Chapter 1244. Under The Table Is The Only Place She’s Worth For While Sucking The Meat

Chapter 1244: 1244. Under The Table Is The Only Place She’s Worth For While Sucking The Meat

The cruelty of the thought that she wouldn’t be allowed to sit on a cushion or even a hard chair but would be relegated to the dirty, crumb-filled, spit-and-drop-contaminated space on the hard wood beneath the table hit her like a sledgehammer.

The humiliation of being the "table dog," the thing that crawls on all fours under everyone’s feet while they eat, was absolutely nauseating.

He didn’t give her time to protest or plead further. His long fingers clamped down around one of her wrists, the bone feeling so thin and fragile beneath his hard grip, and he began to drag her off the edge of the cum-slicked mattress.

He wasn’t gentle, pulling her legs down the side of the rumpled linens, making sure the sticky residue of her own pussy juice and the fresh piss she had just drunk clung to the back of her calves and heels.

He practically hauled her off the bed, forcing her to plant her bare, soiled feet on the hard wood of the bedroom floor, which was already tacky with the puddles she had made.

He dragged her out of the room, his grip on her wrist firm and bruising, making her stumble slightly on the wood, her thighs feeling exposed and filthy.

He made her walk down the staircase, the steps hard and unforgiving, forcing her to duck her head and scramble to keep up with his long, confident strides.

At the bottom of the stairs, the dining room was already brightly lit and inviting the most cruel contrast to her state.

Diana and Lily were already there, seated primly at the long dining table, arranging plates of what looked like absolutely delicious, steaming food: roasted meats, vegetables, sauces, and fresh bread—the kind of meal that made Valentina’s empty stomach growl painfully.

Diana and Lily looked up as Rex came into the room, dragging the disheveled, naked, piss- and cum-coated grandmother behind him, and they acted completely casual, almost delighted, about the sight.

There was no horror or pity in their eyes, only that cool, condescending amusement that someone who considers themselves superior has for a piece of human trash.

Lily smiled brightly, leaning one elbow on the white tablecloth, which looked so clean and pretty, making the thought of Valentina crawling under it even more humiliating.

Diana was busy pouring more wine into a clear glass, adjusting the placement of a meat dish, looking like the picture of a polite hostess, except she was looking at the filthy woman being dragged in as a mere accessory for their meal.

"Oh, look, Rex brought Grandma down," Lily said, her voice cheerful and pleasant, like she was commenting on a cute pet that just arrived. "How lovely that she’ll be joining us under the table, of course."

Her tone was so sweet and approving, as if it were the most natural and pleasant thing in the world for her grandmother to be the crawling, filthy thing beneath their dangling feet, making sure she stayed clean enough to not drip on their pretty tablecloth.

As Rex dragged her into the warm, savory-scented light of the dining room, the smell of roasted meat, garlic butter, and fresh herbs hitting her empty stomach like a cruel joke Diana and Lily made a point to address her.

They acted like two kind, condescending young women offering "comforting" advice to a piece of broken property, like someone talking to a spooked horse that they intended to whip into submission.

Lily leaned forward even further, the white tablecloth beneath her forearms looking so crisp, clean, and expensive, which made the thought of Valentina crawling under it sticky with piss, cum, and dried blood absolutely excruciating.

She rested her chin on one hand, her long fingers occasionally tapping the edge of her porcelain dinner plate, making a light click-click-click sound.

"Now, Grandma, there’s no need to be so difficult or upset," she said, her voice bright and patronizing, genuinely pleasant in the most insulting way possible. "It’s going to be perfectly alright, you know."

"If you just stop resisting and do what Rex tells you, everything will be so much smoother."

Her tone was like that of a schoolgirl being "nice" to a bully who has just become the victim of that horrible, self-righteous sweetness. She made it sound like a simple, logical choice: resist and suffer more, or submit and be "comfortable."

As if being the filthy thing under the table where people might drop bits of meat and wine was some sort of reward.

Diana nodded approvingly, taking a small bite of a juicy, dripping piece of roasted meat, chewing it slowly and prettily.

The juices from the meat were glistening on her bottom lip, looking absolutely delicious, which made Valentina want to howl. She swallowed the savory morsel with obvious pleasure, making a soft gulp sound, before continuing that "kind" advice.

"Lily is absolutely right," Diana added, dabbing the corner of her mouth with a monogrammed linen napkin, the fabric so white and fluffy that it only made the contrast with Valentina’s yellowish, tacky, blood-streaked thighs feel like acid. "Resistance only makes it harder on yourself, doesn’t it?"

"Like, unnecessarily painful? If you just be good and stay quiet under the table, nobody has to be mean, and you can just be... well, useful."

She spoke as if she were offering medical or moral counsel, like a condescending nurse telling a patient they shouldn’t flinch when the needle goes in.

The implication was that her only "duty" was to be the obedient, crawling thing beneath their dangling legs, collecting the drops of fat, sauce, and wine that fell onto the hard wood.

Inside Valentina’s mind, the humiliation was like a physical weight crushing her sternum. The thought of being really seen by her own granddaughters, the girls she had likely kissed, hugged, fed, and loved in this absolutely debased, filthy, animalistic state, was unbearable.

Most people would have begged for death, for the comfort of disappearing, for the earth to simply open up and swallow her.

The thought of being "observed" by them by their amused eyes, their pretty smiles, and their casual interest in how dirty she looked made her want to scream until her throat tore, but she found she couldn’t make a single sound.

The terror and the shame had knotted her throat so tight that her breath was coming out as only thin, hitching sips, which sounded pathetic and strangled.

She wanted to dissolve, to turn into smoke, to vanish from the face of the planet so she wouldn’t have to endure the pitying, condescending "kindness" of the girls who were supposed to love her.

The thought of them looking down past the edge of the beautiful tablecloth and seeing her, the filthy, naked, soiled grandmother, crawling on her hands and knees on the hard wood like a dog—it was like being flayed alive.

Rex moved with the casual confidence of someone who truly owned every molecule of the dining room, including the broken woman he was handling.

He didn’t just guide her toward the underside of the long table; he grabbed the top of her scalp, the part where her hair was likely matted with dried sweat, piss, and bits of her own blood and pressed his long fingers into her skull.

The grip was firm and rough, not quite bone-crushing, but definitely painful enough to bruise the scalp, making her chin jut out even more.

He steered her around the sharp corner of the polished wood, the edge of the tablecloth hanging down just enough so that it would brush against her filthy thighs the part that was yellowed with piss and streaked with the tacky white cum she had just lapped up.

He wanted her positioned perfectly: directly beneath the spot where Diana and Lily were sitting, where they could easily peer over the hem of the pretty white linen to watch her.

Once he had her crouched on her knees on the hard, slightly crumb dusted wood where bits of bread, meat fat, and dropped wine had collected, he released one hand from the crown of her head, keeping the other firmly on the nape of her neck, like someone holding a leashed dog that needed to be commanded to sit.

He ducked down slightly, squatting behind her so he could inspect the way she looked—the pathetic, naked, soiled grandmother huddled on the hard floor, making herself as small as possible under the table where the girls were eating.

"Here is where you stay," he commanded, his voice amused and cruel, tapping the back of her skull with his index finger to make sure she was properly tucked into that cramped, dirty space beneath the wood. "Under the table, where you belong."

He shifted his hips, adjusting the hard, wet tip of his cock so it was hovering right between her face and the underside of the table, the part that was just inches from where Lily and Diana were dangling their pretty, clean legs.

He made it clear that her "right" to any scraps of the delicious breakfast they were enjoying was conditional: she had to earn it.

"And if you want to get any of the tasty bits—the meat, the sauce, the bread—you’re going to have to prove you’re worth it," he explained, his voice bright and merciless, enjoying the way he was performing this humiliation right in front of his two delighted granddaughters. "That means sucking my cock again, clean and thorough, until I cum."

"And I want every single drop you drink... clean..."