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The Yeon Conglomerate’s little prince has rather unconventional ways of venting.
“Arch your back a little more, Chungsung.” There’s a swift, heavy-booted kick to the small of his back. Chungsung grunts out in pain, struggling to support himself with his hands tied up to the bedpost.
It’s an honour in itself for his dirtied, unworthy body to be allowed onto Dongha’s bed like this. Normally the young master prefers him on the bathroom floor, cold tile digging into his knees, the frigid water indistinguishable from the flogger striking against his back as he tries his best to breathe. He moans involuntarily at the memory and Dongha is quick to step on his back again.
“What are you moaning for, you pervert?” He sneers. Chungsung isn't granted the privilege of a reply before there’s the unmistakable clink of Dongha undoing his belt buckle.
Chungsung’s breath gets heavier as he feels Dongha’s fingers curl around the waistband of his leather pants, pulling them down to expose his ass— already starting to bruise from yesterday’s beating, red making way for yellow and purple. Chungsung shudders as Dongha runs a hand along the welts, his nails raking against discoloured flesh.
“Young master, please—” Chungsung is cut off by a strike to his behind, cold metal hits his backside as the buckle bites his flesh, no doubt adding another bruise to his ever-growing collection.
He whimpers in pain, curling onto himself as much as he can with his hands bound. His dick starts hardening, struggling against the confines of his pants.
Dongha tsks, running his hand over the forming welt, “Please what, Chungsung? Use your words.” Chungsung pants, more from pleasure than from pain.
“Please go easy on me,” Dongha knows it’s a lie, knows his degenerated, whorish butler better than anyone. Knows that when Chungsung says to slow down he means to go faster, when Chungsung says go easy he actually means to go harder.
“Who told you you had the right to ask anything of me?” Another strike, and Chungsung’s knees give out from the impact, heartbeat frantic against emerald silk bed sheets.
Despite his small frame, Dongha has been growing into his strength already. Back then, even two hours of lashings would only amount to a few red marks, but now, a single strike would hurt for a week.
“Please forgive this servant for overstepping my lord, I will accept whatever the young master deems fit for myself.”
Dongha hums, and Chungsung readies himself for another lash, but instead of the biting pain of the young master's belt buckle, he feels Dongha's weight get off the bed.
Chungsung abstains from asking about it, biting his lip in anticipation. “I think you're enjoying this too much, Chungsung,” Dongha says dryly, moving to kneel beside his head. The boy reaches over to undo the ropes tying his hands to the bedpost as Chungsung pales.
“This was supposed to be punishment for your inadequacy.” Chungsung is forcibly turned over, suddenly brought face to face with Dongha's glare. The butler does not dare to move an inch, letting his petulant young master manhandle him to lay down.
Dongha brackets his butler's torso with his legs, manoeuvres his arms to tie them back against the bedpost. In this new position, Chungsung's arousal is clear as day.
“What's this supposed to be?” Dongha stands up as he says, thick-soled boots stepping back to kick languidly at Chungsung's hard-on.
Chungsung's breath hitches, thighs convulsing as Dongha’s boot settles heavily against his dick. Even from this angle, Chungsung can see the wetness forming under Dongha's shoe, soaking through his pants.
“Did you come already, Chungsung?” Dongha says apathetically, boot still pushing against Chungsung's softening dick. Dongha's face as well, is void of any emotion. Chungsung has no idea what's going through his little prince's pretty head. Typically Dongha doesn't even touch his cock at all, but the buildup of pain still allows him his climax.
Chungsung's eyes tear up from the overstimulation, fogging his glasses, “My—nghh—sincerest apologies young master, please excuse this one's lack of restraint.”
“Maybe we should just castrate you, huh Chungsung? Make it so you can't enjoy when I discipline you?” The idea almost makes Chungsung's arousal spring back to life, but Dongha's weight makes it near impossible.
Chungsung can only arch his back, desperate to relieve the pressure, but the pain of overstimulation is making him near delirious with want. His torture-craving body betraying his instinct.
“If that is what the young master wants, this servant cannot refuse it.”
The blonde boy laughs, “As expected from my ever loyal and obedient butler, while we’re at it I might as well make you my wife, what do you think? The only things you’re good at are housekeeping and cockwarming anyways.”
Dongha is bluffing, of course, trying to degrade him, he doesn't even know where his young master learned to speak like that. Chungsung is good at housekeeping but he’s never tried warming any cocks before, though the thought of being filled up real nice while Dongha steps on his cock unfortunately sends blood rushing south, going against his physical limits.
“Your father won’t be very happy about that,” Chungsung replies, knowing it’s a sensitive topic that always pushes at the young master’s buttons when he’s in a mood. It seems Dongha isn't as angry as he thought though, since the boy only laughs it off instead of stepping on him harder.
“My mistress then? The old man has one too, don’t try to defend him, Chungsung. I don’t even have to keep you out of the house, they won’t know any better.”
Dongha takes his foot off, “I think I’m in a better mood now Chungsung, I’m going to review our notes from the last round.” He practically jumps off the bed, still too short to simply step off it.
Chungsung wants to wail out “At least finish off what you started, please!” but knows that once Dongha puts his mind to something, it’s near impossible to sway him (Not that he’d want to anyway, he could never ask anything of his master), so he only swallows and nods, ignoring the ache in his pants.
“Of course young master, would you like me to prepare some tea as well?” He suggests, wanting to get out of his binds.
“Hm, no thank you Chungsung.” Dongha smiles soft and red-cheeked, like this, Chungsung thinks, he looks a bit more like his age. The young master turns away to run off to the study, leaving his poor butler sprawled out on the sheets.
Chungsung sighs, oh well, it’s nothing he’s not used to.