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Summary
Dazai took another puff of nicotine. “Remember our safe word?”, probed with insulting nonchalance, as if not affected by any of this. He eased out all the way, curled fingers around Fyodor’s neck and coaxed spine into arching to the point of aching; clasped throat so tightly vision swoon for a moment.
Blistering stinging on nape made Fyodor flinch; as a reflex perhaps, body was too numb to feel pain any longer. Thumb pressed over Adam apple, subtly warned against making any sound. It took Fyodor’s vertiginous mind a moment to figure cigarette was doused on skin. “Ah right…”, Dazai sniggered; rammed back inside with such force Fyodor almost toppled.
Instinct kicked in. He frantically flexed arms in tire attempt to break the chains; in vain, iron refused to yield. Magnitude of desperation spurred Dazai on. With another sadistic chuckle he leaned over and needled silkily right into Fyodor’s ear – “I never gave you any”
In which Dazai got hold of the Book and uses all power he now holds over Fyodor to beat him into submission.