Chapter 179: Motorcycle Beauty, Black Coffin Revenants, A Man's Dream to Drive Big Machines (3)
The voice drifted nearer, then farther. Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed that her ice whip, which she had tossed aside earlier, was gone.
The moment Shia's words ended, a loud 'snap' resounded, shattering the silence.
The sharp pain left Elivira's mind blank for a moment.
The stinging sensation on her rear was searingly clear.
The friction of her latex suit against the whip created an intoxicating display.
But this seductive sight didn't stir Shia in the slightest. He remained unrelenting, striking her mercilessly.
Snap!
Another crack cut through the air.
"Now, do you know how to properly address your master?"
Snap!
"From now on, speak to your master with respect."
Snap!
"When your master talks to you, you respond!"
Snap!
"…"
Did it hurt?
Of course, it hurt.
But even so, Elivira stayed silent.
The murderous intent in her eyes only deepened.
This humiliation—she would repay it tenfold in the future!
Every ounce of this shame was burned into her memory.
As soon as she got a chance…
Did Shia notice her defiance?
Of course, he did.
But right now, he was her master. What could she do about it?
Nothing.
He ignored the hatred in her eyes entirely. If he truly wanted her to submit, he knew exactly how to make it happen.
Shia stopped whipping her and turned his gaze elsewhere.
He knew her Achilles' heel all too well.
Fixing his eyes on the target for a moment, he then crouched down, flashing a faint smile at Elivira.
"Your master commands you—look up."
Elivira's body moved against her will, but the murderous intent in her eyes only intensified.
Yet, when she saw what Shia was doing, her expression shifted to something entirely different.
Shia's gaze locked onto her motorcycle, and he reached for it.
He had been itching to touch it ever since he'd encountered it in the game.
The moment his hand made contact, the cool metallic surface sent a shiver of satisfaction through him.
The weight, the texture—it was perfect!
The cold, gleaming machine was maintained in pristine condition, every part meticulously cared for.
Its sleek lines and flawless design felt even better than he'd imagined.
Elivira watched helplessly as the scene unfolded. Her demeanor began to shift ever so slightly.
No, not the bike!
Her mind screamed in anguish, her eyes filling with a desperate, pained light.
It was as if her most cherished possession had been violated.
It hurt more than her own body being touched.
This was her treasure.
How could it be tainted by someone else?
Tears welled up in Elivira's eyes, a mix of anger, sadness, and heartbreak.
"Stop!"
Her voice was no longer icy but tinged with panic.
Yet she could only kneel there, her tearful gaze locked on the unfolding scene.
The grief in her heart became a burning force, driving her to struggle against her restraints.
But the more she resisted, the tighter the bindings grew.
She couldn't move an inch.
All she could do was pour her fury into her words, lashing out at him verbally.
"You despicable scoundrel!"
"If you have an issue with me, take it out on me! What kind of coward goes after a bike?"
"Shameless!"
"Stop this at once!"
Shia, however, was too entranced by the motorcycle to care about her outbursts.
His eyes sparkled with admiration and amazement as he caressed the machine, utterly ignoring her protests.
All he could see was this dream-like motorcycle in its flawless glory.
Elivira's emotions spiraled from rage to sorrow and finally to despair.
Her once-powerful scolding turned softer and softer.
"Please, don't touch it. Punish me however you want, but leave it alone."
Her voice was filled with helplessness and sorrow.
At last, Shia turned to look at her.
Gone was the proud and domineering aura she once carried. Now, her expression was pitiful, as though utterly defeated.
Shia leaned against the bike, his hands still resting on it, raising an eyebrow slightly.
"You didn't seem so cooperative earlier."
Watching her beloved motorcycle being handled by someone she detested hurt more than death itself.
The pain was unbearable.
"I… I was wrong. I'm sorry!"
"I beg you, don't touch it anymore."
This bike meant more to her than her own life.
"I'll accept any punishment. I sincerely repent—just please, leave it alone."
Elivira's earlier cold arrogance had completely vanished. Now she was nothing more than a pitiful, defeated dog.
But Shia remained unmoved.
Feeling remorse now, huh?
Where was all that defiance from earlier?
Not only did Shia keep touching the bike, but he also swung a leg over and sat astride it.
Elivira's eyes widened in disbelief, her pupils dull and lifeless.
She looked utterly defeated.
Shia straddled the bike, savoring the cool metal beneath him, thoroughly satisfied.
Gazing at the lifeless Elivira, an idea popped into his head.
He climbed off the motorcycle and approached her.
Seeing him finally move away from her prized possession, Elivira felt a small glimmer of relief.
As long as he left the bike alone, she could endure anything.
Shia bent down, scooping Elivira into his arms, and then pressed her against the front of the motorcycle.
Her back rested against the heavy frame of the bike, while her front was pinned against Shia.
This was beyond cruel.
Shia leaned in close to her ear, his voice warm yet laced with teasing amusement.
"You treasure it so much, don't you? Why don't you and your precious bike share the burden together? I'm a very considerate person, wouldn't you agree?"
Elivira's mind went blank.
Her thoughts were a chaotic mess.
Anger at herself for being weaker than him, fury at Shia for his audacity, and regret for her own missteps all swirled within her.
But in the end, all she felt was regret.
Why had she provoked him in the first place!?
If she had spoken to him more respectfully from the start, would things have turned out differently?
If she hadn't called him out for his attitude…
If she had been more sincere in admitting her mistakes during her punishment…
But there were no "ifs."
She didn't fear her own humiliation, but her bike—her lifeblood—was off-limits.
It was her fault it had been dragged into this.
Now, no matter what she said, it was already too late.