CAR 15

Vittorio slowly raked his eyes up and down Dennis. It was an intimidating and gruesome gaze. Vittorio asked lightly.

“What if I’ve never once thought of you as a man?”

“Then…”

“The toilet is talking.”

Vittorio bared his teeth and smiled. He grabbed a fistful of Dennis’s hair in one swift motion. The nape of his neck throbbed.

Vittorio led Dennis to the desk. During the short distance, he was hastily pulling down his pants. Dennis, too, desperately looked around, searching for a way out.

It was a desk that clearly showed signs of being used. It must have been someone’s break area, or perhaps a teacher’s desk. Dennis, shoved face-first onto the untidy desk, groaned in pain. Dennis’s head was spinning.

A man does not rape a man.

This was an opponent for whom this simple common sense did not apply. Dennis, who had been scratching at the desk’s surface, lifted his head. Vittorio, who had been continuously rubbing what was between his legs against Dennis’s gray suit pants, grabbed the top of his head in one go. Then he turned Dennis’s head to face the wall again.

“I think I’ll cum if I see your face, so look straight ahead as much as possible.”

“Hah…”

Dennis’s torso shook violently once. The edge of the desk pressing against his upper stomach was unpleasant and uncomfortable. Each time Vittorio brutally thrust himself up, his abdomen throbbed. It was a pressure that would do more than just bruise; it could rupture something.

As Dennis’s resistance gradually faded, he began to quicken his thrusts. Every time Vittorio’s breath touched the nape of his neck, his head would automatically bow. This couldn’t go on.

With an opponent for whom common sense didn’t apply, in a space outside of common sense, he did not want to perform an act that was against common sense.

Vittorio’s two hands grabbed Dennis’s flat chest. A middle finger, having intruded between the buttons, subtly rubbed his chest.

“No tits.”

“…”

“Doesn’t know how to get hard either.”

According to his critique, Dennis possessed the most useless and worst kind of body. In reality, he wasn’t frigid. When he was a little younger, he had masturbated while watching Quachi sleep with married women from afar. It was just that his body, where fear had taken root, was suffering more from domination than from pleasure.

Vittorio’s hand rested on Dennis’s hip. His two hands, which had pushed down even his underwear in one go, gripped his small buttocks tightly. His neck bent back on its own.

“I have a fiancée…!”

Vittorio’s hands, which had been kneading his bare skin, paused for a moment. Finally letting out a breath, Dennis corrected his posture.

“A wench?”

Vittorio asked back, as if baffled. It was absurd. When Eric had mentioned his fiancée back home, Dennis, too, had felt his heart soften for a moment. Perhaps he also…

“Then you have to do it with me, too.”

He instantly hoisted Dennis’s plump buttocks up. Dennis’s mouth fell open with a harsh rubbing sound. He had almost pissed himself. Dennis, bracing himself on the desk with both arms, let out a retch.

Vittorio, as if finding Dennis amusing, draped his massive body over him. Vittorio’s chest pressed against his back. Vittorio interlaced his fingers over the back of Dennis’s hands and rocked them gently. At a glance, it was a tender gesture.

“Do you, Dennis Kahler, swear to devoutly accept everything that Vittorio Bonaparte cums out?”

“Fuck… you…”

“Got fucked.”

“…”

“If you tell me to fuck you, Sir, I have no choice but to do it.”

He bit down on the nape of Dennis’s neck. His even set of teeth roamed wildly over his nape and back. He was poised to violate Dennis even if he were a married man. Such things posed no problem whatsoever under Vittorio’s common sense.

It was just a matter of how to inject Dennis with even greater shame and disgrace… that alone seemed to be Vittorio’s mission.

Vittorio pushed his damp fingertips into Dennis. Dennis let out half of a literal ‘scream’ before hastily clamping a hand over his own mouth. It had been a long time since even the occasional murmuring voices had ceased within the faculty office.

Did the other teachers already know? About Vittorio’s conduct…

As if proud of Dennis for sealing his own lips, Vittorio pressed a kiss to the part in his hair.

“Looks like you haven’t put anything in there since then.”

“Die, I’m going to kill you, I’ll kill you, and then I’ll also, die…”

“Don’t do that, Sir.”

Vittorio quietly contorted his face. Shoving his own thigh between Dennis’s two legs, he repeated arrogantly.

“Because if you die, I’ll kill you.”

Dennis’s eyes suddenly met someone’s from beyond the partitioned cubicles. It was the young equipment manager he had run into not long after he was assigned here, Thomas.

After looking down at Dennis for a moment through the gap, he turned away drily. Dennis was extremely shocked by his attitude. It was as if he didn’t give a damn whether a fellow teacher was in trouble or not, for he had returned to his own desk.

Vittorio squeezed Dennis’s member as if to crush it. He sneered as he sloppily smeared whatever the half-erect thing shamefully spewed out all over Dennis’s thigh.

It was absolutely impossible to push him away with strength. Dennis’s empty pupils stared at the chaotically scattered documents.

“What must I put in here to give you pleasure, Sir.”

Vittorio, asking casually, rummaged through a desk drawer with one hand. His thumb and forefinger were holding Dennis’s hole wide open. The delicate skin stung terribly.

From among the documents, Dennis picked up a fountain pen without a cap. Dennis’s pupils, hiding the nib that was almost a blade in his sleeve, contracted intensely with excitement and fear.

Vittorio clicked his tongue as if the items in the drawer were not to his liking. He peered intently into Dennis’s insides. That fact alone was humiliating enough. He acted as if a thing like squeamishness did not exist.

It was just as Vittorio’s member was about to push its way into Dennis’s crudely. Dennis twisted his body with all his might. Vittorio, briefly admiring his flexibility, let out a whistle. His member came into direct contact with Dennis’s lower abdomen.

Dennis readjusted his grip on what he had hidden in his sleeve and swung it toward his abdomen.

Vittorio quickly caught it with his hand.

With a heavy groan, everything stopped for a moment. A ringing sound filled Dennis’s ears. He slowly let go of the fountain pen that had pierced Vittorio’s palm.

“…How cute.”

He didn’t even bat an eye. Rather, he willingly licked up the blood that was slowly soaking his white sleeve. The hand, with the pen nib starkly embedded in it, was gradually clenching. Vittorio grabbed Dennis’s neck with his uninjured hand.

“I’m the one who’s hurt, so why are you the one who’s so surprised, Sir?”

“…”

“Look up close.”

Vittorio thrust his palm at Dennis. The fountain pen, piercing the skin near the side of his hand, twitched from time to time. Vittorio only winced but did not openly show any great pain.

He was expressing a fervent interest in the Dennis before him rather than the state of his own hand.

“The force of your downward strike isn’t bad…”

“Vicious bastard…”

“Who taught you?”

Vittorio’s left hand grabbed both his own member and Dennis’s at the same time. At the fingertips scratching at his shaft, Dennis let out an unexpected groan. His back arched at the unfamiliar friction. Drops of blood fell intermittently onto his thigh.

“Quachi?”

Vittorio pulled at the corners of his mouth, giving a gentlemanly smile. Dennis was visibly shaken, for he had not expected Quachi’s name to come from his mouth. Vittorio, taking the silence as an affirmation, continued to pump their members together, still holding them in his hand.

Even if he acted as if he didn’t know anything about Quachi here, he would likely have a vague idea. Besides, the delivery man who had handed Dennis the card from Quachi was also Vittorio.

“I didn’t like any of the things Quachi has sent me so far, so I’ve just carelessly buried them underground…”

Vittorio’s watery-blue eyes took on a distinct and unusual light. His pupils shone fervently.

Originally, a spy was supposed to commit suicide if their backer was discovered. It was a principle similar to chewing and swallowing the paper on which Quachi’s instructions were written.

Dennis reflexively pressed his front teeth down on the thick tongue inside his mouth.

“But among them, it’s the first time I’ve seen something as shabby and vulgar as you, so my heart is moved.”

“…Am I as vulgar… and filthy… as you.”

“You don’t know me well yet.”

Vittorio’s back heaved for a moment. He came messily on Dennis’s groin. He bared his teeth as he wiped his glistening hand on Dennis’s flat abdomen.

“Ah, I suppose I should play fair at this point.”

Vittorio looked down at his right hand, which was occasionally twitching against his will, as if it were a nuisance. He nonchalantly picked up his pants and put them on, as if he weren’t a person with a pen stuck in him. He also did not forget to lick his palm like a feline predator.

For whatever reason, Vittorio readily gave Dennis some information about Volle.

He said this was a royal-owned island not on any map, and that it was literally a place of exile where pirates would occasionally land outside the school, gamble amongst themselves, and then leave. Vittorio added gruffly that Dennis shouldn’t even dream of escaping unless he wanted to be dismembered by their dull blades.

He said Dennis was already the fifteenth. When Dennis asked about the whereabouts of the fourteen who had arrived before him, Vittorio sneered.

“Since you were sent by Quachi, I was quite looking forward to you having two cocks, and maybe eight assholes…”

“…”

“How pointless.”