Chapter 1407: Intermission 4: The Judgement (6)

I looked down at the completely debauched expression Charlotte was wearing right now, and honestly, she looked like her soul had already left her body halfway through all of this.

After fucking her in a full-nelson earlier, I switched into a mating press afterward, and that combination had completely destroyed whatever resistance she still had left. Her body looked overwhelmed from head to toe, trapped between exhaustion and pleasure to the point where there really wasn’t any escape for her anymore. Every time she tried to recover even a little bit, another wave hit her before she could properly breathe again.

The amount of times this woman had squirted was honestly ridiculous too.

At some point, I genuinely lost count.

Right now, she looked completely fucked out. Her eyes had rolled all the way back until only the whites remained visible, and her face was covered in sweat that kept sliding down her skin in messy trails. Strands of hair clung to her cheeks and forehead, completely ruined from how much she had been moving around earlier. Her chest rose and fell heavily while weak little trembles still occasionally ran through her body from the lingering aftershocks.

My semen slowly leaked out of her vagina as well, staining her thighs while her body twitched every now and then.

Honestly, I felt like I had put her through an absurd amount of work.

Then again, it wasn’t like the effort was meaningless.

Compared to earlier, the pressure from Julius’ aura had weakened so much that it almost felt like an entirely different room now. Before, his presence had this suffocating feeling behind it, like anger and frustration kept pouring endlessly from the other side of the wall.

Now?

Almost nothing.

It felt tamed.

Quiet.

Which honestly meant one thing.

Something definitely happened to Julius while all of this was going on.

Curiosity got the better of me at that point. I wanted to see what kind of state he was in now, so I stepped away from Charlotte and headed toward the next room.

Thinking back on it, I probably should’ve been more cautious before walking in there so casually. Julius could’ve easily tried some kind of desperate retaliation the moment I entered. People who were cornered usually got dangerous in unpredictable ways.

Still, for some reason, I just didn’t feel threatened anymore.

It felt like we had already beaten him long before I even opened that door.

The moment I stepped inside, I saw him slumped forward against the wall with his forehead pressed firmly against it.

The atmosphere around him felt dead.

His eyes looked empty, completely devoid of life, like he had already given up on existing altogether. That stubborn pride he always carried around was gone now. Honestly, seeing him like that almost felt strange considering how arrogant he used to act.

Then I noticed his cock hanging out from his pants.

...Yeah.

That immediately explained a lot.

It was limp now, but the semen still clinging to it made things painfully obvious. He had definitely beaten his meat while listening to us having sex in the next room. Or something along those lines? One of the two.

For a second, I just stared at him silently.

Did this guy seriously develop a cuck fetish from this?

Honestly, it seemed possible.

That actually might’ve been the exact reason he looked so mentally destroyed right now. Personally, I didn’t really care what kind of fetish people had. People liked weird stuff all the time. Human beings were built strangely. Somebody out there probably got turned on by tax forms or something equally tragic.

Still, I definitely didn’t want any involvement with that kind of thing (cuck fetish) myself.

Apparently, Julius couldn’t handle it either.

His expression made it obvious that his pride had shattered beyond repair. The guy looked like someone had reached into his chest and personally stomped on his dignity with steel boots.

"Are you going to kill me now?" he asked quietly.

His voice sounded hollow.

So he still had enough awareness left to speak, even if he already looked mentally dead. Slowly, he lifted his forehead away from the wall and looked at me. His neck tilted backward limply while his dull eyes focused on me without any real emotion behind them.

"Or no..." he muttered weakly. "You’re not the one who’s going to kill me."

A small, bitter smile formed on his face.

"It’s Myrcella, isn’t it?"

I didn’t answer him.

Didn’t really need to.

He seemed to understand everything from my silence alone. His expression shifted slightly, like he had already pieced together the entire situation in his head.

"I mean..." he said quietly, "if you were planning to kill me yourself, you could’ve already done it."

He gave a dry laugh afterward.

"There wouldn’t have been any reason to drag things through all this process."

He was right.

If I truly wanted him dead personally, I could’ve killed him immediately without needing any of this. There would’ve been no point in breaking him mentally first.

"Well..." he whispered, lowering his eyes again, "I guess you won."

His voice sounded tired.

"All of you won."

"You’re giving up pretty easily," I said.

Another bitter laugh escaped him, though this one sounded even weaker than before.

"I don’t think I can compare myself to any of you anymore," he replied. "And honestly... instead of living with this shame, I’d rather just die."

So that was how badly this affected him.

Apparently, developing a cuck fetish was humiliating enough in his mind that death sounded preferable.

Honestly, that probably made things easier for everybody involved.

At least he wasn’t resisting his own execution anymore.

I stood there quietly for a few seconds, looking at him again.

The difference between the Julius here now and the Julius from before honestly felt ridiculous.

Now he couldn’t even properly lift his own head.

Then I turned around and closed the door behind me.

After that, all we really did was wait.

Over the next few days, we kept observing him while the execution date slowly approached. Throughout all that time, he barely changed at all.

He always sat there with his head lowered.

Every time somebody looked at him, he avoided eye contact immediately, like he physically couldn’t bear meeting another person’s gaze anymore. The guy genuinely looked crushed beyond repair.

Still, I didn’t feel bad for him.

Everything that happened to him?

He brought all of it on himself.

Nobody forced him into any of this.

Honestly, part of me almost expected him to suddenly snap and try something reckless before the execution date arrived. Some last desperate act. A final burst of pride.

But nothing happened.

He simply waited.

Quietly.

Almost obediently.

The days passed faster than expected after that.

Before any of us really realized it, the day of the execution finally arrived.