My Taboo Harem!

Chapter 398: Scums of Earth!!!!

His hand cracked across her face—once. Twice. Thrice. Each slap harder than the last, open-palmed but with the force of a closed fist. The world tilted violently, sound muffling to a high, piercing whine.

Five seconds stretched into eternity—nothing but white noise, ringing, stars exploding behind her eyelids. Her lip split wide, copper flooding her mouth, mixing with the metallic tang of fear.

Cheekbone throbbed, swelling instantly; one eye watered uncontrollably, vision blurring.

“Fucking bitch—” Anderson snarled, words she couldn’t fully hear over the roaring in her ears, spit flecking her cheek as he leaned in again, grabbing her jaw with bruising force, forcing her to look at him.

“You think you can hit me? I’ll make you beg for mercy, you worthless cunt. We’re just getting started.” He squeezed harder, nails digging into her skin, drawing pinpricks of blood, while the room erupted in more cruel laughter, the circle closing in tighter, hungry for more.

Anderson’s grip on her jaw tightened like a vice, nails gouging deeper into her skin, drawing fresh beads of blood that trickled warm down her chin.

His face twisted into a mask of pure fury, eyes blazing with unbridled rage. “You dare hit me, you filthy whore?” he hissed again, voice low and venomous.

Without warning, his free hand reared back and cracked across her face—once, with the full force of his arm, the slap echoing like a gunshot in the sealed room. Her head snapped to the side, cheek exploding in fire, skin splitting open in a ragged gash from cheekbone to jaw.

Blood welled instantly, hot and sticky, dripping onto the marble.

The impact rattled her teeth, sending shockwaves through her skull that blurred her vision to black spots.

He didn’t stop. Twice—harder, the back of his hand this time, knuckles grazing her lip and tearing it wide open, flesh parting like overripe fruit. Her lower lip bloomed with blood, swelling grotesquely, a deep split running vertical that exposed raw pink tissue underneath.

Copper flooded her mouth stronger now, choking her as she gasped.

Thrice—open palm again, but with a twist of his wrist that made it whip like a lash.

This one caught her across the mouth full-force, aggravating the split lip into a mangled mess, blood spraying in a fine arc as her head whipped the other way.

Her upper lip joined the carnage, cracking at the corner, swelling to twice its size. Bruises erupted in angry purple blooms across her cheeks, one eye already puffing shut, the skin around it turning mottled black and blue.

The world spun in hellish vertigo; pain throbbed in waves so intense she retched, bile mixing with blood on her tongue.

Four times—cruel, deliberate, aiming for the fresh wounds. The slap landed on her split lips, grinding the torn flesh under his palm, reopening the gashes with wet, tearing sounds.

She screamed—muffled, gargled through blood—but it only fueled him. Her face felt like raw meat, numbness creeping in from the repeated trauma, nerves deadening under the assault.

Sensitivity fled her cheeks, her lips throbbing dully now, desensitized to the point where the next blow barely registered as pain, just pressure and heat.

Five times—the final one, a backhand that sent her reeling, head lolling as stars burst behind her eyelids. Her nose trickled blood now too, a fresh bruise blooming across the bridge. The room faded to gray, her body going limp in his grasp, senses overwhelmed, teetering on the edge of blackout.

But Anderson wasn’t done. He switched to lighter slaps now—sharp, stinging pats across her battered cheeks—to drag her back from the brink.

“Wake up, bitch,” he snarled, each tap jolting her senses awake, forcing her eyes to flutter open through the swelling. “You hear me? Do you know why that pathetic fuck David is here?”

Emily blinked through tears and blood, her mind foggy, poor girl utterly clueless. She shook her head weakly, whimpers escaping her mangled lips.

Anderson laughed—cold, bitter. “The bitch had the audacity to plot against me and Brett. Spreading rumors, planting discord among the legacies. Making sure we knew Derek was in cahoots with Renne the journalist, that strategic positioning bullshit. The fucking audacity.”

Her eyes widened in confusion—she knew nothing of it, her world shrinking to the pain and terror—but he didn’t care.

He leaned closer, breath hot against her ruined face. “And you? Poor thing. Do you know why you’re here? At least David has rich parents—rich enough to slum it in Downtown Paradise on their own. But who the fuck are you? Daughter of one of the Montgomery family’s useless employees? If your daddy wasn’t licking their boots, where would you even be? Some shithole slum, scraping by?”

He slammed his fist on the table beside her head—boom—making her flinch, fresh tears streaming. “Yet you had the audacity to organize that game with the legacy princesses? Where are they now to save you, huh? That’s what we do—use you and dump you. They used you and those pathetic PheiCrush Simps to help their boy Phei. Where are they now?! No. Where is Phei now to save you!”

Zack burst out laughing from the sofa, rising to his feet with a predatory grin. “Enough of that shit. Being the president of the PheiCrush Simps alone is crime enough. Time we taught this bitch a lesson!”

Aiden stood smoothly, snatching a disposable glass from the side table, his eyes gleaming with dark anticipation.

Zack sauntered over, joining Anderson. Without warning, he slapped Emily across her already devastated face—hard enough to reopen the split on her lip, fresh blood oozing.

She cried out, twisting in agony, but Zack grabbed her wrists from behind, yanking them up and pinning them against her back in a brutal hold. She struggled wildly—body bucking, legs kicking futilely—screaming through bloodied lips, “Phei will—Phei will save—”

Anderson lunged, fingers clamping her jaw like iron claws, prying her mouth open with savage force. Her teeth ground against his thumbs; she gurgled, choking on her own blood and saliva, eyes bulging in panic.

Danton glanced up from his phone, face impassive. He stood without a word and slipped out the door, the lock clicking softly behind him.

Aiden paused, pouring amber alcohol into the glass with deliberate slowness, then scanned the room. “The rest of you—out. All twenty of you lackeys. Go stand guard and let no one in. Now.”

Without hesitation, the circle dissolved—the girls shivering in their shimmering dresses and boys in dark shirts filing out silently, the door sealing behind them with that same heavy thunk.

The room emptied to just the boys: Aiden, Anderson, Zack, and the broken forms of Emily and David.

From a small black bag on the sofa, Aiden withdrew two transparent plastic sacks filled with fine white powder—cocaine,

maybe worse—and two vibrant pink pills, ecstasy laced with something darker.

He approached; eyes locked on Emily’s forced-open mouth.

She thrashed harder—head whipping side to side despite the grip, muffled screams bubbling out—but Aiden shoved the pills in first, deep into her throat, followed by pinches of powder from each sack.

Her eyes watered, gagging violently, body convulsing as the bitter taste hit her tongue.

She tried to spit, but Anderson clamped her jaw shut, forcing her to swallow. The reaction hit like lightning—in seconds, sweat beaded on her forehead, her skin flushing hot, feverish, an unnatural heat building in her core that made her squirm uncontrollably.

Aiden high-fived Zack and Anderson with a triumphant smack. “Perfect.”

He dumped the remaining powders—entire sacks—into the glass, swirling them into the alcohol until it turned cloudy, potent. “With this, she’ll agree to anything in a few minutes. And won’t remember a goddamn thing afterward!”

His laughter erupted—manic, unhinged, echoing off the walls like a madman’s cackle.

“Hurry the fuck up!” Zack barked, grinning wildly. “She’s already breaking.”

Emily had stopped fighting—her struggles turning inward. The drugs surged through her system; she clawed at her clothes desperately, nails tearing at the fabric of her dress, ripping seams in a frenzy to escape the burning heat crawling under her skin.

They grabbed her again—Zack pinning her arms, Anderson forcing her head back. Aiden tilted the glass to her lips, pouring the entire toxic mix down her throat. She gulped involuntarily, choking and sputtering, but most went down.

The results were instant—her eyes glazed over, pupils dilating to black pools.

A crazed, lustful hunger twisted her battered features; she grabbed Aiden and Zack’s free hands with desperate strength, yanking them toward her, pressing them against her feverish hand skin with a low, involuntary moan.

They laughed—deep, victorious bellows. “Look at her go! Lead her to the room now.”

Anderson released her jaw and bolted to the far wall, flinging open a hidden door that revealed a dimly lit bedroom beyond—plush bed, no windows, another layer of isolation.