The Retired CEO's Guide To Being Spoiled-Chapter 174: A Compromise of Dignity
Ethan shifted his stance. He adjusted Julian’s position, maneuvering him so that he was holding Julian under the thighs, his legs spread wide apart. It was the exact posture one would use when holding a baby over a potty for toilet training, exposed, vulnerable, and infantile.
"Put... put me down!" Julian gasped, panic flaring in his chest. He couldn’t do this. He absolutely could not relieve himself while suspended in mid-air like this! It was impossible. The lack of ground beneath his feet made him feel insecure, and the position was too humiliating. He tried to struggle, his legs kicking feebly, but the man’s grip was absolute, locking him in place like a vice.
"Be good. Relax..." Ethan said, his tone undergoing a sudden, jarring transformation. The mocking cruelty vanished, replaced by a voice that was strangely gentle, low, and soothing, though his actions remained as domineering as ever.
Ethan slowly withdrew his length, pulling almost all the way out until only the wide, swollen head of his member remained hooked just inside the entrance. Then, with agonizing slowness, he pushed back in. He didn’t just thrust; he ground his way in, flattening the soft, hot folds of the intestinal walls, ironing them out as he sought the swollen, red prostate gland.
"Don’t tense up. Jules, open your eyes. Look at me."
Julian struggled to lift his heavy eyelids. Through the shimmering veil of his tears, the image of Ethan swam into focus. The man’s face was magnified, close enough that Julian could see the pores on his skin. It was a handsome face, carved with sharp, masculine angles, but the eyes were what captured him. They were deep, dark pools of ink, void of light but filled with a terrifyingly thick possessiveness and a naked, raw lust that seemed to suck the very air out of Julian’s lungs. 𝒻𝘳ℯℯ𝑤ℯ𝒷𝘯ℴ𝓋ℯ𝘭.𝑐ℴ𝑚
"Your belly is very full, isn’t it? It’s uncomfortable, right?" Ethan’s hand, large and warm, continued to rub circles over Julian’s distended, round lower abdomen. He could feel the hardness beneath the smooth skin, the way the muscles trembled and spasmed under his touch: "You want to shoot it out so badly, don’t you?"
"I want to... hic... I want to... Ethan... please..." Julian admitted, his voice broken by a sob. He had lost. He surrendered. He truly could not endure this sweet, excruciating torture for another second.
"Then shoot..." Ethan commanded. The order was ruthless, yet it carried a deadly, irresistible temptation: "Shoot everything out for your husband to see. The sperm, the piss, everything you are holding inside. Release it all for me. There is no one else here but you and me."
"N-No... I can’t... it’s too weird... it’s wrong..." Julian panicked, his subconscious mind still trying to mount a feeble resistance against the taboo.
"It’s fine. It’s perfectly fine." Ethan cooed, his voice a hypnotic rhythm: "We are in the bathroom now. Look, the toilet bowl is right beneath your feet. No one will know how naughty you’ve been, my sweet darling. Be a good boy and let it go."
As the man spoke these corrupting words of encouragement, his hands were busy. One hand continued to stroke and milk the length of Julian’s leaking penis, pulling at the shaft in a steady rhythm. Meanwhile, his hips worked tirelessly, delivering heavy, deliberate thrusts. Each impact was calculated, aiming with sniper-like precision at that one sensitive spot deep inside, crushing and grinding against Julian’s prostate until the nerves screamed with numbness. A bolt of pleasure, sharp and blinding like a lightning strike, shot up Julian’s spine, shattering his last line of defense.
The combination of overwhelming, frantic stimulation and the sudden, authoritative permission granted by the man who held his heart and body in the palm of his hand caused Julian Sterling to shatter completely. It was as if a massive, torrential dam within him had burst, the structural integrity of his rationality crumbling into dust in a single heartbeat. All mental barriers, all the walls of shame and propriety he had desperately tried to erect, collapsed into nothingness.
A current of numbing, electric pleasure, far more intense than anything he had ever experienced, shot up his spine like a bolt of lightning, piercing straight into his brainstem. It was blinding, all-consuming. His eyes rolled back until only the whites were visible, his mind going completely blank, wiped clean of thought, ego, and resistance. His body convulsed violently, thrashing within the iron-clad embrace of Ethan Caldwell’s muscular arms. His mouth fell open, gasping greedily for oxygen like a fish out of water, yet he could not form a single coherent word. The only sounds that escaped his throat were broken, fragmented whimpers and shattered cries of ecstasy that echoed off the tiled walls.
"Ahhhhhhh!!!"
In that blinding storm of climax, where heaven and earth seemed to merge into a singular point of white light, Julian lost absolute control over his own physiology. His body belonged entirely to the sensation. The throbbing member at his front jerked spasmodically, firing thick, milky ropes of semen in rhythmic spurts. And in that same moment of total release, the sphincter of his bladder, which had been fighting a losing battle against the immense pressure, finally gave up its resistance. It no longer obeyed the commands of his logic; it simply relaxed.
A stream of warm, pale yellow liquid, carrying the accumulated pressure of the evening’s indulgence, surged forth in a torrent. It mingled intimately with the spurts of white essence, creating a chaotic, shameful mixture that sprayed directly into the toilet bowl beneath them, splattering against the pristine white porcelain in a visual testament to his complete unraveling.
The sound was audible in the quiet space, the distinct, rushing noise of liquid hitting water and porcelain, ringing clearly in the silence of the bathroom. It was a sound that seemed to amplify the intimacy of the moment a thousandfold. This auditory detail intertwined with the heavy, ragged breathing of two men, one panting from exertion and triumph, the other gasping from the sheer magnitude of his release.
Gradually, the air in the enclosed space became heavy with a complex, heady aroma. The faint, sweet scent of fermented fruit juice seemed to linger, mixing with the sharp, metallic tang of fresh semen, the acrid note of urine, and the thick, overpowering musk of aggressive male pheromones. It was a scent that was carnal, primitive, and suffocatingly erotic, the smell of a boundary being crossed and obliterated.
" Hic... uhn... hic... ahhhh..."
After the last drop had been expelled, after the heavy burden in his lower abdomen had finally been lifted, leaving him feeling hollowed out and light, Julian collapsed. He lay draped over the man’s broad shoulder, his body as limp and pliable as a puddle of water. He couldn’t summon the strength to lift a single finger. His eyes were squeezed shut, refusing to open to the reality of what had just happened, while hot tears continued to stream down his cheeks, soaking his face. He brought his trembling hands up to cover his face, crying bitterly, his shoulders shaking with the weight of his mortification.
