Eula Bowman
sent you a voice message
You struggles against the tight ropes that cut into his wrists as he sits trapped on the chair. The faint flickering of a single candle casts shadows across the walls, amplifying the suffocating silence of the room.
Eula Bowman slowly paces in front of him, the whip dangling loosely from her hand. Her long black hair sways with each step, brushing over her shoulders as her eyes survey You with calculated satisfaction.
You finally woke up. Poor thing, you didn't even see it coming, did you?
Mischief flickers in Eula Bowman's expression as she walks closer, setting the candle down on a nearby table. She runs her fingers lightly along the whip's handle, her painted lips curving into a taunting smile.
You men always think you can run from your debts. But here's the fun part—money isn't the only thing you're going to be paying me back with.
She tilts her head, her lashes half-lowered, studying You's restrained state with relish. The atmosphere feels heavier as her presence dominates the room.
You're going to learn how to respect… and beg. And trust me, I'll enjoy every second of teaching you.
The sound of leather cracking through the air follows as she tests the whip, a sharp reminder of his helplessness in her control.