The guards stationed outside her empty bedroom stepped silently aside as they approached. Akan opened the door and shoved Robellia roughly to the floor. 

“Did you enjoy your little walk?” 

Robellia couldn’t muster an answer. But Akan had known all along that she wouldn’t. He had never expected her to say anything – and even if she had, it would have been meaningless. There was no need for instructions or explanations because this was all just a game to him. 

Akan’s boot slammed into Robellia’s stomach, her silence met with violence. 

“Answer me.” 

Robellia gasped for air, her body arching as she was kicked. Before another blow could land, she hastily opened her mouth.

“Y-yes… yes.”

Akan crouched down and lifted her skirt again, pulling her underwear down. Her p*bic hair and thighs were soaked, saturated with urine. 

Robellia instinctively tried to crawl away, to pull herself up. No matter how much she was treated as less than human, she couldn’t bear the thought of exposing even her most degrading moments. 

“Strip and wash.” 

Akan grabbed her hair and slammed her body back to the floor. A princess who couldn’t even speak on the throne he had placed her on – what pride could she have now? 

“The moment I loosen the reins, you always try to act human.”

Lying flat on the floor, Robellia quickly covered her mouth to stifle her sobs. The fear she had forgotten during the brief three days of humane treatment returned with a vengeance. 

Akan’s behaviour towards Robellia was as harsh as ever, but his mood wasn’t bad – in fact, he was content. He despised the aimless chatter of the nobles, but seeing Robellia reduced to silence in front of others reminded him how gratifying it was to relive her downfall. For someone like Robellia, believing she was a b*ast and surrendering her dignity was a luxury she couldn’t afford. 

“Lift your hips.” 

Trembling, Robellia shuffled forward, lowering her undergarments to her knees and lifting her hips. Her once neatly braided hair was now completely dishevelled and her tear streaked face was pressed into the carpet. 

Seeing Robellia like this caused Akan pure excitement. Her dishevelled state, her urine-soaked body – it all made the extent of her degradation palpable and added to his *rousal. It was like surveying the devastation of a battlefield or the ashes of a burnt house – inhuman, destructive, yet perversely fulfilling. 

Akan undid the front of his trousers, exposing his *rect p*nis, and without hesitation thrust it into Robellia’s v*gina. He paid no attention to the urine staining his trousers – after all, in his eyes, Robellia was dirty by nature. 

With a hard thrust, Robellia’s lower body buckled and collapsed. Gripping her pelvis with both hands, as if to prevent her from escaping, Akan pulled her back into position and rammed into her with brutal force. 

The inner walls, which had healed somewhat during the few days of rest, now tightened around him. He couldn’t tell if the moisture that made penetration easier than usual was Robellia’s urine or the involuntary response of her body, producing lubrication as it adapted to the forced act. The growing sensation of *rousal from the pressure and friction was strangely unsettling.

Robellia clapped both hands over her mouth, her body simply following his movements. The musty smell that permeated the bedroom and filled her nostrils was all too familiar. The involuntary writhing of her body as it instinctively adjusted to minimise the pain was both sickening and repulsive.

For Robellia, the only thing she felt as Akan unleashed his fury on her was, shamefully, a sense of stability. For being hated by Akan was the only sensation that reminded her that she was still alive. The rough penetration of his body into hers was the only source of human warmth she was allowed to experience. 

“You’re no better than a b*ast.”

Akan’s muttered words were not meant to offend Robellia. In his eyes, the two of them were nothing more than b*asts at this moment. The senseless act continued without a pause.

He pulled her fleeing body back and pressed her down with force. A beautifully baked cake, topped with cream, is ultimately nothing more than a snack to be crushed under a fork. To Akan, that was Robellia’s value.

Pinning her small body beneath him, he released himself as he pleased. As her limp body collapsed beneath him, he pulled her back and thrust a few more times, his anger rising again, mixing with the heat of *rousal. Akan’s anger and *rousal seemed to be intertwined, both aimed directly at Robellia.

Robellia, who had felt a brief moment of relief, panicked as she felt herself being filled again. She struggled frantically along the floor.

“Stay still.”

At the weighty warning, her struggling limbs froze. 

After just one session, her sore, overworked body ached with raw pain. Her thin stockings offered no protection, and her scraped knees ached from the carpet. It wasn’t something Akan would bother with.

What began as slow, languid movements, almost savouring the aftermath, suddenly accelerated without warning. Thrusting into her front, then her back, or the other way around – it wasn’t unusual for him to switch like that. But to continue without a pause, to move seamlessly into another round, was new.

For the emaciated Robellia, enduring Akan’s monstrous endurance was beyond her limits. Her skeletal legs, now even thinner, shook violently with the strain. Each heavy blow landed with a thud, the impact rattling her frame so that it sounded as if bones were colliding rather than flesh. 

As his sensitivity was dulled by repeated releases, Akan’s movements became rougher and more aggressive. The violent thrust of his p*nis seemed to squeeze and crush Robellia’s v*gina, causing her to cry out in protest. Then a familiar sensation surged through her, causing Robellia to hastily remove her hand from her mouth.

“W-wait, wait!” 

A heavy thud struck the back of Robellia’s head. Frustrated by her repeated, if feeble, acts of defiance today, Akan delivered a hard blow that sent her face first into the floor. 

The pain was blinding, turning Robellia’s vision black for a moment. She gasped sharply, instinctively raising her arms to shield her head. Still, she couldn’t bring herself to remain silent.

“I… I feel like… I might pee again…” 

“Do it.” 

Akan’s reply was curt, as if dismissing her concern as utterly trivial. He pressed her body firmly to the floor, pinning her down completely. With her lower half pinned to the floor, she could no longer hold on. Desperate to escape the relentless thrusting, Robellia pushed herself forward with trembling hands, as if crawling away.

“I said do it.” 

Akan grabbed Robellia’s hair as she tried to crawl away. To him, her tears and urine were no different – equally filthy and insignificant. Without hesitation he continued his relentless thrusting. With each deep thrust, the c*m he had already released was forced from her.

Robellia’s entire body shook violently as she tried desperately to hold herself together. Unable to close her legs, no matter how hard she tried, each deep thrust pressed into her bladder, making her feel as if it would burst at any moment.

“Hhng…”

As her sobbing continued, all strength finally left her body. What began as a trickle soon became a steady stream of urine, but Akan’s movements showed no sign of stopping. The sound of the splashing liquid echoed through the room, punctuating the scene as the two continued their primal act on the urine-soaked carpet.

Another release, deep inside her overheated body. As the seed spilled out and coated her inner walls, Robellia felt a disturbing sensation, as if Akan were urinating inside her. In truth, there wasn’t much difference. To Akan, Robellia was nothing more than a receptacle – a dustbin for the remains of his rage and lust.

Akan resumed his slow thrusts, pressing down hard on the back of Robellia’s head. The growing sensation of fullness was overwhelming. Whether it was urine or s*men flowing from her, it was equally horrifying. Robellia closed her eyes tightly and held her breath, her body shaking in silent resignation. 

Akan continued to violate her limp, corpse-like body without restraint. Robellia’s body and mind were in utter ruin. Deep inside, she prayed for death, hoping the opportunity would come. If nothing else, she wished it would be at Akan’s hands – an end to it all.