The air in the room instantly turned to ice. As the bone-chilling cold of the nuclear winter filled my lungs, I couldn't stop my teeth from chattering. Seeing my little brother shivering in his sleep, his wheezing breath freezing, I clenched my fists. Dante was using my mercy as his sharpest weapon against me.
I dipped my trembling fingers into the thick, stark-white, heavy-scented cream of the Trileçe. As my fingertips filled with that sticky, sweet liquid, I closed my eyes and began to fulfill his dark, perverted command.
The moment the cold cream first touched my hot and partially bruised skin, it was as if an electric current set every nerve ending on fire. Dante's whisper echoed in my mind as if his lips were pressed right against my ear:
"Yes... Just like that. Feel that wetness and cold, Dorian. With your own hands, you are becoming a feast prepared solely for me. Now, add the jam. I want to watch how that redness spreads over your skin, over the snow-white cream, flowing like a fresh wound."
While burning with shame, I experienced the terror of that indescribable, forced arousal awakening on my skin. I scraped the blood-red jam from inside the Berliner with my fingers and mixed it into the cream. As I sealed my own chest with this sweet poison, I felt Dante's desire-filled breath in the deepest parts of my soul.
[SYSTEM UPDATE: Endorphin and Dopamine Levels Under Manual Control. Pleasure Level: MAXIMUM.]
I was sobbing, yet within this sensory prison, I was experiencing the horror of being aroused by the touch of my own fingers. Dante's dark laughter echoed off the damp walls like a victory march.
"Now, Dorian," he said, each word stamped into my soul like a seal. "Rise slowly and face that cracked mirror. I want you to see yourself through my eyes.You're a rare gem in my collection—think of yourself as a strawberry on top of a cake."
"I've never eaten a strawberry in my life," I said bitterly. "You gave us strawberry-flavored artificial sweeteners—a fruit that went extinct nearly a century ago."
"Oh,my bad. Was I supposed to empathize and feel sorry right at this point?"
Though the strength had left my knees, I stood up under the irresistible urge of the system. My reflection in the mirror—my bruised skin, my ribs prominent from hunger, and the stark white, sticky cream stains upon them—resembled nothing so much as a sacrificial victim.
"Take a little more cream in your hand," Dante whispered, his voice dropping to a tone that slithered toward my lower belly, toward my Adonis belt. "And spread that whiteness slowly over those sharp lines. Watch how your own fingers glide over those muscles, tracing those shimmering paths downward."
I swallowed a sob. As the cold cream flowed slowly from my fingers toward my Adonis belt and down toward my groin, I was forced to look at that humiliated stranger in the mirror.
"Don't look away, Dorian. Watch yourself as you slowly peel back that wet, sticky fabric. See the white trails your fingers leave on your skin, that glow. Understand how flawless my property truly is."
I sank to my knees. Dante's voice had grown heavy with a dark, lustful intensity.
"Press your palms to the floor and bow your head. I want you to use your own hands to gently part your cheeks and turn your most intimate, most vulnerable self toward the mirror."
Tears streamed down my face as I obeyed the command with trembling hands. As I offered my own intimacy to that cracked mirror, to his greedy eyes, Dante's breath—heavy with pleasure—wrapped around my mind like venom.
"Now, without using your hands, take a piece of that dessert from the floor with only your mouth. In that position... with your body turned toward the mirror, I want you to feed from the floor like an animal."
I leaned toward the creamy Berliner on the floor. With my eyes locked onto my own humiliated image in the mirror, I caught the dessert with my mouth. As the cream smeared over my face and nose, Dante's dark laughter made the hair on the nape of my neck stand up.
He wanted me to eat off the ground like a wretched pig. My jaw trembling, I bit into the dessert's cream. One day, I'll imagine chewing on Dante's meat—the kind that doesn't pulse—just like this!
In that heavy atmosphere where the scent of sweat and cream mingled, I grabbed the stained sheet from the floor with trembling hands and tried to cover my nakedness. My honor was crushed, but the rebellious spark in my eyes was still burning. I fixed my gaze on an invisible point, right into his eyes.
"Then I have a condition of my own!" I said, masking every tremor in my voice with my hatred.
"You will cancel all your other... 'humans.' Terminate their contracts, shut down their systems. Do whatever you must! It will only be me."
That mocking laugh echoed in my mind.
"And what happens if I don't, my little rebel? After having watched you with such appetite, with such detail... why would I give up my other toys?"
"Because." I said, my voice sharp as an oath. "If you look at anyone else, you'll watch your 'Premium' toy fall into pieces, Dante. I will destroy myself. You won't be able to see or feel me ever again. You'll be left with nothing but a blank screen."