Chapter 47: The Order of Hunger
Friday night. Ngan ended her last online meeting of the week with a ruthless click. She took off her glasses and rubbed the bridge of her nose. Her mind was numb from hours of staring at numbers and fake faces on the screen. The quiet, luxurious apartment greeted her with an almost hostile silence. She was tired and empty. An emptiness that needed to be filled.
She stepped into the bathroom, stripped off her stiff office clothes, and stood under the shower, letting the hot water pour over her head and flow down her body. She closed her eyes, trying to wash away the fatigue of work, of the real world. But instead, other memories, more raw and wild, rose from her very skin.
Her hands moved unconsciously over her body. It was no longer her own. It was a map of imprints, a collection of pack memories.
Her hands touched her breasts. They were heavy, full, with a woman’s weight, soft and quivering with each flush of water. She remembered the feeling of Minh’s rough hands kneading them until they turned red, the feeling of Quan’s wise tongue worshipping them like a sacred object. Her nipples tightened, hardened under the hot water.
She gently rubbed her lower abdomen, which was still slightly sore. She remembered the feeling of Tung’s large, dark penis thrusting into her, strong and relentless. She remembered the feeling of her abdominal muscles contracting in orgasm, squeezing him. A jolt of electricity ran down her spine.
She turned around, letting the water pour over her back and buttocks. She remembered the feeling of being lifted up by Tung between the cliffs, her round buttocks being squeezed by his big, calloused hands.
This body, every inch of this flesh, echoes their call.
Ngan stepped out of the bathroom, wrapped only in a towel, water still running down her skin. She stood in front of the large mirror covered in steam, wiping away a streak to look at her reflection. Her whole body was flushed from the hot water. Her eyes were dark and deep. Her breathing became rapid, shallow and hot. Her thighs gently rubbed against each other, an unconscious friction.
An itch, a gnawing emptiness rose from the deepest part of my belly. It wasn’t an emotion. It wasn’t loneliness. It was hunger. A pure, physical hunger.
“I can’t take it anymore,” a voice growled in her head. “I need it. I need a weight on top of me. I need something inside me. I need a beast.”
She reached for her phone on the sink, the screen still steaming. She opened her contacts. Tung. Minh. Quan. Three names, like three doors to three different worlds. But right now, she had no time for complexity or games. She didn’t need an analyst, nor a showman. She needed simplicity. She needed raw power. She needed a loyal beast that would come when called.
The choice was clear as day. She chose Tung.
Her fingers tapped quickly on the screen, opening a private chat. No greetings, no questions. Just three short sentences, like three stabs, like an undeniable command.
“Weekend.”
“Come to my house.”
“I’m hungry.”
She pressed the “Send” button. A feeling of satisfaction and absolute power spread through her body, temporarily quelling her hunger. The bait was set. Her most loyal beast was coming.