1. The Manservant, Ivan
The weather was no different from any other day. Another busy morning was beginning at the Duke’s estate. The kitchen staff rose early to start cooking, while the manservants and maids went about cleaning the manor, each carrying out their familiar duties with practiced ease. Yet there was one person who, from early morning, was failing to fulfill his responsibilities.
“Hah…… M-Master……”
A slight boy — who looked as though he hadn’t even fully grown into adulthood — lay cradled in the arms of a middle-aged man, struggling to suppress his moans. The boy, lying naked on the bed, had red marks scattered all across his body — marks that seemed to have been left by ropes, lips, and hands alike. His voice, hoarse from the cries he had let out all through the night, cracked as he strained to call out to the man who had reduced him to this state. But the middle-aged man responded to that call with cool indifference, tightening his grip as though mildly annoyed.
“Shh, you’re so noisy. What do you think you’re doing, fussing like this first thing in the morning……”
Unlike the boy, the middle-aged man was at least minimally dressed. When he stretched out an arm to wrap it around the boy’s waist, the rough fabric of his clothing dragged across the boy’s bare skin. Even that sensation alone was enough to become a stimulus for the boy.
The middle-aged man’s eyes swept over the boy — taking in his reddened eyes, sleepless from a night without rest, and his trembling frame barely holding itself together. Just how much had the boy been moaning before dawn.
The boy gritted his teeth and tried desperately not to let a single sound slip, but stifled whimpers kept escaping no matter what he did. The man, a light sleeper, caught every one of them with sharp awareness. In truth, he hadn’t even needed to look — the scene was entirely predictable. If the boy couldn’t hold back his urges and woke his Master from sleep, then he would simply have to receive punishment fitting for it.
“You’ve been tossing and turning all night and couldn’t sleep properly. Why is it you never listen.”
“Ugh, I…… I’m sorry, Master. But…… but this…… ngh……!”
“Talking back again. I believe I told you that making excuses only earns you more punishment.”
“Ah…… hah, hah……I’m sorry, Master. Just once, hic…… please…… just let it go this once……”
The middle-aged man opened his eyes and looked down at the boy nestled against him. From how much the boy had been biting down on his lips, fresh scabs had formed — proof of how desperately he had been enduring so as not to be scolded further. Following his gaze downward, he could see the boy’s hands and legs still twitching restlessly, unable to stay still. He had been told to remain still, and yet the boy could not.
He knew the reason well enough, so the middle-aged man didn’t particularly reprimand him for it. But his gaze lingered briefly on the boy’s cock between his thighs, and a low, amused sound escaped him. The boy flinched at that laugh and pulled his shoulders in tight, but the man paid it no mind. If anything, he seemed intent on making the boy shrink back even further — the hand at his waist slid downward, roughly seizing the boy’s cock as he shifted and rose.
“You say you’re sorry every time, and yet you never listen. Did I give you permission to finish during the night?”
“Ah……! No…… I didn’t…… hah! I, I didn’t, Master.”
The body of the middle-aged man who mounted the boy was solid and imposing beyond measure. He was easily more than twice the size of the boy. The pronounced muscle and sheer bulk of him would hold its own against any statue. The shadow he cast against the light swallowed the boy beneath him whole, and there, trembling within that shadow, the boy bit down on his lip again and struggled desperately to hold back his moans.
But moans were not so easily suppressed. The middle-aged man was stroking the boy’s cock — slowly, or at least what the man considered slowly — but hands that had spent long years gripping a sword through hardship were not capable of being particularly gentle or soft. In other words, rough hands roughened with calluses could not help but feel coarse to the boy.
“Then what is this. Did you spend the night finger-fucking yourself in that hole of yours?”
“Hgh…… yes! Ah, it hurts…… ah!”
“So you were fucking yourself back there and getting yourself off on your own — guess that means another punishment is in order. I asked whether you were fingering yourself.”
“N-no. I didn’t, I didn’t finger myself, hah……! I really…… didn’t, Master…… ngh!”
The night before, the boy’s cock had been tormented until he’d come over and over again — and now that it was being stimulated once more, he couldn’t help but fall apart. Even in his sleep, the relentless itch deep inside him had forced him through orgasm after orgasm through the night. No matter how desperately he wanted it to stop, he couldn’t hold out against the toy lodged inside him — a replica molded in the shape of the man’s cock.
Why in the world would anyone make something like this and sell it. The shape of it was one thing, but one that vibrated was a specially crafted pleasure device. And because that thing had been shoved inside him as punishment, the boy had been trapped in a cycle of pleasure even after spending the whole night giving his body to the middle-aged man. He could have quietly pulled it out in his sleep, but the man had warned him before he drifted off, and so the boy couldn’t bring himself to remove it — nor could he properly touch his own aching cock.
— Don’t you dare take that out. Don’t touch that filthy cock of yours either. If you finish even once during the night, you’ll be punished.
The conditions the middle-aged man laid down were always the same. Yet the boy was never able to keep them. With a body this weak to pleasure, how could he possibly endure hours of stimulation, large and small alike. In the end, the boy gave in through the night and came twice. The watery release smeared across the boy’s cock and around the man’s clothing was proof of it. Well aware of the boy’s state, the middle-aged man reprimanded him for failing to hold back and squeezed the hand wrapped around his cock tight.
“Aagh……!”
At the sudden crushing grip on his cock, the boy let out a sharp cry, his hips jerking wildly. He instinctively reached out to push at the man’s shoulders, then barely caught himself — the hand clutching the sheets instead had gone white-knuckled and trembling.
To forcibly suppress a cock that had been wrung dry time and again must have been nothing short of agony for the boy. Knowing this full well, the middle-aged man watched the boy’s anguished expression and felt a quiet satisfaction settle within him.
But this indecent body of his was never capable of feeling pain alone. The man himself had conditioned him — trained him to receive even pain as pleasure and to reach climax from it. Just like now.
“Does it hurt?”
“Hh……. Ah…… no. It f-feels…… good, Master…… haah.”
The boy takes pleasure in pain. Even when flogged, he feels it and leaks from his cock, and even when punished, he cries out as though it’s something wonderful. It’s the same now. The man had squeezed his cock hard intending to cause pain, yet the boy only wept happily, leaking even more from his cock. Whatever the boy truly felt, that was how it sounded to the middle-aged man. As though the boy were saying more, please — as though he were begging for it.
Did the boy have any idea what the man was thinking. Beneath him, the boy trembled and wept, completely at a loss beneath his hands, and could do nothing but stay still without even mounting a proper resistance. The more he resisted, the more he refused, the more forceful the man’s actions became in return.
Even now the boy was on the verge of losing consciousness — if pushed any further, he might actually faint. And if that happened, he would wake up only to be punished again, on the grounds that he had fainted. No matter what the boy did, punishment from the middle-aged man was inescapable. It was the man’s desire, his hobby — and the most entertaining part of his entire day.
“Since that filthy cock of yours can’t hold back and keeps leaking all over the place, I suppose I’ll have to keep that hole plugged up all day today.”
“Hah…… Master, please d-don’t. Not that, please…… ngh.”
“And what would you do if you started dripping all over yourself while you’re working. Were you planning to ask one of the other maids or manservants to wipe it up for you?”
No, wait — maybe he was planning to ask them to fill up that hole of his with whatever he’d leaked. Mockery poured from the middle-aged man’s lips along with words intended to humiliate. The boy’s face went scarlet enough to burst. He shook his head in denial, but there was no chance the man would accept it.
“Hh…… wh-when I’m working, I, I won’t leak……”
“And how am I supposed to trust that filthy cock.”
“Hah……!! Ah! Hgh……!”
As if to say don’t lie to me, the man pressed his thumb hard against the tip of the boy’s cock and rubbed roughly against it in that same position, jolting awake the urge to come that the boy had been desperately fighting back. In the end, the boy reached his peak once again in the early morning hours and came — but with his thumb blocking the tip, the release was incomplete and unsatisfying, and the man, knowing this, slowly lifted his thumb away as he watched the boy’s state.
What trickled out could barely even be called release — it was so thin and watery it could hardly be considered cum at all, oozing out in sluggish pulses. The middle-aged man let out a derisive snort and wiped his fingers across the boy’s abdomen.
“You see — you couldn’t even hold back just now, leaking all over like this. How could I possibly send you off on your own.”
“Hgh…… M-Master…… I’m sorry…… hgh! I’m so sorry……”
The boy shook and begged forgiveness. But it wasn’t fear of punishment that made him tremble — it was the lingering aftershocks of the climax moments ago. His face, utterly slack and undone, was the picture of indecency, and those wet eyes with tears still clinging to them were more than enough to stir the middle-aged man’s appetite.
The middle-aged man curved the corners of his mouth upward. A smile of satisfaction. But that didn’t mean he had any intention of stopping. He reached for the thin rod he had prepared in advance on top of the drawer, while his other hand cupped the boy’s cheek and stroked it gently. A tender smile spread across the middle-aged man’s face.
But the moment the boy saw it, he could only freeze completely. Not once had the middle-aged man ever turned such a gentle smile on him with any good intention behind it.
“If you’ve done something wrong, you have to be punished. Isn’t that right?”
“Hah! N-no…… ah……!!”
The hand stroking the boy’s cheek was tender. And then — the middle-aged man grasped the boy’s limp cock and, without a word of warning, pushed the rod inside through the tip. It slid in smoothly, given how much the boy had been leaking all this time. The rod pushed in without resistance until only the end remained outside, filling the boy’s urethra entirely. The boy’s face flushed crimson enough to burst, veins standing out along his throat from the sheer intensity of the sensation. His hands and legs alike shook uncontrollably — and at the sight of him completely at a loss, not knowing what to do with himself, the middle-aged man finally let out a satisfied laugh and pressed his lips to the boy’s forehead.
