Chapter 6: The Family Brunch
The silk sheets of Kael’s bed were a cold shock hours later. Enn lay on his stomach, every muscle singing a muted, aching hymn. Kael’s fingers traced the faint, raised welts from the flogger, his touch impossibly gentle.
“Your father expects us for brunch at eleven,” Kael murmured, his lips brushing Enn’s shoulder blade.
A jolt, different from the pleasant aftershocks, went through Enn. His tail gave a single, anxious flick. “I don’t want to go.”
“I know.” Kael’s hand stilled, then settled possessively over the small of Enn’s back. “But we will. You will wear what I choose. You will stand where I tell you. And you will remember, every second, who you belong to now.”
The manor was a monument to cold ambition. Marble floors echoed under Enn’s too-polished shoes. The air smelled of lemon polish and dried flowers, a hollow fragrance that made his nose wrinkle. Aldric awaited them in the formal dining room, a cavernous space dominated by a table that could seat thirty. He stood at the head, a silver-haired statue.
“Enn. Kael. You’re late.” Aldric’s voice was like slate grinding.
“My apologies,” Kael said, his public mask effortlessly in place—polite, placid, unreadable. His hand, however, remained on Enn’s lower back, a brand through the fine wool of his tailored suit. He guided Enn to a chair, pulling it out for him. The gesture looked chivalrous. To Enn, it felt like being positioned.
They sat. Servants appeared with china and silver. Aldric began speaking of trade tariffs, of border agreements solidified by the marriage, of the ‘favorable alignment’ Kael’s family brought.
Enn pushed poached salmon around his plate. Every word from his father’s mouth was a stone added to the weight in his chest. He felt small, the same rebellious child being scolded for lacking vision.
Then he felt Kael’s hand on his thigh, under the obscenely long tablecloth. A squeeze, reassuring. Then the hand retreated. A moment later, Enn felt a cool, slick pressure at his entrance, hidden by the drape of the cloth. His breath caught. His eyes flew to Kael, who was nodding attentively at something Aldric said about lumber exports.
The plug was smaller than the one from the playroom, but unmistakable. Silicone, tapered. Kael worked it into him with slow, relentless pressure. Enn’s knuckles whitened on his fork. He couldn’t move, couldn’t protest. He could only sit there, impaled in his father’s dining room, as Kael seated the plug fully. A tiny, high-frequency hum began to emanate from it, a faint buzz that was more tease than sensation.
Aldric droned on. “Of course, Enn’s… adjustment was a concern. He’s always been willful. But I trust you’ve begun to correct that.”
Kael’s smile was a knife-edge. “He’s responding very well to structure.”
The vibration intensified subtly. Enn’s ears twitched. He took a hurried sip of water.
“Duty is not a suggestion,” Aldric said, his cold eyes finally settling on Enn. “It is the foundation of everything we are. Your whims are irrelevant. Your only function is to fulfill the role you were born for.”
Rage, hot and familiar, flushed through Enn. His tail bristled beneath his jacket. The plug inside him gave a sudden, violent pulse, the vibration spiking from a hum to a deep, insistent thrum. It was too much. A shocked gasp escaped him, too loud in the quiet room. He dropped his fork with a clatter.
Aldric’s eyebrows lifted. “Is there a problem?”
Enn’s face was on fire. He could feel the buzz lighting up his nerves, a direct line to his cock, which was stiffening traitorously in his trousers. “No, Father. I… it’s nothing.”
Kael’s hand returned to his thigh, a heavy, calming weight. “Perhaps the salmon disagrees with him.” His thumb stroked a slow circle. Under the table, his other hand must have been on the remote. The vibration climbed again, a steady, demanding grind against his prostate. Enn’s vision swam. He gripped the edge of the table, his body trembling with the effort of staying still, of not rutting back against the relentless intrusion.
“Control yourself,” Aldric said, disdain dripping from each syllable.
Kael’s voice was soft, final. “He is under control.” With those words, he turned the remote to its maximum setting.
A white-hot wire of pleasure-pain seared through Enn’s core. His back arched; a choked, desperate sound was torn from his throat. Pre-cum soaked the front of his underwear. He was panting, his ears flattened completely, his whole world narrowed to the obscene, public violation.
Kael stood smoothly. “Forgive us. He’s unwell. I’ll see to him.” His grip on Enn’s arm was iron, hauling him to his feet. Enn stumbled, legs weak, the plug still madly vibrating inside him. Kael supported him, the picture of concerned devotion. He nodded to Aldric. “We’ll take our leave.”
He marched Enn out, through the echoing halls, past silent servants, and out a side door into the formal gardens. The cool air was a slap. Kael didn’t stop. He walked them briskly down a gravel path, past manicured hedges, to a secluded service area. A old, stone garden shed stood against a wall. He shoved the door open and pulled Enn inside.
It was dim, smelling of damp earth, fertilizer, and dry hay. Bales were stacked against one wall. Kael locked the door. In the dusty silence, the faint buzz of the plug was obscenely loud.
“On your knees,” Kael said, his polite facade gone. His voice was dark gravel.
Enn sank down, the gravel of the path biting through his trousers. Kael undid his own fly, freeing his hard, thick cock. He tapped it against Enn’s lips. “Clean it. Get it wet for your ass.”
Enn opened his mouth, taking the head in, swirling his tongue. He sucked, obedient, his own need a screaming thing inside him. Kael fisted a hand in his hair, fucking his mouth shallowly. “Good. Now turn around. Bend over that hay.”
Enn staggered up, turned, and bent at the waist over the rough hay bale. Kael yanked his trousers and underwear down to his knees. The cool air hit his exposed, sensitive skin. He heard the click of the remote. The devastating vibration ceased. The relief was momentary. Then Kael’s fingers were around the base of the plug, and he pulled it out in one slow, dragging motion that made Enn cry out.
He was empty, gaping, slick with lube. Kael spat into his hand, slicked his cock, and notched the head against Enn’s hole.
“This,” Kael growled, “is the only duty that matters.”
He slammed in, unyielding, burying himself in one deep, tearing thrust. Enn screamed into the hay, the stretch a glorious, burning agony. There was no warm-up, no mercy. Kael set a brutal, piston-like rhythm, each drive pounding the air from Enn’s lungs. The hay scratched his cheek. The shed walls seemed to shake.
“You are not his,” Kael snarled, his hand coming down in a sharp slap on Enn’s already-tender ass. “You are mine. Your holes are mine. Your come is mine. Your fucking breath is mine.” He punctuated each claim with a deeper, harder thrust, nailing a spot inside Enn that sparked stars behind his eyelids.
Enn was sobbing, pushing back, meeting each brutal invasion. “Yours! Kael, please, I’m yours!”
“Are you?” Kael’s hand wrapped around Enn’s throat, pulling him upright, his back against Kael’s chest. He never stopped fucking him, the angle now even deeper. He whispered into Enn’s ear, his voice dripping with filth. “Does my good little bitch need to come? Is that desperate cock begging for it?”
“Yes! God, yes, please, let me come!”
“Beg filthier.”
“Please, I need it… please, I’ll be good, just let me come on your cock, I need to come so bad, please, Master!”
The title, torn from him in his delirium, seemed to ignite Kael. His rhythm broke, turned frantic. “Come, then. Do it.”
His permission was the final trigger. Enn’s orgasm racked him, violent and silent, his cock jerking, spilling onto the hay and dirt floor. His inner muscles clenched rhythmically around Kael’s thrusting length, pulling a ragged roar from the man’s throat. Kael held him impossibly tight, hips stuttering, and poured himself deep inside,