TCWGRF 26

As he urgently dragged his body back with a clatter of the shackle, the prisoner took Samuel’s penis into his mouth. The wound from biting his own tongue in an attempt to die had not yet fully healed, so along with the wetness, he could feel a roughness like a cat’s licking.

Well. Samuel’s impression of the current situation could be summed up in that one word. It was not even something to be called good or bad.

Certainly, the prisoner, or rather, the young man who had revealed his real name to be Isaac, seemed to have no talent in this area. If he wanted to live, or if he wanted to use his body as a bargaining chip, shouldn’t he at least pretend to be plausible?

“Gag, gag.”

The sight of him continuing his unfamiliar actions with clumsy movements was more pitiful and earnest than arousing, and it made it difficult to shake off the curiosity about who exactly this friend was that he wanted to protect to this extent.

‘Is everything really a coincidence?’

If he had simply wanted to save his own life, he would not have needed to take the risk of asking him to find a friend who did not even exist.

He could have just confessed who he was trying to find, spouted off useless information he knew, like the rebel leader or their bases, and begged to be spared.

If not that, there was also the method of sinking all the truth with his own death.

Ordinary rebels preferred that method. They would hide a poison pill that could kill them instantly between their teeth and swallow it before being caught, or they would aim a gun at their own head and shoot, or they could neatly slit their carotid artery with a knife.

‘If you’re coming to the city, you should at least be that prepared.’

If he did not want to die himself, the method of killing was not bad either. Since the chain happened to reach the Commissioner General’s bedroom, with the right tool and execution, he could have eliminated the root cause. But our prisoner chose none of the above.

So, one could not help but think that there was another ulterior motive in diverting attention and buying time in such an incompetent way.

‘Ah. He doesn’t want to die, and he doesn’t want to kill. And he doesn’t have the guts to run away.’

It seemed the prisoner, who was still making all sorts of efforts to arouse his impassive partner, was not only stupid but also a coward. Otherwise, how could the result of racking his brain to survive be this pathetic?

Samuel could not empathize with Isaac’s methods, but he felt he could understand them to some extent. Since he had no information of his own and had to rely solely on the other’s whim, he must have felt he had to throw something out there.

Moreover, he probably never imagined that he would find the friend, or whatever he was, so quickly based on a vague description. As the moment of having to take responsibility in some form approached, he was struggling to find a breakthrough of his own.

‘…How cunning.’

One corner of Samuel’s mouth lifted as he reflected on the clumsy cunning and pathetic actions that showed no intention of even trying to hide it.

For now, there was nothing to be gained from him. He had decided to let him live for the time being, siding with his intuition, but when he judged it coolly and rationally, the possibility of this young man having a clue to catch Vincent was lower than the probability of the rebels capturing the city.

A prisoner who was already processed as dead. What did it matter what happened here? Another operation to wipe out the rebels in the city had already been launched, so it would be fine if the purpose of keeping him alive was for a temporary game or a deviation.

The city’s politicians often took such targets with no loose ends and vented their secret tastes that could not be revealed anywhere, and then killed them off without anyone knowing.

“Hey.”

Samuel called out to the other, who was continuing his meaningless act below. The prisoner, with startled eyes, raised his head and looked at him with a blank face. Saliva was pooled around his mouth, and in a short time, his hair had become a mess as if someone had torn it out.

Even looking again, there was nothing about him that was to his taste. But wouldn’t this be safer than sleeping with enemies who were worn and jaded, and yet could be aiming for his back at any time?

“I’ll spare you if you act like you want to be spared. Hm?”

“…!”

At those words, his eyes darted left and right violently, and his hands, not knowing where to put them, waved aimlessly in the air.

Yes. That must have been his true feeling. I want to live, or I want to live and get out of here to meet my friend.

“Come here.”

Samuel grabbed the wrist of the other, who crawled closer on his knees as instructed. Tension and fear were revealed in the form of a fine tremor, but it was obvious that it would not lead to any resistance and would die down.

Things that were hopelessly powerless had a strange quality of inciting the desire to trample them. In the faint cry born of fear that one’s existence would disappear from the world, there might be a drug-like component that easily excites and intoxicates people, like a sense of conquest or victory.

When he pulled on the captured hand with force, the prisoner lost his balance and was dragged over, ending up with his face buried between the pillows. His hips were raised high, and his thighs, just like on the day of his first experience, were limp and kept staggering. He did not dare to think of getting up or correcting his posture.

“Wait.”

His limbs trembled as he tried to balance his body, which kept leaning forward. Samuel gazed at the scene for a moment, then opened the drawer of the bedside table to find a cigarette.

Inside the first drawer were a metal case neatly filled with cigarettes and a small bottle of lubricant, which Joas must have brought the other day.

He had told his adjutant not to touch the things on the bedside table except for the cigarettes, so it would have been difficult for a gift secretly hidden by a guest to be cleared away.

The drawer closed, and what he held in his hand was not a cigarette but a brown bottle sealed with a cork stopper. It was because he had belatedly remembered that the other’s member had been dead from pain the last time.

Pop, the lid that had lost its purpose flew into the air and fell somewhere, and the oily liquid inside trickled down the prisoner’s buttocks. Clatter, clatter, clatter, the cleanly emptied bottle was thrown to the floor and rolled endlessly.

At the unfamiliar sensation brushing against the sensitive area, goosebumps broke out on Isaac’s thighs, but he could not bring himself to lift his head and look back or make a sound to ask. He just clamped his hands over his mouth to keep from screaming and trembled all over.

“Now, from now on, try your best to cry.”

“……”

“So that I’ll feel like sparing you.”

Just a moment ago, he had only thought that this was the Commissioner General’s official residence, the top floor of the tall Public Security Department building, and that he was a prisoner temporarily released from the basement who had chosen an unavoidable method for survival, floundering in some kind of irresistible swamp.

But now, he could not remember a single one of the things he had taken for granted: how he had come to be here, whether his name was Joshua or Isaac, or who this man was who was sneering at him from above with a twisted smile.

“Ah…”

His lower body melted into a sticky mess, and groans burst out randomly through his clenched teeth. Just like in a dream, or as Asel had done in the not-so-distant past, he was taking another man’s touch into his rear as if it were delicious.

Unlike before, the Commissioner General did not thrust impatiently, but took some time to loosen up Isaac’s entrance. He poured in something slippery and slowly stirred inside with his long fingers, gradually widening the inner space.

Thanks to that, his body, which had been stiffly rigid while lying face down, was gradually crumbling downward, as if becoming one with the bed.

Every time the other touched the strange sensation he had never known before, sparks flew in his eyes, and a moan that did not sound like his own escaped from somewhere he could not tell was his nose or mouth.

It seemed the Commissioner General had chosen to study the prisoner today, rather than to relieve his own desires. It was as if he was checking how deep he could insert his fingers, and what truths were hidden inside the inner walls.

Just as he had gotten used to the other’s touch to some extent and let his guard down, thinking there would be no greater stimulation than this, he wrapped his hand around Isaac’s member and shook it.

His hands, which seemed to know nothing of hardship, were full of calluses. They were rougher and more gnarled than his own palms, which had been in charge of cleaning, laundry, and errands outside, and just a brush from them made him scream involuntarily.

He had only stroked him a couple of times carelessly with that palm, but for someone who had never been touched by another’s hand, he came far too easily. Not just once, but several times. He repeatedly climaxed because of the Commissioner General, panting like a newborn animal that did not know how to breathe.

It should hurt. There was no way he could be aroused by such an act.

Isaac, as if he had become a pet that not only was chained by a shackle but also craved only its master’s love, was raising his own hips high and begging him to do something.

The other was the Commissioner General who had inflicted pain on him. The same uncontrollable pain as when he had first experienced it should have followed, and it should have felt so disgusting that it made his skin crawl.

“Ugh, good, good…”

“Ahaha, good?”

It could not be good. Had he been gravely mistaken or bewitched? He might have been mesmerized by the face, no different from the angels in the painting that covered the entire ceiling of the official residence, and the dazzling blond hair that was clearly visible even in the dark, and momentarily forgotten reality.

So he shook his head violently and clamped his mouth shut, then deliberately bit the inside of his cheek hard whenever he felt a moan was about to burst out or he was about to cling to him.

A sharp, tingling pain spread, and only after the coppery taste of blood filled his mouth could he barely manage to recognize his own situation and circumstances that he had forgotten.

But temporary pain could not deny the reality he was in.

It would have been better if he had been messed with, thrusted into, and treated roughly like before. He wanted him to be vicious, so that he could be sure that he was being tortured, that he had offered his body as a price for survival or freedom, and that it was a deal where he was guaranteed the bare minimum from the other.

So, he had to be thoroughly numb and not make a sound every time he was touched. He hated getting an erection for the Commissioner General, coming at his touch, and pleading with a cry only he could hear.

He did not want to writhe in pleasure or long for the other to pound his penis deep inside him. He wanted to kill all the thoughts and sensations he felt in this moment and be dragged away like a limp corpse.

Was it not a contradiction? That he had to pretend to be dead to live. That he had to hope for salvation from the man who had trampled on him to kill him in order to survive.

“Make a sound.”

“Hh…”

The Commissioner General flipped the mere prisoner’s body over to face him. From crying face down for a long time, blood had rushed to his head, and his vision was blurry and dizzy.

Even in that state, Isaac feebly resisted with his unbound, free arm. No. I want to stop. He even tried to utter such words with his mouth.

The other grabbed his limp arm and held it above his head, then forced his legs apart and slowly pushed his penis in.

Even now, if he closed his eyes, the vivid pain engraved in his mind would surface. The kind of pain that tore apart the stiff, small hole that had never accepted anyone, and burned it.

The entrance, unlike before, did not resist by pushing the other out, nor did it feel the burning pain, but softly swallowed the other’s member. He might have adapted to the pain in the meantime, or his body might have become unable to feel pain.

“Open your eyes and look closely.”

When he obediently forced open his eyelids, heavy with tears, before him was a beautiful man who one could only believe had been secretly sculpted by some god with an excellent sense of beauty and then disappeared.

His sneering expression had not changed, and his cool impression, from which one could not gauge his excitement, was also the same, but below, there was a hard, swollen penis in a state contrary to that. A member of which about half was still outside, not yet fully entered, making it impossible to even guess its original size.

How could all of that possibly fit? He could not believe it, even though he had already experienced it with his mouth and behind.

But he would soon find out for himself that it was indeed possible.

“Hh, ah.”

As the other pushed his member in to the root while maintaining eye contact, a tight, tingling sensation of being filled up washed over him from inside the inner walls, tormenting Isaac.

Ding, dong, a bell rang between his temples, and a dizzying, flash-like moment came.

It was something so intense that it made him forget his desire to live, his childhood memories, and even his own situation. It made the body he had known as his own for some twenty years feel unfamiliar and enveloped him in a state of stupor.

His consciousness kept scattering like fragments, his limbs went limp and swayed, and he felt as if all his internal organs were falling out, like in a dream of rolling down an endless cliff.

Even during all that, the Commissioner General persistently pressed down on the inside and pounded away as if to break through.

Isaac’s back, overcome with the force, instinctively twisted, and his posture threatened to collapse several times, but he did not allow him to move, to escape from him.

He, the warden of the prisoners, he, the master of his lifeline.

---

He did not even know how much he had cried. It was as if his head had not just throbbed but had become filled with rage, and he had vomited out all his inner resentment.

Did he say to cry to make him want to spare him? Did he say to do his best?

He could not remember exactly what the other had said. All that mattered was that he had tried to follow his demands faithfully.

The Commissioner General was persistent. While he climaxed two or three more times without changing his position, Isaac got an erection more than five times, came on his own without anyone’s touch, and spewed words whose meaning even he did not know. Later, he even felt like completely entrusting everything to him and fluttering as he pleased.

He could not tell how much time had passed due to the heavy curtains. Seeing as the orderly sound of marching feet was heard from the hallway far away, the sun must have risen long ago, and seeing as that process had been repeated once more, the day might have ended.

He had no strength to lift his arm, not even the strength to shed tears. The hope that this act would have an end had long since disappeared.

Even though the liquid that filled the hole that would not close overflowed and tickled his skin, the other thrust away without a care, taming the inside. He was seized by the feeling that only he was his master. He willingly soaked his body in the cigarette smoke he exhaled, and in his bodily fluids.

His wicked schemes and the momentum of his resistance were broken and trampled, unable to even sprout. He just repeated the words ‘save me,’ whose meaning, whether from death or from this moment, was ambiguous.

“Should I spare you?”

He asks.

“…Yes…”

Even while sprawled out on the bed, just barely breathing, Isaac put strength into his fingers to cling to him.

“Good boy.”

The lines that made up the other’s face gradually blurred and merged into a single mass. The next words are important. I have to hear them. His consciousness, stuck in the mud in the darkness beyond the retina far away, did not give him time for that.

He was cut off and isolated from the world he had been barely holding onto by the fingertips, and what happened after that could not enter his tightly closed eyelids.

And so, Isaac drifted aimlessly into a world that was both distant and free of the pain and pleasure of reality.