Dimitri's madness had reached a new, terrifying peak. Sofia's muffled, guttural "Hmmmm..." only served to make him more demonic. Showing no mercy, he suddenly seized Sofia's legs in an iron grip.
As his hands—veins bulging with blue intensity—clamped down on her ankles, Sofia trembled once more in a strange oscillation between agony and pleasure. Dimitri hoisted her legs onto his shoulders, leaving her in a completely vulnerable position.
"Ahhh... Dimitri... Hmmmm..."
Sofia's back arched off the bed. Every thrust from Dimitri was direct and devastatingly powerful. He stared into her eyes and began to speak:
"You used to dream of escaping with these legs, didn't you? From today, these legs will only spread for me. You are now entirely in my grasp, Sofia."
Sofia saw the sweat beaded on Dimitri's forehead and his every muscle hardened like stone. As he struck again with his gargantuan strength, she felt as though her body would truly be torn apart. Yet, strangely, her nerves were no longer recoiling in pain; instead, with every impact, she felt an indescribable heat.
Involuntarily, she placed her hands on Dimitri's legs, trying to pull him even closer. Her muffled groans shattered the silence of the room. Dimitri lifted her legs even higher, making it clear—in this empire, Dimitri was the only king, and Sofia was his most precious prey.
The Echo of Surrender
Sofia's long, piercing cry of "Ahhhh..." hit the walls like a ghostly echo. Under the rhythmic surge of Dimitri's blue veins and his savage power, Sofia was utterly crushed.
When Dimitri gripped her legs and hoisted them over his shoulders, she felt as if her body would split at the waist. A sharp current of pain surged through her spine, but before it could fade, an indescribable primal pleasure consumed her entire being.
"Ahhhh... Dimitri... Hmmmm..."
Sofia's eyes rolled back; her nails clawed at the bedsheets. With every monstrous thrust, she felt a searing heat spreading like venom through her cells—but it was a venom that now felt sweet.
Seeing Sofia's helpless yet frenzied state, Dimitri broke into a demonic laugh. He increased his pace. His sweat dripped onto her stomach as she reached the peak of agony and went numb. She was no longer 'Major Sofia'; she was merely a bird trapped in Dimitri's predatory cage, a bird that had begun to love its prison. This cry was not one of protest, but of final surrender.
The night was drawing to a close, but the havoc of Dimitri's blue veins and Sofia's haunting cries showed no sign of ending.
The Mark of the Beast
At the ultimate peak of agony, when her senses were lost, Sofia involuntarily dug her nails into Dimitri's back. She clawed frantically at his broad, veined shoulders.
"Ahhhh... Dimitri..."
Her nails tore through his skin. Bloody streaks appeared on his sweat-slicked back, like red paint slashed across a white canvas. Dimitri did not stop at the pain; instead, Sofia's aggressive response drove him deeper into mania.
He gripped her legs even tighter and lunged into her. The phoenix tattoo on her back was being rubbed raw against the sheets, while she tried to stifle her screams by clinging to his back. Dimitri hissed into her ear:
"Claw me, Sofia... make me bleed! These nail marks will remind you tomorrow morning exactly who owned you tonight."
Sofia's nails sank deeper. She couldn't tell if this was revenge or a futile attempt to survive the unbearable. With every monstrous impact, her hands carved new, bloody patterns into his skin. The room was heavy with the sound of his ragged breath and the scratching of her nails. Dimitri spared his prey nothing, and Sofia, drowning in a blue sea of pain, clung to his back as her final sanctuary.
The Silent Aftermath
Sofia's final, sky-shattering scream—"Ahhhhhhhh..."—shook the room before slowly fading into the air. In its wake, a deep, motionless, and hollow silence engulfed the space.
As Dimitri drained her with the last of his strength, Sofia's body shook like an electric shock and then went limp. Her hands, which had been clawing his back, slowly slid away and fell onto the bed. The deep, crimson gashes on Dimitri's back were still fresh, blood and sweat mingling and dripping together.
Dimitri moved off her and collapsed onto his side. His chest was still heaving like a blacksmith's bellows, the blue veins slowly receding.
The room was now perfectly still.
Sofia stared blankly at the ceiling. Tears rolled down into her ears, but her face held no expression of suffering. She was in a strange trance—as if she had just survived a terrifying storm and been washed up on a deserted, quiet shore. Every part of her body was numb, yet she could still feel the imprint of Dimitri's monstrous existence.
Dimitri spoke in a quiet, almost whispering tone:
"Does it feel quiet now, Major? This silence... this is your surrender."
Sofia did not answer. She simply closed her heavy eyelids. The first light of dawn hadn't yet peeked through the window, but the darkness inside Sofia was now much deeper and quieter. The blood on Dimitri's back and the sweat on Sofia's skin bore witness to an unwritten contract—one where Dimitri had won, and Sofia had embraced her defeat.Sofia lay motionless, her gaze fixed on the ceiling. Her eyelids didn't flicker once. Looking at that dull gray expanse, she felt as though the ceiling were not a sky, but a massive stone slab pinning her forever within the confines of this room.
Dimitri lay panting beside her, but Sofia was no longer in this world. The sound of his heavy breathing didn't reach her ears. She only stared at the corner of the ceiling, where a spider wove its web in the dim shadows. It felt to Sofia as if she, too, had been caught in a web spun by Dimitri—one where escape meant only death.
The marks of his diabolical power were etched into every fold of her body. Her legs lay numb and sprawled. But Sofia's gaze was fixed. She wondered:
Who is this woman reflected in the mirror?
Where did that brave Major disappear to?
Why, amidst this agony, did she find a strange sense of pleasure?
As she stared at the ceiling, a final tear rolled from the corner of her eye. It wasn't a tear of pain; it was the final farewell of her old self. When Dimitri placed his hand over her stomach, Sofia didn't flinch. She simply continued to stare—as if she were now an inanimate object, devoid of feeling, devoid of protest.
Outside, the first light of dawn began to break. As that thin ray of light seeped through the window, Sofia remained staring at the ceiling, tallying the cost of her shattered existence.
The Ghost of Rika
In that gray darkness, the face of Rika suddenly appeared on the screen of her memory. Rika—her lover, her only sanctuary, whom she had lost forever long before entering Dimitri's dark world.
Rika's gentle smile, his loving touch, and the moment of their final goodbye pierced Sofia's numbed heart like an arrow. The contrast between Dimitri's savage aggression and Rika's pure love was shattering her mentally.
She whispered to herself, "Rika, it's good that you're gone. If you saw what I've become today, you might not even recognize me. The Sofia you loved died on this bed tonight."
She remembered the day Rika died. When his lifeless body was before her, she thought no pain could be greater. But today, crushed under Dimitri's weight and finding pleasure in the torment he inflicted, Sofia realized that living like a walking corpse is far more terrifying than death.
The memory of Rika brought a hollow yearning to her vacant eyes. She wanted to scream his name and weep aloud, but no sound would come. Dimitri's massive, veined hand still held dominion over her body, a constant reminder that Rika was now only a fragment of memory, while Dimitri was her present and her future.
Looking at the ceiling, she seemed to see Rika's shadow. He seemed to look down in pity, asking, "Sofia, have you truly lost yourself?"
Sofia's eyes began to overflow with tears. She had remained strong after Rika's death, but in this 'new hell' created by Dimitri, his memory left her mentally destitute.
The Conqueror's Embrace
Just as the burning memory of Rika was consuming her from within, Dimitri rolled over and pulled her into a tight embrace. His sweat-slicked, burning body pressed down on Sofia's cold frame like a massive mountain.
This embrace held none of a lover's tenderness; it was the possession of a victor. He crushed her against his chest with his muscular arms so tightly that Sofia could barely breathe. She was still staring at the ceiling, thinking of Rika, but Dimitri's touch dragged her back to the brutal reality.
Dimitri leaned into the crook of her neck, his hot breath fanning her skin as he whispered:
"Who are you thinking of, Sofia? Rika? That dead man who couldn't protect you?"
Sofia gasped. Could Dimitri read her mind? He tightened his grip, as if trying to weave his very existence into the marrow of her bones. The phoenix tattoo on her back rubbed against the hair on his chest.
"Ummm..." Sofia let out a faint sound of pain. The blue veins in Dimitri's body hadn't quite settled. He nipped at her earlobe and said, "He is dead, but I am alive. This body of yours knows only my touch now. Rika's memory might give you peace, but I give you the ultimate truth."
Sofia had wanted to cling to Rika's memory, but Dimitri's monstrous embrace forced her to accept the hell of the present. She became small within his arms. It felt as though Rika was watching from above—seeing her forced to take refuge in the chest of her killer and tormentor.
Dimitri pulled the sheet over them both. In the hazy light of dawn, the bloody nail scratches Sofia had carved into his back were visible—silent witnesses to their horrific night.
The Slumber of the Broken
After crossing the sea of agony, caught between the memory of Rika and Dimitri's iron embrace, Sofia's body and mind finally collapsed in total exhaustion. Wrapped in the thumping rhythm of Dimitri's hot chest and the scent of his sweat, Sofia began to sink into a strange stupor. Her heavy eyelids could no longer hold the ceiling in view; they slowly drifted shut.
Finally, Sofia drifted into a deep sleep.
This was no ordinary rest; it was a means of escape. To find a few hours of freedom from the tight grip of Dimitri's arms, the bruises on her neck, and the dead face of Rika within her mind, she plunged into the darkness of her subconscious. Even in sleep, her lips twitched occasionally, as if she were still unable to shake off the remnants of the trauma.
Dimitri remained there, holding her, staring at her now-peaceful face. The nail marks on his back were still fresh, but he didn't let her go. His demonic lust had transformed into a quiet possession. He brushed the sweat and tangled hair from her forehead and closed his own eyes.
Outside, the birds began to chirp. The first golden light of morning filtered through the curtains, but Sofia was far away in some old, dreamlike world spent with Rika. From Dimitri's prison of flesh and blood, she had escaped for a moment into the realm of dreams.
The room was now perfectly silent. The only sounds were Dimitri's heavy breathing and the steadying heartbeat of the sleeping Sofia.