Prologue
“All these are the beginning of sorrows.”
—Matthew 24:8
***
February 1392, Duran, in the territory of Antonello.
Duran, the city of pleasure where laughter and moans never ceased, had been even more crowded than usual for the past few days. The streets were packed with people, and carriages, unable to move, inched forward slowly. In the dimly lit alleys, the flirtatious voices of excited women lured passersby.
Deep within the labyrinthine alleys, far from the streets consumed by strange ecstasy, stood a building that had lost its warmth. A faint light seeped through the frosted window.
The flickering candlelight illuminated a small table beside the bed. An ivory-carved bust of a god swayed rhythmically. A luxurious full-body statue of the god, adorned with silver and various jewels, trembled as if it might fall at any moment.
The source of the vibration was the bed. The bed creaked incessantly, and the golden-threaded embroidery on the dark blue velvet curtains rippled. Two bodies were tangled together on the bed, their movements thick and sticky.
Ronen, pinned beneath the relentless, animalistic thrusts, could barely breathe. His fingers, clutching the sheets, turned white. He tried to push back with his arms, but it was hopeless. As he staggered and collapsed, a hand burrowed through his hair and yanked him up violently.
“……Ngh!”
A moan he couldn’t suppress slipped through his lips. His head was forced back, making it even harder to breathe. His breath grew ragged.
Grand Duke Canis, his lips pressed to Ronen’s ear, growled fiercely.
“I heard you took two guests at once today. Is that why you’re so loose?”
Raising his upper body, he pulled Ronen’s hair as if it were reins, thrusting his hips roughly. Ronen’s torso lifted halfway as his head was yanked back. The dim light traced the sweat-slicked skin.
There was no mercy in the movements that penetrated him. Ronen squirmed his arms, trying to support himself, but it was useless. He was like a deer, its neck pierced by a beast’s fangs, making its final, feeble struggles. His lips parted, panting in short, desperate gasps.
“…Or is it that one isn’t enough for you?”
The fingers in his hair loosened. Only then did Ronen lower his head and take a deep breath. But before he could catch his breath, the Duke grabbed his chin roughly, forcing his mouth open. Two fingers plunged inside.
“If you liked taking them both at once, maybe I should give you this to bite down on.”
The Duke’s voice, mixed with ragged breaths, was sinister and cruel. Ronen, who had barely managed to endure, opened his eyes, which had been squeezed shut. His long lashes were damp with tears, blurring his vision.
His head was twisted to the side by the forceful grip. As he furrowed his brows, the Duke smirked bitterly and asked,
“Why that face? Isn’t this what you wanted?”
His fingers ruthlessly stirred inside Ronen’s mouth, seizing his tongue. The soft tongue was mashed under the fingers, saliva pooling thickly. The relentless probing deep into his mouth made him gag, his eyes reddening.
“You won’t have many guests for a while, so you’d better enjoy it while you can.”
Ronen’s unfocused, hazy eyes finally met his. The Duke, reading the question in them, pressed his lips against Ronen’s saliva-slicked mouth, offering an uncharacteristic kindness.
“The long war is over, so there will be a festival. The streets will be overflowing with whores—why would anyone come looking for you?”
At the mention of the war’s end, Ronen’s eyes widened. So the recent influx of guests had been soldiers passing through on their way to the Papal States.
The mention of a festival suggested that the 13-year-long war had ended in victory. Color finally returned to his pale face, and a faint light flickered in his previously dull eyes.
The Duke, watching him closely, sneered.
“What’s so joyful? It has nothing to do with you.”
Ronen’s tongue, still trapped between the Duke’s fingers, twitched. As if urging a response, the fingers slowly withdrew from his mouth. The saliva-glistening fingers traced his lips. A weary voice escaped him.
“…Take me with you…”
“Where? To the festival?”
The Duke reached down, grabbing Ronen’s ankle and pulling it sharply. His legs spread, and his limp body rolled to the side. Losing his balance, Ronen let out a soft moan as his body tensed, tightening around the intrusion.
“Why? Trying to run away again?”
The Duke, panting roughly, gripped the manacle around Ronen’s ankle. The cold metal had warmed from the heat.
Ronen tried to shake his head, but the Duke wrapped the long chain around his forearm and thrust upward violently, causing Ronen’s head to loll back. The shaft, nearly withdrawn, rammed back in deeply, glistening menacingly. Ronen’s body was shaken mercilessly, the chain clanking loudly.
“Or do you want to sell your body to soldiers like a street whore?”
The Duke’s voice was laced with ragged breaths as the intense movements continued. The wet flesh slapped together, the obscene sounds unceasing. Ronen, his mind teetering on the edge of unconsciousness from the sensation of being impaled, barely moved his lips.
“N-No…”
“No? What’s not true? Your body’s already getting ready at the thought of having no guests.”
“Ahh—!”
The Duke grabbed Ronen’s erection, and he gasped desperately. His lower abdomen was already leaking clear fluid. The Duke, gripping the damp shaft with one hand, rubbed it forcefully, making Ronen’s body tremble uncontrollably.
“There’s no helping your depravity.”
He tried to shake his head, but his oversensitive body eagerly chased the pleasure. His swollen inner walls clenched around the Duke’s shaft, and his own erection hardened further in the Duke’s grip.
Whether he wanted it or not, Ronen was ultimately overwhelmed by the relentless wave of pleasure. A thick spurt of semen stained the sheets, and his abdomen convulsed, his toes curling stiffly.
His vision blurred as the overwhelming sensation washed over him, his heavy eyelids drooping. Soon, a deep despair settled in, weighing his body down.
The Duke wasn’t one to let Ronen catch his breath. Without waiting, he resumed his ruthless thrusting, making Ronen’s body jerk.
“Hah, ah, pl-please, just a moment…”
Ignoring Ronen’s pleading voice, the Duke continued to pound into him at his own pace, whispering,
“Don’t be too disappointed. When the festival… ngh, is over, you’ll have guests again.”
The Duke, having buried himself to the root, traced the quivering entrance with his fingertips.
“Next time, how about putting two in this hole at once? Hah, one might not be enough for you.”
Ronen could barely shake his head, only biting his lip and panting. Dissatisfied with the response, the Duke flipped him onto his stomach, grabbed his hips, and drove into him rapidly. The violent movements made the bed creak, and even the table beside it began to rattle again.
Through his tear-blurred vision, Ronen saw the statue of the god embedded in the wall. A thumbnail-sized blue gem shimmered divinely. The icy blue gem pulled forth a memory long buried—the vivid, beautiful blue eyes of someone.
The face of the boy who had looked back at him from the long procession heading to war, the thin hand that had reached out to him, flashed before his eyes as if it were yesterday.
Ronen reached out, as if to grasp the boy’s hand in his memory. His pale fingertips trembled as they almost touched—then a large, hot hand seized his wrist. It was Grand Duke Canis.
At that moment, the Duke, putting his full weight into the thrust, sent the god’s statue on the table crashing to the floor. The noise echoed loudly.
“A devout believer like you, a male whore—God must be laughing.”
The statue, clearly only for decoration, was intricately crafted, its jewels gleaming brilliantly. The god’s expression, which should have been benevolent, was distorted by the jewel’s light, appearing arrogant, greedy, and full of mockery.
“You’re already a body abandoned by God. He won’t give you redemption, punishment, or even a chance.”
The massive shadow of the statue, now rolled to the base of the candlestick, loomed over them. Though it was just a shadow, it felt as heavy and terrifying as his own karma, choking him. Ronen couldn’t bear it and squeezed his eyes shut.
Oh God, forgive my sins…
Keep me from temptation…
Have mercy on me, I beg you…
Oh God, save me quickly.
Author: Hyacinthus B
Hyacinthus
