“Why… Why didn’t you do anything?” Mrs. Storm asks in a shaky voice, hastily wearing her clothes under my gaze.
“I just wasn’t in the mood,” I answer with a simple shrug, still lying on the bed, displaying my nakedness without a hint of embarrassment.
Mrs. Storm doesn’t look convinced by my answer but she doesn’t pursue the topic either. Instead, she purely focuses on covering up her body as quickly as she can.
We’ve been lying together on the bed, butt naked, for three hours straight before I finally gave her the permission to get up. And as I expected, she didn’t sleep at all during that time. What’s more, her body didn’t stop trembling all along. Due to that, even I just barely managed to get a small nap of half an hour.
“You know, you do look really beautiful without those bruises,” I intentionally compliment Mrs. Storm as she finishes getting dressed.
She doesn’t reply to this, giving me a cold and rather confused look instead. Even though she tries her best not to shift her eyes, they keep darting straight towards my manhood— resulting in her cheeks turning red faintly.
“When will I have to come here again? Can you tell me in advance?” she asks, finally forcing herself to look at my face again.
“Yeah, sure. Tomorrow,” I answer promptly.
Mrs. Storm frowns.
“And after that? Do I have to come this weekend as well?”
“Obviously. You will have to come and see me each and every day until I say otherwise,” I tell her, shrugging.
“What!? I cannot do that! My husband will notice my absence immediately! I don’t know what he will do if he finds out about us!” she says, a hint of deep and immovable fear in her voice.
“I don’t think he will find out, to be honest. Unless he’s in a really bad mood and wants to beat you up, he basically doesn’t care if you live or die. Believe me, he won’t notice anything as long as you don’t act suspicious in front of him,” I tell her confidently.
Unfortunately, from the look on Mrs. Storm’s face, it doesn’t seem like she’s willing to believe my words. From what I can guess, she doesn’t want to take even a small risk when it comes to that bastard Harrison.
But well, I also know her weakness. Before she could protest any further, I quickly use it against her…
“Listen, at the end of the day, it’s up to you if you want to come here or not. I won’t force you, mind. Just remember that on the days you decide not to come, I will invite Lily to fulfill my needs instead,” I say with a meaningful smile.
Mrs. Storm grits her teeth, furiously looking at me with her eyes full of hatred. But even still, she stops herself from cursing me. Now that I am threatening her with Lily, she’s left with no choice but to agree with whatever I demand from her.
“Alright… Alright, I will be here every day. Just keep yourself filthy hands away from my daughter,” she says stiffly.
“I surely will.”
With a small harrumph, Mrs. Storm turns around and leaves the room. The gang woman standing outside immediately leads her outside the base, towards the cars.
Finally, being alone, I couldn’t help but sigh inwardly. I didn’t want to blackmail Mrs. Storm just now but I had no choice. I only have a month; not even a single day can be wasted out of it.
After all, my task isn’t simple. I have to make her fall for me head over heels…
Before I could realize it, two weeks flew by. While nothing too major happened in these days (relatively), my life underwent a few changes.
First, and probably the least impressive one, is that I started exercising daily with the goal to push my body to its utmost limit and increase my strength. This includes running, push-ups, sit-ups, crunches, using light weights— basically everything I could think of.
After seeing how strong the gang women are, especially Reagan, I felt the need to increase my physical strength as well. In the past, I was once pitifully dominated by Reagan as she laughed and stopped me from seeing Lily in the van— I don’t want to let something like that happen ever again.
Actually, there is a secondary reason behind adding intensive exercise to my schedule as well; I have quite a lot of time in my hand these days.
In school, the fear of me and the gang has increased to its limit. After some former bullies who complained to their parents were ruthlessly dealt with again and even their complaints resulted in nothing, no one, not even the teachers, dared to stop me from doing whatever I want. All of them are aware that Principal Steel will be on my side unconditionally.
In fact, it’s widely known that in the upcoming elections, I will be elected as the school president no matter what the true results are. My power will only grow from now on. And all of this, of course, comes with the small added bonus of not having to do any homework that I am given, giving me loads of extra time.
As for the matters related to the gang, most of my focus is on Mrs. Storm these days. During the time we met in the last two weeks, I constantly asked her to sleep with me naked— never even mentioning anything about sex.
In the beginning, just like the first day, she was trembling in fear and her body was as stiff as a rock. But slowly, in the days that followed, she started to relax and got used to all this. And now, even though almost half of the time given to me is gone and Mrs. Storm still hates me to the bone, at least we’re sleeping together peacefully every day.
Fortunately, contrary to my worries, Reagan didn’t interfere in any of this matter at all. She just greets me with a mocking smile every time we meet, indirectly making fun of my almost negligible progress.
If only she knew that everything is under my calculation…
Well, nevertheless, it’s not like Reagan didn’t manage to shook me at all. A week ago, she approached me after Mrs. Storm was sent home, and ordered me to come with her deeper inside the forest behind Zoe’s base. After walking for a short while, she led me to the middle of a crudely made shooting range, containing numerous simple targets like glass bottles, sandbags, and other garbage items over a long distance.
Once there, Regan handed me a heavy handgun full of bullets and started teaching me how to shoot it— saying that a gang leader, even a fake one, should at least know how to handle a gun. Otherwise, in the future, it might raise suspicion among dangerous underworld bigshots like the King.
So, from there on, irrespective of my wishes, Reagan starting giving me personal lessons on shooting every day. In fact, we’re on our way to the shooting range right now…
“There you go,” Regan says, handing me a handgun as usual without any care.
I don’t know why, but never once did she seem afraid that I might use this gun against her. Sometimes, from the strange glint in her eyes, it even felt like she’s daring me to do something stupid.
But obviously, I am not going to fall for her traps and do what she wants. Not anymore…
“Today’s lesson is a bit special. As you can see, the arrangements are a bit different from usual,” Regan says, gesturing at the shooting range while carrying an excited smile.
I look around with a frown, noticing that instead of the glass bottles and the sandbags, three wooden poles are standing erect in the middle of the field. On top of these poles, there are incredibly huge brown sacks filled with some unknown and weirdly shaped stuff.
The most peculiar thing about these brown sacks is that they are almost too close to where Reagan and I are standing. With their large size, shouldn’t these sacks be placed far away from me? How am I supposed to practice my shooting skills with them?
“Don’t tell me that I have to shoot these sacks. It’s too easy,” I say, confused.
“Hehehe… You think it’s too easy? Then why don’t you go ahead and pull the trigger?” Regan says, laughing strangely as if thoroughly enjoying herself.
Regan is acting weird…
Is there something hidden in the field? Or is there something wrong with these brown sacks?
I cannot see anything strange but there’s a feeling that something is definitely wrong. Well, I guess there is only one way to find out…
Preparing myself accordingly, I look away from Regan and focus on the brown sacks instead. Slowly raising my gun, I take my aim and put my finger on the trigger.
The next moment, a bullet flies out from the handgun along with a thunderous sound, burying itself in the brown sack. Immediately, I start looking around to find any abnormal activity. In fact, I even expect the brown sack to blow up any moment— but nothing happens.
“There you go, I pulled the trigger. What’s so special about today’s lesson?” I ask, looking at Regan with a frown.
“Good job. Shoot another one and I will tell you,” she answers elusively.
I turn around and take aim at the second brown sack. But before I could pull the trigger again, my eyes dart towards the first sack unconsciously— and I froze in place, utterly in shock.
With the small burnt hole in the center, a glistening red liquid is spreading out throughout the brown sack.