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His boy is beautiful beyond measure. Kasimir combs caloused fingers through his boy's snow-white hair, hanging in soft curls. His lips, shell-pink and plump, beg to be devoured. His boy blinks owlishly, beautiful shining grey eyes behind long eyelashes. He is blushing from his father's attention, his pretty pink apple cheeks demanding kisses. Born under a lunar eclipse on the winter solstice; his boy - his perfect, beautiful boy - is the incarnation of Her High Holiness Lady Serafima. No less for his perfect Sasha.
He cannot restrain himself longer, lapping the boy with his tongue. Sasha erupts in giggles. "Papa! Papa, is it kissing time?" Kasimir sticks his tongue into the boy's mouth in reply, freeing a beautiful moan from his perfect son. "Oh, Papa..." The boy gives up on speaking and returns the kiss with fervor, mewling and licking and sucking and moaning, moaning, moaning-
"My whore," Kasimir whispers, "My whore of a son; just learned to talk and already using it for sin..." Sasha only furrows his brow, confused. Of course he's confused - while his brothers learn swordplay and books and languages, Sasha has spent every day since birth being oiled so his skin shines, being kissed so he learns what his mouth should be used for, being touched so he learns what pleasure means. Sasha is not meant for wisdom, that is the domain of His High Holiness Damon. Sasha is a devotio, hostia, victima, sacer of Serafima.
Kasimir pulls back, watching his boy shaking with pleasure. His eyes are hazy, the boy's mind surely floating elsewhere, proof the boy is truly experiencing Serafima's purpose. A pink blush spreads over the boy's torso, and Kasimir flicks a nipple. Sasha whines, but does not complain. His few years on Earth have taught him not to complain. "Be still, my son. Let me worship your tits." Sasha's eyes widen a little, understanding flickering. He face crumples a little, knowing he will not be escaping the pleasure anytime soon.
The little bud is heavenly and Kasimir licks and sucks and bites at one while squeezing and groping the other in his large hand. The boy whines and huffs and squeaks and Kasimir pays him no mind, moving to the other nipple without care for his boy's whines. The boy is a vessel for Her High Holiness and his body is saecellum, a shrine to worship. He sucks the nipple hard, wishing the boy was already ripe and fecund and capable of producing milk. That is for later though, much later, when the boy mates with the incarnation of Lord Damon. No matter, of course. Lord Damon's sacer would do well to allow his father-in-law free reign of his wife's milk. Kasimir is righteous, mad, blood-thirsty... but he will be patient for his boy.
Sasha begins to kick, overwhelmed by his father's attentions. Anger flares in Kasimir. The boy should know by now his comfort does not matter, that in fact he should take comfort in this pleasure. Kasimir grips the boy's chin and kisses him fiercely. "You are mine, boy. I made you. You are a blessing, this is a blessing. You will be grateful." The boy nods and Kasimir embraces his child. Sasha wraps his little arms around his father's neck eagerly. Despite the molestation, the boy still acts like he's starved of love.
Kasimir massages the boy's thighs and hips, and growls at how his hands can wrap all the way around the boy's waist. Slim, precious boy. White skin, soft thighs. His meager cocklet trapped under lock and key. He kisses his beautiful boy till Sasha gasps for breath, begs for air, and even then Kasimir does not give him peace. Instead he fingers the boy's hole and cocklet, rubs the thin skin between them. Sasha chokes on a whine and it only ignites a desire Kasimir has long lusted.
The boy's mother had died in childbirth, and the boy had been raised by a series of maids, and men who wanted nothing more than to fuck him to death. Kasimir can admit that this caused a certain melancholy in the boy, one which caused a series of self-soothing behaviors. It was thumb-sucking that Kasimir found the most frustrating. He had spent many a night furiously stroking himself over the boy's sleeping face as he peacefully sucked his thumb, none the wiser to his lust-drunk father leering at his pink mouth. Kasimir would finish on the boy's face, before pushing the thick white seed into the boy's mouth, Sasha sucking his father's fingers clean of seed.
"Sasha, my beloved, my sweet whore, it's time for our lesson." Sasha gives him a sarcastic stare, as if wondering how the past half an hour hasn't been the lesson. Kasimir nips at a puffy nipple. "No whining, boy, you'll love it. You remember the white ambrosia you eat with your meals?"
Sasha nods. "Yes, Papa, of course I remember. With porridge, or sauce, or in my milk. It's yummy!"
Kasimir groans, thrusting against the boy's thigh. "It is my seed, boy, from which you were born," he croaks, "I have streaked your meals in my seed, since you were born, to prepare you." Technically his brothers do it too, and his other sons, Sasha's brothers. Kasimir suspects the cooks and serving boys have fed the boy their ejaculate as well. No matter, if anything it is better. The child will be raised on the seed of life, thick and white in his gums, gurgling on millions of little brothers.
"Today, though, you will take it from it's source." Kasimir raises himself on his knees, thick, throbbing cock now staring Sasha in the face. His boy is all astonishment, all wonder, and Kasimir groans. Serafima was right to choose him, the boy is a natural whore. He grips himself before he finishes too quickly.
"So big, papa," Sasha giggles. He fondles his own cocklet, sighing. "Will mine be big too?"
"No, my son. You will never be a real man, we will make sure of it. Take my cock in your hand, beloved." Sasha nods, dazed, and wraps his little fingers around his father's cock. He has to use both hands to reach all the way around the girth. His mouth hangs open, perhaps unintentional, wet tongue licking puffy lips. Kasimir loves his whore of a son. "My seed is in my cock, and you will suck it till I spill down your throat. Understand?" Sasha squeaks nervously, his hands letting go and dropping to his lap. His cheeks are red and he stammers, looking away from his father's massive swaying cock and huge, low-hanging balls. "I'm...scared. Father. I feel it will break my mouth."
His poor, stupid son. Even if it did break, such was the will of Lady Serafima. The boy is too small and stupid for these words though, so instead Kasimir coos and pets his son's hair sympathetically. "It is good to be scared, boy, for fright begets bravery. Be brave, my son, be brave for your father." Sasha nods and returns his hands to the cock that made him. He gives several hesitant strokes, before finally leaning his mouth in and taking the tip between his lips.
Kasimir groans, willing himself not to thrust in. He doesn't truly want to break the boy, he has no replacement. Sasha licks at the head a little. He grabs the cock with two hands and gives it a hard stare and takes the whole head down his throat. Kasimir laughs and moans at the same time, stroking Sasha's jaw and throat. Sasha's lips are stretched wide and his cheek bulges with cock. His eyes water. He has never been more beautiful.
"Move up and down, beloved. Lather your tongue on my cock. Worship my cock like I worshipped your beautiful tits." Sasha nods, or tries to nod, and takes the cock a little further. "Not just the head, child. A good whore takes a cock to the base." Sasha whines, and no matter how patient Kasimir is, he cannot resist thrusting a little further and holding the boy's head in place. Sasha squeals around the cock, tears spilling over snow-white skin.
Fuck, he's gorgeous. Kasimir wipes a tear from the boy's opalescent eye. "Suck harder, beloved, and I won't have to force you."
Something in Sasha's eyes breaks and the boy slumps a little. These are the hard lessons a sacer of Serafima must learn. His perfect boy learns quickly though, and slowly, ever so slowly, takes more and more cock down his throat. It is an excruciating quarter-hour before the boy's nose is nestled in his father's dark nether hairs.
Kasimir groans, stroking Sasha's engorged throat. Sasha whines when Kasimir presses down, but continues to suckle obediently. The boy had been fed by wet nurses, but perhaps Kasimir should have fed him himself. "I'm going to fuck you now, my son. I'm going to fuck you hard but fast, and it will be over soon. It will hurt and you will hate me but it is necessary and soon you will crave nothing more than my cock raping your throat. Understand, beloved?"
Sasha makes a stranngled noise, but every noise he makes is strangled so Kasimir cares not to parse whether it is affirmative. He gripes white curls in his thick hands and pulled the boy's head back, groaning at the stretched lips, before shoving his son back towards his groin. Sasha screams around the cock, but Kasimir pays no mind. He fucks into the boy's mouth like a madman, in and out in and out, hot and wet and swallowed by the boy's throat. He will vomit, Kasimir is sure, but Kasimir will make sure the boy will vomit thick white seed. He will taste his father twice, Kasimir will ensure this.
His heavy, hairy balls slap against the boy's throat and finally, finally, he cums. He shoves the boy's head against his pelvis, face shoved into his hairy nether, pulsing down the boy's throat. Sasha is crying now, tears mingling with his sweat, but Kasimir pays it no mind. The boy is young and he will learn. Kasimir heaves a sigh when he is spent, thighs shaking as he pulls out from Sasha's mouth.
Sasha is a vision; jaw open, his lips wet with salvia and seed, his throat sprayed white. He is floating elsewhere, Kasimir can see, his eyes unfocused and shiny with tears. He hiccups, chokes on cum, and his face crumples. Sweet, precious, beloved boy; perfect for his father, perfect for Serafima. Kasimir takes the boy in his arms again and strokes his slick back. The boy cries and cries, and Kasimir soothes him with praise. Perfect boy perfect whore such a good slut for his father such a smart boy beautiful with a cock down his throat. Sasha calms down, hiccuping, hugging his father tight. He mumbles something into Kasimir's chest.
"What was that, beloved?"
"I'm sorry, Papa. I'm sorry for crying. I'm sorry for being a baby, I should have been brave like you said."
He holds his boy's face in his hands, letting Sasha nuzzle him as he sniffles. "Beloved, oh my beloved, but you were so brave. You let father fuck you hard, fuck you full of seed, fuck you till you cried. You're beautiful when you cry. Serafima is the Queen of Sorrows, the Queen of Sufferers, she sees you letting your father fuck your throat and she knows you are the perfect shrine for her grace, her perfect sacrifice."
Sasha nods, though Kasimir suspects the stupid boy doesn't get half the words he said. His son is fuck-dumb though, so he lets him snuggle. He kisses him gently, pushing his tongue into Sasha's mouth, prompting Sasha to do the same, tasting himself on his boy's small tongue. Sasha kisses him desperately, wetly, eager for his father's warmth.
"Our kissing lessons will be like this now, alright baby? Until it doesn't hurt anymore, yes?"
Sasha nods, dazed, and Kasimir takes his hand and pushes the boy's thumb between his wet lips, lusting as his boy desperately sucks.