NT: I have to clarify that I'm not good at this "reading porn" stuff XD.
That's all I'm going to say, so if you see one of their names repeated a lot, you'll know why ᕙ(⇀‸↼‶)ᕗ
[END OF NOTE].
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The author narrates.
After promising and accepting, the Executioner approached decisively. He slipped his hands under Vikram's arms, lifting him with ease. The younger boy's body emerged from the water as if it weighed nothing, as if the water itself offered him up without resistance.
As he stood, the Executioner noticed the difference.
"Damn... he's small," he thought, observing the contrast between his body, marked by scars and strength, and Vikram's, more fragile, more restrained.
Vikram, with the black mask tightly fitted to his face, couldn't see anything. The holes were decorative, not functional. But he didn't need to see. He knew he was with him. With the big man. With the second Executioner.
When he could no longer feel the water and the ground beneath his feet, he was frightened. His body tensed. His heart raced.
"He's lifting me..." he thought, his breath coming in short gasps.
The Executioner glanced around, searching for a suitable spot. Not for comfort. For purpose. For ritual.
And he found it.
A round, spacious bed, nestled in a corner raised by two steps. The mattress was dark velvet, with sheets that looked freshly laid. To one side, a low table held two crystal glasses, an open bottle of wine, and a tray of cut fruit: grapes, figs, apple slices. There was also a lit candle, scented with sandalwood, and a bowl of warm water with floating petals.
The Executioner didn't hesitate. He advanced toward the spot, his steps firm, carrying Vikram as if he were part of the ritual itself.
He stood at the foot of the bed and carefully lowered the boy onto the mattress. Vikram sat, his legs open, crossed beneath his thighs. He settled in, unsure of his exact location. The mask isolated him. Imprisoned him. Prepared him.
He wasn't afraid of the dark.
He was afraid of what would come next.
Another ritual.
Another body he wanted to explore inside his own.
With the mask tightly pressed against his face, he saw nothing. But that didn't mean he felt nothing. On the contrary. The darkness amplified every sound, every touch, every vibration of the air.
The mattress beneath him was soft, yet firm. The velvet brushed against his skin with a texture that confused him: was it pleasure? Was it a disguised threat?
The Executioner's silence was absolute. He didn't speak. He didn't gasp. He only moved with precision. Vikram could hear the soft creak of the steps as the big man's body drew near. He could feel the change in the air's temperature. The scent of wine, of sandalwood, of something else... something metallic.
"He's close. I know it. I feel it."
The rope grazed his wrist, as if it had a life of its own. It wasn't tightening yet. It was only caressing him. As if the Executioner wanted his body to adjust before being bound.
Vikram swallowed. Not out of fear. Out of anticipation. Out of that mixture of vulnerability and tension that made him feel more alive than ever.
And though he couldn't see, he imagined.
He imagined the Executioner's gaze.
He imagined his hands.
He imagined what was to come.
Not out of desire.
Out of inevitability.
The Executioner approached and placed a knee on the edge of the round bed. The mattress creaked slightly under his weight—not a sound of discomfort, but of presence. Vikram felt it. He didn't see it, but he felt it. He turned his head in that direction, though not completely. The black mask prevented him from seeing, but his body already knew where the danger lay.
He raised a trembling hand, not to stop him completely, but to create a pause. He wanted to say something. He needed to say something.
Vikram: Hey... —he called, his voice high and filled with fear.
The Executioner stopped. Not out of obedience. Out of curiosity. He didn't understand why he was being stopped. Perhaps the younger boy wanted to add a request.
Executioner #2: Tell me... —he replied, his voice deep and detached.
Vikram turned his head slightly toward the sound. He approached with a clumsy, restless movement, as if his body didn't know whether to advance or flee. He knelt on the bed, facing the Executioner, lowering his head.
Vikram: Dude... please... please... be a little kind to me... —he said in a trembling voice, swallowing hard, feeling his heart race at having him so close.
The Executioner observed him in silence. Not out of indifference. He was reading him. He sensed his fear. His vulnerability. But he couldn't grant the request. Vikram had already chosen. The ritual was already sealed.
Executioner #2: Excuse me... but you've already chosen. Accept it. Just let the ritual continue... until sunset.
Vikram raised his head. The words hit him hard. All afternoon. Among bodies. Among gasps. Among moans he didn't want to provoke or hear. His mind betrayed him. He imagined things he didn't want to feel. But it was true. He had chosen. The place. The objects. The promise.
He nodded slightly. He sat down again, with slow movements, as if his body already knew there was no escape.
Vikram: Okay... —he said, in a low, resigned voice.
Once Vikram nodded, the Executioner climbed onto the bed. The mattress creaked beneath his weight, as if acknowledging the gravity of the moment. With a slight push, he made Vikram's body fall backward, sinking into the sheets.
Vikram didn't resist. He felt him too close. The heat of the Executioner's body, the shadow that covered him, the weight that began to fall upon him... it all enveloped him.
The Executioner positioned himself above, partially covering him. He shifted some of his weight, not as punishment, but as an assertion: "I am here. And you are beneath me."
Vikram shuddered. A chill ran through his body. Fear wasn't new, but this time it came with something more: a tension he couldn't tell if it was desire or defense.
He placed his hands at his sides, waiting.
The Executioner spoke in a deep voice:
Executioner #2: I'm going to begin.
Vikram swallowed and nodded. There was no turning back.
The Executioner sat up slightly, still on top of Vikram, feeling the small body beneath his own. His hands began to explore. The neck was the first point: he encircled it with a firm hand, squeezing gently. Vikram let out a stifled groan, more from surprise than pain.
The hands moved lower. They touched the biceps. The chest. And there, Vikram trembled. The Executioner noticed. Not as weakness, but as a sign.
He continued exploring that area, wanting to find a weak spot, where Vikram felt most vulnerable, something more pleasurable with touch.
And he found it.
Right on the nipple. He confirmed it again when he heard Vikram make a sound beneath his mask.
He began to caress that area with light, soft touches, and then circles with his finger. Vikram reacted to that, and his body trembled. It felt good, but somehow he didn't want him to keep doing that.
Vikram began to move his legs beneath the big man, feeling the man's fingers on his nipples.
The executioner observed every reaction with precision. When he gently pressed a sensitive area, the younger man's body shuddered. His toes curled, trembling with each stimulus. His breathing became more audible, more ragged. The executioner noticed. He had found the weak spot.
Vikram tried to stifle the sounds, as if he didn't want his body to betray him.
"Do you feel pleasure here, little one?" the executioner thought, but he didn't say it. Not yet.
The body beneath him trembled. Not from cold. From tension. From something Vikram didn't quite understand.
The executioner stopped. Not out of pity. For strategic reasons. He took a moment to process what was happening.
"What is this? Why am I acting like this? Why am I reacting when he touches me there?" Vikram thought, his breath still ragged. His heart pounded, preventing him from calming down completely.
The Executioner spoke again in a grave voice:
Executioner #2: It's time to tie those hands properly.
Vikram sat up, surprised by how close the big man's body was.
Vikram: Wouldn't it be better to leave them half-tied? I won't be able to move properly...
The Executioner shook his head.
Executioner #2: That's the idea. If I leave your hands free, you'll try to stop me. And when the pleasure comes... maybe you won't want to accept it. If I leave you free, you'll refuse to feel. That's why I'm going to tie your hands.
Vikram didn't want to insist any further. He knew the Executioner wouldn't accept what he said. Not out of a lack of compassion, but out of loyalty to the ritual.
Because the Executioner wasn't cruel. In truth, he wished to do everything lightly, to surrender to Vikram and please him without harming him. But he hadn't been sent for that. His purpose was clear: to carry out the ritual according to the decisions the human made. And Vikram... had already made them. There was no turning back.
Vikram lay back down on the bed, his body tense, his breath held. Until a sharp tug jolted him. The Executioner had taken his hands, wrapping them with the rope Vikram had chosen. It wasn't an improvised binding. It was a symbol. A seal.
He tightened it. Vikram let out a stifled groan. Not from pain. From recognition.
He released him.
Executioner #2: You're ready. "We'll move on to the next step..." said the Executioner, his voice grave, as if marking the threshold between the physical and the symbolic.
Vikram reacted immediately, his voice sharp and filled with fear:
Vikram: Please... be careful with me.
The Executioner looked at him. He wanted to treat him as he deserved. With care. With respect. But he couldn't accept that request. Not without breaking the pact.
Executioner #2: I already told you, Vikram...
He adjusted himself. He carefully took the younger boy's body, lifted him, and stood him upright in front of him. He didn't lie down. He only stretched out his legs, as if preparing the stage for what was to come.
He observed the human's body with more determination.
"That bastard's cute," the executioner thought, without saying aloud.
Vikram was already familiar with this position. He stood on the bed. Vulnerable. Exposed. What was coming wouldn't be pleasant. Not like last time. This time, it would be longer. Deeper.
Executioner #2: I can't be so fragile with you. Just accept it,' the Executioner said, his voice firm, yet not cruel.
The Executioner took Vikram by the waist and pulled him closer, his movements firm but measured. He felt the younger man's body closer, more vulnerable, and was careful that his pyramid-shaped head wouldn't hurt him. It wasn't a gesture of tenderness, but one of physical respect.
He placed a hand on Vikram's shoulder and guided him down, slowly, as if the body had to learn to surrender piece by piece.
But just as Vikram felt it, he stood up immediately. Forcefully. Urgently.
It wasn't disobedience. It was instinct. What he had touched made him shudder, raised goosebumps, sent shivers down his spine. He had felt something at his entrance, barely a touch, and that was enough to make him recoil.
He didn't want to feel that inside him again. He didn't want to be broken again.
He shook his head, saying nothing. His breathing quickened. His body trembled. His mind filled with images he didn't want to remember.
The Executioner watched him.
Executioner #2: Vikram... do your part. You don't want to see me like this... And believe me... you might not like it.
Vikram pressed his mouth together, shaking his head.
Vikram: I can't... —he said in a high, trembling voice— I don't want to be...
The Executioner understood his fear. His pain. But the ritual couldn't be stopped. Not now.
Executioner #2: Do you want me to take care of it? Perhaps this way it will be less painful for you... though not entirely. I must continue what we started.
He approached calmly. He touched Vikram's neck with his open hand, just beneath the mask. He caressed it gently, as if that gesture could say what words could not. Not as a threat. As acknowledgment.
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Believe me, that guy isn't going to get out of there unscathed...
Well, I'll leave you in suspense ୧(＾ 〰 ＾)୨ that's what being the best dad is all about... 🤣
Don't worry, I might upload it later or tomorrow, since I'm still proofreading it because I don't want "too many spelling mistakes".