Chapter 43: The Crawling Fear.

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Location Unknown.

Damien Emmanuel Nathaniel Mac Dowell sat sunken in his cherry leather armchair, poring over documents. He did so extremely reluctantly. He was beginning to regret regaining his sight. Before, other, designated people had handled the paperwork. Now he had to do it by himself. The nervous tapping of the fountain pen against the metal desk intensified with every page turned and rumbled with an unbearable echo. His nervousness also arose from the fact that he still hadn't received the report from Hades. At the very thought of Laura's wet and tight vagina, his excitement intensified. He wanted to see her deep emerald-colored eyes glistening with tears again. He wanted to hear her soft, pleading voice again, hair-raising on his skin. He wanted to flog her, first gently tickling her with the very end of the whip, then hitting her with all his strength to make her scream until she passed out.

"Bring Amanda in. Immediately!" he ordered shortly over the infolink.

He didn't wait too long. Everyone in the mansion knew he didn't like it. They knew because they had carried away the massacred corpses of their predecessors. Separately arms and legs, heads, and torsos were cut in half. The door opened with a quiet creak and after a while, Amanda appeared in it. She did not resemble the former doctor even in the slightest. On her skin there were fresh and several days old bruises and marks from whip blow, under her nose and in the corner of her mouth there were stagnant trickles of blood. The shiner eye was ineptly masked by makeup. She walked clumsily as if someone had broken her knees some time ago. She was completely naked, and her bare feet clacked again and again against the lit ivory-colored floor. Damien momentarily grabbed her by the hair and hurled her toward the desk so that she hit its edge squealing in pain.

"Honey, you should be more careful," he said with feigned concern while shaking his head. "You could hurt yourself," he added sliding a finger across the graphite-colored metal desk top.

With that gesture, the rectangular lid slid slowly to the left, revealing a small screen. Kratos touched it several times, each time, a quiet beep could be heard confirming the command. The square, coal-black ceiling panels slid open, and from the resulting gap emerged a transverse bar on a steel cord, against which swung handcuffs attached by chains. The woman did not protest when he restrained her wrists, but pain and grief could be seen in her eyes. She felt her outstretched arms being almost ripped from their joints.

"You like to feel my dick in your ass, don't you, Evie?" he muttered in her ear as he unzipped his trousers, and Doc nodded. "I can't hear you!" he growled, catching her cheeks between his thumb and middle finger while turning the woman's head to face him.

"I beg you for this honor. I will do anything to experience your grace," she said in a trembling voice.

In a careless motion, he removed his shirt, trousers, and underwear, tossing everything aside. The tie landed on the desk but he didn't care at all. His thrusting was firm, and he certainly didn't care about Amanda's comfort, and certainly not about pleasure. The tips of her breasts bumped against the cold metal that seemed to burn her. A few moments later, the woodblock print depicting The Dream of the Fisherman's Wife, hanging on the opposite wall, rose slowly upward. It revealed a huge screen that booted up showing a series of rectangular avatars that were just the outlines of heads. One of them zoomed in and glowed carmine. The blood-red gaze of Kratos' synthetic eyes brightened, and his hips froze as he stopped bumping against the woman's buttocks.

"Hades is dead," said a man's voice, probably the same one that had escaped.

"What do you mean dead?!" roared Damien furiously, stepping away from Amanda.

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