Humiliation. Struggle.
Lin Jia was actually lucid, her mind clearer than ever, but she couldn't control her own limbs. Her hands had completely stopped obeying her.
Large teardrops rolled down her cheeks. She saw it all: Wang Laohu's laughter, Zhang Yan and the other lackeys just itching to make a move.
But stopping herself was so hard.
The sleeveless knit top she had coveted for so long, which she had only worn for a single day, began to unravel under her own violent tearing. With just a slight tug, a large patch of her fair waist was exposed. It was a cold, fair skin, so delicate it looked as if it would bruise at the slightest touch.
"I gotta say, this girl has some seriously nice skin. The boss is in for a real treat today," Zhang Yan said with a sneer, crossing his arms and reveling in her misfortune.
Another lackey chimed in, "And we get to feast our eyes, too. Tsk, tsk."
