"I'm impressed," Alad said, his tone laced with mock admiration as he coiled the whip in his hands. His smirk deepened, eyes gleaming with sadistic satisfaction. "You endured Werk's 'snake bite' and my lashes. But don't relax yet, because there's still the third punishment."
He paced in front of us like a predator savoring the fear of its prey, every step deliberate, every pause calculated to build tension. The whip dangled from his hand, its leather glinting under the dim, flickering light. Each movement felt like a threat, a promise of further suffering.
"Then, without further ado, so you two can finally get home, let's proceed to the third punishment," Alad announced, his voice dripping with false generosity.
