She pulled the other strap off her shoulder with deliberate, venomous slowness.
The silk nightie began its slow, deliberate descent — gravity and raw, poisonous intention working together like co-conspirators in the sweetest, most spiteful betrayal.
The fabric slid down with luxurious laziness, revealing the elegant curve of her collarbone, the full, more of heavy swell of her breasts that had been punched more tis than they had been kissed, the soft, vulnerable underside that should have known only worship but had instead morized the shape of her husband’s fists.
Phei’s hand shot out.
He caught the silk before it could fall further, fingers pressing the cool fabric firmly against her sternum, holding it in place with iron control.
Roxanne looked up at him.
Her eyes held no sha, only the cold, burning determination — hard and bright and absolute, the eyes of a woman who had endured hell for years and was finally ready to spit in its face with a smile sharp enough to cut glass.
"What do you think you’re doing?" Phei asked, voice quiet and careful with gentleness unlike the tone he’d used while thodically turning her husband’s balls into frozen mince-at.
"I want you to fuck ," she said simply.
The words dropped into the silence like stones into still, blood-red water. "Right here. In this bedroom. With him watching."
Jonathan’s muffled whimpering behind the ice muzzle hit a new, pathetic register. His bulging, bloodshot eyes looked ready to explode from his skull as fresh, soul-crushing horror layered itself over the agony between his legs — the ultimate cuckold nightmare unfolding in real ti while his groin was still being turned into a spiked ice sculpture.
Phei stared at her. Then at the broken, spike-riddled wreck of a man who used to call himself her husband. Then back at her.
Like she had genuinely lost her fucking mind.
"You want to fuck you," he said slowly, voice cold and asured, "right in front of your husband. Just for revenge and spite?"
She didn’t flinch.
"Yes."
He shook his head, a dark, incredulous chuckle escaping him. "Gods below. Sierra’s mother really is sothing else."
"As much as the idea of burying my cock in my girlfriend’s mother while her husband watches makes my blood run hot," Phei continued, still holding the silk like a shield, "I don’t do charityrevenge fucks. If I take you, Roxanne, you beco mine. And I don’t share what’s mine."
Roxanne’s fingers slid up his chest, then around the back of his neck, pulling him down until her lips brushed his ear, hot breath ghosting over his skin.
"I’m not as powerful as you, Phei," she whispered, voice dripping with years of festering, black rage. "I can’t do even one percent of what you just did to him."
She gestured toward the ruined, spike-riddled ss without even looking at Jonathan — the wall of frozen razors, the blood frozen in black crystals, the constant wet choking whimpers of a man being slowly unmade between his legs.
"But this? This I can do. This is the only weapon I have left."
Her chin lifted, eyes blazing.
"Sothing that’s in my power. Sothing I can do without needing strength I don’t have. Sothing that would hurt him just as much as those golf balls ever could — maybe more."
Her fingers found the back of his neck again, sliding into his hair with surprising gentleness.
"Give that, Phei."
Her voice softened, but the steel beneath it didn’t waver.
"It’s not right to ask. I know that. But it’s the only thing the weak knows that would truly break him."
Silence stretched between them, thick and heavy as congealing blood.
Jonathan’s muffled whimpers filled the room — the pathetic, broken soundtrack to his own impending cuckolding.
"If I fuck you," Phei said finally, voice low and cold, "that ans you beco mine."
His eyes dropped to where his hand still held the silk against her chest. "And I usually can’t let another man look at the naked body of my woman."
Roxanne’s hands rose. Her fingers found the back of his neck again, pulling him even more closer. She pressed her lips to his throat — not a kiss, but a claim — and sucked hard, teeth grazing skin, marking him right there in front of her dying husband.
Phei’s entire body trembled.
A violent shiver ran through him, starting at the point of contact and radiating outward through every nerve.
His grip on the silk loosened without his permission.
She pulled away slowly, lips dragging across his skin, leaving a dark, possessive mark.
"Jonathan has seen naked for years."
Her voice was steady. Matter-of-fact. The voice of a woman who had long since made peace with hell and was now ready to weaponize it.
"That image of my naked body will always be in his head. I can’t take it out. Can’t erase it. Can’t make him forget what I look like when I’m vulnerable and bare and completely at his rcy."
She t his eyes — dark, hungry, unyielding.
"But I want the last ti he sees naked to be while another man is fucking ."
Her fingers traced along his jaw, possessive and slow.
"That’s the only image that will forever be engraved in his mind. Not ownership. Not control. Not the satisfaction of having whenever he wanted. Just the mory of watching soone else take what he thought was his — while he sits there with his cock turned into frozen sushi."
She took his hand — the one still holding her silk in place — and gently moved it away.
Phei didn’t resist.
He didn’t say anything.
He just... let go.
The silk fell.
And gods — the bruises.
They covered inside her body like a grotesque, living map of suffering. Purple and black and sickly yellow spreading across her ribs, her stomach, the underside of her heavy breasts. Handprints. Club marks.
The evidence of years of calculated violence painted across skin that should have been worshipped, not destroyed.
She was still beautiful.
Heartbreakingly, defiantly, sinfully beautiful — the kind of beauty that had survived hell and co out sharper, hungrier, more dangerous, like a blade that had been tempered in blood.
Roxanne smiled.
"Don’t look at with pity."
She stepped closer, pressing her naked body against his, nipples hard and demanding against his chest.
"Co on, Phei."
Her smile widened — dark, spiteful, victorious.
"Fuck your girlfriend’s mother."
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