Imprisoned Crown of Thorns

Because there is no backer to rely on for the time being in the prison, Han Sen is now working in the extremely busy laundry room.

Han Sen's main job every day is to wash the clothes, then dry the clothes, put them away according to the labels above, and wait for the owner of the clothes to come and pick them up the next morning.

Although he was very tired, Han Sen was obedient and worked hard. Few people would trouble him. The management staff of the laundry room were also very satisfied with Han Sen's performance.

"Idiot! This is obviously my clothes, are you fucking blind, dare to take my clothes?!"

"I just fell in love with your clothes, what's the matter, I'll take them now!"

While Han Sen was working, the two men who came to pick up the clothes got into a fight over a piece of clothing. Han Sen was drying a black sweater, and he almost started fighting when he saw them tugging.

Han Sen looked at the two expressionlessly, then walked over in silence.He raised his foot and kicked the thinner blond man.

Han Sen's physical strength is also very good. After all, he is a healthy young man. Sure enough, after being kicked by a kick, the thin man suddenly fell to the ground.

Han Sen raised his foot and kicked up the man's ribs fiercely. The man was so kicked that he curled up hugging his stomach and couldn't fight back at all.

"Hey! What are you doing?! Stop!"

The jailer who was patrolling outside the laundry room quickly walked in, raised his baton and hit Han Sen on the back fiercely, and said viciously: "Follow me! How dare you fight here! Are you Don’t want to go out from here!?”

Han Sen was escorted by the jailer to the super confinement room, and Han Sen hurriedly asked the jailer:

"How long do you have to be locked up for fighting?"

The jailer glared at Han Sen fiercely, then said in a rough voice:

"One month! Why, brat, do you still have the heart to ask this?!"

Hearing what the jailer said, Han Sen suddenly felt happy. Now that he was imprisoned for fighting in the prison, does he not need to kill people?

Han Sen was trying to avoid the murder, especially when he thought of doing such a disgusting thing with that man named Shen Qingyang, Han Sen wanted to avoid it even more.

"Okay, you wait here for a while now."

Han Sen is now temporarily isolated and stayed in a small room.

After waiting for a while, the jailer who caught him just now still didn't come over. Han Sen turned his head suspiciously and stared at the door.

"Bang!", the door was pushed open from the outside, Han Sen saw Xia Zuo and the others coming in, and Xia Zuo who took the lead said to him, "Come with me."

Han Sen nodded, stood up, and walked over.

They walked all the way to the warehouse of the prison. Han Sen was stunned. Nietzsche, who was wearing a black windbreaker, was sitting on a stool in the middle of the warehouse with his legs crossed, and two men stood behind him.

The very strong Michael came over with a bucket of water in his hand and put it at his feet.

"Why did you hit someone?"

Han Sen was taken aback, but didn't speak.

Nietzsche asked again:

"Why did you hit someone for no reason? Did that person offend you?"

Han Sen still didn't speak, just looked straight at Nietzsche.

"He didn't mess with you, so you beat him."

"say."

Nietzsche looked at Han Sen expressionlessly.

Han Sen remained silent.

Nietzsche waved his hand, Xia Zuo immediately walked up, grabbed Han Sen's head, and pressed it into the bucket.

"Alas……"

Han Sen was held tightly in the bucket for a long time. He held his breath hard, but soon he couldn't help it anymore and felt that his whole head was soaked in water.

Just when Han Sen was about to open his mouth to breathe, Xia Zuo suddenly pulled Han Sen up, and after about two seconds, Han Sen's head was pressed down again, torturing Han Sen repeatedly. Within 5 minutes, Han Sen felt that his vision was blurred, and his eyes became red due to capillary congestion and rupture, making him unable to breathe. Like a drowning person who was about to die, his lungs began to seep into cold water.

The climate is now close to winter, and the bucket is very cold. Han Sen felt a chill was brought into his lungs by the water stains, making him ache from the cold.

"Pull it out."

Nietzsche said, put down the crossed legs, press the armrest of the seat with both hands, and stand up slowly.

Xia Zuo ruthlessly threw Han Sen to the ground. Han Sen trembled and twitched a few times. Nietzsche looked at Han Sen lying on the ground with his arms folded and stretched out his hand towards Xia Zuo.

"Please, boss."

Xia Zuo handed the whip to Nietzsche. Nietzsche stepped on Han Sen's head. Matthew and Qiao quickly took off Han Sen's coat.

They knew that Nietzsche seemed to want to lynch Han Sen, but it's not good to be so blatant.

Nicholas stepped on Han Sen's head hard, and then said in a sinister voice:

"Why, do you know how I look at this matter? Want to fight and be imprisoned, right? This way you can escape your mission, right? Listen, what I hate the most is disobedient children."

Han Sen struggled for a while, but before he opened his mouth to speak, suddenly, a whip hit his back, causing a burning pain on his back. The coldness in his body just now seemed to be scattered by the whip in an instant...

Nietzsche shook the whip in his hand, looked at Han Sen's back, and said coldly to Xia Zuo, "I didn't see any blood, I will change it next time."

Seeing Nietzsche's displeased expression, Xia Zuo hurriedly nodded nervously, "Understood, boss!"

"Clap clap-!"

Nietzsche waved his hand and began to whip Han Sen fiercely. The violent friction between the whip and Han Sen's tight skin produced a loud sound.

Han Sen clenched his fist and clenched his teeth tightly. In order to control himself with all his strength, his mouth was already bleeding, and it didn't take long for him to smell a strong fishy sweetness.

Nietzsche stopped after twenty or so strokes.

He stretched out his hand to brush his hair, then handed the whip back to Xia Zuo who was standing on his right hand, bowed his head and said to Han Sen: "Han Sen, be obedient to me, otherwise, I will make your death even worse. I can assure you that it will be a unique way of dying specially designed for you."

Han Sen clenched his fist tightly and didn't speak, but his eyes were completely occupied by anger.

Nietzsche took back the foot that was on Han Sen's head, then bent down and sat down, reached out and touched Han Sen's cheek and said, "Come to my room at ten o'clock tonight, don't take a bath, don't treat the wound , I hope you won't let me down this time."

After finishing speaking, Nietzsche smiled evilly, patted Han Sen's face with his shoe print meaningfully, turned around and walked out.

Xia Zuo rolled Han Sen's eyes, then cursed fiercely,

"Yellow pig!"

Then he turned around and followed Nietzsche out.

"Boss~"

Xia Zuo sweetly called out boss, then twisted his waist and squeezed past the others, and followed closely beside Nietzsche.

Although Han Sen is born with a hot body and great strength, he is not a muscular man. He will naturally feel special pain when he is whipped, but there seems to be no major problem. Han Sen thinks he is still very experienced. of.

Han Sen felt a painful pain, as if his back had been rolled on the iron just now. Han Sen got up with his arms propped up, then sat on the ground, bent his arms to the back, and reached out to touch his back. It was scorching hot. But there was no bloodshed.

No wonder, Nietzsche's tone just now contained a very clear sense of disappointment.

Han Sen shook his head and shook the wet water stains on his hair, and sat on the floor of the warehouse with an angry expression. He is just a small person now, and he cannot be compared with Nietzsche, let alone confront him. It is to strike a stone with an egg.

However, what Nietzsche did to him caused Han Sen to accumulate more and more anger in his heart in just a few days. One day... Han Sen thought that he would make Nietzsche's life worse than death.

==========

That night, Han Sen arrived at Nietzsche's cell on time at ten o'clock.

When he opened the door and entered, Nietzsche was lowering his head to wipe a handful of sharpened controls. The snow-white blade shone with a dazzling luster under Nietzsche's slender fingers, and it looked very sharp and easy to use.

Hearing Han Sen enter the door, Nietzsche didn't look up. He just picked up the blade in his hand, and with a smile on his red lips, he said in a deep voice, "I didn't see any blood this morning."

In Han Sen's eyes, this scene was extremely weird. Han Sen believed that whoever saw Ni adopt such an expression and say such words to a sharp control knife would be scared to death.

This man is a complete pervert, and the methods of torturing people are all first-class and ever-changing.

Nietzsche stood up with the knife in his hand, turned his head and looked straight at Han Sen.

The light in the room was a bit hazy, and the pale golden light that seemed to be soaked in dust fell directly on Nietzsche's bright red hair sticking to his cheeks. His dark green eyes looked straight at Han Sen's face, bright red. The thin lips were pressed together tightly.

Han Sen stared blankly at Nietzsche, who was dressed in pure black, slender, with a gorgeous face and a cold expression. The flames were suppressed.

Nietzsche walked straight towards Han Sen, holding a shining knife in his hand, and a smile appeared on the corner of his mouth, like a coquettish devil.

"How about this knife?"

Nietzsche suddenly asked, Han Sen's legs softened, he sat back and fell to the ground.

Nietzsche looked at Han Sen coldly,

"Take off all your clothes now."

Han Sen stared straight at the knife in Nietzsche's hand, sat on the tiles in the cell, took off his clothes neatly, then held his own and moved up and down a few times, straightening his legs slightly to facilitate Nietzsche Sitting up, he swallowed because of fear and nervousness, a thin layer of sweat formed on his forehead and back.

Han Sen looked at Nietzsche and said in a deep voice:

"I'm ready, Mr. Nietzsche."

When faced with threats to his life, Han Sen no longer cared about other issues, as long as he could save his own life, and Nietzsche's method, Han Sen has not only seen it himself, but also heard it from hearsay Quite a lot, so he felt that it was very possible that Nietzsche would do terrible things to himself.

Seeing that Han Sen seemed to be very obedient tonight, Nietzsche seemed to be a little bit pleased to nod, reached out and threw the knife in his hand on the table, then took off his clothes slowly, and sat on top of Han Sen.

"Well……"

Being swallowed tightly by the man's body again, that kind of place is different from other places for men. Han Sen, who was determined to resist, couldn't help but snorted.

Nietzsche looked straight at Han Sen, with a deep and joyful expression in his dark green eyes, he reached out and squeezed Han Sen's chin, and said viciously: "Yellow skin, black hair, you low-spirited race It’s best to be a plaything for entertainment, and it’s best not to disobey me until one day I get tired of playing.”

Nietzsche pulled his lips, stretched out his hand and patted Han Sen's face, then pressed Han Sen's shoulder violently, and pulled Han Sen's hair vigorously, until he saw Han Sen's immature face, and began to move up and down heavily .

Han Sen propped his arms on the tiles behind him vigorously, despite Nietzsche's obscenity and teasing at this moment, his thighs were slammed hard.

Han Sen is not a veteran, no, it should be said that Han Sen is a complete novice in this field, so it is very difficult to control himself, but in order to let Nietzsche play on him to the fullest, he can only endure with tight body , Persevere until the moment when you can no longer persist.

This is the third time he has been sexually assaulted by Nietzsche.

At this moment, Han Sen suddenly realized that he had to accept his fate.

Here, a man without strength should not mention the worthless dignity and human rights, and should not even think about it.

Maybe I really should wait until the day when Nietzsche gets tired of playing.