Rehab for SuperVillains (18+)-Chapter 68: Buzzzz~

Buzzzz~

A sharp hum sliced through the kitchen’s quiet, buzzing close to Freya’s ear like an insistent insect.

Her hand shot up instinctively, slapping at the air, her composure cracking for a split second.

"What is that?" she snapped at the annoying sound, her voice sharp behind the eye mask, blue eyes glaring uselessly into the dark.

Kael’s voice slithered back, smug and teasing, a sneaky smile audible in his tone. "Just some toys I picked up to play with. You might get bored waiting for those ribs, so it’s my duty to keep you... entertained."

Freya’s jaw clenched, her palms gripping the edge of the kitchen counter, knuckles whitening as she braced herself.

The ribs bubbled softly in the covered skillet, their smoky aroma a faint anchor, but Kael’s words were a warning—she knew his twisted games were about to escalate.

She was ready for the worst, her will iron.

Bring it on, you perverted bastard.

He stepped close, his warmth a sudden presence behind her, and his hands found her breasts, sliding under the sheer floral bra with bold familiarity.

"Even your boobs are heavenly," he murmured, squeezing them firmly, the lace shifting against her nipples, stirring a traitorously warm spark. "If I hadn’t touched them, I’d swear they weren’t real."

His fingers lingered, kneading, then retreated as he stepped back, voice dropping to a taunt. "Anyway, I’m starting now. Surrender whenever you want—it’s up to you."

Before she could retort, his fingers deftly unhooked her bra, the lace loosening with a soft snap.

"Hey!" Freya yelled, her arms instinctively crossing to clutch her breasts, pinning the bra in place to keep it from falling.

Her cheeks flushed, a mix of indignation and embarrassment heating her skin, but she held her ground, tall and defiant in the stockings, garter belt, and barely-there panties.

"What?" Kael said, all mock innocence. "It’s just in the way. I’m not touching your hands—rules are rules." His reminder was a jab, twisting the knife of their bet, and Freya’s lips pressed tight, her pride refusing to let her argue, she hated that she hadn’t made more ground rules, she cursed Syn for abusing the loopholes.

Her blue eyes burned behind the mask, useless but fierce.

"Once I’m out of here," she hissed, voice low and venomous, "You keep watching your back. Because I swear. I will come for you. I’ll freeze that pathetic thing between your legs and smash it to powder right in front of your eyes."

Kael laughed, a low, sultry sound, and...

smack—

His hand slapped her ass cheek, it jiggled lightly, the sting sharp and unexpected, leaving a faint heat and mark where his fingers had been.

Freya flinched, a gasp catching in her throat, her exposed cheeks tingling.

"I thought you were smart, Freya. Is now really the time to threaten me? When you ass in on my hand?" he whispered, his breath hot against her ear, and smack—he spanked her other cheek, the jolt making her hips twitch, the panties doing nothing to shield her.

"Don’t worry, violence isn’t my thing. I’m more... of the perverted kind." His voice was velvet, dripping with promise, and he tugged the bra free, letting it fall to the floor.

Freya stood bare from the waist up, her full, fair breasts exposed, pink nipples hardening against the cool air and the lingering sting of his touch.

Kael paused, his gaze heavy on her full breasts.

Freya couldn’t see it, but she felt it, a weight that made her skin prickle.

Her beauty was undeniable, her breasts round and perfect, the nipples a soft blush against her pale skin, begging for attention.

Unable to resist, he reached out, impulsive, and pressed both nipples with his thumbs—light, playful, like hitting buttons.

"Boop!" he teased, his voice a spark in the quiet.

Her flush deepened, a faint rosy hue creeping across her chest, shame flickering beneath her pride.

She tensed, lips parting for a retort, but clamped them shut, refusing to give him the satisfaction.

Stay focused, Freya. FOCUS

She straightened, dropping her hands to the counter, letting her breasts hang free, defiant.

Let him look—she was perfect, and shame was beneath her. Why should she even be ashamed, for what?

But Kael wasn’t done.

She felt him move closer, his hands gentle now, precise, as he attached something to her nipples—cool, rubbery, pinching lightly.

Nipple clamp vibrators, though they weren’t buzzing yet, their weight a strange, unfamiliar pressure, tugging faintly with every breath.

"What? What are they?" she demanded, voice sharp, her composure cracking. "What strange things are you doing, you perverted bastard?"

Kael’s grin was all smug satisfaction. "Am I getting to you?" he asked, leaning in, his tone daring her to admit it.

"No!" Freya snapped, shutting her mouth hard, teeth grinding as she fought to reclaim her control.

"Don’t worry, I promise I won’t do anything, violent."

But the strange things hanging on her nipples, the blindfold, his voice—they were burrowing into her head, doubting if she should trust his words, and the worst of all.

She’d lost her count.

Fuck.

How many seconds had passed? Five hundred? A thousand?

Panic flickered, but she crushed it, starting fresh—one, two, three—guessing somewhere around 5,000 more seconds would be enough for the ribs to simmer.

Close enough.

She had to be closest enough, if not perfect.

His hands moved again, sliding down her hips, hooking the waistband of her lacy panties and tugging them down along with his fingers brushing her legs, slowly with grace, until they pooled at her thighs, then her ankles.

Freya’s breath hitched, but she didn’t react, didn’t give him the gasp he wanted.

He’d already seen her naked yesterday—fingered her to climax, stripped her bare—so what was there to hide?

Shame was a one-time sting, dulled by repetition.

She stood tall, naked save for the stockings and garter belt, her ass cheeks exposed, her core vulnerable, but her mind was steel.

Another point for me, she thought, mentally tallying her win for staying silent, unflinched.

"No reaction?" Kael asked, his smugness tinged with doubt, but she didn’t answer, her lips pressed tight, her count resuming—ten, eleven, twelve.

She smiled slightly for the first time. She was already naked except for the stocking which hugged her legs, and it didn’t bother her

The worst was over.

Right?