* * *
The leash of their dynamic rested firmly in Killian’s grasp, and Nael obeyed diligently, learning exactly as he was taught.
His flushed face, burning with shameless desire, was unbearably endearing.
Those slender fingers now teased along his clothed length, eager to coax it fully erect.
Lost in the pleasure only Killian had taught him, he voiced his cravings—still clumsy, but so painfully earnest.
Killian tugged his pants down just enough.
Though he barely exposed himself, his cock sprang free, thick and heavy.
“Ah—!”
Nael’s eyes widened as the damp heat slapped against his cheek.
Unsure what to do with the weight resting against his face, he stole another glance at Killian.
“Nael, your eyes are beautiful. So much I want to devour them.”
“M-My eyes?”
“Like transparent marbles. I wonder how they’d taste.”
The absurd demand came as Killian cradled Nael’s face against his heated flesh.
Was he asking for permission?
Nael hesitated.
Eat his eyes?
He pointed at himself in confusion, green irises clouded with disbelief.
“These? My… eyes?”
Killian didn’t answer.
Instead, he bent his knee, muscles shifting with each movement.
His thumb pressed against Nael’s fluttering eyelid, forcing it open.
Unable to blink, Nael stiffened.
His pupils shone like melting snowflakes—bright, fragile.
Tempting.
Sucking them dry would leave hollow sockets behind.
Even then, with dark, gaping holes where his eyes had been, Nael would still be pretty.
Blindly groping the air, whimpering “Master, where are you?”—Killian would relish teasing him.
“Master…”
A crimson tongue slipped out as if savoring a delicacy.
Killian lapped at the tears streaking Nael’s cheeks, leisurely coating his skin with saliva far wetter than his crying.
The slow, searing drag was unbearably indulgent.
“Hng…!”
The pointed tip of Killian’s tongue finally reached the corner of Nael’s eye.
No matter how hard he strained, his pinned lid wouldn’t shut.
The slick lashes trembled as that red tongue moved like a serpent, counting each strand.
“Master, I can’t—ah…!”
“Mhm.”
No gourmet dish could compare.
This was true satisfaction.
The round, green eye carried a briny tang that lingered on his tongue.
Nael couldn’t even roll his gaze—just shed silent tears, surrendering to every lick.
His trembling body, too overwhelmed to make a sound, was pitifully adorable.
Reluctantly, Killian pulled back.
The left eye, thoroughly ravaged, was clouded with spit.
Like mist over emerald leaves.
“Ugh… Scary… What if I go blind? What if my eyes stay like this…?”
Killian wiped the dampness away with a warm towel.
Nael blinked rapidly, disbelieving, checking if his vision remained.
“Look at me.”
The only sign of what Killian had done was a slight redness around Nael’s eyes.
When Nael tried to get a better look, his pupils darted anxiously, like a deer cornered in a trap.
“It’s fine. Your eyes aren’t that damaged.”
There was a strangely reproachful tone to his words.
“You even pissed yourself in fear.”
At the added taunt, Nael hurriedly covered his cock, but it was too late—a yellow stain had already spread across the carpet in a large, round shape, like a cushion.
Nael had plenty of fluids to spare.
Cum, piss, and now even the sticky wetness leaking from his backside—there was no chance of him ever running dry.
The servants went about their duties silently, even though Nael wore nothing but an apron.
They neither mocked nor ridiculed him, avoiding even eye contact.
Nael couldn’t keep still, shifting his weight as if standing on thorns.
He tugged desperately at the apron, which did little to cover him, while his sticky thighs rubbed together with a faint squelch.
The skin there was still damp from the streaks of urine.
His gaze kept darting around, searching for something—anything—to cover himself with.
With no other choice, he stepped behind Killian, clutching at his clothes and sending him a pleading look: Hide me.
“Enough. I’ll hold you in the bathtub.”
“That’s not it.”
Killian shrugged as if he didn’t understand.
Those of high status like him saw nothing unusual in being served.
Without a trace of shame, he let the attendants undress him, only stopping them when they reached for Nael’s apron.
Otherwise, he didn’t exchange a single word with them.
Once settled in the tub, Killian gestured to Nael.
“Stand.”
Lathering fragrant soap between his hands, he washed between Nael’s thighs thoroughly.
“You’ll have to spread them wider.”
Nael parted his legs slightly, and Killian’s fingers didn’t miss the opportunity, sliding up with the soapy foam.
Hng!
A shiver ran down Nael’s spine as a fingernail lightly scratched his perineum.
The plump flesh before Killian stiffened in response, the tip flushing a deep purple as if revealing its hidden depths—blooming shamelessly, like a secret laid bare.
“Ah—Master!”
Killian chuckled against Nael’s cock before taking it into his mouth all at once.
Even swallowing him to the root seemed effortless.
When Nael’s legs buckled, Killian caught his waist and held him up.
“Master, p-please don’t—bite—ah!”
Terrified his length might be sheared off by those flat teeth, Nael grabbed fistfuls of Killian’s hair.
But no matter how much he struggled, Killian didn’t budge an inch.
The only result was the water sloshing violently in the tub.
Even when Nael yanked hard enough to tear hair out, Killian didn’t resist, letting him do as he pleased.
“Ah—wait, hah—”
The suction was too much.
His lower abdomen burned as if his entire cock might be ripped out.
Killian’s shoulders, glistening with water, looked like carved marble—a body so flawless it seemed sculpted by the gods.
And yet, here he was, sucking him off.
For a brief moment, Nael wondered if he even deserved to have his cock in Killian’s mouth.
But that thought was soon obliterated by the sharp, overwhelming pleasure.
He felt like he was losing his mind.
His legs gave out, but Killian held his waist, leaving only his toes barely curled.
His back arched as if about to tip over, his legs useless, leaving him suspended in Killian’s grip.
Schlrp—tsk.
Killian’s hot, wet mouth sucked greedily, as if savoring his taste.
When his length finally slipped free, Nael collapsed, all strength draining from his body.
Not just his cock—his entire being tingled.
It was his dick being sucked, yet his mouth felt scorching, as if his insides had been dipped in boiling water.
Even breathing was a struggle.
And then—Killian took his balls between his lips.
“Ngh…!”
“You’re excited?”
The vibrations from Killian’s voice made Nael’s hips twitch.
His half-lidded eyes gazed down hazily, his grip on Killian’s hair slackening as he surrendered completely.
His hole tingled—he needed Killian inside him, now.
“Ah… Master…!”
Killian gazed down with indifferent eyes at the smooth skin before him.
He sucked hungrily at the precum dangling from the thoroughly slick cock, swallowing it with a lewd slurp.
The sensation of being sucked off—wet, filthy, relentless—made his lips tremble around the shaft.
Killian’s hollowed cheeks tightened, and it felt as if even the last traces of cum were being dragged straight from his urethra.
His mind was slipping away, like oil floating on water.
Reality itself seemed to detach from his body, as if his soul were separating from his flesh.
The sloshing of the bathwater, the distant sound of servants pouring more hot water once it cooled—all of it blurred into a haze of pleasure.
No matter how wide he opened his aching jaw, no voice came out.
His unfocused eyes, fixed on the ceiling, wandered through the steam rising from the tub like a lost traveler in fog.
“P-please… stop. Hngh… I-I’m going to cum in your mouth, Master…”
The more he squirmed, the tighter the grip on his hips became, sending sharp jolts of pain through his pelvis.
* * *
