When Akan raised his hand, Robellia flinched and instinctively raised her arms to shield her head. The sight of her learned fear seemed to amuse him even more as he reached out to play with her damp golden hair. Her involuntary recoil, even at such a light touch, gave him a perverse sense of satisfaction – enough to make him feel an ounce of mercy.

“Stand up.”

Obeying Akan’s words as if they were a divine command, Robellia rose from the bathtub on unsteady legs. Akan turned her to face him before making her bend over. She leaned forward, gripping the edge of the tub for support. As Akan’s fingertips brushed over her sensitive area, Robellia began to shake uncontrollably in pain and fear. But her silent compliance was a testament to the lessons she had learned the night before.

Akan spread Robellia’s v*gina with both fingers, left and right. The swollen flesh was exposed. He checked the inside by pulling back the l*bia, and the v*ginal walls were also swollen.

He spread her white b*ttocks and checked her anus. It was so swollen it was protruding and there was a tear. If he kept f*cking her like this, she would become a real b*ast who couldn’t even control her bowel movements. Akan decided not to use Robellia’s anus for a while.

Robellia’s body trembled rhythmically, suggesting she was crying again. It was hard to understand her mind, still acting spoilt without understanding the situation. When he touched the inside of her thigh, her skin felt smooth and slippery.

Akan’s demeanour was dry, like examining livestock, but compared to his past actions it was almost gentlemanly. Robellia glanced nervously over her shoulder, wondering when Akan’s demeanour would change again.

Akan rolled up the sleeve of his shirt, revealing numerous scars on his thick forearm. Robellia gasped in surprise and held her breath, watching Akan’s arm closely.

Some looked like cuts, others like burns, and there were many strange scars of unknown origin. What kind of life had Akan led to cause all those wounds, to heal and leave scars like that?

Akan took a soapy towel and wiped the inside of Robellia’s thighs. It was far from an act of compassion – he simply knew from experience that leaving her like this would lead to an unpleasant smell. He poured scented oil on his hands and rubbed it into her golden hair, stiff from being washed only with soap. Even this was nothing more than a gesture to make her feel better to touch.

Far from interpreting Akan’s actions as considerate, Robellia was consumed by fear, unsure of what he might do next.

Akan placed Robellia back in the tub and rinsed his hands in the dirty, cold water. It was only then that her face caught his attention, and it was a complete mess. Her skin was raw from tears, her swollen eyes were bruised, and her nose was swollen and discoloured. Akan’s lips curled into a smile at the sight.

His gaze shifted to the filthy bed. The m*n finally moved in unison and changed the sheets. Leaving Robellia to shiver in the cold water, Akan sat down heavily on the edge of the now clean bed.

Akan’s calm gaze remained fixed on Robellia. Sensing his unwavering attention, Robellia hesitated before finally rising to her feet. As Akan noticed the deep bruise on her stomach, his smile grew sharper and more pronounced.

With a tilt of his chin, he gestured towards the bed. From the moment he had entered the room, it had been clear what he intended to do. With leaden steps that seemed impossible to lift, Robellia moved towards the bed. The water dripping from her body felt as if it bore the weight of her own tears.

As Robellia hesitated, unable to climb onto the bed, Akan pulled a glass bottle from his cloak. The sight of it made Robellia’s eyes widen in shock. It was clear what he intended to do – apply oil to the already painful areas and force his large p*nis back inside.

Panicked, Robellia began to speak frantically.

“I-I can’t do this. Please… please let me rest.”

In a situation like this, pride was of no use. With the threat of her torn wounds worsening, there was no strength left to resist. n*ked and trembling, Robellia knelt at Akan’s feet. The water dripping from her body had now unmistakably turned to tears.

Akan looked at Robellia with a displeased expression. Crying after only one day? Had she not taken his earlier order to keep her mouth shut to heart?

Desperation overcame her as she grabbed the hem of Akan’s trousers and bowed her head deeply.

“Just… just a little… please give me some time for my body to heal…”

The sight of a drenched, wounded woman begging through tears was undeniably tragic – enough to inspire pity had it been anyone other than Robellia.

Akan shook off her hands and his leg swung through the air in a brutal arc.

“Ugh…!”

Robellia fell to the ground, clutching her chest where she had been kicked. The blow left her gasping for air, as if her throat had been crushed. Akan rose from the bed and began to approach her, his steps deliberate and unyielding.

Robellia coughed dryly, gasping for air as she wriggled and crawled across the floor. Though she knew there was nowhere to run, her survival instinct drove her to fight desperately.

She had barely managed to move a limb before Akan’s boot came down on her bare shoulder, chest and stomach, blow after blow.

“Ugh… ah… kuh…”

The frail woman was being mercilessly beaten by a robust man, but the four m*n standing against the wall showed no reaction. Their faces remained impassive, as if they were looking at a painting on the wall – neither amused nor disgusted, just distant.

Robellia’s battered body rolled and tumbled across the floor until Akan’s relentless kicks pushed her close to the door. With a brutal thud, his foot hit her between the legs, aiming directly at her unhealed, sensitive area.

“Urgh…!”

The impact was like being struck with a searing iron bar, and Robellia’s limbs went completely limp.

Her already tear-stained, dishevelled face became even more dishevelled as fresh tears streamed down her cheeks. Akan’s hand reached down and grabbed a handful of her wet hair, pulling it mercilessly as he looked down at her pitiful state.

Grasping her hair, Akan took purposeful steps towards the bed. The searing pain of her scalp being pulled caused Robellia to wrap both hands around Akan’s to ease the agony. Glancing at her briefly, Akan continued to drag her frail body to the side of the bed before throwing her roughly to the floor beside it.

“Sob… hic…”

As a soft sob escaped her lips, Robellia quickly raised a hand to cover her mouth. She already knew there was no escape – she had spoken before, only to be treated even more harshly. Now Robellia fully understood how cruel Akan could be, and the realisation cut deeply into her spirit.

Her lower body, already throbbing and feeling disconnected from herself, made her wonder if it might tear completely this time. Being hit was agonising, but would it really hurt less to spread her legs quietly?

“Sit up straight.”

At Akan’s command, Robellia gathered her trembling legs and knelt upright. No one had explicitly told her to do this, but she knew instinctively that this was what she had to do. It was a desperate attempt to calm him, to prevent another blow. She no longer had the strength to be ashamed of her submission, or to mock herself for how pathetic she had become.

Akan’s eyes swept over Robellia, from the top of her head to her neatly folded knees. Her dry, chapped lips trembled as she bit them to stifle any sound, a pitiful sight that he found rather pleasing. They would look even more perfect when the bruises from the kicks turned a deep blue against her flushed skin.