A Villain's Journey Begins in the Type-Moon World

A faint red mark instantly appeared on her fair skin, causing Medea to tremble and let out a suppressed whimper.

"I told you, didn't I? You stupid woman. Tonight, we'll settle everything that happened before."

Wang Chong's voice was deep and oppressive. His large hand covered Medea's snowy peaks without any politeness, pinching and kneading them forcefully.

Feeling that strange sensation mixed with numbness and pain, Medea's eyes welled up with tears, and she let out a painful groan: "Waaah—!"

But Wang Chong ignored her tears. This time, he completely ignited Medea's inner rebellion and resistance, and his goal was to shatter this witch's pride bit by bit.

Now, he has etched the deep imprint of "absolutely irresistible" into Medea's mind. Now, he will strike while the iron is hot and use the most forceful means to make this proud witch fully understand her weakness and powerlessness.

Now, he has etched the deep imprint of "absolutely irresistible" into Medea's mind. Now, he will strike while the iron is hot and use the most forceful means to make this proud witch fully understand her weakness and powerlessness.

She wants to monopolize his love? What kind of arrogant nonsense is this woman spouting?

Wang Chong's lips curled into a cold smile, and he increased the pressure on his fingers, announcing the impending punishment amidst the witch's crumbling defenses:

"Let's get through these three days and three nights of exercise first!"

Chapter 726 The Night of the Witch's Punishment

In the dimly lit cabin, the air seemed to thicken due to some dangerous tension.

Wang Chong's fingers casually grasped the main end of the red rope extending outside the bed. His gaze darkened slightly, and with a slight exertion of force, he gently pulled it in his direction.

"Ugh—ooh!"

Bound to the soft bed, Medea suddenly let out a painful yet strangely sweet groan.

The specially made red rope was no ordinary object; as Wang Chong pulled, the tortoise shell bindings that were already tightly attached to her body instantly tightened.

The rough knots mercilessly cut into her snow-white skin, leaving shocking red marks.

Every tiny tug caused intense friction between the rope and her skin, a complex sensory experience of pain and strange stimulation that surged through Medea's nerves like a tidal wave, forcing her to savor this unique "punishment."

Wang Chong looked down at Medea, admiring her current disheveled yet beautiful state, a cold, sharp smile curving his lips.

His gaze followed the intricate red rope downwards, finally settling on the most crucial knot at the base of Medea's thigh.

He slowly bent down, his fingertips precisely picking up the hidden red string, and pulled it outwards with just the right amount of force.

"Eee-ya—!"

Medea's body arched suddenly, like a fully drawn bow. The red rope rubbed against her most delicate and sensitive secret place, each slide precisely grinding against her fragile nerve endings.

A strong electric current shot from her tailbone straight to her brain. Medea's eyes, which were covered by a black cloth, were tightly closed, and tears streamed down her face uncontrollably.

She twisted her waist desperately, trying to escape the extreme stimulation that was driving her to the brink of collapse, but the tortoise shell binding restricted her movements so tightly that she could only endure every tremor that Wang Chong gave her.

"Why are you hiding? You can't even handle this little bit of excitement?"

Wang Chong's voice was deep and hoarse, carrying an irresistible pressure, like the whisper of a demon in the quiet room:

"Where did that arrogance go when you shamelessly declared you wanted to have me all to yourself?"

Upon hearing these words, Medea's body trembled violently. The gag prevented her from speaking, allowing her to only utter muffled sobs, but her heart was filled with pain and complex emotions.

Yes, she had once fantasized about using every means to keep the man in front of her firmly by her side.

But now, when she is actually alone with him, she feels like a lamb to the slaughter, easily stripped of all her dignity and ability to resist by him with just a few red ropes.

Humiliation, resentment, and a deep sense of submission that she herself was unwilling to admit were intertwined wildly in her heart.

He leaned down, his breath brushing against her ear, his voice deep and resonant like the undercurrents of the deep sea: "Come, let me see now just how deep that obsessive love you speak of truly is."

The moment the words left her mouth, Wang Chong reached out and removed the gag from her mouth. Medea gasped for breath, her tear-stained lips trembling slightly, but she did not utter her usual stubborn curses or defenses.

In the darkness, her other senses were amplified—she could hear her own heart pounding like a drum, smell the aggressive scent that belonged only to him in the air, and feel the scorching and threatening presence so close at hand.

Her body reacted before her will. She swallowed involuntarily, and the knot at the base of her legs rubbed against her most sensitive area due to the slight struggle, arousing a shiver that sent shivers down her spine.

The secret garden was already muddy and overgrown, betraying the last shred of pride she had tried to maintain.

“Since you once said you loved me deeply…” Wang Chong’s fingers slowly and deliberately combed through her messy hair, his movements almost gentle, but his words were as cold as a knife, “then even if your eyes are blindfolded and your hands are bound, you should know… how to please me.”

This was not a question, but a command. It was the only way to give Medea "proof herself," and also the execution platform to utterly crush her fragile declaration of monopoly.

Medea's breath caught in her throat. Shame overwhelmed her like a tidal wave, but even stronger than the shame was a deep, almost instinctive longing from the depths of her soul.

She wanted to be close to him, to be possessed by him, and to have everything he gave her—including punishment.

Even in this kind of punishment, one confirms their place in the world and the other person's "love" for them.

It was precisely this twisted attachment of hers that had become the most effective weapon in the other party's hands to deal with her.

Medea tilted her head slightly, and guided by the breath and warmth, she trembled as she reached forward.

At first, it was a clumsy and hesitant touch of the tongue, like a lost young animal. But soon, after sensing that he did not back down, and even heard a very soft, scrutinizing nasal sound, a kind of resolute determination to give up emerged in her heart.

Her pride, caught between the constraints of reality and her inner desires, crumbled piece by piece, and she finally began to serve with fervor.

Medea's movements gradually softened from stiff to gentle, and her resistance turned into compliance.

Although having her hands bound and fixed behind her back made oral service very inconvenient, it allowed her to focus all her attention on her lips and tongue.

Behind the black cloth, her eyes were tightly closed, and the physiological tears that had just been produced due to the pain began to slide down her cheeks, falling onto the bed and forming small dark spots.

Each deeper attempt was accompanied by subtle spasms in her body caused by the friction of the knots; pain and pleasure intertwined in a dizzying net, capturing her firmly.

Wang coldly observed all of this, his gaze as sharp as a hawk's, not missing a single subtle reaction from her.

He saw the delicate lines drawn out on her fair neck by the swallowing motion, the varying depths of the rope marks on her collarbone as she breathed, and the gradual blush of passion spreading across her skin, intertwining with the red marks to create a poignant yet decadent scene.

Wang Chong would occasionally give her a little "reward"—when Medea worked particularly hard, he would loosen his grip on a certain knot, allowing her to catch her breath briefly;

Occasionally, he would punish her—when she instinctively recoiled due to the feeling of suffocation, Wang Chong would press hard on the back of her head, forcing her to swallow it more deeply.

This rhythm, entirely under his control, this absolute dominance where rewards and punishments are decided at his whim, is gradually eroding Medea's last psychological defenses.

Time lost its meaning in the confined cabin. After an unknown amount of time, when Medea was almost completely exhausted, her lips and tongue numb, and she could only move mechanically by instinct, Wang Chong finally made a new move.

He abruptly pulled back, leaving the warm, moist embrace.

Medea, suddenly deprived of her support, looked up blankly, her mind hazy from the torment of desire and lack of oxygen, letting out soft, dissatisfied whimpers. A sense of emptiness instantly overwhelmed her.

"Is that all?" Wang Chong's voice was unreadable. He raised his hand and roughly wiped her wet lips with his thumb. "It seems your love is only this much."

A wave of humiliation washed over her again, but this time, it was mixed with more urgency and resentment. She wanted to explain, to prove herself, but her words failed her, and she could only gasp for breath.

Just then, Wang Chong untied the knot that had tormented her for so long at the base of her legs. The sudden relaxation made Medea collapse in relief for a moment, but the next second, an even greater "crisis" was about to strike.

He pressed down on her, his heavy body completely pinning her to the soft bed, the ropes binding her skin even deeper.

The hot, firm member pressed against her already muddy, trembling, and throbbing entrance, but did not rush in. Instead, it cruelly and slowly ground against the outside, feeling her every uncontrollable contraction and throbbing.

“The real punishment is only just beginning.” Wang Chong bit Medea’s earlobe and declared in a low voice, “For three days and three nights, I want you to remember this well—who is the master, and you… will always be the one who suffers.”

"Now feel my 'love'!"

As soon as he finished speaking, his waist suddenly sank, and without warning, he penetrated completely!

"what--!!!"

A mournful cry pierced the throat, only to be shattered into pieces in an instant.

Pain, fullness, the ultimate pleasure of being filled, and that inescapable, utterly conquered sense of destiny engulfed her like a tsunami.

A dazzling white light burst forth from the pure darkness, and the soul seemed to tremble and leave the body under this blow.

Wang Chong gave her no time to adjust, launching a brutal and relentless assault. Each penetration felt like it was shattering her soul, and each withdrawal brought an overwhelming emptiness.

The rope tightened and rubbed against her skin with each violent movement, leaving more vivid marks on her fair skin and intensifying her sensory confusion. Tears had already overflowed, and sobs and gasps intertwined to form the most humble melody.

He looked down at her, completely dazed and at his mercy, and a barely perceptible hint of satisfaction finally flickered across the coldness deep in his eyes.

The "re-education" of the witch is progressing step by step along the path he set. This long night of punishment has only just begun.

Chapter 727 Medea, the Tamed One (Part 1)

After the first wave of ferocious attacks subsided, Wang Chong temporarily halted his offensive, but did not leave.

He still occupied the deepest part of Medea's body, feeling the subtle spasms within her, like the still surface of the sea after a storm.

He reached out and pulled off the black cloth covering her eyes.

The sudden light made Medea squint and close her eyes, her long eyelashes glistening with tears like rain-soaked butterfly wings. A few seconds later, she slowly opened them, trembling.

Those purple eyes, which always exuded mystery and arrogance, were now filled with a thick mist after a round of frenzied activity.

His pupils were unfocused, filled with confusion, vulnerability, and lingering desires after being utterly ravaged.

After a while, as if the afterglow of her physical discomfort had subsided, Medea was finally able to see Wang Chong clearly again... She saw his gaze looking down at her, a gaze that held no pity, only a calm composure that seemed to control everything, and a hint of assessment of her current state.

“Look carefully, Medea.” Wang Chong pinched her chin, forcing her unfocused gaze to concentrate on his face. “Who is it that is possessing you and punishing you?”

Medea's pupils contracted sharply. The restoration of her vision brought her no sense of security, but instead made her realize more clearly how wretched her current situation was—bound in the most humiliating way, forced to submit to his pleasure, and utterly powerless to resist.

Ultimately, she succumbed to Wang Chong's doting affection, even though he had been so rough with her; she still clung to him relentlessly. And after this prolonged tug-of-war, she was utterly defeated…

Compared to her previous resistance and betrayal, she now seemed like a joke.

A strong sense of shame surged up again, and she tried to look away, but he held her firmly in his eyes.

"Answer me," Wang Chong commanded, his waist twitching slightly in a threatening manner.

"...It's...it's you...Wang Chong..." Medea's voice was hoarse and broken; the long shouting had already made her throat parched.

"What am I to you?" he continued to press, his movements intensifying as he began a new round of slow and deep thrusting.

Medea's words were broken by the impact: "It's... mine... mine... sob..."

Explain yourself!

“…Master…” she uttered the word with difficulty, as if she had used up her last bit of strength, accompanied by a sob that sounded like she was collapsing. She knew that once she admitted it, some things could never be recovered.

Wang Chong's lips finally curled into a genuine smile, cold yet carrying the pleasure of achieving his goal.

"Remember this title. Whenever you ever think of overstepping your bounds or trying to monopolize something, remember this moment."

What followed became a tug-of-war between will and senses.

Wang Chong changed his rhythm and methods, sometimes ruthlessly pulling away when she was about to reach the top, leaving her agonizingly lingering on the edge of the cliff.

Sometimes, with almost cruel force and speed, it would throw her onto the crest of the wave again and again, giving her no chance to catch her breath.

He forced her to repeat the words of submission in a broken voice, forced her to confess her deepest desires, and forced her to fully recognize her place in the midst of extreme pleasure and pain.

Outside the ship's window, the night was deep, and the waves gently lapped against the hull. Inside the cabin, however, the punishment continued.

From the initial fierce resistance to the later futile struggle, and finally to the utter helplessness of acceptance and submission, Medea was also branded with a deeper mark as her pride was crushed inch by inch.

As the first faint rays of dawn seeped through the cracks in the porthole, Medea was already in a daze, her body covered with various marks, like a delicate flower thoroughly cleansed by a storm.

Wang Chong finally ended the night's conquest and untied the red rope that had long been tangled around her body.

Her freed body lay limp on the bed, unable to move even a finger. Wang Chong got up, put on his robe, and glanced at the nearly unconscious witch on the bed.

"Rest now." His voice returned to its usual calm, revealing little emotion. "We'll continue tonight. Three days and three nights, not a moment less."

After saying that, he turned and left the room, leaving Medea alone in the heavy scent of him, and in the aches and marks all over her body that reminded her of the madness of the previous night.

The soft click of the door closing seemed to mark the end of the first chapter of this long punishment, but Medea knew that the true "end" was still a long way off.

Exhausted from the defeat of both body and mind, and with a twisted expectation, she sank into a dark sleep.

……

For the next two nights, Wang Chong's cabin seemed to become another world.

As night fell, Wang Chong transformed into a complete tyrant, embodying the word "punishment" to its fullest extent.

On the first night, Wang Chong changed the patterns on the red rope again and again. Sometimes it was a simple binding, making Medea kneel on the edge of the bed; sometimes it was a complicated binding, suspending Medea from the iron rings on the cabin ceiling.

Each knot was precisely tied to her most sensitive spot, gently rubbing against her as the boat rocked, making it difficult for her to maintain her balance even while standing.

After securing the position, Wang Chong straightened his back and began his actions. Throughout the entire process, Medea could only passively endure it. By the end of the night, her body was covered with red marks from the ropes or bruises from Wang Chong's defilement.

On the second night, Wang Chong changed positions in various ways, manipulating Medea at will, leaving traces of their activity in every part of the room.

Wang Chong even tried every single cave he could get into, which almost drove Medea to ecstasy.

Medea had lost count of how many times she had woken up—or perhaps it wasn't even waking up at all, but merely being forced back to reality from a brief daze.

Her body felt as if it had been disassembled and reassembled countless times; every joint ached and felt weak. The red marks and bruises on her skin, both old and new, were like a brand of humiliation, constantly reminding her of what had happened that night.

As Medea was once again pressed against the porthole, her cheek against the cold glass, the twilight outside deepened, and the last ray of light at the horizon reflected in her unfocused purple pupils. The former witch's arrogance was no longer there, only a hazy, conquered look and an almost contradictory tenderness.

However, as night falls and the sky begins to lighten, Wang Chong displays a tenderness that seems almost contradictory.