* * *
The stick’s touch made the tender flesh twitch and react as if it were wary of intrusion—or perhaps eager for it.
Holding Sylvian’s waist to maintain his posture, Zeroth teased the area around the h*le with the stick, almost playfully.
“A-Ah! Ngh! Hah!”
“And you call this a well-behaved wife?”
Eventually, the stick’s tip pressed further, and the h*le seemed to suck it.
Of course, it was Zeroth’s deliberate motion, but Sylvian couldn’t grasp that through his dazed state.
The unfamiliar sensation startled Sylvian into a scream.
“Sorry! Hic! Aah!”
The angle prevented the stick from going too deep, but its shallow exploration of the h*le overwhelmed Sylvian’s heightened senses.
“Stop! I hate it!”
Slap.
Slap.
The moment Sylvian protested, sharp stings spread across his butt.
“Hic! Ngh!”
“Keep your hands in place.”
Startled by the sudden strikes, Sylvian let go of his c*ck momentarily.
The heat radiating from the stinging sensation made him tremble and raise his head.
“I-I’m sorry, hic, I’m sorry!”
Before Sylvian realized it, tears were streaming down his face.
Zeroth lifted Sylvian’s tear-soaked face by the chin, using the tip of a stick still slick with fluids.
“What did you do wrong?”
“Zeroth… hic!”
Smack.
“M-Master.”
Zeroth gestured with his chin, signaling Sylvian to continue as if urging him to see if he’d answer correctly this time.
“Hic… I didn’t listen to Master’s orders.”
“Correct. It’s not about being alone with an Alpha—that’s not what matters. What’s important is that you failed to follow your Master’s command.”
As if pleased, Zeroth leaned in and pressed a small kiss to Sylvian’s tear-streaked cheek.
“Since it seems you don’t grasp the importance of that, I’ll make sure you never forget it.”
Poke.
Sylvian flinched.
This time, the slender tip of the stick prodded at the sensitive nub of his right chest.
The sharp ache burrowed deep, and another tear, suspended in his green eyes, rolled down his cheek.
“Spread yourself again.”
“I’m sorry—hic—I’ve done wrong, please forgive me.”
Zeroth’s crimson eyes, now darker and more intense, didn’t waver.
Sylvian bit down on his trembling lip.
He had begged, pleaded, and prayed countless times, but Zeroth simply looked down at him, his expression unchanging.
“Bend over. Spread yourself.”
Drip.
It was as if someone had turned on a faucet.
Watching Sylvian’s endless stream of tears, Zeroth clicked his tongue inwardly.
For someone so prone to tears, even the slightest fear could make him cry rivers.
But discipline required being thorough.
If he was too lenient, Sylvian would only test his boundaries, searching for ways to escape.
Even the kindest of humans, when their survival was at stake, would find ways to adapt.
Sylvian’s innocence might well be his own form of survival strategy.
“Master, p-please… inspect me.”
Sylvian slowly bent over again, his hands gripping tightly enough to turn his knuckles white as he spread himself wide.
Fear consumed him, leaving no room for defiance.
All he could do was offer his complete submission, desperate to lessen his punishment.
The natural grain of the wooden stick traced over parts of him no one else had ever seen, leaving Sylvian squeezing his eyes shut with each pass.
He didn’t even notice the way Zeroth’s gaze lingered, like he was inspecting every inch of him, focusing entirely on the unfamiliar sensations overwhelming his body.
“Ah!”
“Hold your position properly.”
“Y-Yes!”
The stick hadn’t probed into him as it had earlier, but Sylvian remained tense, unsure when it might strike again.
Whack.
“Hnn!”
The firm touch skimming across his skin sent shivers up his nape.
What if his heart leapt out of his chest from sheer terror?
That fear consumed him.
Even as a child under the viscount’s care, any hint of defiance had been met with merciless strikes.
Zeroth didn’t hit him nearly as harshly, but the mere act of raising his hand was enough to terrify Sylvian.
He had cursed that viscount under his breath—calling him every foul name he could think of—but in the end, his young self had been powerless to resist the violence.
While his mind had learned to endure the pain, his body still bore the scars of fear.
“Stay still.”
Zeroth’s order cut through his trembling thoughts.
Sylvian tightened his grip until his fingers ached, silently begging for the ordeal to end quickly.
“….”
Once again, his fear was overwhelming.
Watching from above, Zeroth observed Sylvian’s every reaction.
He tapped the side of a nearby mirror with the stick.
Tap. Tap.
“Ah!”
The sound made Sylvian flinch violently, his body trembling.
The stick swished through the air, its menacing hum filling the silence.
Whoosh. Whoosh.
Each time the sound of the stick swishing through the air echoed, Sylvian’s body flinched.
The lessons were supposed to be enjoyable and something to look forward to, but that trashy Crown Prince had ruined everything.
Was today the limit?
Zeroth’s goal was for Sylvian to willingly embrace what was happening to him.
The stage where he would feel both anticipation and pleasure from the pain Zeroth gave him—it had to be reached.
But for now, it was just a few swings of a stick.
“A proper examination is needed.”
Feigning indifference, Zeroth tossed the stick in front of Sylvian’s eyes.
The stick hit the ground with a sharp sound, and some relief flickered on Sylvian’s tense face.
“Ah!”
“Tsk. Do you want to be punished again?”
“No, no!”
Since Zeroth had decided not to strike him further today, he clicked his tongue and deliberately plunged his fingers deep into Sylvian’s h*le.
“Ahh!”
“Shh, you’re being punished. You’re not allowed to make a sound.”
“Mmph.”
Zeroth began stretching the tight h*le as he pleased.
“Hic!”
“As expected. Your hle is stretching so well. It’s obvious how eager you are, dripping wet just at the thought of taking my cck.”
“Ahh! I-I’m sorry, hic!”
Another finger pushed in, plunging deeper, brushing against his inner walls before slowly withdrawing.
“Never—ahhh!”
“What are you trying to say, my dear?”
Above him, an infuriatingly smug voice rang out, but Sylvian could only groan in response, unable to form coherent words to answer Zeroth.
If this kept up, he would lose control of his hands.
Judging by the stick thrown at his feet, there wouldn’t be any more beating today.
Could he allow himself to relax just a little?
“Ahh!”
In the meantime, another finger joined in, stretching his h*le further.
Snipping motions spread the opening as shallow thrusts made soft, wet sounds from behind.
“Focus properly. Your master is examining you.”
“Ack! I’m sorry!”
“What should you do if you ever find yourself alone with an Alpha or another man?”
“Ugh!”
Asking questions while thrusting was unfair!
* * *
