the pressure exceeded her limit, a gasp of pain made her jaw slacken. She could only watch as Stacy’s fingertip, glistening with a clear, honey-like dew, moved closer… and slipped into her mouth.

“Mmmph…”

Milly gagged, trying to push the foreign object out. But Stacy’s finger was relentless, hooking around her small tongue. There was nowhere to hide.

Staring at the finger in her mouth—her own finger, forced upon her—she bit down. Hard. She expected Stacy to pull back, but the monster just laughed, ignoring the pain and continuing her assault until Milly dry-heaved. Only then did she withdraw.

Stacy examined the clear teeth marks on her finger, a dark smile playing on her lips. “So naughty.” She held the marked finger up for Milly to see. “Now, what should the punishment be for a bad girl who bites?”

Before Milly could react, her body went light. Stacy scooped her up in a princess carry—a warm, gentle motion that ended in a perfect arc as she was tossed onto the soft bed. The skirt that had been pushed up finally fell back into place.

She’d lost count of how many times she’d been thrown onto a bed. And now, on someone else’s bed, Stacy was about to do something unspeakable.

Tendrils slithered from beneath her crimson dress, coiling around Milly’s limbs, pinning her down.

Immobilized. But the tendrils weren’t just restraints. They were extensions of Stacy—just as restless, just as invasive.

Before Stacy even touched her, Milly’s breathing was already a mess, her bound body trembling with each ragged gasp.

Stacy climbed onto the bed, lifted the skirt that was in her way, and pressed herself against Milly’s stomach, tracing slow circles on her pale skin. “You know,” Stacy’s voice turned soft, a lethal poison, “the trembling sound you make when you can’t hold back anymore… is the most beautiful.” Her fingertip traced Milly’s waist, the familiar coldness awakening a deep-seated tremor.

If Stacy wanted to hear it, Milly would deny her. She bit her lip again—how many times had it been? It helped, but her body was betraying her too quickly. She wouldn’t last long.

Seeing her resistance, Stacy leaned in, whispering in her ear.

“Tell me, Little Milly. Are you thinking that if you just hold out long enough, the two downstairs will notice something is wrong and come check on you?”

Milly’s body went rigid. Her reaction made Stacy laugh. She was right. The little one was holding out, hoping for a rescue.

Well, for being so diligent, she deserved a chance to see them.

For what felt like an eternity, Stacy tormented her. The clothes she wore had long been torn away. Stacy’s fingertip touched the sigil on her collarbone, arousing it, then caressed her face. “Come, repeat after me.”

Stacy uttered a string of incomprehensible words—a language she had never taught her, never forced into her mind. But Milly knew what it was.

Her fractured consciousness snapped back. If she said those words, she would fall into an abyss from which there was no return.

“No…”

A weak whisper of refusal. No matter what, she wouldn’t say it.

Stacy just laughed. “Do you think I need your consent?”

As if to prove her point, the thorn sigil on her collarbone began to burn. Milly’s mouth moved on its own.

“𓍦𓍧𓍨”

As the incantation left her lips, the familiar tearing sensation ripped through her spine. With a sharp pain, something new sprouted from her back.

Stacy released the tendrils and carried her to the mirror.

Her blue eyes were now blood-red. Black wings unfurled behind her. She had become a demon again.

Stacy pointed at their reflection, her voice a devil’s whisper. “Look at you. This is your true form. Such a cute little demon.”

“No…”

That wasn’t her. She wasn’t a demon!

Stacy carried her back to the bed and dropped her. She lay in a heap on the floor.

Stacy’s foot lifted her chin. Her face turned dark.

“Little Milly, I’m giving you two choices now.”