Until those hands slowly rose and, while the wealthy young lady reflexively held her breath, pressed down upon her shoulders.
The female general’s strength was not heavy; instead, it carried a sense of effortless amusement. The brutal hunter had bared her fangs, revealing her most sinister side. Even though the prey’s fate lay entirely within her palms, she refused to grant the mercy of a quick death.
Her nature was so wicked that she insisted on toyed with her—watching her struggle bitterly and collapse in wretchedness, offering a sliver of hope only to cruelly snatch it away.
Overwhelmed by a lack of oxygen, the young lady felt waves of dizziness. It seemed as if even the instinct to breathe had been suppressed. Her hands, hanging at her sides, clenched involuntarily due to intense tension, her knuckles turning white from the force.
She could not control her physiological terror. Broken glints of light trembled in her eyes, and teardrops wavered precariously, on the verge of falling. Under the weight of such intense dread, she didn’t even dare to sob, let alone let a single tear escape.
She was acutely aware of her identity as prey. She was a sacrificial offering presented to this demon by her father, with her body as the stake. On the other side of the scale lay the lives of her entire family. Which was heavier and which was lighter was crystal clear.
The young lady pinched her thigh hard, refusing to let go. It was surely bruised by now, but this was the only way she could maintain a sliver of consciousness and pray that she wouldn’t faint at such an inopportune moment.
The hand resting on her shoulder moved, sliding from her shoulder to her neck.
She didn’t apply much pressure, yet it felt like a massive mountain weighing down on the young lady’s shoulders. Then, cold fingers brushed against her smooth neck, carrying a bone-chilling, greasy sensation—it felt exactly like a venomous snake coiling around her.
The snake’s body shifted slowly, its icy scales scraping against her neck; it was the slight roughness of the general’s calloused fingertips. The snake slowly constricted its body while its head reared up, poised and ready. Fangs bared, the lethal teeth reflected an ominous, cold light, as if at any moment it would strike and inject venom into her body.
The physical sensation of suffocation was a more tangible reality than any psychological pressure.
With casual indifference, acting out of playfulness and mockery, the general applied a slight bit of pressure, completely seizing control of the girl’s lifeblood within her palm.
The young lady didn’t dare to cry, nor did she dare to move. Her body had frozen entirely into a stone statue. Following the general’s lead, her chin was slowly tilted upward by the force of those knuckles.
Though her entire being resisted, she was forced to look up, her fear-stricken eyes meeting the general’s.
Those light brown eyes seemed devoid of any human emotion. They were piercingly cold, like a dehumanized weapon of war that reaps the lives of its own kind on the battlefield without a hint of hesitation.
She clearly liked the girl’s face and her body, yet the way she looked at her was not as one looks at a living person, but rather as one looks at a cold corpse.
The female general said nonchalantly, “What are you afraid of? Until you make me lose interest in you completely, how could I bear to kill you?”
Her gaze fell upon the young lady, filled with banter and amusement. It was obvious she didn’t care much for her; she merely viewed her as a whim, a plaything.
This was a blatant threat and an enticement.
The young lady understood the underlying meaning. The general wasn’t just telling her that her life was in her hands—that she was her master and owned everything about her. She was also telling her that there was destined to be a long entanglement between them. With life and death as the boundaries, their future together was the blueprint. To dream that this would end after one night, and they would go their separate ways, was sheer idiocy.
If the young lady wanted to live, she had to do everything in her power to gain the general’s attention, using any means necessary to secure her interest and pity. She had to please her and delight her, striving to earn a sliver of survival between the two cliffs of life and death.
“What… what should I do?” Her voice trembled violently, her tone laced with uncontrollable sobs.
Yet, she ultimately overcame her terror. Under the threat of death, she forced herself to suppress her body’s natural fear and compelled herself to speak the sentence in full.
“How could you not know what I want?” The female general finally curled her lips into a smirk, though her thin lips made even a smile look cold and heartless.
She looked down from her height at the wealthy young lady, finally loosening her lethal grip on her neck, only to press her fingers heavily against the corner of the girl’s mouth.
She rubbed her fingers forcefully against those red lips. The general’s hands were well-maintained, yet the presence of those thin calluses was especially prominent. After only a few strokes of that rough friction, the young lady’s lips—which had been pale with terror—flushed a deep, heavy crimson.
The red lips were lush and seductive, so vivid they looked as if they might bleed. A stinging heat radiated from her mouth, yet because of the sensitive nature of the area, a sense of secret shame began to swell within her.
This intense humiliation sent a shiver down the young lady’s spine. Without thinking, she instinctively tried to shrink back.
In the next heartbeat, the general’s hand shifted to the back of her neck, forcefully cutting off her retreat.
With one hand still pressed against her lips and the other gripping her nape, the general held her like one might scruff a disobedient kitten. The smile at the corner of her mouth grew more dangerous, and her airy gaze carried a silent, vicious threat.
She raised an eyebrow slightly, saying nothing, yet her expression seemed to ask: You dare to retreat?
The young lady’s tears flowed like a spring. Her eyes, as clean and clear as a newborn’s, were filled with pleading. Before the general’s extreme dominance and naked desire, she was utterly defenseless.
“I…” She managed to force out a single word. As her red lips parted slightly, the general’s knuckles were already probing inside.
She seemed to treat the opening of those “gates” as a blatant invitation from their owner—acting with bold, self-righteous entitlement as she pursued what she had wanted to do all along.
The cool fingertips brushed against the softness inside the mouth, feeling as though they were being enveloped by scalding water; it was softer than any substance in the world. It was so soft it felt as if it might melt at any moment, yet so hot it felt as if it would incinerate her finger bones along with the flesh.
The young lady was clearly startled by this crude, unannounced intrusion, and her jaw immediately prepared to snap shut.
The general had long anticipated this. Before the hard teeth could clamp down, she crooked her finger, forcibly blocking the movement.
The young lady remained with her mouth hung open, unable to close it. She stared at the general in a dazed panic, her cheeks flushed deep red. She seemed unaware of how provocative she looked in this moment, or how agonizingly intimate their posture had become.
But when the general’s fingertip attempted to coax her soft tongue into a dance, the realization finally dawned on her.
The young lady was struck by a mixture of shock and dread; an overwhelming sense of shame instantly pierced her heart. Her rationality was torn apart by the humiliation, her nerves stretching to the breaking point until—snap—they broke.
Driven by pure instinct, she slammed her teeth down hard!