If his dick had at least gone dead, that would’ve been one less thing to suffer over. But no. Fingers wedged into a narrow gap pressed hard against the walls of flesh, like prying space open where there wasn’t any. And of all places, it had to be the one that made Haejun lose his mind.
He couldn’t even scream. His head snapped back. It felt like his whole body had been bound tight with rope and was about to burst apart — pain detonating alongside a pleasure that sliced through his gut. His sanity felt seconds away from flipping inside out. His vision blacked out for a moment before barely returning, and his body jerked violently as if he’d just spilled load after load.
“......Huh...?”
He could’ve sworn he’d come, but his dick was still trapped at the base, pathetically throbbing against the ring. The pain hadn’t faded at all.
He didn’t understand what was happening. Tears clung to his lashes as he stared blankly downward — and in the next second his body was flipped over and shoved down. He landed on all fours on the floor. Before he could process it, his hips were yanked up.
“Ah—!”
A hard thrust slammed into him. His elbows buckled, strength draining from his arms. He collapsed forward with only his ass left raised. He clawed at the floor, trying to crawl away, but Lee Kangjoo caught him and dragged him back like a wheel stuck in mud. No matter how hard he tried to move forward, it was like glue held him fast in Kangjoo’s grip.
His cock felt like it was being strangled by the ring. There was nowhere left for semen to build, yet his balls kept forcing more up every time his insides were churned. The pressure was insane. It felt like he might explode.
“Please, please, please...!”
Haejun shook his head, cried, begged for mercy. At this rate he might never be able to use his dick again.
Hot breath rasped near his ear. As if nearing the end, the force grinding into his hips intensified, threatening to break him. Coarse pubic hair scraped against his skin. His reddened ass, stung raw from being smacked, showed those small butterfly-shaped dimples clearly.
Veins stood out on the back of Lee Kangjoo’s hand and along his temple. Haejun’s waist, crushed under his fingers, bore the imprint of his grip. Even his one fleshy asset — his ass — was flattened as Kangjoo pressed his body fully against him.
“Ha...”
With a sharp exhale, Lee Kangjoo pulled out. He’d come so deep inside that nothing showed at first. When the hole puckered shut, he shoved his fingers back in and stirred carelessly. Only then did cloudy fluid begin to spill out.
Haejun collapsed onto his side. His face was soaked in tears and snot. His gaze drifted unfocused, like someone whose mind had already checked out.
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry... It’s all my fault...”
He didn’t even know what he’d done wrong. If Kangjoo told him to kneel and confess to wetting the bed as a kid, he would’ve done that too. That was how out of it he was.
“What did you do wrong.”
Lee Kangjoo asked mildly, but Haejun was too busy gasping for air to answer right away. Only after a sharp smack landed on his ass did some awareness snap back into place.
“Helping... helping someone else.”
“Not that.”
“Meeting... someone else... hng...”
“Will you do ➤ NоvеⅠight ➤ (Read more on our source) it again?”
Haejun shook his head frantically. He couldn’t go through this again. And the torture wasn’t even over. His swollen dick had gone beyond pain — it felt numb, dull. If Kangjoo would just take the ring off, he felt like he could crawl to his feet and suck all ten of his toes in gratitude.
“Never... I won’t. So please...”
“Let’s see if I believe you.”
Lee Kangjoo reached out. Even the brush of his fingertips made Haejun flinch violently. The process of rolling the ring off was torture in itself. Haejun bit down hard on his lower lip, curling his toes inward as he endured it.
“Hnn...”
He’d thought everything would be fine once it was off, but maybe because he’d held back so long, the semen was packed tight and refused to release. His wrists were still restrained, so he couldn’t take care of it himself. When he looked up tearfully, Kangjoo ran a hand down his shaft with lazy generosity. Haejun’s chin trembled.
“—Hik...”
Still, it didn’t burst out cleanly. Thick semen leaked slowly, like water dripping from a broken faucet. It wasn’t climax. It wasn’t relief. Just some miserable in-between state that left him even more frustrated. Deep inside his belly, somewhere he couldn’t reach, an unbearable itch raged.
Without realizing it, Haejun started grinding his hips, trying to rub harder against Kangjoo’s hand. The rough, solid palm sliding over sensitive flesh made saliva pool in his mouth. It felt like he was right there — just a little more and he’d finish — but climax hovered just out of reach, taunting him.
Lee Kangjoo let out a faint scoff, as if amused by how shamelessly Haejun writhed on his own. Still, perhaps he intended to grant the wish. His grip tightened around the shaft, pulling the skin up until it covered the head entirely before dragging it back down.
That single stroke sent Haejun’s hips shooting upward. A violent wave far stronger than anything he’d endured crashed through him. The pressure gathered below his navel detonated instantly.
What came out wasn’t cloudy semen.
It was clear fluid — like a dam breaking — spraying from the tip.
It splashed across his stomach, chest, even his face. Some got into his open mouth, but he didn’t register it. The sheer release felt like an ice pick piercing the back of his skull. His mind went blank.
His dick finally drooped, returning to its original size and soft pink color. Still trembling from the shock, the flesh quivered weakly.
Getting here had felt like running a marathon. Haejun didn’t even have the strength to lift his eyelids anymore. Consciousness started slipping.
Before it faded completely, there was something he had to say — even if a knife were at his throat.
“Sir... I... I really, really only have you. There aren’t any other clients... nothing like that.”
He poured sincerity into every consonant, every vowel, every comma. He wanted to say that Kangjoo was everything to him, that somewhere on the way home he’d even realized his feelings.
But all he could manage was the hollow plea: please believe me. He didn’t even know if his weak voice reached Kangjoo’s ears.
“It’s true. Please believe me...”
Right before he blacked out, warm body heat touched his swollen, tear-puffed eyelids. A careful hand stroked him gently. He tried desperately to cling to awareness so he wouldn’t lose that touch — but his body refused.
Click.
Power off.
* * *
He didn’t remember exactly how old he’d been. Since Yohan was there, it had to be after six at least.
It had been the winter when the flu was everywhere. Playing outside late with Yohan the day before must’ve done it. He’d caught a brutal cold.
His fever burned so hot, and he coughed so much that blood burst from his swollen throat. His muscles ached so badly he couldn’t even move from the floor.
Yohan’s grandmother had taken care of him, but they weren’t well-off enough to take him to a hospital. All she could do was place a cloth with icicles wrapped inside on his forehead or feed him homemade fever remedies.
Whether that devotion reached heaven or he simply wasn’t meant to die young, Haejun recovered after a week. It had been the worst illness of his life.
The symptoms now felt similar. His throat was raw — every breath in felt like tiny shards of glass scraping down his airway. Each exhale rasped. His muscles throbbed all over.
This was bad. Definitely the flu.
He needed to get up immediately, call the delivery company boss and request a day off, and inform Lee Kangjoo. He’d feel bad, but he’d ask Yohan to bring fever medicine and porridge. He didn’t expect nursing care. Yohan was already overworked. The least he could do was not become a burden.
“Ugh...”
The moment he opened his eyes, pain flooded in. There wasn’t a single place that didn’t hurt. It felt like someone had come in while he slept and beaten him with a bat. Especially his ass. That spot felt like it had been singled out for punishment.
“...Ah.”
Only then did he remember what had happened last night. Maybe it was the fever. His brain felt slow, lagging a beat behind.
He let out a long sigh and rubbed his face. No matter how he tried to wrap it nicely, last night had been torture. Pleasure so intense and twisted it had stripped him bare.
Living as a male prostitute, being treated like an object was nothing new. To customers, he was gum to chew for one night and spit out. A trash can for alcohol and feelings. A disposable item they might use twice if he acted cute enough.
He was used to that. So even if Lee Kangjoo treated him like property, it shouldn’t have hurt.
But.
Why did those words — the ones that reduced him to a rag — cut into him like blades? More than the ring crushing his dick, every word Lee Kangjoo had spoken hurt worse.
