"Mercy is a luxury the powerful cannot afford—
Strength is the only law."
—Phawin
The mattress creaked like it too begged for reprieve. But Phawin was not a man to grant requests—especially not from something he owned.
Boon's thighs trembled, spread so wide they no longer felt like part of him. His knees were sore from being pinned down for too long, his wrists numb where they had once been tied, now merely gripped—bruised purple under nails.
Phawin's cock thrust in again with cruel precision, thick and slick, sheathed in someone else's suffering. With every slam, the air punched from Boon's lungs in ragged moans.
"Ahhh—ahh—"
The sound choked, wet and uneven.
"Say it," Phawin growled into his ear, licking a sweat-trail down his neck. "Say you like it."
"I— nghh— I love—"
A slap. Loud, sharp. Boon's face turned, mouth open, cheek blooming red.
"You lying bitch," Phawin spat. "This hole's used up. Used thin. But you moan like it's your first cock."
He pulled out with a wet, humiliating sound—only to push two fingers back in with no warning. Boon cried out, body flinching from the sudden sting. A fresh burn ignited.
"Too easy," Phawin muttered, twisting them cruelly. "You must've loved being stretched out in noblemen's beds, huh? Did they kiss you while fucking you? Whisper sweet promises into this filthy ear?"
"No—never—only you—!" Boon gasped, hips twitching as shame surged between his legs.
Phawin noticed. Of course he did.
"You're hard," he sneered, eyes narrowing. "Disgusting little thing. I ruin you and you beg for more."
He pressed Boon down by the nape like a dog, making him arch. The head of Phawin's cock pushed against him again, slow this time—torturously slow—as though mocking how easily Boon gave in. The stretch stung like tearing silk, but Boon bit his lip and whimpered instead of resisting.
The chandelier rattled above.
Behind them, the mirror refused to look away.
"I should sell you," Phawin hissed into his ear. "Make them pay per minute to use this wrecked little body. You'd love that, wouldn't you?"
Boon whimpered. Not in answer—but because his own cock twitched in response.
That damned body of his—so easy to betray him.
Phawin laughed, breath hot. "See? Who needs loyalty when your whore's body tells the truth?"
He leaned down, licking the tear at the edge of Boon's eye.
"You like being fucked like this. Admit it. Say it."
"I... I like it..." Boon gasped, broken.
"And who do you belong to?"
"You, Daddy... I belong to you..."
Inside the marbled cafeteria on the lower floor, two men sat in the corner booth, untouched cups before them, steam curling upward.
Som, young and slender, adjusted the gold pin at his collar. His eyes kept shifting toward the hallway clock. Beside him, Chai sat still—sharp-suited, silent, a man who knew exactly whom he served and what it cost to serve them.
"Room 5009," he said finally, without looking up. "He's still not done."
Som glanced away, lips tightening. "He always takes too long."
"Uhh... it hurts..."
Phawin shoved Boon face-down, hoisted one trembling thigh onto his shoulder, and thrust in with brutal force. The bed shook. Boon's cry was swallowed by the sheets.
"Beg, slut," Phawin growled, chest heaving. "Beg me like you mean it."
Boon whimpered, "Please... Daddy..."
Phawin reached for the wine glass on the nightstand—crystal, expensive—and in one greedy tilt, drank every last drop into his mouth.
Then, just as Boon dared to look back over his shoulder, splash—
The man spat the wine in his face.
Dark red ran down Boon's cheek, dripping from his chin like sacrificial blood.
"You whore," Phawin spat, voice raw from exertion. "This is what you deserve."
Boon closed his eyes. His chest rose and fell with shallow, pained breaths.
"...Mercy on me..." he whispered, but no god answered. No god had ever come to this room.
Just then—buzz buzz. A shrill vibration against the nightstand. The dim screen of his phone lit up.
Out of reflex, Boon reached toward it, fingers brushing the edge. He blinked, vision still blurred from the sting of wine in his eyes.
One notification. Then another. Then ten.
LINE: "Congrats to the new face of 'Forever_you' "
Instagram: @starline_Studios tagged you in a post.
Photo: a delicate boy in crisp white robes, hands clasped, smiling like a damn saint.
Boon's blood turned to ice.
"...That... bitch..."
Behind him, Phawin—glistening with sweat, breath ragged—froze mid-thrust.
"What?" he barked.
Boon's voice trembled—not from pain this time, but fury. "A fucking waiter got my dream role..."
Phawin gave a low, guttural laugh, not stopping the slow grind of his hips. "And here you are, still on my cock.''
"Who steal?"
Boon's eyes narrowed. His fingernails dug crescent moons into the sheets.
"Some... Nil... some waiter named Nil."
"I swear—I'll fuck his name off their lips."
"Nil..."
The name barely passed Boon's lips before Phawin stilled.
His pupils shrank. A beat of silence fell—so sharp it sliced through the air like glass—then the real thing followed.
CRASH!
The wine glass exploded on the marble floor.
Phawin ripped his cock out of Boon's hole with a wet, savage snap. The sudden emptiness made Boon flinch, legs still spread, hole leaking, twitching from use. He barely turned before Phawin snatched the phone from his hand.
The screen flashed.
Nil.
Wrapped in white.
Smiling.
Holy.
Pure.
Phawin stared. His breathing grew unsteady. His jaw clenched so hard a vein bulged down his temple.
"That waiter," he hissed, voice soaked in venom. "They dared cast him?"
Boon, trembling, tried to adjust his hair, blood-streaked thighs trembling. "Wh-What did that boy do to make this filthy hippopotamus burn like this...?"
Wrong words.
SLAP!
The crack rang louder than thunder. Boon's body jerked sideways, his cheek blazing red. A slow trail of blood spilled from the corner of his mouth, crawling down to his throat.
Phawin's fury was naked, grotesque. His cock still hung heavy, wet, pulsing with rage. He pointed it at Boon like a weapon.
"This is what I paid for?" he spat. "Spent millions carving you—buying your face, your ass, your teeth—only for you to get fucked by cameras once and call yourself a star?"
Boon crawled backward, dazed, shaking, "I—I tried, I gave them everything—!"
"But not enough," Phawin sneered. "Not like him."
He grabbed Boon by the chin and spat in his face.
"You can't even keep your hole tight enough to earn one role."
He shoved Boon back with his foot, hard, and kicked him off the bed.
The body hit the floor, legs tangled, cum still trickling between his cheeks. He lay crumpled, shivering.
"You don't deserve my cock," Phawin said darkly. "Let alone the fucking spotlight."
He turned, fingers trembling with rage. Without looking back, he barked into his phone—
"Chai. Come up. Now."
Boon fell to his knees, fingers curling tightly around Phawin's calf, his voice breaking like a cracked reed.
"My lord... I'll do anything... whatever you want... please... don't leave me."
His hands trembled as they traced the hard skin, desperate for even the smallest thread of mercy, for any salvation in the middle of ruin.
"My agency, Siri Entertainment... the moment you cast me out, they'll throw me away like dirt."
Phawin didn't even glance down. His fingers threaded lazily through his dark hair, indifferent, cruel.
The door creaked open.
Chai and Som entered, eyes sharp yet hesitant, drinking in the scene before them.
Boon's hands scrambled, clawing at the bedsheet to cover his nakedness, the cold air kissing slick skin, damp with sweat and sticky with his own shame.
Phawin's hand shot out, snatching the sheet away with a lazy flick, exposing him like a trophy of failure.
"Ashamed of being naked?" Phawin's voice was low, sharp as a whip's crack. "You don't even have the dignity to hide your disgrace."
"Stand."
Boon's body trembled, heat and shame burning his skin. He rose, utterly bare, every curve and slick line of his body on brutal display—semen glistening in the cold light, dripping down his thighs, a wet stain on his belly, a filthy reminder of his surrender.
Tears brimmed, heavy and unbidden, tracing silent rivers down his cheeks. But no one looked away. No one reached out.
Som stood by Chai, lips pressed tight, eyes lowered—fear and silent judgment thick in the air.
Chai moved silently, draping a silk robe over Phawin's bare shoulders. The fabric fell like a veil, soft but meaningless against the fire burning in Phawin's eyes.
"Who dared to cast Nil?" Phawin's voice was low, ice laced with fury.
After a few calls, Chai's words came cautiously, "Araya Starline cast him."
Phawin's lips twisted. "Throw him out."
Chai hesitated. "I'm afraid it might not be possible."
Phawin's gaze sharpened. "Neptune Music and Corporation have funded Araya Starline for years."
"Director Kim has strong connections with Kao Neptune."
Phawin's eyes darkened, a shadow swallowing the light. "Then use money. If money isn't enough, show power."
His voice dropped, venomous and certain.
"I want that bitch crawling beneath my shoes."
Later, Phawin was dressed and gone, flanked by Chai. The room emptied of his presence felt colder, heavier.
Boon collapsed into tears, raw and silent. Som caught him, arms steady but eyes full of worry.
"Why is that waiter everywhere?" Boon's voice cracked, desperate. "What's so special about him that everyone's losing their minds?"
Som's voice was soft but firm, "Forget all that. Freshen up first."
But Boon's legs barely held him. Pain bloomed in his lower abdomen, sharp and relentless. When Som helped him stand, the floor beneath them darkened with fresh blood.
Som's face went pale. "You need a doctor."
Boon shook his head weakly. "I can't."
"Ms. Buppha will be furious."
"It's happened before..." Boon whispered, voice hollow.