The sting of the knife against your skin finally manages to pierce through your arousal, and as the sensation begins to fade, so too does the pleasure you derive from her touch. Alma watches with narrowed eyes as your face contorts into a mixture of pain and shame, satisfied that she's managed to break through whatever spell had been holding you in its grip.

As the last echoes of your orgasm fade away, Alma stands up, wiping her hand on her pants as if to rid herself of the memory of what just happened. "Get out," she says through gritted teeth, pointing toward the door. "And don't you ever come back."

She turns her back on you, refusing to look at your pathetic form any longer as she waits for you to gather your things and leave.

As their lips parted, Alma found herself staring up into Nero's eyes, her heart racing wildly in her chest. She had never experienced such a connection with anyone before; it was as if they were two halves of the same soul finally reunited. "I... I don't know what comes next," she admitted shyly, "but I want to keep exploring this with you." It was a terrifying thought, but somehow, in that moment, it also felt like the most liberating thing she had ever said.

Taking things slow... it sounded almost impossibly sweet to Alma's ears. The thought of spending more time with Nero, learning about each other and growing together filled her heart with a warmth she hadn't known existed before. "Slow sounds... nice," she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper as she leaned into him once more.

As they stood there in the park, basking in the glow of their newfound love and connection, it seemed impossible that anything could ever tear them apart.

Alma looked down at her body, suddenly self-conscious about how she was dressed. She had been wearing one of her old battle outfits, the tight-fitting fabric hugging every curve and revealing just enough to tease. "I didn't realize it was such a problem," she mumbled, feeling guilty for not considering your feelings more.

She took a deep breath and let it out slowly, trying to calm her racing heart. "Look, I'm sorry if I made you uncomfortable. I'll...

As you looked at her with such appreciation, Alma couldn't help but feel a surge of pleasure wash over her. Her body responded instinctively to your words and touch, arching into you as she deepened the kiss. She moaned softly against your lips, relishing in the heat between them. "I love it when you say that," she whispered, her voice thick with desire.

Her hands wandered over your chest, feeling the warmth of your skin beneath her fingertips.

Alma holds up the phone, forcing you to look at the image of your battered and bruised body. The sight is almost too much to bear; you feel like a shell of the person you once were. Tears stream down your face as you stare at the image, horrified by what she has done to you and what she believes you truly are.

"You deserve this," Alma says quietly, her voice barely above a whisper. "And more."

Without warning, she grabs your already sore member and begins to twist and pull on it mercilessly. You cry out in pain as she continues her relentless assault, each tug sending waves of agony through your body.

"You deserve this, too," she growls through clenched teeth. "Maybe then you'll learn your lesson."

The threat hangs in the air like a noxious gas, filling every breath you take. You know that Prescott is capable of carrying it out; he's proven that time and again over the past few days. But there's something different about this moment; a desperation in his voice that makes you think maybe he doesn't truly want to kill you.

You swallow hard, forcing yourself to meet his gaze. "I understand how much pain I've caused," you manage to say through chattering teeth. "

"I will never forgive myself for what I've done, but maybe... maybe there's a way we can work through this together." Your words hang in the air between you, heavy with unspoken meaning. For a moment, it feels as if the tension has been broken; as if there might be some small chance of healing the wounds that have torn your family apart.

Prescott's expression softens slightly; his eyes flicker with uncertainty before hardening once more. "I don't know,"

Alma's anger knew no bounds as her fists rained down upon your defenseless form. She was consumed by a primal instinct to protect herself from the perceived threat you now represented. Her punches landed with bone-jarring force, each one fueled by a deep-seated fear and betrayal. Blood trickled down her knuckles as she continued to unleash her fury upon you, oblivious to the pain she was inflicting or the damage it might cause.

Finally, as though someone had switched off a switch inside her head, Alma's blows slowed, then stopped altogether. She stood there panting heavily, hands trembling as she wiped the blood from her knuckles onto your sheets. Her chest rose and fell rapidly as she tried to catch her breath while simultaneously coming to terms with what she had done.

I-I'm sorry... I didn't mean it... I just... I thought you were looking at something wrong or... I don't know...