John stood over the waking noble, the same face the blond had once mocked, kicked, and pissed on while John bled on the stable floor. Elrin's blue eyes fluttered open fully, confusion sharpening into raw panic as recognition slammed home. His mouth opened, a weak gasp escaping before the words could form.
"R-remember me?" John said, voice low and steady, though his heart hammered like it always did when he stood this close to real consequence. "Elrin."
The noble's body jerked on the stone floor, arms scrambling to push himself upright, but the drug Marrianetta had poured down his throat was already working its way through his veins like liquid fire. His movements slowed, eyelids growing heavy, cheeks flushing a deep, feverish red. "You… you're that… that worm… the servant… how—"
Marrianetta stepped forward from the shadows of the torture room, her six-foot-nine frame unfolding with predatory grace. The crimson silk dress clung to every curve, heavy K-cup breasts straining the fabric, nipples stiff and visible, while her inhumanly wide hips and massive rounded ass swayed with each step. She knelt gracefully beside the struggling lord, one long finger tilting his chin up so he had no choice but to meet her blood-red eyes.
"Shhh, little lordling," she purred, that smooth, breathy voice wrapping around him like smoke. "No more fighting. Just let it happen. Master has been so patient with you."
Elrin tried to twist away, but his limbs had gone soft, betraying him. The violet potion hit full force. His pupils blew wide, breath hitching as a low, involuntary moan slipped from his lips. The drug rewrote him from the inside out—critical thoughts melting, inhibitions burning away, every nerve ending lighting up with desperate, slutty need. His body arched on the floor, compression shirt riding up to expose the soft, pale skin of his stomach, baggy pants tenting obscenely as his small cock hardened against his will.
John's hands shook as he watched. He was still the same nervous gooner at heart, even with all the power. The sight of Elrin—the same arrogant femboy who had ruined his first days in this world—now writhing and whimpering like a cheap whore made his stomach flip with equal parts revenge and raw, flustered want. He swallowed hard, throat dry. "Marrianetta… start slow. I want him to feel everything."
She smiled, teeth gleaming. "As you wish, dahling."
Marrianetta lifted Elrin like he weighed nothing, carrying him to the waiting torture rack. The iron frame stood bolted to the floor, padded leather straps positioned to spread each limb wide—wrists, ankles, even a thick band across the waist to keep the body arched and helpless. She laid him down gently, almost tenderly, then began securing him. First the wrists, clicking the cuffs shut with soft metallic sounds. Then the ankles, spreading his legs until the baggy pants pulled tight across his thighs. The waist strap cinched last, forcing his back into a deep arch that pushed his chest out and made his ass lift invitingly off the rack.
Elrin's head lolled, blond hair sticking to his sweat-damp forehead. "N-no… stop… what are you… ahh—" The drug surged again. His voice cracked into a needy whine as his hips bucked uselessly against the restraints. His small cock strained against the fabric, a wet spot forming at the tip. "Please… it feels… so hot inside…"
John stepped closer, heart pounding so loud he could hear it in his ears. His hands were clammy. This was real. Not a fantasy on a screen, not a late-night goon session. The same noble who had once made him kneel in the dirt was now strapped down, drugged, and begging. John's cock twitched hard in his pants, but his voice still came out shaky. "You… you remember what you did to me, right? The kennel. The piss. The beatings. All of it."
Elrin's eyes rolled back, a broken moan spilling out as the drug twisted his mind further. "I… I'm sorry… master… I was bad… so bad… punish me…" The words were slurred, slutty, completely unlike the arrogant lord from before. The drug had hollowed him out and filled the space with pure, brainless hunger.
Marrianetta's long nails traced down Elrin's chest, slicing the compression shirt open in one smooth motion. The fabric parted like paper, revealing the noble's smooth, pale torso—narrow waist, soft hips, and that plump, rounded ass now fully exposed as she tugged the baggy pants down to his ankles. Elrin's small cock sprang free, already leaking, twitching pathetically against his stomach. His hole clenched visibly, pink and untouched, begging without words.
John's breath caught. He was still nervous, still the gooner who froze when things got too real, but the power surging through him pushed him forward. He reached out, fingers trembling as they brushed Elrin's inner thigh. The skin was fever-hot, smooth, quivering under his touch.
"You're going to feel every second of this,"
John whispered, voice cracking.
"And you're going to thank me for it."
Marrianetta stepped back, giving him the space, her own massive breasts heaving as she watched with hungry red eyes. "He's all yours, master. Break him nice and slow."
John swallowed again, then knelt between Elrin's spread legs. His hands gripped those soft, wide hips, thumbs digging into the plush flesh. Elrin whimpered, hips rolling up as much as the straps allowed. "Please… fuck me… I need it… I've been so empty…"
The words hit John like a slap. This was the same voice that had once called him worm. Now it was begging. He freed his own cock, the ten-inch length springing out heavy and throbbing, veins pulsing. He pressed the thick head against Elrin's tight hole, rubbing it up and down, coating it with the noble's own leaking precum. Elrin keened, back arching harder against the rack.
"Beg properly," John managed, voice hoarse.
Elrin's eyes were glassy, tears of need spilling down his flushed cheeks. "Please… master… ruin my worthless hole… I'm just a stupid slut who hurt you… fuck me until I break… please… I need your big cock more than air…"
John pushed in.
The first inch stretched Elrin open with a wet, obscene sound. The noble's head fell back, a guttural moan tearing from his throat as his rim fluttered and clenched around the invasion. John's hands tightened on those hips, fingers sinking into soft flesh, and he kept going—slow, relentless, feeding every thick inch into the heat until his hips pressed flush against Elrin's ass. The noble's small cock spurted weakly between them, untouched, as his body shook with the overwhelming fullness.
"F-fuuuuck… it's splitting me… so big… I'm going to break…" Elrin babbled, voice high and broken, tears streaming. His ass clenched rhythmically, milking John's cock like it was made for this.
John stayed still for a long moment, buried to the hilt, feeling every twitch and flutter around him. His own breath came in ragged gasps. He was still nervous, still the guy who used to jerk off alone in his room, but the power, the heat, the way Elrin's body surrendered completely, it all crashed through him. He pulled back slowly, almost to the tip, then slammed in hard. The rack creaked. Elrin screamed in pleasure, legs straining against the straps.
From there it became a blur of motion and sound. John fucked him with deep, punishing strokes, hips snapping forward again and again, the wet slap of skin on skin filling the torture room. Elrin's moans turned into continuous, slutty wails—"Harder, master—ruin me—make me your cumdump—I deserve it—I'm nothing but a hole for you—"
His small cock leaked steadily, spurting weak loads every few minutes as his prostate was hammered mercilessly. John's hands roamed, gripping those wide hips hard enough to leave bruises, then sliding up to pinch and twist Elrin's nipples until the noble arched and sobbed.
Marrianetta watched from the side, one hand between her own thighs, rubbing slow circles over the silk as she moaned softly in approval. "Look at him, master… he's dripping for you… such a perfect little whore now…"
John lost track of time. He fucked Elrin in every position the rack allowed—on his back, flipped onto his stomach with ass up high, even lifted slightly so he could pound down into him while the noble's legs dangled helplessly. Cum leaked out around his cock with every thrust, puddling on the stone floor. Elrin's voice grew hoarse, babbling nonsense—"Your cock… owns me… I was born for this… thank you for breaking me…"—until he was just whimpering and drooling, eyes rolled back, body limp except for the constant clenching of his ruined hole.
John finally felt his own orgasm building, balls tightening, the massive load surging up. He buried himself deep, grinding against Elrin's prostate as he came—thick, heavy ropes flooding the noble's insides until it overflowed, squirting out around his cock in messy white streaks. Elrin shuddered through another weak, dry orgasm, body convulsing, a final broken sob escaping his lips.
The drug began to fade.
Elrin's eyes cleared slowly. The slutty haze lifted. Awareness flooded back in, horror replacing the pleasure. He felt the cum leaking out of him, the ache in his stretched hole, the restraints biting into his wrists and ankles. His gaze locked onto John's face above him—the face he had tormented, now staring down at him with quiet, satisfied cruelty.
Realization hit.
Elrin's mouth opened in a silent scream of pure, soul-deep trauma as the memories crashed over him—what he had said, how he had begged, how he had cum untouched while being used like a toy. His body started shaking, not with pleasure anymore, but with raw, humiliated revulsion.
John stayed buried inside him, breathing hard, watching the exact moment the noble came back to his senses.
The real punishment had only just begun.