L*st and Death

Stimulation was carried out immediately.

With no time to even brace himself, Siron’s pants were yanked down past his knees, and he was bent over the table with his knees folded. Everything happened too quickly, too chaotically.

Isaac didn’t need to force him anymore. There was no need. Siron, ignoring his pounding heart and the screaming voice of his shame, forced a fake smile and cooperated—accepting the humiliation as if it were his own choice.

What the hell am I doing? What even is this?

Kneeling with his palms on the table, Siron’s thoughts swam in a haze. It felt like carbon dioxide poisoning—dizzying, impossible to think clearly.

When the pants bunched at his knees prevented him from spreading his legs properly, Isaac retrieved a knife. Siron’s heart dropped into his stomach, and his body went rigid with fear, too stiff to resist.

He felt like livestock awaiting slaughter, powerless to do anything but obediently submit—and tears welled in his eyes.

“Hold still. The blade is sharp.”

Isaac cut away Siron’s pants and underwear completely. Now fully exposed to the muggy air, Siron’s bare ass was shamelessly scanned by Isaac’s eyes.

“This position makes it difficult to inspect properly. Could you spread your legs a little more?”

Siron hesitated, then awkwardly spread them wider. The thought that he was helping the man fit his fingers inside burned with humiliation—but he couldn’t risk displeasing him.

“L-like this?”

“That’s good.”

From a large military duffel, Isaac took out a metal case the size of a briefcase. Inside were latex gloves, unopened lube, coagulants, and various medical supplies.

He pulled on a pair of latex gloves—clearly too small for his hands—and pumped lube onto his fingers, bringing them between Siron’s legs.

“It’ll feel cold.”

No sooner had he finished speaking than a finger pressed into the tight space.

“Nh!”

Slow, but firm. The finger pushed through flexible tissue with unwavering pressure. The stretched mucosa left Siron’s neck prickling.

“Relax.”

Siron instinctively unclenched, and a thick index finger slid in.

He could feel everything—the pressure, the spreading, the way his walls gave way. When the finger withdrew and returned with another, filling him tighter, the sensation didn’t change.

“You mentioned having experience with anal sex?”

Not wanting to provoke Isaac with silence, Siron swallowed his discomfort and responded.

“...Y-yeah.”

“No wonder. You’re taking it in so easily.”

Lying there with his bare ass exposed to a stranger with whom he’d only spoken for two hours in a restaurant—and now being penetrated by that stranger’s fingers. Taking it easily? What bullshit.

“...I-it might l-look like that...”

“Hah, most people scream and curse. This is new.”

Siron, forcing himself to smile, felt the world collapse around him. What happened to the others Isaac brought here? Did they scream, curse, resist—and still fail to escape? How many people had he raped?

His heart pounded. Adrenaline surged, driven by dread and helplessness. He couldn’t bear the sensation and clenched hard around the intruding fingers. But all it did was amplify the sensation, making Isaac’s presence inside him clearer.

Isaac, unfazed, pressed in deeper, pushing firmly against the inner walls.

“Ah!”

Siron’s body twisted at the sudden jolt. Isaac responded by grabbing one of his cheeks firmly with his bare hand. The rough, calloused grip spread him wide like he was about to be split open.

“Prostate’s still swollen. Must’ve been a constant nuisance.”

Goddamn it. The psycho was still pretending to be a doctor. While Isaac prodded the low ridge inside, the once-soft cock rose again to a semi-erection, leaking thin fluid from the tip.

Siron bit his lip to stifle a moan and prayed for it to be over. But the finger pressed persistently, circling the prostate with slow, deliberate movements.

“Stimulation range is broad—anal sex must’ve been quite pleasurable for you.”

“Hnn, haah... i-it wasn’t! Ngh, ngh!”

Suddenly, a deeper spot—above the prostate, or even farther—was struck, and Siron’s whole body flinched. The unexpected shock made his ass bounce foolishly, head tipping back. He didn’t even notice when Isaac withdrew his finger; he simply seized up and spasmed.

Isaac stared with curiosity, surprised by the reaction. As Siron trembled, unable to support himself, Isaac ordered:

“Back in position.”

Siron pleaded:

“H-hnn, I-I can’t...”

When Siron failed to recover, Isaac seized his cock and balls in one hand and yanked.

“Ah! Fuck—fuck, that hurts, you bastard!”

The pain felt like he’d be torn off from the root. Siron scrambled to reposition, flinching at the curse that escaped him—and realizing too late that it was in Korean.

No time to recover. Isaac shoved his fingers back in carelessly, prying open the now-reluctant body and jamming directly into the spot he’d hit before.

“Nh—ahh! N-no! Not there—d-don’t!”

“Hah, hahahaha. I didn’t think it’d be this developed.”

Isaac laughed, astonished. The sharp, mocking sound cut like glass. Siron’s dread vanished into the intensity of the physical sensation.

Something inside his rectum was being pressed. It felt like electricity flowing through his core. Siron’s body bowed, twisted involuntarily, unable to move but also unable to stay still under the pressure on his testicles.

“Gnnngh!”

Unlike the dull pleasure from prostate stimulation, this was sharp, squeezing, agonizing ecstasy.

“Pheromone glands are slow to develop, but the reproductive organs are advancing quickly. If the heat cycle progresses normally, the inner canal should open.”

“Nggh—hah, stop! S-stop it!”

“Stop? You’re writhing every time I poke.”

He rubbed the same spot again and again. Siron’s rectum clenched and released with each stroke, the urge to defecate surging up with cold sweat. A strange pressure ran from his pelvis to his tailbone, heating his body and boiling his blood.

It was too much—so violently carnal and intense that each stroke brought back buried, primal urges. Siron forgot even his fear. The sensation had taken over.

Had he just forgotten how his body used to rediscover itself through sex? Every reaction felt like he was inhabiting someone else’s flesh. The dull, swelling pain reminded him of holding in the urge to pee for too long.

“Ahhn! Hah, hahhh!”

Overwhelmed by the contradictory sensations of pain and pleasure, Siron let out a high, panicked moan—and came.

It was the longest orgasm he’d ever had. Isaac didn’t stop—he kept pressing into the wet, sticky inside slick with lube, rubbing the tender mucosa as if to scrape it raw.

At last, unable to endure, Siron collapsed onto the table, belly pressed flat. His breath caught, like someone who’d sprinted until they couldn’t breathe. His body kept trembling from aftershocks of pleasure.

Only after time had passed did rationality begin to return. Siron slowly realized his position—his ass fully exposed. He cautiously rolled onto his side, drawing his knees in to cover himself.

He thought he must look pathetic. But he couldn’t even define the humiliation he’d just endured. Nor could he understand the strange pleasure or the meaning of what Isaac had said. It was like his consciousness had gone foggy from strangulation.

Above all, Siron wasn’t sure if he was even allowed to get off the table. Could he move without Isaac’s permission?

Isaac finally finished, discarding his gloves and walking up to him. The front of his pants was distended, grotesquely hard—and Siron, laid out before him like a served meal, couldn’t help but glance.

The “0.6% more evolved” than mankind... Is that the only part that evolved?

If Isaac had shown that first, Siron might’ve believed in alphas without all the long-winded talk. That thing was inhuman. No way Homo sapiens DNA made something that big.

I can’t do this. I’d rather die.

But contrary to his fears, Isaac didn’t continue. He simply lifted Siron upright, peeled off his damp, sweat-soaked shirt, and dressed him in a loose gown like a hospital patient.

Then he unlocked the ankle shackle and led Siron out to the living room. Siron, half-floating, moved as directed—like drifting in a current.

Is he looking for a place to fuck me now? The bed? The couch?

Isaac opened a door and pushed Siron inside. As expected, a wooden sofa-bed sat along the wall, laid over with an animal hide rug.

Siron braced himself—but instead of jumping him, Isaac pushed the couch and rug aside and knelt on the floor.

Hooking his hand into a small slot, he pulled open a hidden hatch. Below was a dim space—the basement Siron had spent his first night of captivity, maybe more.

Isaac descended first and reached back up. Siron hesitated, then took his hand and used the steep ladder to climb down.

Isaac flipped a switch. Dim lighting revealed the rest of the room. On his first day here, Siron had been too dazed to notice—but aside from the chair, the space contained wool blankets, boxes of rations, and various supplies. A small bathroom even adjoined the far wall. It felt less like a torture chamber than a spartan shelter.

Still, the basement’s oppressive air made Siron uneasy. This was where the man who once called himself Dr. Johnson had locked him up—it was hard to feel safe here.

“You can rest now. It’ll be safer down here.”

Safer? From who?

Even in his fear, Siron couldn’t help glancing at the bulge in Isaac’s pants, revolted and drawn at once.

Safe from... that?

To his relief, Isaac kept his word. He climbed the ladder, shut the hatch, and sealed Siron in alone. Despite the confinement, Siron felt relieved not to share the same space anymore.

He heard Isaac’s footsteps above, furniture being moved back in place. Then they faded into the distance.

Siron stood, frozen, staring at the ceiling. Only then did he allow himself to relax. He was safe—for now. Exhausted beyond belief, he stumbled to the corner and sank onto the wool blanket. He didn’t want to look like a “victim,” but his body curled up, arms wrapped around his knees.

He didn’t understand himself. Shame was the only thing he should be feeling—yet he kept replaying the sexual aftermath.

The ache between his thighs, the sting, the bare legs and ass exposed beneath the thin gown. The coarse texture of the blanket reminded him of Isaac’s hand. His loosened entrance pulsed, and his cock was still half-hard. Worst of all, that image—Isaac’s thick fingers plunging carelessly into swollen, red tissue—kept replaying in his head.

The heat lingered inside him. Even knowing he’d been assaulted, that this was coercive, Siron couldn’t shake the vile thoughts swirling in his mind.

“Could something that big even... go in?”

To be thinking about sex, in a situation like this—buried in Secreta, kidnapped—was insane. And it scared him more than anything else.

What if... what if he really was the kind of person who could come to like this?

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