Chapter 3: Beauty (8)
“I have been tamed. I am a slave to pleasure. My body continues to… even now, at this very moment, it craves it.”
He could no longer convince himself that this was merely a duty, something to be endured while praying, as he once had. The thought that he had preserved his chastity because his heart had not consented—all of it was a lie.
“Will God truly forgive someone like me?”
Even now, in this sacred place, he was seducing a holy knight with lewd words. Would God ever forgive such a depraved act?
Eckart, tormented by relentless desire, finally spoke, his voice strained.
“I… I…”
He couldn’t finish. Clenching his jaw, he abruptly stood and turned away, unable to meet Ronen’s gaze any longer.
“I apologize. I am unworthy. I will only pray for you.”
Leaving Ronen alone, Eckart fled as if pursued by something unseen. His long legs carried him swiftly out of the chapel, but he moved as if still chased, his steps hurried, desperate to put as much distance as possible between himself and that place.
Ronen watched him go, unseen, until Eckart disappeared entirely.
***
Clank.
The heavy shackles were fastened around Ronen’s ankles once more. The cold, oppressive weight of the metal dragged him down, down, down—his feet touched the floor, but the sensation of falling seemed endless.
Osian left Ronen alone in the room. Fortunately, no guests had come in his absence, and the false tranquility of the brothel remained undisturbed. The door locked, leaving Ronen in solitude. He lay on the bed, free of the stifling dress, wearing only a light sleepwear—but for some reason, it felt even more suffocating. The brief taste of freedom had stirred too many emotions within him.
Staring blankly at the ceiling, Ronen slowly closed and opened his eyes, surrendering to the drowsiness that washed over him. He drifted into a shallow sleep, half-aware of the noises outside—Osian entering to light candles, the distant clatter of the brothel’s evening bustle.
His mind wandered between dreams and reality. He was in a lavish ballroom, thick with the scent of alcohol and perfume—then suddenly in a dew-drenched garden, the cold morning breeze biting at his skin. In the next moment, he was kneeling in a chapel, whispering prayers.
“I will pray for your sins.”
A distant voice grew closer, until it was right beside his ear.
“I can no longer endure this.”
This was a memory. The events of the day replayed before his eyes. So these were his words—
But the voice wasn’t his own.
“It’s too much… I can’t bear it any longer.”
Eckart, who had fled in despair, wasn’t in this dream. Instead, there was only the Eckart who had given in to his desires, sitting beside Ronen, gazing at him with hunger.
His reddened eyes, furrowed brows, the sheen of sweat on his skin, the low, strained voice—all of it was wickedly alluring. His very presence was a temptation.
“I want to go somewhere else. Anywhere… just the two of us…”
The black hair, damp with sweat, clinging to his forehead; those deep, devouring blue eyes; the pained twist of his lips; the hot breath spilling from between them—it was all unbearably sexy. Just looking at him sent a thrill through Ronen’s body.
The excitement must have been too much—he jolted awake. The room was dark now, lit only by the candle Osian had left. He must have come in while Ronen was half-asleep.
It was just a dream, yet his breath came hot and ragged. His cock was rock-hard beneath his sleepwear, his stomach tightening with need. The mere thought that Eckart had been aroused by his words was enough to leave him in this state—even in the chapel.
He had barely managed to resist then, but now there was no need. His heavy-lidded, sleep-dazed eyes slipped shut as his hand slid beneath his sleepwear, wrapping around his aching erection. He stroked himself slowly, savoring the smooth skin, the shiver of pleasure that ran through him.
His hand moved faster, pumping up and down the shaft. His other hand found his chest, his fingers circling his swollen nipple. A rough breath escaped his lips.
“Nngh… ah…”
The excitement was so intense it chased away sleep. The climax came quickly. Ronen imagined Eckart from his dream—how he had loomed over him, desperate and hungry, and came with that image in mind.
If it were him, perhaps he could take Ronen away. He was strong enough to cut down anyone who stood in their way, to spirit them far, far away to a place where no one else existed. Hidden from the world, they could lose themselves in each other for as long as they wanted.
The fantasy sent another wave of arousal through him. His hips twitched, his stomach clenching tight—
“Nngh—!”
He hastily moved his hand from his chest to grip the head of his cock. Warm, sticky semen spilled into his palm. There wasn’t much, but it was thick, dark.
“Hah… ah…”
The brief pleasure faded, leaving Ronen’s body limp. He lay there, semen still cupped in his hand, catching his breath. What followed was a crushing emptiness and guilt.
He had gone to the chapel to repent, yet here he was, sinning again. It was pathetic.
“I even masturbated while imagining you.”
And it hadn’t even been satisfying. His cock still stood stiff, as if demanding more. His stomach still ached with unfulfilled desire. He wanted something else—someone else.
He had wanted to confess, to repent before it was too late. But it was already too late. He had walked too far down this path of no return. There was no going back to how things were.
“To think he would even pray for a filthy sinner like me…”
He should be grateful. He should be content with that. But he wasn’t. He had fallen too far to be satisfied with mere prayers.
A wave of frustration and longing crashed over him—just as a loud commotion erupted outside. Startled, Ronen sat up. Someone was storming up the stairs, their footsteps heavy, urgent.
The door burst open.
It was the Grand Duke—who had not been expected back for some time.
“I had a feeling I should stay nearby. Trust is everything, after all.”
As expected, the Grand Duke had eyes everywhere. He must have received word of Ronen’s outing and returned immediately.
“Is it true that you went out without my permission?”
“F-forgive me! Please, spare me—!”
Osian was on his knees, the Grand Duke’s sword pressed to his throat. His hair was gripped tightly in the Grand Duke’s fist as the boy trembled in terror.
“I didn’t give you that key so you could take my property out for a stroll on your own. If you wanted to die, you should have just asked. Instead, you went through all this trouble.”
The Grand Duke’s anger was like fire—hot, fierce, and merciless as a beast. It wasn’t the kind of rage that came with shouting or breaking things. It was colder, more calculated—a sudden explosion of long-suppressed fury, and the immediate elimination of whatever had provoked it.
And the method of elimination was, of course, death. Ronen had lost count of how many boys had died that way. Osian, young and sharp-eyed, had only survived this long because he was quick to obey and quick to fear.
Ronen hurried to defend him.
“I threatened him.”
He hadn’t expected the Grand Duke to draw his sword the moment he walked in. He had thought that since Ronen had returned and shackled himself, the punishment would only be for Osian’s disobedience—not for something so severe.
At least he was giving Ronen a chance to explain.
“Threatened him?”
The Grand Duke’s voice dripped with mockery. The unspoken question hung in the air: What could someone like you possibly threaten him with?
“I told him I wouldn’t receive any guests. That I had no intention of doing so, and I threatened him.”
“…And the reason?”
“I wanted to pray. To confess my sins. I only went to the chapel for a short while and returned immediately. As you’ve been told, I did nothing but pray before coming back and shackling myself.”
Ronen lifted his leg, the shackle clanking as the chain followed.
“I wore the shackles even outside. I never intended to run away.”
The Grand Duke studied Ronen’s face before yanking Osian’s hair harder, a cruel smile playing on his lips.
Author: Hyacinthus B
Hyacinthus
