“Am I being kicked out?”

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Something like a silly little mouse…

A long sigh escaped the teeth that pressed his lower lip.

If she ran away as if she had waited for him to go, he would try to catch her and knock her down on the carpet because he would be tempted again.
However, what if she asked him if she was going to be kicked out…?

Sally would be so pathetic that even the slightest bit of interest had cooled off.

“I won’t kick you out.
So, please go.”

“Th, thank you.”

The maid came down under the desk, hesitatingly thanking him.
Leon walked over to the chair without paying attention and opened the desk drawer.

“The gun is confiscated.”

After putting the revolver in the drawer and closing it roughly, the maid turned her wrinkled face toward the door.

Leon leaned heavily against the heavy chair and sat down.

He repeated as he watched the maid slip out of the door like a mouse.
In the first place, he was just letting her go for a while.
It was fun to chase after she ran away, so he was just letting her go on purpose.

…But, why didn’t it have a pleasant aftertaste, like a mouse that untangled the trap and ran away?

Glancing at the tightly closed door, Leon shifted his gaze to the desk that had been swept away by a storm.
When the woman left and the fever went down, he felt pathetic that he had lost his mind like a rutting dog.

What was even about that lowly, wretched woman?

However, that didn’t last long.

The reason he lost his mind was that she had everything spread out on the desk.
Leon picked up a silk handkerchief that had been lying around beside the wallet, which Sally had left behind.
Because it was white, the red bloodstain in the middle stood out even more.

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The moment the faint smell of blood awakened his sense of smell, his tongue remembered the taste.

The exhilarating taste of licking a cold muzzle, the dizzying smell of death stinging his nose, but the warmth and faint beat that shouts that it is still alive.

An old memory revived in his mind as he recalled the taste of the maid’s blood.

Now, it had faded to black and white, though only the girl’s dark brown hair, turquoise eyes, and red drops of blood on her lips were as clear as a colorful postcard from a resort.

A bitter smile engraved on Leon’s lips as he remembered the girl’s last cry.

His naive childhood ended on that day.
The blood he tasted the first time he ran away from the tight duty of being the eldest son of the family—the bloody smell he smelled from his father, who met a tragic end the next day.

A brief vacation at Abbington Beach as a child completely changed the meaning of blood in his life.


It was a pity that his first deviance and his father’s last deviance had a bad ending.
After that, Leon couldn’t resist the urge to taste the blood again.

“Dirty pig!”

The path had already been set before he was able to express his own will, but it was right to walk the path of a soldier.
Deviations made for private interest soon become public achievements.

Should he thank a girl named Daisy…?


It was a cute name that didn’t really suit her dark skin and bold temper.

Actually, Sally might be her real name.
Every time he gazed into Sally’s eyes, he was skeptical.
Although her skin color was much whiter than that of the girl, and brown hair was common, turquoise eyes were uncommon.

If Sally was that girl, he finally found the reason why he lost his temper and wanted to hang her on the hook and chain her slender neck with a chain.

Sally… This name was too cute unbefitting her nerves.

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Leon re-opened the drawer he had closed roughly.

A small revolver was placed next to a closet of medals his father had left behind.
When he asked if she was about to shoot, without a moment’s hesitation, she nodded her head sternly.
It was a fun woman to tease as she was without fear.

Recalling that, he smiled quietly and picked up the revolver.

When would she try to shoot?

Perhaps, it was when she was about to kick between his legs right before he found the gun?
Rather, since when did she make up her mind to shoot him? Every time she ran into him, was she slowly pulling out the muzzle stuck in the band of that old stocking?

Just before he was about to kiss her, he suddenly remembered Sally putting her right hand carefully in her pocket.

She was a fox pretending to be stupid… A fox stupid enough to get caught.

Sally Bristol.

She was seemingly docile, though she hid dangerous things under a well-groomed skirt, and she was a dangerous maid who was thinking of shooting him.
She was a brazen woman, yet she took money from him.

Among those under his command, she was the most selfish person while diligently doing what she was asked to do.

As he laid out the definitions one by one, it felt unnatural, like forcing different puzzles to fit together.
So, why did he keep getting hung up on it?

Leon placed the silver revolver in the middle of the desk and lowered his hand to his waist.
The belt buckle quickly unbuckled, and the buttons that were about to bounce off the front of the pants came out one by one from the narrow hole.

He wanted to take off the owner of that pistol.
He wanted to look inside that woman as she was.

His hand, holding the handkerchief stained with the woman’s blood and tears, naturally turned downward.
Soon, the sound of a soft cloth rubbing against his skin broke the silence of the office.
A sweet sigh escaped between his smooth lips.

“Dirty pig!”

Would Sally curse him like that girl?

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When she fell naked on the cold metal table in the torture chamber and her handcuffed arms and legs at the corners…

He wished she hadn’t shrieked as she had just a moment ago, although screamed and howled with all her might, twisting her limbs and it echoing in the torture chamber.

It was sweet just imagining it.

Leon leaned his elbows against the armrests of the chair and clenched his chin, and glanced down.
Dark watermarks appeared on the white cloth that wrapped around the copper-colored tip.
The more he moved his hand, the more it spread and permeated the woman’s red traces.

Where should he start first…?

Her mouth wouldn’t be bad.

Recalling his previous impressions, it was soft, moist, warm, and quite good.
To be more honest, it was quite impressive that when he pressed her tongue with his index finger, she rather wrapped around his fingers and sucked it.

First, he would grab her chin to the side and shove himself between those tiny pink lips — Deep.
Rough — Until her lips lose their pink color and turn blue.
Her narrowed throat would squeeze and tighten as she swallowed a chunk of hard flesh instead of a soft breath.

What would be next?

Leon breathed, imagining the next place to be tormented, and moved even harsher.
He hung his straight index finger in the knot of the black tie that was tightening his neck and pulled it loosely.

On his handkerchief, the clotted blood was oozing out with his liquid.
Sally’s traces of blood, which spread out through the clear marks, clung to Leon’s most sensitive point.
The mysterious smell of a mixture of a woman’s blood and his own fluid stimulated his sensitive sense of smell.

He gave strength to his hand, rubbing the handkerchief, imagining Sally’s blood dripping onto his genitals.

Was the flesh that blocked the narrow path pink like the lips?

If he held her thin waist with both hands and aligned the tip of his manhood with the flesh, she would cry out.
She would try to close her legs that couldn’t be closed because of the handcuffs, without knowing how lascivious she was shaking her breasts…

Then, he would suggest to her, generously, if she begged him to quit, she could quit.

…When that happened, would she tremble and beg with all kinds of flattery right now?

In fact, he would pull her back down suddenly, saying there was no need for such a thing.
If he tore through the flesh at once with his body, Sally would pour all kinds of curses on him with the mouth that was begging.

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Would the texture be as good as her mouth? Leon clenched his hand and recalled the moment he stirred her mouth.

He was going to put it all in one go in those moist walls until a gasp of breath escaped between Sally’s torn lips.

He would slowly, very slowly, pull out the genitals buried in its hot flesh to the tip of its roots.
Let the copper-colored skin be dyed with a beautiful blood color.


Leon let out a sigh as the white and cloudy liquid burst out, and soaked in bloodstains.
It wasn’t just a feeling of relief that he had resolved the desire that had been bothering him all day.

“…Didn’t I say that you’re annoying because you’re nice?”

The woman had misunderstood the meaning of his words that she was annoying.
Still, it was annoying that she couldn’t be put in the torture chamber because she was nice.

He couldn’t quite get it right.

No matter how infamous a torturer he may be, he had his own principles.
First, women were not tortured.
Second, he would not bring an innocent person to the torture chamber.

It was a problem for Sally to get caught up in both of these principles.

Even if you grab and tear off the leg of a worker ant carrying a piece of bread that was diligently walking its way, and by the time the third leg got torn off, it would become dull.
It was no different from unilaterally torturing a good child.

‘…In order to be punished, there must be a crime worthy of it.’

Picking up the revolver that had been placed on the desk as if it was a lewdly painted picture.
Even though illegal possession of firearms was also a clear sin, it was because it was such a trivial sin that he would not use it as an excuse.

Since the ban was less than a century ago, there were still many people caught by the police for carrying firearms for self-defense as was the old custom.
His mother must have been hiding a female revolver in one of her many hat boxes.

Sally, do something worse…

Because I want to teach you a lesson.

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