The room was silent—so silent that the captives could hear their own rapid breathing, their frantic heartbeats hammering against their ribs. Fear thickened the air, suffocating, oppressive. The dim light flickered as if trembling in the presence of the woman who stood before them.
Her heels clicked against the concrete floor as she stepped closer, her presence exuding a twisted blend of elegance and terror.
Then, in a voice so sweet, so melodic, it sent chills down their spines, she spoke.
“Are you ready for the punishment session, boys?”
It was the way she said it—soft, affectionate, as if she were a mother addressing misbehaving children.
The bound boys shuddered.
Her gaze, dark and unreadable, swept over them, lingering on their terrified faces. Her lips curled into an innocent, almost childlike pout, her fingers tapping thoughtfully against her chin.
“Hmm… now, who should we begin with?”
She pretended to ponder, her eyes dancing with amusement as if deciding between flavors of ice cream rather than choosing a victim for torture.
Then, her gaze landed on Vibhav.
His breath hitched.
She turned to one of her men—tall, broad, a fortress of muscle and obedience. Without needing a word, he stepped forward, his shadow swallowing Vibhav whole.
“No! No, wait! STOP!” Vibhav thrashed in his chair, panic turning his voice shrill.
It didn’t matter.
The bodyguards worked like a well-oiled machine. Silent. Precise. Merciless.
They yanked him from the chair, his body hitting the cold ground with a dull thud before they dragged him toward the wooden table.
The moment his back hit the surface, he fought—kicking, twisting, struggling with everything he had.
“LET ME GO! YOU CRAZY BITCH! DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA WHO I AM?!”
His screams bounced off the walls, raw and desperate.
But they held him down with effortless strength, his limbs restrained against the wooden surface. His chest rose and fell in ragged, terrified breaths.
Then, she moved.
She walked toward a nearby table, her delicate fingers tracing over an array of gleaming tools. Her movements were graceful, slow, deliberate, savoring the moment.
And then, she picked it up.
A hammer.
Not just any hammer—a work of art.
The handle was smooth mahogany, carved with intricate gold embellishments, elegant yet terrifying in its beauty. The head of the hammer gleamed under the dim light, its metal surface polished to perfection.
She turned back, her eyes locking onto Vibhav, who was now breathing erratically, his face drained of all color.
She sighed dreamily, admiring the weapon in her grip.
“It’s my first time using this,” she murmured, running a gentle finger along the engraved handle. “I was waiting for the perfect occasion.”
Vibhav's eyes widened in horror.
“NO! NO, NO—STO—”
The hammer swung.
CRACK!
A wet, gut-wrenching sound filled the room as bone shattered beneath the metal.
Vibhav’s scream tore through the air—raw, agonizing, inhuman.
Pain unlike anything he had ever known ripped through his arm, exploding from his nerves to his very soul. His body arched violently against the restraints, his muscles seizing from the sheer shock.
The other captives watched in paralyzed terror, their faces twisted in silent screams.
But she wasn’t done.
She lifted the hammer again.
Vibhav’s sobs choked in his throat, his wide, teary eyes looking up at her in sheer pleading horror.
She smiled.
CRACK!
His left leg this time.
The moment the hammer made contact, the sickening sound of bone snapping in two echoed through the room.
Vibhav let out a bloodcurdling wail, his throat raw from screaming. His entire body convulsed, veins bulging against his skin, as pure agony flooded his senses.
The other boys flinched at the sight, their stomachs twisting. One of them vomited onto the floor, the bile burning his throat.
She tilted her head, watching the broken boy beneath her. Her expression was satisfied yet… curious.
“Hm…” she mused, as if admiring her handiwork.
She leaned down, her lips near Vibhav’s trembling ear.
“Not so fun when you’re the one suffering, is it?” she whispered.
His lips moved soundlessly, his body a trembling, broken mess.
She straightened, glancing at the others—Abhinav, their subordinates—all frozen in terror, knowing their turn was coming.
She let out a small, delighted hum.
“Well, then,” she said, gripping the hammer tightly.
“Who’s next?”
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