Chapter 1242. The Only Drink She’s Getting Today Is My Piss!**

Chapter 1242: 1242. The Only Drink She’s Getting Today Is My Piss!**

The next morning, Rex returned to the room where he had left the wreckage of Valentina.

He was absolutely feral and satisfied, completely naked, his skin still tacky and glistening with the leftover traces of Elizabeth, the girl he had just thoroughly fucked until she had convulsed and passed out.

The evidence of what he had done to the daughter was plastered on his thighs and lower stomach: Elizabeth’s sweat, her pussy wetness, and the occasional streak of her blood.

He pushed the door open wide, not bothering with any politeness, relishing the foul and beautiful sight of the woman he had broken the day before.

Valentina looked like the living definition of exhaustion, the kind of bone-deep, soul-crushing depletion that comes from being electrotelekinetically tortured and humiliated until the body nearly shuts down.

Her eyes were rolled up into the whites, showing only the sclera, unfocused and glazed, and her tongue was lolling out of her blood- and saliva-slick mouth, hanging wet and pink over her bottom lip. She looked genuinely like someone who was hovering on the very precipice of death.

What Rex absolutely roared with laughter at was the state of the floor. The area around the rumpled, soaked bed was a literal flood, a massive, sticky lake of her "love juices," the combination of clear squirting fluid, thick white cum she had taken, and the thin, pinkish threads of her vaginal blood.

It had pooled off the edge of the mattress, dripping down the wood and forming a wide, glistening puddle on the hard floor.

"Hahaha! Look at you!" he bellowed, his voice echoing off the walls, delighted by the swamp of her own shameful secretions. "You fucking flooded the whole goddamn floor, didn’t you?!"

"Like some kind of leaky, slutty animal!"

His laughter was harsh and genuine, bouncing off the stains the dried blood made on the sheets. He loved that she looked so pathetic, so undone, so close to simply expiring from the sheer intensity of the pleasure torture he had inflicted.

Deciding he wasn’t finished with his toy and wanting her fresh for more, Rex activated his Supreme Healing.

The magical aura that emanated from his hands was brilliant and almost sickeningly pretty, a pulsing, golden-white light that hummed with a high-pitched, divine frequency.

He stepped into the sticky puddle of her blood and cum, his bare feet making wet, sucking sounds like shlap squelch, shlap squelch as he approached the edge of the bed.

The golden light washed down over her haggard form, the bruises on her hips, the welts on her tits, and the raw redness around her pussy began to knit the tissue back together.

The magic worked with brutal efficiency, sealing the micro tears in her pussy walls, closing the blood spots on her thighs, and rehydrating her parched throat all at once, forcing her body back into its absolute prime.

As the Supreme Healing took hold, the telekinetic thread he had used to suspend her in the air suddenly snapped off, releasing its grip.

Without that invisible support, Valentina’s limp, newly repaired body simply dropped hard onto the damp, cum-soaked bedsheets.

The impact of her hitting the mattress the wetness, the stickiness, and the hardness made her gasp audibly, though it was a strangled, choking sound. One second she was levitating, helpless and dying, and the next she was slammed down into the gunk she had made.

Her breathing was immediate and horrific, ragged huffs, sucking air through her wet tongue, her chest heaving up and down so fast it looked like it might crack a rib.

Despite the magical comfort of feeling "fixed" and "healed," the hatred in her eyes was venomous. As her vision cleared thanks to the magic fixing her eyes too, she glared up at the naked, smug man standing over her, seeing him as the devil himself.

The hunger and thirst were like gnawing animals in Valentina’s stomach, sharp and cruel. Having been electro-tortured, slapped, and convulsed into a fountain of squirting fluid all day yesterday without a single second of respite, food, or water, she was physically depleted and famished.

Her throat felt like it had been scraped with broken glass, dry and tacky, coated in the salty residue of her own dried cum and blood.

As the Supreme Healing finished its work, knitting her torn pussy walls back to smooth, pink perfection and erasing the welts on her tits, the awareness of her empty, cramping stomach made her practically howl.

The magic made her feel "better," but it didn’t provide the actual substance her body was screaming for.

Her voice was hoarse and wrecked, cracked from the screaming she had done the day before, making every word sound like a painful rasp.

"P-please..." she choked out, her hands scrabbling against the cum-sticky bedsheets, trying to lift herself up off the damp fabric.

The stickiness of her own dried secretions made her skin feel like it was glued to the linens, which only made her more desperate. "I’m... I’m so hungry... and so thirsty... I haven’t eaten anything... nothing at all since yesterday..."

Her eyes were fixed on Rex, that cruel, naked god who had destroyed her with a look that was absolutely humiliating: the pleading, begging eyes of a starving dog.

Despite the hatred simmering in the back of her mind, the biological imperative of starvation was far more selfish and demanding.

Rex threw his head back and laughed, a loud and mocking sound that seemed to fill the room, bouncing off the stained mattress and the puddle of her love juices on the hardwood floor.

The thought that she was begging for proper sustenance—bread, water, something decent—was the funniest thing he had imagined all week.

He glanced down at his massive cock, which was already tensing, the tip beginning to drip a few clear, warm beads of piss onto the cum-coated bed between his thick inner thighs.

"Hungry and thirsty, are you? Like some sort of pathetic, starving stray?" he mocked, his voice dripping with cruel amusement.

He made no effort to be kind or charitable. "Well, I think I have just the thing for your thirsty little throat."

His thumb and forefinger caught the waistband of the nothing he was wearing the bare skin and he shifted his hips, making the cock stand even more rigid, the tip wet and glistening, dripping that warm, yellow piss onto the white cum-streaked linen.

He made it sound like a threat and a gift all at once, the most insulting form of "charity" imaginable.

The telekinetic force suddenly hummed again, the blue aura wrapping around her hips, which were still stained with the dried pink and white gunk from yesterday, and lifted her off her back.

He manipulated her like a marionette, forcing her to slide off the edge of the damp mattress, down onto her knees, directly in front of his standing cock.

He made the movement rough and humiliating, dragging her knees through the tacky puddle of her own dried cum and blood that had collected on the wood where the mattress met the floor, ensuring she got "dirty" before she got her "drink."

He positioned her so she was kneeling, straddling the hard way his cock was jutting out between his thighs, her face shoved right up into the dripping wet tip.

Rex planted his feet wide on the sticky, varnish-stained wood, right where the edge of the cum-soaked bedsheet met the floor, the part that was absolutely drenched in the dried and fresh puddles of Valentina’s previous day of squirting.

He liked that he was standing on the evidence of her humiliation, the tacky, stringy bits of her pussy juice and blood forming a sort of varnish on the hard floor.

He arched his hips just enough, thrusting that massive, vein-ridden cock forward, the tip already beaded and dripping. The piss was warm, clear, and plentiful, forming a small, glistening thread that fell onto the stained linen between his inner thighs, the part she was forced to clean up.

"Well, open that filthy little mouth wide," he commanded, his voice rough and pleased, like a cruel master giving a dog permission to lap up something off the dirty tile. "And drink every single drop."

"I won’t have any wasted."