His hand, wandering near my waist, suddenly gripped my cock.
I clenched my teeth, curling in on myself, but he only pressed harder, his smirk growing.
“Maybe you want to be punished?”
His methods were endless.
Today, it seemed he’d use the shower hose.
The hard tip of the hose prodded my hole, then pushed inside.
I thrashed, knowing the agony to come, but my starved body was no match for his strength. He was a monster.
Water began to trickle into me. It wasn’t forceful—almost considerate—but the warm liquid filling my intestines made my toes curl.
I knew why he chose this.
He wanted me to speak.
For days, I’d refused to talk, locking my jaw shut.
A small rebellion. And now, he was growing impatient, as he always did when I resisted. It always ended in humiliation.
After fifteen minutes, my lower abdomen felt heavy.
The warm water sloshed inside me, my stomach bloated.
I tried to rise, but he pressed me down, gripping the hose.
“Does it hurt?”
…
I refused to answer. He clicked his tongue, then slapped my ass hard. The vibration shot through my core, tears welling in my eyes, my mouth falling open.
I couldn’t take it. My legs twitched.
He climbed on top of me, pinning my nape, then released me.
As the hose slid out, I instinctively arched, expelling the water.
The liquid gushed out, my body shuddering.
I lifted my head, trembling, but kept my lips sealed.
He grabbed my hair, forcing me to meet his gaze.
But his face was blurred, as if veiled. I couldn’t make out his eyes.
Yet I knew his expression. That was worse.
If only I couldn’t see him at all.
I glared, my eye twitching. He sighed, pressing a brief kiss to my lips before pulling away.
“Beautiful.”
When he called me beautiful, chills ran down my spine.
His rough hands groped my ass, belying his words.
He whispered in my ear:
“Siwoo.”
…
“I’ll do it four more times.”
“No! Stop! I know if I say no, you’ll stop—but my mouth wouldn’t open.
He smirked, as if amused by my stubbornness, like I was a petulant younger sibling.
He lifted my wrists, pinning them as he forced the hose back inside.
I bit my lip, enduring the warm water filling me.
He reveled in my pained, humiliated expression, his cock hardening against the hose.
The disgusting sensation made me close my eyes.
The water inside me, the familiar violation—it all made me sick.
Tears, long dried up, welled again, spilling down my cheeks.
He wiped them away, then pulled out the hose.
Instead of the promised four times, he thrust his cock into my stretched, water-filled hole.
Even softened by the water, his long, grotesque length forced its way in, bringing unbearable pain.
He impaled me in one thrust, laughing in satisfaction.
Leaning over my back, he kissed the nape of my neck as I lay on the cold tiles.
I tasted blood from biting my lip to stifle my cries.
My left ankle, too weak to resist, twitched as the water leaked from my ass.
My abdomen, stuffed to its limit, left no room to breathe. Gasping, trembling, I felt his hands roam my body.
“Hah…!”
I’d held on this long.
Tears burst forth.
He pressed deeper, his cock buried in my water-filled guts, and I could feel his pleasure, even without seeing it.
He lowered himself, wrapping his arms around me.
“Siwoo. Siwoo.”
Slosh. Slosh.
His cock stirred the water inside me, spilling out in messy waves.
I stared between my legs.
My own cock, disgustingly hard from the perverse stimulation, throbbed in time with his movements. As I lifted my head, the white tiles warped—pink, then purple.
The pattern twisted into a grid, then snapped back to normal.
I knew his limits.
Before he grew angrier, before I provoked him further, before the grotesque tendrils of his punishment wrapped around me—
Saliva pooled in my mouth, mixing with the blood on my lips. Finally, I couldn’t hold back.
“I—It hurts! Ah… Ugh… Hngh…”
“Give up.”
“Hngh… Pl-Please… Let me go.”
“Say something else.”
“I-I hate this. Stop. Please, stop.”
“I taught you. You know what to say before I do it.”
“F-Fuck me gently. Please, fuck me gently.”
…
His cock stilled.
He pulled out, spreading my ass. His fingers probed my hole as he chuckled.
“Good boy.”
I bore down, expelling the water.
My vision blurred, my body convulsing as the liquid gushed out.
I collapsed onto the wet tiles, my body going cold.
The water swirled down the drain, forming a small whirlpool.
I watched it, numb.
He reappeared, smiling softly.
His anger had vanished. He’d broken me, and that pleased him.
I turned my head, a belated act of defiance.
He wrapped a thick towel around me, lifting me effortlessly.
As he wiped my filthy body, his lips brushed my forehead—affectionate, revolting.
Carrying me to the bedroom, he dried me gently, his fingers tracing my ear.
I wanted to wash, but I knew better than to ask.
After drying me, he rummaged under the bed.
The design of the shackles was even more grotesque than before—a skull motif, the eyes glowing, rotating unnaturally.
“You hate them, but you ran away after abandoning your freedom. Did you think I wouldn’t chain you again?”
I extended my foot, limp.
He fastened the shackle to my uninjured ankle.
And once more, I was imprisoned in the bedroom.
Author: Hyacinthus B
Hyacinthus
