บททั้งหมดของ Beneath the Whip: บทที่ 61 - บทที่ 70

CHRIS’ POVThe day I finally found the evidence felt like a breakthrough. It had taken countless sleepless nights and relentless effort, but there it was—the irrefutable proof that Katarina and Bertrand had conspired to attack Judy and her father. As I stared at the documents, text messages, and surveillance footage pieced together before me, I felt a mix of triumph and exhaustion. It was a fragile victory, but it was something I could hold on to.Without wasting a moment, I gathered everything and headed to the police station. My heart raced as I handed the file over to the officer in charge. “This should be enough to prove their involvement,” I said, my voice steady but laced with the weight of the past weeks.The officer nodded, sifting through the evidence. “This is strong,” he said after a while, meeting my eyes. “We’ll open an investigation into Katarina and proceed with the necessary actions.”Relief coursed through me. Finally, the wheels of justice were turning. But beneat

JUDY’S POVThe house was quiet, save for the faint ticking of the wall clock in the living room. I sat on the edge of my bed, still replaying the events of the day in my mind. Each moment felt like a wave, crashing against the fragile walls I had built around myself. The memories wouldn’t stop—the accusations, the fears, and the guilt all weaving into a complex tapestry of confusion. And at the center of it all was Chris.It was late when my mother knocked softly on my bedroom door. “Can I come in, sweetheart?” she asked.I nodded, though I wasn’t sure if I was ready for whatever conversation she wanted to have. She stepped inside, her face lined with concern, her usually steady demeanour softened by worry.“You’ve been quiet,” she observed, sitting beside me. Her hands folded in her lap, a habit of hers when she was preparing for a serious talk. “Something has been bothering you, hasn’t it?”I hesitated, unsure of how to begin. But as she waited patiently, the words started tumb

JUDY’S POVThe thoughts about Chris lingered in my mind long after our date. His suggestion to be a "normal couple" stirred something within me—a cautious hope that we could rebuild what had been broken. I wanted to believe him, to believe in us, but doubt remained, casting a shadow over my decision. The sadomasochistic agreement, a cryptic part of Chris’ life, weighed heavily on my mind. It represented more than just a document; it was a symbol of the unknown between us, a barrier that kept me from fully understanding him.As the days went by, it became increasingly clear that our relationship was missing the excitement and connection I had once envisioned. The initial warmth we shared seemed to fade, replaced by a growing sense of distance that neither of us dared to address directly. Every conversation felt weighed down, as if we were carefully choosing our words to avoid stepping into the minefield of unspoken worries that loomed between us. It wasn’t just me feeling this way—Ch

JUDY’S POVWhen I stepped into Chris’ new place, I felt an uneasy tension ripple through me. The dim lighting and minimalist décor were a stark contrast to the vibrant, chaotic life we had shared before. The silence was unnerving, almost as though the walls themselves were holding their breath. It wasn’t just the place that unsettled me—it was the foreboding sense that something pivotal was about to unfold.When my eyes landed on the meticulously arranged sex objects in the room, my breath hitched. The space was unlike anything I had ever seen. It was intimate yet clinical, like a stage carefully designed for an unspoken play. Each detail seemed calculated to provoke, challenge, and reveal.“Welcome,” Chris said, his voice calm but carrying an undercurrent of something deeper. “We’re supposed to be a normal couple, Chris.” I repeated, but quite faintly.He ignored my plea. When Chris removed his T-shirt and grabbed another black, this sexy look which was both foreboding as well as

JUDY’S POVThe silk ropes brushed against my skin, their softness betraying the firm grip they had on my wrists and ankles. My breathing quickened as Chris tied the final knot, his movements deliberate and steady. I had agreed to this, albeit hesitantly, as part of my attempt to understand the pull Chris had over me and, perhaps, over myself. However now, as I lay bound and blindfolded, I could feel every nerve in my body coming alive in ways I hadn’t anticipated.The blindfold darkened my world, plunging me into an unfamiliar void. Without sight, every sound seemed louder, every touch magnified. I could hear Chris moving around the room—his footsteps, the subtle rustle of fabric, the soft creak of furniture. My heart pounded against my ribcage, torn between curiosity and apprehension."Are you okay?" Chris’ voice came from somewhere close, deep and reassuring.I nodded, my words failing me. The silk around my wrists wasn’t painful, but it held me firmly in place, leaving me both vul