Chapter 3: Catalyst
The convict's body shuddered under the Sergeant at Arms' touch, a mix of fear, anticipation, and a dark, unwanted arousal coursing through his veins like wildfire. His heart pounded in his chest, a drumroll of dread and desire, as the Sergeant's fingers wrapped around his cock, stroking him slowly, deliberately. He could feel the Sergeant's breath on his face, hot and ragged, the scent of his sweat and steel intermingling with the faint trace of lilies from the bouquets arranged around the room.
The Sergeant's fingers tightened around his cock, a cruel, deliberate twist that sent a sharp jolt of pain—and pleasure—coursing through him.
"Fuck," the convict groaned, his body tensing against the ropes that bound him. "You're enjoying this, aren't you, you fucking sadist?"
The Sergeant chuckled, a low, wicked sound that sent a shiver down the convict's spine. "As much as you are, traitor," he growled, his fingers stroking the convict's cock with a slow, deliberate rhythm. "You're so hard, so ready to take it all.
Aren't you, traitor?" the Sergeant taunted, his voice a low growl. He increased the pace, his hand working the convict's cock with a firm, brutal rhythm. The convict's breath hitched, his body straining against the ropes, his hips bucking involuntarily as he met the Sergeant's strokes.
"You fucking love it, don't you?" the Sergeant spat, his voice dripping with contempt. "Love the pain, the humiliation. Love knowing that your king owns every fucking inch of you." The convict's body trembled with a mix of rage, humiliation, and an unmistakable arousal that he couldn't deny. His cock throbbed in the Sergeant's grip, precum leaking out to slick his shaft. The Sergeant's eyes gleamed with malice as he brought his other hand up, fingers splayed, to slap the convict's cheek hard.
"Fucking take it," he snarled, spittle flying from his mouth.
The convict's head snapped to the side, his breath ragged, a mix of pain and pleasurable agony coursing through him. The cold stone walls of the courtroom seemed to close in, the air growing thick with the smell of sweat, fear, and the sharp tang of blood.
The Sergeant's hand moved relentlessly on his cock, gripping it with a force that bordered on painful. The convict's hips bucked, meeting the Sergeant's strokes, his body betraying him as he sought out more of the dark pleasure that seared through his veins like liquid fire.