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In the shadowed realms of a medieval world scarred by endless wars, the Survey Corps stood as humanity's bulwark against the encroaching hordes beyond the walls. Aerion Ackerman, the stoic captain of the elite scouts, rode through the mist-shrouded forests on the borderlands, his black stallion snorting plumes of breath into the chill air. His orders from Commander Peter Smith were clear: intercept any spies from the rival kingdoms to the east, those who whispered of ancient prophecies and seven legendary knights.
Aerion's sharp eyes caught movement ahead—a small figure darting between the ancient oaks. The boy couldn't have been more than eleven, clad in ragged tunic and breeches stained with mud, his dark hair matted and face smudged with dirt. Dexter Sol, the whispers in the taverns called him, a wandering actor who performed tales of 'A Knight of the Seven Kingdoms,' but Aerion knew better. The child's satchel bulged with maps and coded messages, proof of espionage for the eastern lords.
With a swift motion, Aerion dismounted and lunged, his gloved hand clamping over Dexter's mouth before the boy could cry out. The child thrashed wildly, small fists pounding against Aerion's armored chest, but the captain's grip was iron. 'Quiet, brat,' Aerion growled, binding the boy's wrists with rough cord. Dexter's wide eyes filled with terror as Aerion hoisted him onto the horse like a sack of grain, securing him in front. The ride back to the Corps' fortified castle was silent save for the boy's muffled whimpers and the creak of leather.
By dusk, they arrived at the stone bastion overlooking the walls. Aerion dragged Dexter through the torch-lit corridors, the boy's bare feet scraping against the cold flagstones. Guards saluted as they entered Peter Smith's private chambers, a vast room dominated by a roaring hearth and a massive four-poster bed draped in furs. Peter stood by the window, his tall frame silhouetted against the flickering flames, blond hair tied back, his blue eyes gleaming with calculated intensity.
'Commander,' Aerion said curtly, shoving Dexter forward. The boy stumbled to his knees, trembling. 'Caught this one skulking near the borders. He's carrying secrets from the east—maps, ciphers. Calls himself an actor, but he's no innocent performer.'
Peter turned, his gaze locking onto the child with predatory interest. He dismissed Aerion with a nod. 'Well done, Captain. Leave him to me. I'll extract every detail.' Aerion paused at the door, his expression unreadable, but he obeyed, the heavy oak slamming shut behind him.
Dexter scrambled back, pressing against the wall, his bound hands clutched to his chest. 'P-please, sir,' he stammered, voice high and breaking. 'I'm just a boy! I didn't mean no harm. Let me go!' Tears streaked his dirty cheeks, but Peter only smiled, a cold, commanding curve of his lips as he approached.
'Oh, but you did mean harm, little spy,' Peter murmured, towering over the child. He reached down, fingers tangling in Dexter's hair, yanking his head back to expose the slender throat. 'And now, you'll pay for it. Every kingdom has its ways of breaking intruders.' With his free hand, Peter unbuckled his belt, the leather whispering free. Dexter's eyes widened in horror as the commander freed his thick cock from his breeches, already hardening at the sight of the boy's fear.
'No! Stop!' Dexter cried, kicking futilely as Peter hauled him up by the hair and threw him onto the bed. The furs muffled the impact, but the boy bounced, scrambling to escape. Peter pinned him down with one massive hand on his back, the other ripping at the boy's tunic. Fabric tore easily, exposing pale, unmarked skin, the child's ribs visible under the dim light.
Peter's weight pressed Dexter into the mattress, his cock throbbing against the boy's thigh. 'Scream all you want,' he growled, grinding his hips forward. 'These walls have heard worse.' He yanked Dexter's breeches down, baring the small, rounded ass. The boy sobbed, twisting, but Peter's strength was unrelenting. He spat into his palm, slicking his shaft roughly before pressing the blunt head against the boy's tight entrance.
Dexter's pleas turned to shrieks as Peter thrust in, forcing past the resistance without mercy. The child's body clenched in agony, tiny hole stretching impossibly around the invading girth. Blood slicked the way as Peter buried himself deeper, grunting with satisfaction. 'Tight little traitor,' he hissed, pulling back only to slam forward again, each brutal stroke jolting Dexter's frame.
The boy wailed, fingers clawing at the furs, but Peter held him immobile, one hand gripping a narrow hip while the other clamped over his mouth. He fucked harder, the bed creaking under the assault, his balls slapping against Dexter's skin. The child's muffled cries vibrated against Peter's palm, fueling the commander's lust. Sweat beaded on Peter's brow as he pounded relentlessly, chasing his release in the boy's violated body.
Minutes stretched into eternity for Dexter, pain radiating through his core, but Peter's pace quickened, hips snapping with feral urgency. With a low roar, he came, flooding the child's ass with hot spurts of cum. He held deep, grinding to empty every drop, before pulling out abruptly. Dexter collapsed, whimpering, cum and blood leaking from his ruined hole.
Peter stood, tucking himself away with casual efficiency. He wiped his hand on a cloth and rang a bell for the guards. 'Clean him up and lock him in the dungeons,' he ordered when they arrived. 'We'll continue the interrogation tomorrow.' As they dragged the broken boy away, Peter turned back to the window, his mind already plotting the next conquest in this endless game of thrones and titans.