Chapter 7 Can You Do Oral Sex?

Clara's back slammed against the cabinet. Right next to it was the patient she'd be living with day and night.

Cold sweat broke out on her back.

She leaned against the cabinet, her body going weak, and slid to the floor. Despair washed over her.

If she had to stay in the same room with someone like this, she'd definitely get beaten to death.

Clara closed her eyes. Her mind drifted to her last words.

If she died, she only hoped Alice could send some money back to her poor aunt. So her aunt could take the baby in her belly and leave that hellhole of a town, leave that abusive uncle.

Or maybe, if she died here, the prison would pay out some compensation.

Katherine had taken care of her for so many years. She'd have to ask Alice to send that money back along with her ashes, so Katherine could bury her somewhere nice.

The door suddenly opened.

Clara looked up, her face pale as a sheet, staring in terror.

A young guard stood in the doorway, injuries on his face. "Sorry to disturb you, Ms. Thomas."

Clara snapped out of it and scrambled to her feet, frantically straightening her clothes. "Can I help you?"

The young guard had injuries on his arms too, and bruises on his face.

"Your patient will be here soon. Please get ready."

The guard seemed to be giving her advance notice. He turned to leave.

Clara saw his wounds and, after an internal struggle, mustered the courage to stop him.

"Wait. Do you need bandaging? I'm a nurse. I can help you."

The guard gave her an odd look, then smiled. "No need. I'll be standing guard at the door. The prisoner will be here soon. Good luck."

The door closed again, and the light from outside seemed to shut out too.

The light in Clara's eyes dimmed.

She curled up in the corner, listening to the sounds outside the window—the footsteps of patrolling guards and the whistles from outside.

Only one thought remained.

She had to escape this cage. Otherwise, when that violent Lucas came back, she'd definitely get beaten to death.

Lucas had only been here half an hour and had already beaten guards and other prisoners.

He must be a violent maniac. He might even attack her. She could end up like the previous nurse, dead by his hands.

Clara recalled the blurry figure she'd seen and shuddered.

That prisoner was about to come in.

She quickly stood up, wiped the tears of fear from her eyes, and looked around the medical room—where were the medical supplies?

Clara got into work mode, sat down at the desk, and pulled open a drawer.

According to medical staff habits, they'd keep handy tools in the desk drawer.

She pulled it open confidently, then fell back into the chair.

She rubbed her eyes, unable to believe what she was seeing.

A whip? Candles? A gag? Rope? And a bunch of other strange-looking things.

Were these really medical supplies? They looked more like sex toys.

Clara reached in and rummaged through the drawer, then finally gave up.

She picked up the whip and rolled her eyes. Her tense body relaxed a bit, and she even felt a little speechless.

What was this whip for? To give the patient a lash when they didn't cooperate?

Thinking of that scene, Clara shivered.

She rubbed her arms and was about to put it down when a huge commotion came from outside the door.

"Lucas! This isn't your mafia, this is a prison! You have to cooperate with our inspection and questioning!"

Clara hurried toward the door, pressed her ear against it, unconsciously gripping the whip tighter.

Soon, through the door, she heard a deep, amused male voice. "Control me? Nobody can control me. Not even if my father came."

Clara didn't dare blink.

Her body stiff, she slowly backed up a step.

This man was too arrogant. This was a prison, but he didn't seem scared at all.

The argument outside grew louder. The guard barked, "Lucas! Do you want more punishment? Aren't you afraid I'll report to the chief and have you charged? You'll be thrown in solitary and whipped!"

Lucas's voice seemed to pass through the door to Clara's ears, laughing scornfully and rebelliously.

"You can try. See if your chief actually dares to shoot me. Get lost, you useless trash."

"Bang!"

A loud crash came from the door.

Clara's eyes widened, her body went rigid, staring at the doorway.

The iron door she thought could stop bullets had been kicked open. The heavy door slammed against the wall with an even more violent crash.

Clara immediately saw the two people outside.

The young guard's face looked terrible. There was a gray footprint on his dark green uniform, his face twisted with anger, both hands gripping his baton raised high, but he never brought it down.

The man standing opposite him slowly and elegantly withdrew his kicking foot.

His dark green eyes held amusement as he raised his arm to look at the wound on it. Bright red blood beaded up. He lowered his head, and his crimson tongue rolled out, swallowing the blood drops. The movement was elegant yet extremely dangerous.

Clara's body trembled, but her feet seemed rooted to the spot. She couldn't move.

Her gaze locked onto the man before her.

In an instant, all her preconceptions about this prisoner vanished, leaving only this disturbing yet captivating scene.

Lucas was very tall. His chest muscles stretched his shirt into an impressive arc, muscles bulging on his arms. His high nose bridge had sharp lines, his lips still stained with the blood from earlier. Those dark green eyes were like gemstones.

Not only was he not old or ugly, he could even be called young and good-looking.

Lucas smirked, taunting the nearby guard. "Not man enough to strike. Go cry to your chief for milk—worthless scum."

The young guard's face turned red with anger, but in the end he still didn't bring down his baton, instead lowering it in frustration.

Lucas's gaze swept across the entire room, his face expressionless.

His eyes finally landed on Clara's hand, seeing the whip. He raised an eyebrow, then moved his gaze inch by inch to her face, and smiled slightly.

He stepped forward in his shiny leather shoes.

Clara's body went rigid, gripping the whip she'd forgotten to put down, not daring to breathe too loudly.

Lucas's look just now was too terrifying, like a snake coiling around her.

She desperately wanted to move her feet, wanted to speak, but was too scared to do anything.

Lucas walked up to her step by step and stopped. His calloused hand reached out, gripped her chin, and looked her up and down.

"This is the woman they picked for me? Looks pretty tempting."

"Can you give head?"