Chapter 136: 136. Making Her Remember Why She’s Doing This! And She Ask Something Stupid!**

He lets out a short, dark laugh, his thumb stroking her jawline with a mocking tenderness.

"That’s why I play rough... and also the reason why I don’t do ’gentle.’ Because a man like me needs a woman who can take the storm, not someone who’s going to break the moment the wind picks up."

"And you... you’re starting to realize that, aren’t you?"

’I can’t believe it... why this man of all people caught my son bullying someone...?’ Marielle thought. ’This is the worst fate...! God... fuck you for giving me this...!’

He pauses, letting the weight of his words sink in, watching her pupils dilate. Then, his expression shifts from arrogant to chillingly pragmatic.

The playfulness vanishes, replaced by the cold, hard edge of a man holding a winning hand.

"Now," he says, his voice dropping to a deadly, calm whisper. "We have a choice to make... because we aren’t done."

"Not by a long shot... I’m going to fuck you again, and this time, you’re going to do it with even more enthusiasm than the last time."

He watches her flinch, and he leans in even closer, his voice becoming a velvet-wrapped threat.

"W-what...?"

"And let’s be very clear about your options, Marielle."

"You can lie back, open those pretty legs, and let me use you until you can’t walk... or you can try to act like a ’lady’ and reject me," Mike grinned. "And of course... if you refuse... and if you even think about saying no..."

He pauses for dramatic effect, a cruel glint in his eyes.

"The footage of your precious son bullying Tyler? The one where he looks like a total little thug? It gets sent to the university rectorate immediately!"

"Think about his reputation! About his fucking future! And about how much he’ll FUCKING hate you when he realizes his mother chose her ’pride’ over his entire career."

He pulls his hand from her chin, leaving her skin tingling and her heart hammering against her ribs. He stands over her, his massive, unyielding erection serving as a silent, looming command.

"So, what’s it going to be, Marielle?"

"Are you going to be a good, hungry little pet... or are you going to ruin your son’s life?"

Marielle feels as though the air has been sucked out of the room, leaving her gasping in a vacuum of pure, unadulterated terror and desire. She sits there, paralyzed, her skin still damp with his semen and her body still humming with the aftershocks of his brutal climax, but her mind is a battlefield of warring impulses.

’He’s a monster,’ she screams internally, the thought a frantic, jagged thing in her mind. ’He’s a cruel, manipulative, unrefined beast who uses my own flesh and blood as a weapon against me!’

She looks at him, and the hatred is there thick, heavy, and bitter. She hates the way he looks at her, like she’s a piece of meat he’s already finished eating but wants to chew on again.

She hates the way he speaks of his own body with such arrogant, god like certainty. Most of all, she hates that he is right, and that his "monstrous" nature is the most honest thing she has ever encountered.

But then, the threat hits her like a physical blow to the stomach.

’My son... Jay...’ The name of her son echoes in her mind, accompanied by the terrifying image of the video footage.

She can almost see the grainy, humiliating clips of him her sweet, perfect boy acting like a common bully. She can see the rector’s face, the disappointed looks from the professors, the sudden, sharp decline of his bright future.

The weight of his entire life, his reputation, his very essence, is being held in Mike’s hands, dangling over her like a guillotine.

’If I refuse... if I try to hold onto my dignity... I destroy him,’ she realizes, a cold sweat breaking out on her forehead. ’I would be choosing my own pride over his happiness.’

’I would be the mother who let her son fall because she couldn’t stomach a man’s lust.’

The conflict is agonizing. On one hand, her mind screams for her to fight, to slap him, to run from this predator.

On the other hand, her body is betraying her with every fiber of its being. Even as she thinks of the blackmail, her eyes keep sliding back down to his cock that massive, unyielding, pulsing pillar of heat.

’God, why is it so hard to hate him when he looks like that?’ she cries out in the silence of her soul. ’How can a man be so evil and so magnificent at the same time?’

’He’s holding my son’s life hostage, and all I can think about is how much I want to feel that weight inside me again...’

’How can a man be a devil and a god all in one?’

She feels the sheer unfairness of it all. She is being forced into a corner where her only way to be a "good mother" is to be a "bad woman."

To save her son, she must surrender her soul to a man she despises. She must become the very thing he mocks: a hungry, desperate, submissive pet.

Mike watches her, his eyes sharp and predatory, reading every micro expression on her face. He sees the way her eyes flicker with rage, the way her lips tremble with indignation, and the way her gaze inevitably, helplessly, drifts back to his groin.

He sees the moment her resolve breaks, the moment the "mother" loses the war to the "woman."

"I’m waiting here... but take your time because your fate... is already sealed anyway."

He sees the conflict in her eyes the war between the lady who wants to scream and the slut who wants to beg. And he smiles, a slow, dark, triumphant grin, because he knows he has already won.

He doesn’t need her to love him; he only needs her to submit, and he knows exactly which strings to pull to make her dance.

The silence in the room is heavy, thick with the scent of sex and the unspoken weight of blackmail. Marielle’s shoulders slump, her spirit finally buckling under the impossible pressure.

The fight drains out of her, replaced by a desperate, trembling vulnerability. Slowly, she bows her head, her forehead almost touching her knees as she curls inward, trying to make herself as small as possible.

"Please..." she whispers, her voice cracking, a pathetic, broken sound that barely carries across the bed. "Please, Mike... just... go easy on me."

"You know what you’ll do to me..."

"You know how much it hurts... how much you stretch me..."

She looks up at him through her lashes, her eyes brimming with tears of both fear and anticipation. "Promise me... please, promise me this stays between us."

"No one can know... Not my husband, not the neighbors... especially not Jay..."

"If anyone finds out... if anyone even suspects..."

She swallows hard, her hands clutching the bedsheets so tightly her knuckles are white. "And please... please, use a condom."

"Just this once... I can’t... I can’t have you filling me up like that because I’m scared that you’re going make me pregnant..."

"I don’t want to do it without protection because... I still love my husband..." She lowers her head even more. "Please, Mike... for my sake and vows."

Mike stares at her for a heartbeat, the silence stretching out until it feels like it might snap. Then, he erupts.

"HAHAHAHAHAHA!" He throws his head back and laughs, a loud, boisterous, and utterly mocking sound that seems to vibrate the very air in her lungs.

"A FUCKING condom?!" he roars, his eyes dancing with cruel amusement. "You’re begging me for using a stupid-ass condom?!"

"I get your reason before the condom part, but still... after everything we just did?!" Mike pointed at her mouth. "After you practically swallowed my whole fucking semen!?"