Little Pink Starfish

In shock, the body jerked tight and then the head fell back. From the gaping mouth, moans of “Ah, ah…” spilled out. Pierced by a long, swollen shaft, unable to do anything, the chest just heaved with gasping breaths. The insides of the thighs trembled as if in spasms. Unnaturally spread open, a throbbing pain rose from the stretched, full inner walls.

“Ah, Lord Amon…”

If his wrists hadn’t been tied, he would have already clung to the other person, holding on desperately. Maybe because he couldn’t even do that today, everything felt especially hard to endure. It was impossible to tell what was more painful—the gnawing sensation in the lower belly, like the skin might tear open, or the deep thrusts reaching all the way inside like now.

Nyne called out to Amon desperately, pleading for mercy. But the god, not particularly known for mercy, only drove in deeper upon hearing the plea. The forced, stretched sensation pushed to the limit made Nyne pull his legs in and struggle to twist his hips away. Yet even as his eyes turned red with strain, in the end, he was left completely defenseless, allowing himself to be split open all the way inside.

“Ah, ah! Ah!”

Just like before, Amon ground deep into Nyne’s lower belly. He pulled out just about a finger’s length, then pressed back in heavily, rubbing around. It was a slow, deliberate motion meant to force Nyne to get used to being stretched open in the exact shape of the glans. Though painful, the strange, indescribable sensation brought tears streaming down the corners of Nyne’s eyes before he even realized it.

“As always, here too.”

Amon rubbed the entrance that was stretched to its limit, barely able to take his shaft, with his finger. Then he pressed somewhere just above the navel.

“And in here, too—it’s always so tight.”

“Hh, hhuuk, please, d-don’t press th-there, ugh, ah, uaaht…”

Once again, as the deep rubbing and spreading motion resumed, Nyne squeezed his eyes shut. His words fell apart into fragments, soon replaced by moans. Hak, hak, his breathing grew ragged, and Amon suckled at his tear-streaked temple with a wet sound. While kissing him, Amon slowly—painfully slowly—pulled out his fully buried shaft.

“Ah…!”

Suddenly feeling his insides emptied, Nyne let out a moan. His eyes widened, already anticipating what would come next. As expected, his body was pierced through deeply and shaken hard. His mouth opened wide in a silent scream. Only when the thing splitting him apart withdrew did he finally gasp for air—huk. With a loud slap, skin striking against skin, the rough thrusting returned.

“Aaagh, ah, agh, aht!”

Slap, thud, thwick—the wet sounds of friction came in a steady rhythm. Letting out noises that could be screams or moans, Nyne’s legs trembled. When it was pulled out, a chill shot all the way up to his crown; when it was slammed back in roughly, his vision went completely dark.

It felt as if his body was being split in two and put back together over and over again. The splitting was pain, and the rejoining was overwhelming pleasure. Nyne’s wrists were still bound, his fingers clawing through the air until they brushed against Amon’s shoulder. Instinctively, he scratched sharply—but thanks to the bandages, not a single red line appeared.

“It hurts, it hurts…! Hhik, aaah, ah!”

Struggling to grab hold of something, Nyne ended up sobbing as he bit down on his bandaged hand. Seeing this, Amon stopped him, pressing his hands down above his head to hold him still. He stared intensely at Nyne’s flushed face, twisted with overwhelming sensation, and the red-tinged corners of his eyes. Lifting his gaze further, he looked at the bandaged hands—and began moving even rougher.

“Ah! Aaah!”

Under that devouring gaze, Nyne moaned. Breathing so hard with his mouth open, his dry tongue stuck out—and Amon pulled it in with a long suck, wetting it. As if he wanted to swallow even the moans, he thoroughly swept the inside of Nyne’s mouth, consuming everything. His eyes and actions were all those of a starving beast. Biting at the bridge of Nyne’s nose and licking the wet corners of his eyes and cheeks—it was less like affection and more like an animal’s behavior.

The lewd sound of wet flesh being repeatedly stirred echoed explicitly. The louder the sound, the greater the pleasure. Even though Nyne had already climaxed again under Amon’s stimulation, he found himself aroused all over again, without a shred of dignity. His head spun and his breath came short—just then, Amon let out a low moan and thrust in deeply. Feeling his belly filling with release, Nyne followed a beat later, reaching a slow, agonizing climax. It felt as if his entire body was falling apart.

Even as his body trembled from the lingering pleasure, Nyne felt a wave of relief, thinking it was finally over. When Amon slowly pulled out, an unexpected sense of deep release washed over him—like peace after a violent storm. He let out a ragged breath and relaxed his shoulders.

With a rare look of satisfaction, Amon licked the sweat-soaked skin, not like a man savoring afterglow, but as if enjoying dessert. He didn’t mind the taste of dirt, sand, or crushed leaves on Nyne’s skin. Somehow, his skin looked clean, as though it had never been soiled. Nyne felt like he might melt away and flow straight into Amon’s mouth. Once he finally caught his breath, Nyne opened his mouth cautiously, his face searching.

“…Thank you.”

“For what? For the pleasure I gave you?”
Amon asked while brushing back Nyne’s messy hair. Nyne’s gaze wavered. Suddenly anxious, he bit his lip before answering carefully.

“Because… I took the punishment in their place. So… you won’t kill Iyu, or the other priests…”

“Ah, yes… that.”

Amon’s response trailed off. Nyne’s heart sank. Thinking back, he realized Amon had never truly promised. Meeting that chilling golden gaze, he feared he’d said the wrong thing. Amon opened the hand that had been gently stroking his hair and answered:

“Fine. I won’t kill them.”

Relief came for only a moment before Amon continued.

“But Nyne, it’s too soon to relax. You must remember—the punishment isn’t over until I say it is.”

“S-sorry…”

As Nyne tried to apologize, Amon slowly licked his lips from bottom to top. In the lamplight, his eyes glinted with something wild. There was a sharpness to his mood, though Nyne wasn’t sure why. Maybe Amon wasn’t even angry—maybe it was just fear clouding Nyne’s thoughts, making him assume the worst. As always, he could never grasp what Amon was truly thinking.

Amon rose to his feet. Nyne, still trembling, watched him glance around the tent. The spacious bedroom was filled with things ready for whenever Nyne might need them—a box of ornaments, tall candlesticks, a jug and glass of cool water, and a bowl of fruit prepared for when he woke hungry.

Amon picked up a piece of fruit—an amber-bright, red cherry, sweet and sour. He tossed it back into the bowl, then picked the whole fruit dish up and walked over. The bowl, carefully prepared by the priests, held a fragrant mixture of perfectly ripe fruits. At first, when Amon set it down, Nyne thought it was simply to feed him, to help him recover.

“All of them are large and ripe. Must be sweet and tasty.”

Only when Amon settled between his legs and picked up one of the larger fruits did Nyne realize—those fruits weren’t meant for his mouth. His face went pale in an instant.

“I can’t bring myself to devour someone as precious and dear as you… so I suppose I’ll have to use you as the dish instead.”

“Ah… Lord Amon…”

Nyne’s voice trembled as he called out to Amon desperately. His body flinched, not wanting to believe what was coming—only for Amon to grab his hips and spread them open. Then, a smooth, round fruit was pressed against his wet skin. Before he could even react to the cold, unfamiliar sensation, one piece slid in with a soft push.

“Ah!”

Startled and shocked, he raised his upper body. He couldn’t believe what Amon had just done to him. Only then did the words about using him as a vessel feel real. As he tried to back away, supporting himself on the bed with his tied wrists, Amon pulled him by the ankle. He slid back down with a slip, ending up lying again, and once more, a fruit of some kind was pressed in firmly.

“P-please don’t……”

A passive resistance had no effect on Amon at all. A slightly larger fruit than before was pushed in with some resistance. The strange sensation of the firm fruit being repeatedly inserted gave him goosebumps. Since they had just had intercourse, he was already wet and loosened, so with just a bit of force from Amon, the foreign object went in easily.

“I-I don’t want this. I don’t want anything like this inside me, Lord Amon, ah!”

“Compared to what I was just putting in, it’s probably not even that big.”

The other kissed his cheek, as if finding him quite cute. While Nyne was still heaving, unable to recover from the shock, fingers stirred inside his rear this time. As the things that had been barely resting near the entrance were pushed further in, his hips involuntarily lifted. Then, at the words that followed, he froze stiff.

“And wouldn’t it only count as punishment if you hated it?”

Only then did he remember that he was being punished in exchange for saving the priests. Heat welled up in his eyes from sorrow and humiliation. He tried to timidly draw his legs in, but it was a completely useless gesture in stopping Amon’s actions. On the contrary, Amon looked down at Nyne with eyes tinged with faint expectation.