Chapter 136 (Fixed)

Ray tossed the mop back against the wall with a hollow clatter, letting out a sharp, irritated breath. He wasn’t about to mop the floor covered in his own mess while completely naked and dripping wet.

He pushed himself up off the cold tiles, his knee throbbing with a dull ache as he stepped into the bathtub. His eyes caught the plastic shower chair resting in a broken, cracked heap where he had violently hurled it minutes ago. He stared at it for a long second, a dry, bitter scoff escaping his lips. What the fuck was wrong with them? The whole dynamic was completely unhinged, a dangerous game of power and humiliation that should have repelled him, yet somehow dragged him in deeper every single time.

He cranked the hot water back on. As the stream hit his face and shoulders, he grabbed the same bar of soap Milady had used. The sweet, floral scent instantly filled his nose, bringing back a vivid, unbidden image of her pale, slick body—her small tits, the tight curve of her ass, and the fierce, unyielding disgust in her eyes. His jaw tightened. He scrubbed his skin roughly, trying to wash away the memory along with the dried sweat and grime, before shutting the faucet off.

Instead of stepping out right away, Ray stood motionless under the dripping showerhead. He closed his eyes, taking deep, steady breaths to compose himself and let the excess water pool and run off his skin. He needed a second to rebuild his shattered composure before facing her again.

Finally, he grabbed the mop.

Stepping out into the hallway completely naked, Ray looked like the world’s most absurd janitor. With every step he took, he leaned down and meticulously wiped away his own wet footprints on the hardwood floor, dragging the aluminum pole behind him like a convicted felon doing hard labor.

Milady was already lounging on the sofa, freshly dressed in oversized loungewear, sipping a glass of iced water. She leaned back against the cushions, her eyes glinting with pure, sadistic pleasure as she watched him shuffle across the living room naked, mopping up after himself.

"Your towel and clothes are right there, loser," Milady said smoothly, gesturing with her chin toward the coffee table without taking her eyes off him. "Dry yourself off and put some clothes on. You’re making the place look cheap."

Ray stopped, the metal pole gripping tight in his hand. Standing completely bare in the middle of her living room under her sharp, judgment-filled gaze sent a sudden flush of embarrassment straight to his face. He felt exposed, stripped of his dignity, and utterly played.

"What, you like watching guys walk around naked in your living room?" Ray sneered, his voice laced with venom as he snatched the towel off the table to cover his waist. "You’re a fucking closet pervert, Milady. A degenerate who gets off on this shit."

Milady didn’t even blink. She casually set her glass down on the table, pulled her phone out from beside her thigh, and unlocked the camera app with a slick, practiced flick of her thumb. She pointed the lens straight at his face.

"You want to keep talking shit?" Milady threatened, her voice dropping into a dangerously calm, icy tone. "Shut the fuck up and put your clothes on before I record every inch of your pathetic, broke-ass body and send it to everyone you know."

Ray held his breath, his jaw clenching as he glared straight into the phone camera. Fighting her right now was pointless; she was unhinged enough to actually hit record. Biting his tongue, he reached down and picked up his boxers from the stack of clothes on the coffee table.

He stepped one leg into the opening, ready to pull them up and end this humiliating circus, when Milady suddenly lifted her hand.

"Wait," she commanded smoothly.

Ray froze, one leg in his underwear, staring at her in sheer frustration. "What the fuck now?"

Milady set her phone down on the sofa, stood up, and strolled over to him. Her bare feet made no sound against the floor as she closed the distance, her small frame stopping just inches away from his bare waist.

Ray’s instincts flared up. He instinctively pulled back half an inch, his voice dropping into a defensive growl. "What the hell are you doing?"

Milady didn’t answer. Instead, she reached out her right hand. With a delicate, agonizingly slow movement, she extended her index finger and casually poked the soft, sensitive head of his cock. It was completely flaccid now, spent and hanging heavy between his legs.

She tapped it again, nudging the tip gently from side to side like she was inspecting a dead insect.

"Look at that..." Milady purred, a tiny, patronizing smirk curling her lips as she looked up at his burning face. "Such a cute little eel."

A wave of pure, scorching humiliation flooded Ray’s chest, turning his skin bright red from his neck up to his ears. He had slept around, he knew he was a degenerate, and he was no stranger to dirty, aggressive encounters—but he had never met anyone like Milady. Nobody had ever talked down to him like this. Nobody had ever treated him like a pathetic toy to be poked and mocked after taking everything he had.

His breath caught in his throat, a mix of genuine shock and wounded pride leaving him completely speechless as she casually wiped her finger on the side of his thigh.

Ray slammed his boxers up his thighs with a furious jerk, his face still burning like a flare. He pulled his pants on, zipped them up with a harsh metal scrape, and shoved his arms into his shirt so fast he almost ripped the collar. Every nerve in his body was screaming at him to grab his shit and walk out the door, but the sheer absurdity of the last hour held him rooted to the spot.

Milady paid zero attention to his quiet rage. She turned around with a dismissive flick of her wrist, casually strolled back to the sofa, and dropped onto the soft cushions. She picked up her glass of iced water, took a slow, deliberate sip, and set it down on the glass tabletop with a light clink.

Ray stood there in the middle of the living room, hands shoved deep into his pockets, glaring holes into the side of her head.

Milady leaned back, crossing her legs, and looked up at him with cold, calculating eyes. The lazy, teasing smirk was completely gone, replaced instantly by the sharp, businesslike glare of someone who owned the room.

"Alright," Milady said smoothly, her voice cutting through the quiet apartment. "The plan is—"