SD | Chapter 1.5

“Who… who the hell, ah, ah…”

The rush of climax was indescribable. His swollen, overripe hole spasmed, the musky scent bursting from his plump hips. Each scrape of his tender flesh made him gag, but the pleasure overpowered it.

“Unngh…!”

Fluid, not semen, gushed from his tip. His vulgar hip-shaking was a sight to behold. If Kelved saw this, he’d laugh until he choked. And Adrian? Blake’s mind lingered on that even as he came, drowning in perverse guilt. His lower belly throbbed like a pounding heart.

“Haa, hk, hng, ungh… uht, ugh…”

His upper body’s muscles bulged. His inner walls were pummeled. Fresh semen filled him, pushing out the old. Muttering incoherently that this couldn’t be happening, Blake was still being pounded from behind. The man thrust upward with his thick shaft, the wet, warm walls swallowing him, pulsing greedily.

Heat enveloped his body, leaving him languid. Sweat drenched him. The man, after unloading inside, slapped Blake’s hips lightly and left. Blake trembled briefly, rising and falling on his toes. His gaze, fixed on the void, was faintly wet.

❖ ❖ ❖

A man with jet-black hair, wildly disheveled, was being dragged along. The hulking figure, stripped naked and hunched over, had a thick chest and shapely hips, semen dripping between his legs with every step. A collar around his neck, he was forced to walk by the conscription officers, his gray eyes blazing with fierce intensity.

His bronze skin, faintly tinged with gray, a sharp nose, red lips, flushed ears, and a scar slashing diagonally across his face… he was breathtakingly beautiful. But his state was a wreck, a stark contrast to the man who’d stood before Colin days ago. The cum smeared across his body and the swollen perineum screamed of relentless violation.

“Bring the branding.”

A masked man spoke. People entered, carrying a branding iron heated red-hot. The one who’d forced Blake to his knees removed the collar from his neck.

Colin adjusted his mask, legs crossed, gazing down at Blake from his elevated seat. Each finger on the hand resting on his knee bore a large, gemmed ring, and a pitch-black snake slithered across his shoulder. The snake lightly kissed the mask before sliding down his body.

The branding iron was shaped like an X—a mark of a traitor. Once branded, he’d fall below even D class, treated worse than livestock.

A soldier grabbed Blake’s hair from behind, yanking his head up. His jaw trembled. The heat from the iron radiated fiercely.

Cold sweat trickled slowly down Blake’s brow.

“Talios.”

Colin spoke in a flat tone, resting his chin on his hand.

Talios stared at Blake with disbelief, his gaze wavering.

“Can you still vouch for Blake’s purity after witnessing this?”

Colin’s voice was soft, but laced with chilling mockery. Though his face was hidden behind the mask, everyone knew he was smirking.

“This… but, but…!”

Talios’s voice cracked. He clenched his fists, staring at Blake. But before he could finish, Colin’s fingers lazily waved in the air.

“Now, apply the branding.”

His command was smooth but undeniable.

The dark red iron was slowly lifted from the flames. Its surface, slick with oily sheen like sweat, gleamed with a vivid X shape. The heat distorted the air, creating a tense, almost palpable weight.

“…Stop, stop it!”

Talios shouted, but his voice only echoed uselessly.

As the iron drew closer, the soldier pinning Blake’s neck pressed harder. Blake’s arms and legs, bound in chains, hung limp, but his eyes still burned. The fire in his gray gaze seemed inextinguishable.

The iron neared his neck. Before it even touched, the scalding air assaulted him. Sweat beaded and spread across his skin. Blake stared straight ahead, unblinking.

He clenched his teeth, bracing his entire body. His frame was rigid, jaw locked tight. The moment the iron grazed his skin, the air shuddered.

Ssssss!

The sound of searing flesh rang through the battlefield. The stench was nauseating. Acrid smoke filled the room, and Blake’s body began to tremble instinctively.

But he didn’t scream.

Teeth gritted so hard his jaw rattled, he let out only stifled breaths and faint groans. His shoulders shook violently, his broad chest heaving. Sweat poured from his quaking body. Yet he never made a sound.

“Enjoying the pain, Blake?”

Colin spoke, intrigued. He sat at the table, legs crossed, toying with his fingertips. The clown’s grin etched on his mask seemed to mock even more vividly. His rings glinted.

The iron pressed deeper into Blake’s neck.

His skin was already charred, the X mark etching itself clearly. No blood flowed—the heat had sealed every wound. The pain surpassed all limits, and Blake’s body shook as if paralyzed.

“Hk…!”

A suppressed gasp finally burst out. His body lurched forward, knees hitting the ground. But he kept his head raised.

“Your eyes are still alive.”

Colin muttered, amused. He held a knife, tapping a plate, slowly eyeing Blake’s reddened neck.

Servants approached with dishes. The food before Colin was grotesque—writhing, dark red flesh squirmed on the plate, and bizarre shapes peeked from dirt-covered vegetables. What looked like glass shards were, in fact, fried fragments of actual glass.

Colin leisurely lifted a fork, picking up a piece of glass.

“Let’s savor this moment.”

He brought it under his clown mask. A rustling sound echoed as the glass crunched beneath his teeth, the noise unsettlingly vivid. But Colin didn’t care.

“Truly delectable.”

As he chewed, his gaze stayed fixed on Blake, eyeing him like another dish on the table, his stare ravenous.

“How about it, Blake? Does your pain feel this beautiful?”

Colin set down the knife and laced his fingers. His eyes gleamed like a predator ready to devour.

“But I haven’t had my fill yet.”

Blake slowly raised his head, glaring at Colin. His face was smeared with blood and sweat, nosebleed dripping from his chin. But his gaze never faltered.

“…What do I have to say to satisfy you?”

Blake’s voice was hoarse, but his words carried a resolve to deny Colin any humiliation.

Colin smiled. Though his face was hidden, his deep satisfaction was unmistakable.

“Just one phrase.”

He whispered.

“‘Colin, you were right.’”

But Blake didn’t answer. Colin tilted his chin, as if he’d expected as much.

“Then why did you do it, Blake? A smart man like you wouldn’t act alone, I think.”

“I… I…”

Blake’s mind flashed to Adrian, blood dripping. But he couldn’t speak here. He couldn’t utter Adrian’s name. His pale lips trembled.

“…It was all me.”

The branded sinner muttered.

“It’s all my fault.”

“So you know it was wrong.”

“Wrong… no, not wrong…!”

Blake gritted his teeth. His soaked black hair clung to his face.

“You know what I mean!”

“That’s no way to speak to a commander!”

“Colin, Colin! Please, listen to me!”

Blake shouted, raising his head despite the hands pinning him down. But Colin, mask still on, just stared, eating his food.

“You’re no longer A class! Don’t you dare speak the commander’s name so casually!”

A soldier lashed a whip across Blake’s back. He didn’t scream, enduring the pain with gritted teeth. The whip tore his skin, blood streaming down. He hunched, trying to bear the agony, but his fierce gray eyes never left Colin, now clouded with intensity.

For a moment, through the mask’s holes, Colin’s swamp-like green eyes glinted.

Blake was dragged away again. After he was gone, Talios rushed to kneel before Colin.

“Talios Windraven.”

“Please, just once… I beg for mercy. Forgive Blake. You know, Colin, he’s essential to our country…”

“I know.”

Colin replied dryly, resting his chin.

“Do you think I don’t?”

“Then why…?”

“This is merely ‘punishment.’ To ensure Blake never thinks such thoughts again, for his own good. As an A class, he needs firm discipline. The world needs examples, Talios. Or would you rather take his punishment?”

Talios bit his lip hard. Colin spoke in a soothing tone.

“Don’t worry. When the time comes, he’ll return to his place after his punishment.”

When the time comes, to his place.

Behind the mask, Colin’s lips curled into a smile.

❖ ❖ ❖

Shackles were clamped around Blake’s wrists. Of course, for a guy like him, they were no different from flimsy bracelets he could snap with a flick. That’s why he had no choice but to wear a choker-like necklace, one specially crafted by scientists—a brainwashing necklace.

Everyone in this place knew that plain old torture, the kind that just inflicted pain, wouldn’t break Blake. No amount of ordinary agony would make him crumble. So, this was Colin’s order.

Brainwash the man.

It was experimental, sure, but they’d fitted him with a necklace capable of injecting specific commands into a person’s mind.

The place Blake was dragged to was a detention camp. A detention camp where they rounded up the worst of the worst—criminals ranging from C-grade to D-grade. The inmates, eager to welcome a new prisoner by clinging to the bars and hurling insults, couldn’t believe their eyes when they realized the newbie was none other than that Blake.

“No way it’s someone else, right? But who else in the world looks like that? What the hell did he do to end up here?” And…

Some eyes gleamed as they spotted the necklace around Blake’s neck.

Not a26 single one of them failed to recognize it. It was the same necklace a few others locked up here wore—those who’d committed such heinous acts they’d been brainwashed into near mindlessness. Those guys were basically treated like toys.

The necklace looked like leather, but inside, it was embedded with a tiny neural stimulator. With specific signals, it could infiltrate the wearer’s nervous system, controlling their every move. It was a device designed to crush human will and implant commands.

“Blake Riverd?”

“Is that really that Blake?”

“They messing with us or what?”

“He’s coming this way!”

The prisoners clung to the bars, staring at Blake. Some shot him looks of contempt, others couldn’t hide their fear. But not one could meet his gaze head-on. His eyes burned like flames, searing their skin.

The guards, faces twisted in grim scowls, shouted as they pried the inmates off the bars.

“Move it, move!”

The clank of chains echoed. They shoved Blake into the prison, where countless others were locked up. Barefoot, clad only in tattered rags, the man raised his head, slowly scanning the crowd staring up at him. His gray eyes glinted with a savage edge. No one dared move.

Then, one of them noticed something.

“That’s…”

He pointed at Blake’s neck. Specifically, at the sliver of the brand peeking out from under the necklace.

“Isn’t that a brand?”

Murmurs rippled through the crowd, growing louder. Blake bit his lower lip. The brainwashing he’d been subjected to went like this:

One, never resist anything with force.

And two…

“Get away from me. Now.”

Right there, in plain view of everyone, Blake’s shirt bulged conspicuously at the front. The prisoners didn’t miss it.