TCWGRF 24

Samuel’s gaze impassively swept over the young man, who was trembling like prey that had sensed its impending doom.

The corners of his eyes were heavy with anxiety instead of tears, his arms were held together awkwardly, and his toes wiggled, unsure of what to do.

Still, his gaze at least seemed quite sincere. Other than that, he was a boringly typical prisoner, so Samuel tilted his chin up and fell into thought for a moment.

What should I do? He had yet to find out anything about the person he had been curious enough to drag all the way here and hide, but he had already become dull and bothersome before that.

He seemed like he would blend into the background like a piece of furniture in the room, or one of the many buildings filling the city, and just make obvious noises like tick-tock or whirrrr.

Yesterday, he had said he would give him a chance or that he would not kill him right away, but even that was something Samuel could do away with on a whim. Besides, for a mere prisoner to dare make a request of the Chief Commissioner was outrageous.

“A request. You seem to think you are something, don’t you?”

Annoyed, Samuel grabbed the young man’s neck with one hand. He did not have a small frame, but his neck was particularly long and slender, so he could probably break it if he applied force.

As his windpipe was blocked, his opponent struggled weakly, making a pathetic gasping sound. Tears welled up and streamed down, and that so-called request was swallowed before it could ever see the light of day.

Soon, as if resigned, he let all the strength drain from his body and faced death. The submissive attitude felt rather provocative.

“…How amusing.”

Samuel became curious about the young man’s next words. Begging to be saved, or to be let out of here. He knew it would be one of the two, but he wanted to hear the pitiful words uttered from those lips, the choked-up voice.

The hand that had been applying force as if to kill was removed from his neck, and the prisoner collapsed, gasping for air on the floor with hacking coughs.

“To dare ask a favor of the Chief Commissioner. What could it possibly be?”

The sight of the prisoner prostrate on the floor like livestock, shedding tears, was much better to look at than when he was tied up in the basement. Why had he only just realized this?

“…Please just find one person for me.”

“A person. Your comrades?”

“Not a rebel, not a comrade. He’s, he’s my friend….”

The reason he came here, braving all sorts of dangers, the person he tried to find by rummaging through outdated materials in a useless warehouse, was just a friend?

Even hearing that the city was on the verge of ruin would not be more absurd than this. So Samuel could not hold back the burst of laughter.

“Ahaha!”

However, the young man paid no mind to Samuel’s ridicule and passionately recited the lines he had prepared. He even clenched his fists, looking like a rookie soldier trying to inspire his comrades with a clumsy speech before heading into battle.

“If you just find that child for me… no, if you just tell me if he is safe, if he is alive, I will do everything I can. I can even guide you directly to where the leader is. If I am wrong, you can send me back to the basement, or even kill me.”

There was no need to ask for permission to dispose of and kill a prisoner, yet the way he spoke as if his life were some grand and amazing product was dumbfounding. Seeing that this was the answer he had come up with after wracking his brain, the young man was clearly stupid enough that one could say he had no idea how to make a deal.

“Is that so?”

But why? Looking at his foolish, dazed face, the words he had spoken so far felt like the truth, and his faded interest was rekindled, making him want to test just how far his resolve went.

With an irritated motion, Samuel took off the gloves he was wearing on both hands and threw them to the floor, then unbuttoned his uniform jacket one by one. Then, he bent down, grabbed the prisoner’s jaw firmly, and made him look at him.

An unremarkable, plain appearance. His face could not even be called pretty, nor did he possess a sensual body. The only things that caught the eye were his gray eyes, which pleaded innocence, and his pitch-black hair.

“Tsk.”

But because he had hidden the prisoner in this room, Samuel’s nightly amusements were on hold for the time being, and he wanted him to show his resolve or sincerity while he was at it. Even if his opponent was not particularly his type, it was not as if he was picky about who he tumbled with or went into heat for.

“Let’s see just how far you can go. Hmm?”

“…?”

“Just open your mouth.”

“My mouth… my mouth?”

The prisoner looked up at Samuel with eyes that still looked as if he did not understand anything, but there was no longer a need to protest. Now was the time to prove with his body that what he had said was the truth, without a single syllable being wrong.

During the day, as he swallowed the savory and rich cream stew, Isaac had barely managed to accept that the future before him was not a simple death, but the worst kind of death, one that would be preceded by immense pain until the very end.

The current luxury was nothing more than a small comfort before an unexpected death, the last meal before the threshold of death.

Thinking that way, a few facts became clear. That the situation would not change much no matter how much he struggled. That there was almost nothing he could do and everything depended on Chief Commissioner Samuel’s whim.

It was fortunate, at least, that he, who held absolute power like a god over a captured prisoner, had decided to treat him differently from ordinary prisoners and let him live for a little while, for whatever reason.

The only one who could save him, and the only one who could kill him, was the Chief Commissioner. If he could have become a comrade to the rebels, he might not have given up the sliver of faith that one of those who had infiltrated the city would come to his rescue, but Isaac, who had also run away from them, had nowhere else to turn.

So he decided to give it a shot. To bet everything he had and ask him to find one person. He did not even need to let them meet, just tell him if he was safe, if he was alive.

Most of what Isaac said was true and sincere, but the Chief Commissioner did not seem very interested in the whereabouts of the rebel leader. Instead, he was fixated on the words “I can do anything” and was urging him to show his resolve.

Where he looked up, there was a penis, slightly darker than his own white skin, a color similar to the scars on a body where flesh had once been torn off and reattached.

“W-what am I, h-how do I…”

The meaning was clear to anyone, not just Isaac, so what he did not know was the method.

He looked up at his opponent with a bewildered gaze, but he was not a parent who would kindly teach him how to take his first steps. Rather, he was probably closer to an instructor who would mercilessly push unprepared soldiers into a death trap, saying he would teach them how to survive.

“Hah.”

He looked at the pale Isaac, tilted his head to one side, and let out a small, bored sigh. Then, he grabbed him by the hair, tilted his head back, and shoved his penis straight into his open mouth.

“Uuok.”

The member of a man, which he was tasting for the first time in his life, provoked a physiological revulsion. Tears gushed out and streamed down, and with nothing to hold onto for support, he flailed his arms before grabbing onto the two white pillars standing firmly in front of him.

Inside the rough texture of the starched uniform fabric were firm legs that seemed as if they would not be shaken by anything. The hem of the clothes was cold, having absorbed the city’s chill, but inside, it was seething with the opposing heat emitted by a trained body.

A ticklish feeling, as if the inside of his palm had been slightly burned. Isaac wanted to change his position by letting go and putting his hands on the floor, but his head was held so tightly from behind that he could not escape in any direction.

His lower body was kneeling respectfully, his upper body was barely propped up, relying on the other’s legs, and from the neck up, he was being pierced by his member.

His body kept stiffening against its owner’s will, and his limbs, which he had been able to control without difficulty until a moment ago, acted estranged, as if he had to issue commands to each part individually.

“You shouldn’t use your teeth.”

The Chief Commissioner’s tone could be called gentle, but Isaac did not understand his words at all. It was more accurate to say he did not know what he was supposed to do.

His opponent, grabbing his jaw from which saliva was leaking as if from a hole, asked.

“Dying isn’t so easy, either. Right?”

“…?”

“The wound on your tongue.”

Ah, he was reminding him of a fact he had forgotten because it no longer stung so much. That he had tried to end his own life several times in the basement, but that it was never easy.

Could he feel the rough scar tissue? Was he telling him to stop because it was unpleasant?

“Continue.”

As soon as he hesitated, the order came from the Chief Commissioner. There was no need to answer or nod. He just had to somehow open his jaw until it felt like it would dislocate and hide his teeth with his pursed lips.

“…!”

As soon as he made an effort to accept his opponent, the thrusting of his hips became violent, as if it had been waiting.

It felt as if the heat of arousal was spreading like an ember in his mouth. Thump, thump, the thick penis pressed against the inside of his uvula, where he swallowed food. His breaths, on the verge of cutting off at any moment, were barely swallowed back with saliva in ragged gasps.

Isaac forgot that he could also breathe through his nose, and he forgot what all of this was. Only the sensation of the forcibly occupied mucous membrane was vividly alive, screaming to be saved. In his vision, blurred and painted over with tears, was the face of an angelic man, smiling with one corner of his mouth raised.

Quickly, no, please. Various pleas to hasten the end of this moment came to mind, but of course, he could not bring them out into the world.

Just to endure, he tried gripping the hem of the clothes tightly, squeezing his eyes shut and opening them, and concentrating on the sensation of the tears trickling down, but nothing changed.

Since his opponent wanted him to show his resolve, it was right to endure and bear it. Even if it was in a different direction from the torture he had expected, he had to willingly overcome this to hope for what came next.

“Not bad.”

The man before him smiled faintly and increased the speed of his thrusting. His penis became merciless, as if it would pierce through his uvula and come out the back of his head.

The nausea he had been barely holding back since a while ago had reached its limit. Gack, gack, he wanted to feel relief even if it meant wastefully throwing up all the excellent food that might have been his last meal before death.

“Haaah….”

However, it was his opponent who let out a relieved sigh first. Until the lukewarm, fishy liquid filled his mouth, he did not pull back, nor did he let go of the hand gripping his hair.

“Swallow.”

The Chief Commissioner, gripping his hair so tightly it felt like he would pull it out, ordered him to, so he had to move his ravaged throat with difficulty.

Gulp. Only after confirming that his Adam’s apple bobbed up and down did the grip on the back of his head slowly loosen.

Gasp, cough, cough. Isaac collapsed onto the floor, gasping for the air he lacked.

Saliva and the whitish liquid that he had failed to swallow completely mixed and flowed down from under his jaw, which had forgotten how to close after being open for so long. The translucent substances fell slowly toward the floor, leaving sticky marks on the dark marble.

Coincidentally, the color of the stew he ate for lunch and the color of the bodily fluid he had swallowed were not very different, and its taste was similar to the barbaric and lukewarm stew he knew from the outside.

As the taste and color of two completely different foods with the same name intertwined, his hands and feet instantly grew cold, and his stomach churned.

“…Uok!”

Instead of angering the Chief Commissioner by vomiting in front of him, Isaac chose to clamp both hands over his mouth and run into the room where the end of his shackle was connected.

“Ahaha!”

A cheerful laugh, whether of satisfaction or ridicule, echoed from behind him, but Isaac had no time to discern its exact intent.

Others who did not know the situation might think that Samuel enjoyed cruel torture using all sorts of tools and blades, but in reality, there was nothing much in the basement, to the point that the word ‘simple’ would be fitting.

It was not bad in the sense that the fact that there were beings he could trample at will made him feel the power he held. But he was skeptical about whether all who were caught were worth tying up and personally torturing to keep them alive.

His adoptive father, ‘Lot,’ had taught him that the crueler he was to his enemies, the more he wielded threatening violence, the more they would cower, but it was difficult to agree.

Samuel detested such useless and ignorant displays of power. It was more efficient to quickly dispose of those who were obviously unnecessary, and to break down those who were hiding something from the inside using their families, lovers, friends, and colleagues.