Thud.

Overwhelmed by sheer agony, Vicky collapsed limply on the floor.

Sif snorted. "Ah, what a delicate maiden, collapsing even before I'm done. You're not even going to last days, but that's fine. I just wanted to see you crumble in regret."

Dropping her blood-stained knife, she gestured at her bodyguards. "Go. Hang her on the stage-I'm going to pick the first lucky guest soon." "Yes, ma'am!"

Two of Sif's bodyguards picked Vicky up and dragged her to the stage illuminated with myriad colored bubbles, hanging her up by her wrists. "Wake her up," Sif added, reclining against her couch and lighting herself a cigarette, crossing her legs as she enjoyed the show. Splash!

A bodyguard splashed a bucket of water over Vicky, jolting her awake.

Sif spread her arms right then. "Oh, Vicky... Where's your pride now? You look so much like a pathetic wet hen now. I could really laugh."

"You see these people? These are all your guests for tonight. They will all take turns to love you... and don't worry, I

you!" Vicky bellowed with the last bit of strength she had, wincing in pain as she tore open the cuts across her face and started bleeding

you want you'd

her hands to draw the attention of the eager masked men standing nearby. "Everyone, I'm sure I don't have to introduce Vicky Turnbull. I do apologize for ruining her face, but that body? Tut, tut... Few

she's a

crowd cheered thunderously

Let me go

even think about

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