SSS-Class MILFs And Their Yandere Daughters, I Want Them All!

Chapter 624: Mental Backlash

After the doctor came a movie star.

Victor Lang. He was devastatingly handsome, with chiseled features and piercing eyes that had made millions of hearts flutter.

He had starred in countless blockbuster films—war epics, romantic comedies, action thrillers. He had played heroes and villains with equal conviction.

Charlotte had actually been a fan of his work. She had watched his movies with her sisters, had even asked for his autograph at a premiere once.

He approached Mika with a blowtorch in his hand.

The blue flame hissed softly in the quiet library.

“You know.” He said, his voice smooth and cultured. “I played a psychopath once. It was for a film called ‘Midnight Rising.’ Have you seen it? No? Pity. It was some of my best work.”

He touched the flame to Mika’s arm. The smell of burning flesh filled the air.

“I did extensive research for that role. I interviewed actual serial killers. I studied their methods, their motivations, their psychology. I wanted to understand what drove them. What made them tick.”

He moved the flame to Mika’s chest. “And somewhere along the way, I stopped acting.”

He leaned closer, his handsome face inches from Mika’s agony-contorted features.

“The role consumed me. I won an award for that performance, you know. Best Actor. But after the cameras stopped rolling, I couldn’t turn it off.”

“The craving—the hunger—it had become part of me. I needed to feel it for real. I needed to hear real screams. See real pain.”

He traced the flame down Mika’s stomach.

“So I came here. Marcus was kind enough to offer me an invitation. And now I can satisfy my cravings whenever I want.”

He smiled, and it was the same charming smile that had graced a thousand magazine covers.

“Method acting. You’ve got to admire the commitment.”

He worked on Mika for a couple of hours, the blowtorch his instrument, Mika’s screams his applause.

—

After Victor came the others.

A parade of the most powerful and respected.

—

A famous chef who specialized in exotic cuisine and had always wondered what human flesh tasted like when properly prepared.

He brought his knives and his seasonings and spent two hours carving pieces from Mika’s body while discussing cooking techniques.

—

A fashion designer who had always been fascinated by the texture of human skin and wanted to see if it could be worked like leather.

She brought her needles and her thread and stitched patterns into Mika’s flesh.

—

There was a painter whose works hung in the most prestigious galleries, who used Mika’s blood as his medium and his screams as his muse.

—

There was a musician who played haunting melodies on a violin while carving patterns into Mika’s skin, claiming that true art required true suffering as accompaniment.

—

There was a schoolteacher who had won awards for her dedication to her students.

She spoke in the same gentle, encouraging voice she used in her classroom while driving stakes through Mika’s back.

“You’re doing so well!” She cooed. “I’m so proud of you! Just a little more. You can take it. I believe in you!”

—

There was a priest, who had devoted his life to spiritual guidance and moral leadership.

He came into the library wearing his clerical robes and carrying a whip.

“Suffering purifies the soul.” He explained as he brought the whip down across Mika’s back.

“Pain brings us closer to the divine. You should be grateful, child. I’m saving you. I’m cleansing you.”

“Every scream brings you one step closer to salvation.”

—

Charlotte watched them all come and go.

Each new face was another betrayal. Each new voice was another reminder that the world of heroes and saints who made everything better was a lie.

—

Even Marcus’s investigation team, the special task force assembled to catch the perpetrator of the Terror Face Murders came to take their turns.

Every single member was part of the conspiracy.

Every single one was a regular visitor to the Paradise of Sin.

—

At one point, Charlotte stopped being surprised.

She stopped feeling anything at all when a new face appeared. The shock had burned itself out, leaving only cold, empty numbness in its wake.

And through it all, Mika suffered.

He screamed until his voice gave out. He thrashed until his muscles seized. He bled until there was nothing left to bleed. And when his body was restored, as it always was, he did it all over again.

But there was one small mercy, one fragile thread of hope that Charlotte clung to in the darkness.

None of the people who were truly close to her family had appeared.

None of the generals who served under the Maiden of War.

None of the advisors who worked closely with the Maiden of Fate.

Amanda had been the only one to slip through the cracks—the only person in their inner circle who had been hiding a monster behind a friendly face.

The ones Charlotte had grown up calling “auntie” and “uncle” seemed to be genuinely good people.

Or at least, they hadn’t been seduced by Marcus’s dark paradise.

It was a small comfort. Almost meaningless, given everything else that was happening.

But Charlotte held onto it anyway. It was the only thing she had left to hold onto.

—

The torture also no longer came in sessions.

Before, Marcus would torture Mika for hours, then leave them alone for a while.

There had been breaks—precious hours of respite where Charlotte could read to Mika, tell him jokes, try to rebuild his shattered spirit.

But now there were no breaks. There couldn’t be.

There were too many people. Too many “guests” who had heard about the unbreakable boy and wanted to test him for themselves.

As soon as one person finished, another entered. And after that one, another. And another.

An endless conveyor belt of cruelty that never stopped, never slowed, never gave Mika a moment to recover.

Charlotte screamed at them. She begged. She pleaded. She invoked her mother’s name, her aunts’ names, threatening them with the wrath of the Battle Angels if they didn’t stop.

“STOP! PLEASE, STOP!”

“Don’t you dare do this! My mother will come for me! Do you hear me?!”

“You don’t understand who you’re dealing with! My aunts will tear this entire place apart to find me!”

But they just laughed. The Battle Angels couldn’t find them here. The Battle Angels didn’t even know this place existed.

“Mika needs a break!” She shouted at the ceiling, hoping Marcus could hear her. “He’s dying! Can’t you see he’s dying?!”

Marcus’s voice echoed through the library, disembodied and amused.

“I’m sorry, Lady Charlotte, but your friend is simply in high demand. Everyone knows about him now. Everyone wants a turn. We can’t just let him rest—that would be unfair to our guests.”

“HE’S A CHILD! HE’S JUST A CHILD!”

“And children are so wonderfully resilient, aren’t they?”

Charlotte screamed in frustration. But there was nothing she could do. She could only watch as the parade of monsters continued.

—

Through all of it, Mika did not break.

He screamed. He bled. He suffered in ways that would have killed a normal person a hundred times over.

But his eyes never lost their fire. He glared at his tormentors with such pure, concentrated hatred that some of them actually flinched.

And more than that—he talked.

He asked the Iron Sentinel about his family.

“Do you have any family, by the way?”

“A wife? Children?”

“That’s nice. You must miss them terribly when you’re away protecting the city.”

He questioned the newscaster about her ratings.

“So, how are your ratings doing these days?”

“Have they been improving lately?”

He discussed cooking techniques with the chef while the man was literally carving pieces from his body.

“Personally, I’d sear it first. You want to preserve the flavor rather than let everything dry out.”

He debated philosophy with the professor, countering his ethical arguments even as his organs were being pulled out.

They tried to silence him. They tried to break him.

“Shut up, you brat! Before I sew that mouth of yours shut!”

“One more word and I’ll cut that tongue out. Do you understand?”

“Keep talking and I’ll make sure you never speak again.”

But no matter what they did, Mika kept talking. Kept defying. Kept proving that while they could hurt his body, they could never touch his spirit.

Charlotte clung to that defiance like a lifeline. As long as Mika was still fighting, there was hope.

But then the fat man came.

—

He burst through the door with an enthusiasm that made his entire body jiggle, a mountain of flesh barely contained by an expensive suit that strained at every seam.

His face was round and glistening with sweat, his small eyes darting around the room until they landed on Mika.

“There you are!” He exclaimed, his voice high and breathless with excitement. “There’s my precious boy!”

Charlotte recognized him too. Of course she did.

His name was Horace Grimble. He was the headmaster of a prestigious children’s hospital and academy, an institution that took in war orphans and gave them education, shelter, and hope.

His graduates went on to successful careers and he was praised by politicians and celebrities alike.

He was also, Charlotte now understood, a monster of a very specific kind.

“Well, well, well.” Horace said, his voice high and breathless with anticipation. “So this is the famous boy I’ve heard so much about. The one who can’t be broken. The one who never stops fighting.”

He licked his lips, his tongue wet and glistening.

“You’re even more beautiful than I imagined.”

He began to unbuckle his pants.

Charlotte’s blood ran cold. “What…what are you doing?”

“Don’t worry, my dear.” Horace said, not even looking at her. “I’m not like the others. I don’t want to hurt him. I want to show him a good time. A proper good time…”

“…the kind of good time I’ve shown to so many of my students over the years.”

Charlotte felt bile rise in her throat. She understood now. All those orphans. All those vulnerable children placed in his care. And he had been—

“By the time I’m done with you…”

The man continued, reaching for Mika with pudgy, grasping fingers.

“You’re going to fall in love with me. They all do. They all learn to love me, in the end!”

“…Don’t you dare come closer.”

Mika’s voice was cold. So cold. Colder than Charlotte had ever heard it.

The man paused. Then he laughed—a wet, wheezing sound.

“And what are you going to do about it? You’re strapped to a chair. You’re helpless. You’re—”

“DON’T YOU DARE COME ANY CLOSER, YOU FAT FUCK!”

BOOM!

The library exploded.

Books flew off shelves. The chandelier crashed to the floor. The walls shook and cracked.

The entire domain began to tremble as if caught in the grip of an earthquake.

The fat man stumbled backward, his face white with terror.

“What’s happening?! WHAT’S HAPPENING?!”

Mika’s eyes were blazing with a fury so intense it seemed to warp the air around him.

The restraints rattled against the chair. The ground beneath their feet heaved and bucked.

And then Marcus appeared.

He materialized between Mika and the fat man, his hands raised.

The shaking immediately stopped.

The cracks in the walls sealed themselves. The fire died back down to a gentle flicker.

“WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON?!”

The fat man shrieked.

“WHY IS THIS HAPPENING?! YOU TOLD ME HE COULDN’T DO ANYTHING! YOU TOLD ME HE WAS HELPLESS!”

Marcus turned to the fat man with undisguised contempt.

“Put your pathetic little thing back in your pants.”

The fat man flushed and hastily pulled up his trousers.

“It seems this boy’s mind is much stronger than I anticipated.” Marcus said, his voice carrying a note of genuine surprise. “His mental defenses are so robust that when he’s confronted with something he absolutely refuses to accept, his willpower actively battles against my domain.”

He rubbed his temple, a flicker of pain crossing his features.

“He actually managed to rattle my world. I can feel the backlash.”

“Does that mean he can escape?!” The fat man’s voice was shrill with panic. “If he can shake the whole domain, does that mean—”

“No.” Marcus shook his head firmly. “He can’t escape. He can rattle the cage, but he can’t break it. His power isn’t nearly at that level yet.”

He paused, his expression hardening.

“However, I’m not going to let you do what you were planning to do. The backlash is…unpleasant. I’d rather not experience it again.”

“But I already paid you!” The fat man protested. “I gave you everything you asked for! You promised me—”

“Shut up.” Marcus’s voice was ice. “If you don’t like it, I’ll deny you access permanently. Do you want that?”

The fat man’s face went pale. His multiple chins wobbled as he shook his head frantically.

“Good. Then do what you came here to do—the normal way. Nothing else.” Marcus vanished.

The fat man stood there for a moment, his face twisted with humiliation and fury. Then he turned toward Mika, his fists clenched.

“You.” He snarled. “You embarrassed me! You made me look like a fool in front of Marcus!”

Mika just glared at him.

“I’m going to make you pay for that!”

The fat man said, and he began to beat Mika with his bare hands, punching and slapping and clawing at his face.

But Mika didn’t screamy. He just kept staring at the man with those cold, unbroken eyes.

And the fat man, despite being the one inflicting the pain, felt like he was the one being hunted.

Illustrations have been posted in the comment section…Check them out!

—

—

—

—

—

—

Illustrations have been posted in the comment section…Check them out!