In truth, Akan hadn’t completely dismissed the possibility that Robellia would resist. In fact, her relatively muted response to the initial attack had been strangely surprising. Had she tried to be cunning or seductive in some misguided attempt to manipulate him, her fate would have been even worse. Akan smiled at her weakness, amused at her inability to even pick up a shard of glass and attempt to strike him in defiance.

“Robellia.”

She nodded her little head up and down, trembling. Akan decided to take his time, to allow himself a moment of patience. After all, Robellia would remain beneath his feet for all eternity, even in hell – there was no rush.

If he wanted to, he could tie her up and throw her to the wild dogs as prey, but that would be far too lenient a punishment for her crimes.

With deliberate ease, Akan loosened the front of his clothing. The way Robellia recoiled in fear at such a small gesture was immensely satisfying.

“Crawl over and take it in your mouth.”

Robellia’s vacant gaze turned to Akan. The thought of having a waste organ in her mouth was beyond anything the naive princess could have imagined. But perhaps she should be relieved that it hadn’t been forced into her lower body instead.

She crawled on her knees and moved between Akan’s legs. In front of her was the grotesque organ that had ravaged her the day before. It was long, thick, red and dark.

Strangely, there wasn’t a single strand of hair on it, and the places where hair should have grown were covered in disfiguring scars. The taut sh*ft and mushroom-shaped tip bore elongated or circular markings, adding to its unsettling appearance. Having never seen a man’s g*nitals before, Robellia couldn’t tell if all m*n were this repulsive, or if Akan’s were particularly monstrous.

“If you make an effort, I’ll let you rest.”

Whether the promise could be trusted was uncertain, but Robellia had no choice. Her trembling lips brushed the tip of the sticky liquid. Even with her small mouth opened as wide as it could be, only the gl*ns would fit. Hesitantly holding the tip, Robellia looked up awkwardly.

Akan sneered as he looked down at Robellia, who seemed completely at a loss as to what to do. His big hand grabbed the back of her head and forced it down towards his gr*in. The sh*ft was slowly forced into her mouth. A strained sound escaped her throat, but Akan’s grip remained firm.

“When I feel your teeth, I’ll rip them all out.”

The chilling threat made Robellia’s back stiffen with tension. Her face, streaked with tears, mucus and drool, was a pitiful mess.

There was still two fingers’ length to the base, but Robellia’s throat was already making strained, choking noises. With a sharp jerk, a guttural, frog-like sound escaped from her throat, as if it were about to burst. Her lips, stretched to the limit, finally pressed against the skin of his gr*in.

Robellia’s throat continued to make strained, gagging noises, unable to expel anything from her mouth. But there was no trace of mercy in Akan. His hand, gripping the back of her head tightly, moved back and forth, shaking her head violently.

Each time the gl*ns withdrew, leaving her saliva-filled mouth momentarily relieved, it would abruptly thrust back into her throat, striking deep. Fortunately, whether because her lips sealed her mouth tightly or because she had nothing in her stomach, the ordeal produced only dry heaves rather than actual vomiting.

In the midst of it all, her wide open lips tore as they struggled to avoid contact with her teeth. The more the organ moved in and out, the more fluid leaked from the corners of her mouth. Saliva mixed with sticky prec*m dripped steadily down the torn edges of her lips.

Panting like a dog, her mouth and throat were relentlessly violated for what felt like an eternity, though it may have been only a minute. Finally, Akan pressed down on Robellia’s head with a force far greater than before, bringing her to a complete standstill.

The sh*ft, buried deep in her throat, throbbed as the seed erupted from the urethra, hit Robellia’s throat and spread into her mouth. As Akan’s grip loosened slightly, the thick fluid made contact with Robellia’s tongue.

“Ugh, ugh, ugh, ugh… … !”

Robellia, instinctively recoiling, began to retch uncontrollably. Her gagging eventually led to vomiting, but as she had eaten nothing, only a small amount of yellowish liquid came out. Even after several bouts of dry heaving, Robellia struggled to breathe, gasping for air.

As soon as she caught her breath, fear gripped her again. Robellia’s tear-filled eyes hesitantly followed the line of Akan’s trousers upwards. When they finally met his face and his cold, menacing eyes, devoid of any emotion, she quickly lowered her head in submission.

“Finish cleaning it up.”

Robellia hesitated at Akan’s calm yet commanding voice, free of anger, before reluctantly taking the p*nis back into her mouth. Compared to before, when it had been as hard as stone, it was now softer and easier to handle, though still just as repulsive.

Was this the end? She couldn’t be sure. Having once believed that *jaculation was the end, only to be violated through her anus afterwards, Robellia couldn’t allow herself to feel any relief yet.

Even before that, although she had obeyed by taking him in her mouth, Robellia had done little else. Throughout the ordeal she had simply kept her mouth open, her tongue held tightly, concentrating on avoiding any contact with her teeth.

But with the command to “clean it up”, Robellia had no choice but to use her tongue. Her soft tongue hesitantly licked the sh*ft, now stained with her own saliva, and swept up the remnants of s*men clinging to the gl*ns. When a small amount of the remaining fluid seeped out of the urethra, a wave of disgust caused her brow to furrow deeply.

“If you vomit again, you won’t see food for a long time.”

At his words, Robellia suddenly felt a pang of hunger, a reminder of her pitiful condition. The thought of food in the midst of such a humiliating moment made her feel even more miserable. How hard had she worked her tongue? As Akan’s once soft organ began to harden slightly, a look of fear crossed Robellia’s face, turning her pale.

“That’s enough.”

Robellia quickly pulled away from the p*nis, relief washing over her. Akan tucked his saliva-slicked sh*ft back into his trousers and for a moment it seemed that this ordeal was truly over. Robellia let out a shaky breath of relief.

“Now crawl over there and do it in order.”

Her eyes followed the direction of his pointing finger and landed on the m*n lined up against the wall. As if on cue, they all began to unbuckle their belts. Despair flooded Robellia’s eyes as she realised she would have to endure this horrible act four more times.

Akan, basking in the lethargy of post-release contentment, lay back on the bed, seemingly indifferent to Robellia’s despair. But when she remained seated, frozen in place, his once lucid gaze quickly turned to fury.

Unable to withstand the silent pressure, Robellia hesitated before slowly crawling towards the waiting m*n. Overwhelmed with bitterness, a wave of resentment surged through her, wondering what she had done to deserve this. Her anguish momentarily blamed her missteps, her ignorance of her father’s nature, everything that had unwittingly ruined Akan’s life. She couldn’t deny her part in his downfall.

When she reached the first man, Robellia knelt before him, her movements hesitant and trembling. His p*nis was slightly smaller than Akan’s, its base surrounded by hair. It was dark red and grotesque, but lacked the disturbing patterns she had seen earlier.

The naive Robellia now understood that the marks covering Akan’s p*nis were not natural, but scars, the result of countless injuries sustained over a long period of time, much like those on his arms. Even a single kick to the gr*in had been excruciating – she couldn’t imagine how he had endured the pain that had caused so many scars.

The man grabbed Robellia’s chin and forced his p*nis into her mouth. Even when done under duress, repetition inevitably leads to learning. From this second encounter, Robellia realised that moving her head voluntarily was less painful than being forced. The humiliation of being n*ked, clinging to the man’s lower body and moving her head back and forth quickly sank into the depths of her being, numbing her sense of shame.

Before the fourth and last man, Robellia burst into tears of sorrow. But her crying did not change the situation. Despite her crying, the man forced himself into her mouth. The realisation that she was willingly moving her tongue to end the ordeal only deepened Robellia’s sense of self-loathing. Finally, the fourth man’s seed slid down her throat as she swallowed involuntarily.

Having done everything she was told, Robellia’s empty, hollow gaze turned to Akan, who was lying on the bed. As if silently asking, “Is it over now?”

But in a truly devastating turn of events, Akan had fallen asleep, apparently bored by Robellia’s desperate struggle for survival. Tears streamed endlessly down her face, falling with soft splashes to the floor below.