Chapter 2: A Taste of Discipline
The bathwater had gone cold around him. Megumi hadn’t moved, hadn’t drained the tub, just sat submerged until his fingertips were wrinkled and the heat had leached from his body, replaced by a deeper chill from within. He heard Sukuna moving around in the other room, the clink of a bottle, the rustle of fabric.
Shame was a cold, heavy stone in his gut. Shame for the crying, shame for the washing up, shame, most of all, for the traitorous slickness between his legs that hadn’t dissipated in the tepid water.It was a physiological mutiny. In his world, arousal was a decision, a weapon, a calculated part of courtly play. It wasn’t this… involuntary pulsing ache, this raw physical echo that lingered after a humiliating spanking from a commoner’s eyes.
He stood, water sluicing off his pale skin, and stepped out onto the chilled linoleum.The towel he’d used earlier was damp and discarded. He didn’t reach for another. The air raised goosebumps across his flesh, tightening his skin, making his nipples pebble into hard, sensitive points. He could see the doorway to Sukuna’s bedroom, a rectangle of softer, warmer light.He didn’t think. His mind was a merciful blank.His body just moved, feet carrying him silently across the threshold.
Sukuna’s room was a shock of clutter and color after the sterile beige of the bathroom. It smelled of old paper, dust, and a faint, sharp-sweet smell Megumi couldn’t name—sake.Posters lined the walls, vibrant illustrations of… himself. A stylized, cruel, magnificent version of himself in regal finery, holding a crystal staff aloft. It was disorienting, like walking into a shrine dedicated to a god he no longer was.
Sukuna was sitting on the edge of a low, rumpled futon, his back to Megumi. He was looking at a small screen on a desk, which displayed a frozen image of Megumi’s digital counterpart smirking, a villain’s caption bubble hovering next to his face. Sukuna took a slow drink from a small ceramic cup.
“Drip dry if you want,” Sukuna said without turning around, his voice a low rasp. “Floor’s seen worse.”
Megumi stood rooted, naked and dripping, his hair sending cold trails down his spine. He opened his mouth, but no sound came out. The words were stuck, buried under too many layers of pride and new, terrifying sensation.Sukuna finally glanced over his shoulder.His pink hair fell across one sharp eye. He looked Megumi up and down, his gaze impersonal, appraising. He patted his thigh, the gesture casual and utterly dominant.“C’mere.”
It wasn’t a request. It was the same tone he’d used for the dishes.Earn it.
Megumi’s legs felt weak. He should have turned, fled back to the cold bathroom, wrapped himself in a towel.He didn’t. He took one step, then another, until he stood beside the futon, looking down at Sukuna’s offered lap. The man’s grey sweatpants were worn thin.“Well?” Sukuna prompted, taking another sip.
Slowly, stiffly, Megumi lowered himself.He didn’t know how to do this. He arranged himself awkwardly across Sukuna’s hard thighs, his hips tilted, his torso leaning forward until his hands brushed the floor.The position bared everything, left him utterly exposed. The cool air kissed his ass, his spread thighs, the hidden cleft between them.He trembled.
“Good,” Sukuna murmured, setting his cup aside. His hand came to rest on the small of Megumi’s back, warm and heavy, pinning him. “You learn quick when you’re out of options.”
The first spank wasn’t hard. It was a flat, firm crack that shocked more than it stung. Megumi jolted, a gasp finally escaping his sealed lips.The sound echoed in the quiet room, louder than it had any right to be.
The second landed on the same spot, a little harder.A bloom of heat spread across his skin. The third was a sharp slap to the other cheek, making him flinch. Sukuna established a slow, deliberate rhythm.Crack.Crack.Crack. Each impact jolted through Megumi, a sharp burst of pain that immediately melted into a deeper, radiating heat. He bit his lip, stifling the sounds fighting to get out.But his body betrayed him utterly. With each strike, a fresh wave of wetness seeped from him. He could feel it, a hot trickle against his inner thigh. The rhythmic punishment was stroking something deep inside him, coaxing his cunt to open and weep.He was soaking the thin fabric of Sukuna’s sweatpants. The scent of his own arousal, musky and sweet, began to mix with the smells of the room.
Sukuna’s hand paused, resting on the hot, flushed skin. “Look at you,” he said, his voice a husky whisper.“Dripping all over me. You’re fucking soaked.” He traced a finger through the wetness on Megumi’s inner thigh, then brought it up, sliding it slowly, deliberately, through the slick cleft of his ass.
Megumi cried out, a short, sharp sound, as that finger found his entrance. It wasn’t inside him, just pressing against the swollen, desperate furl of his hole.
“This what princes do back home?” Sukuna continued, his tone conversational, cruel. “Get their pretty little cunts spanked and soak through their silk trousers?You like it. Your body’s fucking screaming it.”
He applied pressure.His fingertip breached the tight ring of muscle, just an inch. Megumi’s back arched, a silent plea. He was so wet Sukuna’s finger slid in effortlessly, to the first knuckle.
“Christ,” Sukuna breathed, a note of genuine awe cutting through his cool facade.He crooked his finger, and Megumi sobbed, pushing back against it instinctively. “You’re a fucking mess in there. Drowning.”
He added a second finger, the stretch burning exquisitely. Megumi’s arms gave out; he collapsed forward, his face pressed into the futon, his ass in the air, impaled on Sukuna’s hand. Sukuna fucked him with those two fingers, a slow, relentless pistoning. The wet, squelching sounds were obscenely loud. Megumi’s hips rocked, meeting every thrust, chasing a tension that was coiling unbearably tight in his belly.
“This,” Sukuna said, his breath hot against Megumi’s ear as he leaned over him, his fingers plunging deeper, “is how rent gets paid here.You understand? Your royal highness doesn’t get a free ride.You work it off.On your back. Or over my knee.”
He twisted his fingers, scissoring them, and Megumi screamed, a ragged, broken thing into the bedding. His vision whited out at the edges.He was a heartbeat away from shattering.
Sukuna withdrew his fingers abruptly, leaving him empty, clenching around nothing, desperately raw. Megumi whimpered, a pathetic, gutted sound.
He felt Sukuna shifting behind him, heard the rustle of clothing.Then something far hotter, far more substantial than fingers nudged against him. The broad, spongy head of Sukuna’s cock, already slick with precum and Megumi’s own juices, pressed against his dripping slit.It was massive, a blunt, living intrusion.
“This is the deal,” Sukuna growled, one hand gripping Megumi’s hip hard enough to bruise.“You take it. You say ‘thank you, daddy.’ And you get to stay.”
The title sliced through the haze of need. It was wrong, a title for someone else, someone feared and hated.But it spilled from his lips anyway, a raw, needy whisper. “P-please… daddy…”
It was all the consent Sukuna needed.He pushed forward.
The stretch was brutal, breathtaking.Megumi cried out, his body straining to accommodate the thick invasion. Sukuna didn’t stop, didn’t gentle his thrust. He kept pushing, sinking deeper, until his hips were flush against Megumi’s ass, buried to the hilt inside a heat so tight and wet it was almost painful for them both.
For a moment, Sukuna didn’t move, just held himself there, letting Megumi feel the full, shocking reality of being filled. Then he pulled back, almost all the way out, and slammed back in.Megumi saw stars. It was a punch of pure sensation, pain and pleasure fused into one blinding current. Sukuna set a punishing pace, each thrust rocking Megumi’s entire body forward on the futon. The sounds were filthy: skin slapping against skin, Sukuna’s low grunts, the wet, rhythmic slap of his cock driving into that slick, clutching heat.
“Yeah, that’s it,” Sukuna panted, his control fraying.“Take it. You’re nothing but a hungry little hole now, aren’t you? My little rent-whore.”
The vulgarity should have shamed him.Instead, it ignited him. Megumi’s own noises grew louder, wanton, wordless pleas and moans. He was falling apart, his mind fragmenting under the raw physicality of it. The coil in his gut wound tighter, tighter, fed by the brutal friction, the degrading words, the utter depth of his submission.
Sukuna’s hand tangled in his wet hair, yanking his head back. “Come for me,” he commanded, his voice ragged.“Come on my cock, you spoiled brat. Show me how much you need it.”
It was the command that broke him. The orgasm ripped through Megumi with violent intensity, tearing a shattered scream from his throat. His cunt clamped down viscously around Sukuna’s thrusting cock, milking him, and that was enough to send Sukuna over the edge.
He slammed in one last, deep time, burying himself as he came with a choked, guttural sound. Megumi felt the hot pulse of his release flooding his insides, a final, profound violation. Sukuna collapsed over him, his weight pressing Megumi into the futon, both of them breathing in ragged, shattered gasps.
The only sound was their panting and the hum of the computer fan. On the screen, the digital Prince Megumi remained frozen in his perfect, untouchable smirk.Slowly, Sukuna pulled out. A sticky, wet trickle followed.He rolled off to the side, staring up at the stained ceiling.
Megumi lay where he was, wrecked and trembling, Sukuna’s come leaking from his well-used hole. The cold air was beginning to bite at his sweat-slick skin again.He couldn’t move. Couldn’t speak. The word ‘daddy’ echoed in his skull, a branding iron on his soul.Sukuna lit a cigarette. The flare of the match illuminated his sharp, unreadable profile.He blew a stream of smoke towards the ceiling.
“Ten minutes of hot water tomorrow,” he said, his voice flat, empty. “If you’re good.”
He didn’t look at Megumi. He just stared at the poster on the wall, at the fictional prince who knew nothing of cold bathrooms, or dishpan hands, or the price of warmth.