The Retired CEO's Guide To Being Spoiled-Chapter 171: A Sweet, Agonizing Torment
Upon hearing the shameless, nonsensical words spilling from Ethan Caldwell’s lips, words so incredibly lewd that they could make anyone blush a deep, vivid crimson, Julian Sterling felt an overwhelming urge to turn around and firmly cover that incessantly babbling mouth to silence it once and for all. However, the harsh reality of his current predicament rendered such a rebellious thought utterly impossible. His entire body was currently entrapped within the powerful, iron-clad grasp of the man above him, completely at his mercy. Under such dominating circumstances, pinned down and vulnerable, what possible opportunity could he have to stop the barrage of teasing?
Every single time Julian sobbed out a desperate, trembling plea, calling out "hubby" in a voice laced with vulnerability and begging him to cease his verbal teasing, it seemed to have the absolute opposite effect. Instead of relenting, the man’s mouth only became wickeder, his whispered words growing even more corrupt, suggestive, and maddeningly teasing than before.
"What is it? Does my darling not enjoy this?" Ethan purred, his deep voice dripping with mock innocence and a dark, predatory amusement: "But I find that your body is being quite honest, isn’t it? Look at how tightly you are clenching around me, refusing to let me go."
He paused, leaning closer to nibble on Julian’s sensitive earlobe before adding: "Be a good boy. Your husband cannot possibly finish so quickly. It would be a terrible loss of face for a man to lack stamina, wouldn’t it?"
As he spoke these taunting words, Ethan enthusiastically ground against the small, tight entrance below. The opening had already been rendered soft and pliable, unable to offer much resistance against the invasion. Meanwhile, the scorching hot walls of flesh deep inside Julian’s body contracted ceaselessly, pulsing around the intruder. They seemed to be trying to swallow the hard, intrusive object whole in their greedy embrace. Deep within his belly, Julian had lost count of how much of the man’s essence he was already holding. The accumulation of their previous rounds seemed to fill him up completely, creating a heavy, sloshing sensation that was both shameful and erotic.
By this point, Julian was utterly exhausted, his limbs feeling like lead and his mind spinning in a chaotic whirl of sensation. His mouth could do nothing more than spill broken, fragmented whimpers and incoherent moans, while his entire physical weight was completely dependent on the man supporting him. His breathing was erratic and disordered, his chest heaving violently with every gasp as he tried to intake oxygen. Yet, amidst this endless, rolling wave of pleasure that threatened to drown him, he vaguely noticed something peculiar about Ethan’s behavior. Today, for some reason, Ethan seemed to possess a particular, obsessive fondness for caressing his stomach.
That large, searingly hot hand, roughened slightly with thin calluses, lingered relentlessly on his soft, fair abdomen, refusing to let go. He rubbed and pressed, his movements shifting unpredictably, at times gentle, as if caressing a priceless, fragile treasure, and at other times rough, filled with an overwhelming, dark possessiveness. Every time Ethan’s slender fingers pressed down specifically onto that sensitive expanse of skin, the action coincided perfectly with a deep, burying thrust from behind. This terrifyingly rhythmic coordination, the external pressure meeting the internal impact, caused Julian’s legs to cramp uncontrollably, his toes curling tightly against the tangled sheets in sheer intensity.
"It seems my love drank quite a lot of fruit juice earlier, didn’t he?" Ethan suddenly asked, his tone laced with teasing amusement as his hand traced the curve of Julian’s belly: "This little belly is all round and taut now."
The sudden question left Julian dazed and confused. He struggled to open his tear-filled eyes, looking back at the man with a wet, innocent gaze that swam with disorientation. He managed only a muffled "umm" and "ah" in his throat, a sound that might have been an answer or merely a cry of sensation.
His mind drifted back to earlier in the evening. When the group had been drinking, the atmosphere in the private VIP room had been incredibly lively and raucous. While everyone else raised glasses of deep red wine, toasting to success, Louis York had been strangely attentive, diligently pouring fruit juice for Julian. At first, Julian had felt a bit shy and awkward. Holding a glass of golden orange juice while everyone else drank sophisticated wine felt out of place, making him feel slightly isolated from the adult atmosphere.
However, Kieran Talbot, sitting right beside him, had kept reminding him with concern that his stomach hadn’t been well lately and that he should temporarily avoid alcohol or stimulants. Being obedient and trusting, Julian had listened to the advice, drinking glass after glass of the cool, sweet liquid. The refreshing taste had masked the volume, and he hadn’t realized just how much he was consuming, perhaps enough to fill his stomach to the absolute brim.
But what did drinking water have to do with this current, shameful situation?
Julian wanted to open his mouth to ask for clarification, but the domineering man gave him no chance to form a complete sentence. Ethan’s lower body drove into him with the full force of a sexually aggressive, mature man. The frequency was dizzying, a blur of motion that constantly ground and crushed against his most sensitive internal spot. The onslaught made Julian’s entire body go numb, trembling in spasms of overstimulation.
He couldn’t speak, words were lost, leaving only broken sobs and shattered cries.
It wasn’t until a moment later that Julian suddenly realized what was actually happening. It seemed the man was intentionally pressing down on his slightly distended lower abdomen. The pressure from the hand outside, combined with the brutal, filling collisions from within, created a unique form of torture that was both sweet and excruciatingly agonizing.
"Mmm... ah... don’t... Hubby... d-don’t press... ah... it’s too full there... please..."
Julian’s lower belly felt tight and swollen to the point of pain. A sudden, urgent need to urinate crashed over him like a tsunami, terrifying in its intensity. The sensation caused him to fall into a state of extreme panic. Physiological tears streamed down his face, which was already flushed red from the heat of arousal, while sweat soaked his temples, plastering strands of hair to his cheeks in a messy disarray. He shook his head frantically, his hair rubbing against the pillow as he struggled.
"Don’t... don’t! Let me go... hic... I can’t take it... please..."
But Ethan seemed deaf to his pleas, completely ignoring the distress. His hips continued to thrust with all their might, as if trying to nail Julian to the bed with his cock, while his hand ruthlessly pressed down on the bladder that was full of liquid. The sensation of needing to release the pressure became clearer and more desperate by the second. His bladder felt as though it were about to explode from the dual assault. Julian flailed his limbs wildly, his arms and legs thrashing as he tried to push the man above him away, but he was powerless to escape Ethan’s iron grip.
Finally, adding the ultimate layer of cruelty, Ethan reached down to stroke Julian’s already erect member. The touch made it even harder, throbbing with pain and pleasure. But just as Julian reached his absolute limit, desperate to ejaculate and relieve some of the mounting pressure, the man maliciously used his thumb to firmly block the urethral opening, sealing off the only exit.
"Mmm... l-let go... you bastard... hic... you’re going to kill me..."
