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Your steps halted after reaching the top of the stairs. So many times you wanted to come to the temple, ask for help, thinking, knowing that you had nowhere else to turn to. But you always hesitated, anxiety and shame taking over your mind. But fear prevailed, at last. You went to therapists, they told you it was stress, unresolved childhood trauma. You've never heard of people seeing monsters at lunch time because they had a narcissistic mother. They were everywhere. And they were looking at you, their disgusting sounds echoing in your ears even after running away. You haven't had a good night's sleep in a couple of months. The only rest you had was always in the presence of someone else, scared that the monsters might come for you. What were they? What did they want from you?
You had reached your limit last night. You went out with some friends, thinking a large company would help. But it was worse. So many, so different, so disgusting. Those monsters were everywhere, on people's shoulders, hiding behind the corner of a building, on the counter at the grocery store. You ran home, away from the crowded neighbourhood, took a cold shower and decided you couldn't delay it anymore. Otherwise you would go completely insane.
You had to see Geto Suguru.
It was right before sunrise, when the darkness of the night was melting into brighter shades of blue, the fresh air of morning filling your lungs, encouraging you to move forward. You doubted anyone was there so early in the morning. You were determined to wait, in any case. You wrapped your fingers around the cold golden surface of the handle, hitting it lightly against the tall door. Behind, the tip of the sun was slowly creeping up, engulfing the world in a warm orange light.
"Good morning, miss early bird." You heard a gleeful voice.
Turning back, you noticed a tall, long haired man dressed in the traditional monk attire. His lips were curled up in a smile, although it lacked any warmth.
"I-I'm sorry to bother." You quickly apologized, trying to control your stuttering voice. "I-I know it's early but... uhm I am here for... I have a problem... I mean I want to talk to-" Maybe the sleepless nights were taking their toll on your concentration.
"I am Geto Suguru." The man said, his hands hidden away under the flowing sleeves of his kesa. "Come inside, I believe it is me you're looking for."
You nodded, following him inside. All the stories you heard from people who seeked out Geto's help were similar. He was kind and jovial, with a well developed, and borderline offensive, sense of humour for a monk. He helped everyone. But there was something off about him, you heard that often. Contrary to his gentle smile, people felt in danger in his presence, some describing it as a sensation of imminent death. You were feeling all of those things right now, as you walked one step behind him. Geto looked like he was coming from somewhere, not that he had just woken up to open the temple. You walked into an empty room, the only noticeable decoration being the three scrolls hanging on the wall.
Death to the Fool
Punishment to the Weak
Love to the Strong
Your steps froze in the middle of the room while Geto walked over, sitting down on the floor with the scrolls framing his head as he leaned his head to rest on his palm. The word weak blinded you for a moment and you couldn't concentrate on anything else but the thought that you were indeed weak. A fool? You weren't quite sure. Strong? Clearly not. You fitted perfectly into the weak category. You wondered if these were the principles of the man in front of you, a drop of sweat falling along your neck. You've never heard of these words used for any other temple. But you weren't the religious type anyway.
"Miss early bird?" You heard Geto's voice get louder and you realized you must have not heard him calling you before. You blinked, confused, introducing yourself.
"I think I'm going crazy." was the first thing you blurted out after your name. You didn't have the time to prepare a speech or rehearse anything. You let out whatever you felt first and Geto laughed, a mocking but harmless laugh that you couldn't blame. "I started seeing these weird monsters. Everywhere. Next to people. On the street. Some are even talking to me." Geto's attitude changed, his eyebrows raised in surprise. "I don't know how to get rid of them. Nobody else sees them. I don't even know if they are real."
"When did you start seeing these monsters?" He asked, his eyes paying more attention to your form now. It was faint, almost unnoticeable, but he could sense your cursed energy.
"A few months ago. Around the time I moved to the city. I'm from a small mountain village." You looked at Geto, your only hope, as he pondered on your fate. His silence made you more nervous with every passing second. More desperate. You didn't think you could bear to walk out on your own and see those monsters again. You would rather die.
Death to the Fool
Were you a fool?
"I want to be strong!" You yelled out as tears filled your eyes. "Please, please, please I don't ever want to see those things ever again!" You begged, falling on your knees. You were definitely weak. You sobbed in silence, not even noticing when Geto sat up and walked over to you. Your break down helped him make a decision it seemed. He crouched down in front of you, pulling your hands away from your face with his slender fingers.
"Miss early bird." He said as he wiped your tears away. You wanted to correct him, remind him that you had introduced yourself already, but his soft voice left you speechless. A softness, different from the previously dissimulated one, coated his words like a sweet ointment on your open wounds. "Do you know where these monsters come from?" You looked at him, eyes empty and confused, shaking your head. "They come from filthy monkeys." You frowned. Was he making fun of your suffering? "If you get rid of the cause, the effect would naturally disappear, don't you think?"
"Get rid of monkeys?" You asked, aware of the fact that, if he really was making fun of you, it was already unavoidable.
"A figure of speech." He threw his hands in the air, in a helpless gesture. "The things you're seeing are curses, miss early bird. And they are born out of humans that cannot control cursed energy." You would have snapped for sure at his reluctance to refer to you by name if his following words didn't make your eyes open wide in shock, unable to register the information you just received.
"So... I'm not going crazy?" You whispered, almost scared to say it out loud.
"You said you don't want to see curses again." His voice changed to a serious tone by the time your tears ran dry. "The only solution is getting rid of their cause. Monkeys." He spat out the last word with such spite that it had you jolt back in surprise.
"But I'm a human too..." You mumbled, finding this small error of logic in his story fatal.
"No, no." He waved a long, slim finger in front of your face like a toddler. "You have cursed energy. I can help you control it."
He sat up, gathering the the folds of his traditional robe. You looked up at him, one of his arms extended towards you, his palm just above your head.
"Do you want to help me kill all the monkeys, miss early bird?"
***
Out of all the people in Geto's inner circle, you clearly stood out as the weakest, dumbest and most useless. At least this is how you felt. His found family was, if you had to pick one word, peculiar. But even more peculiar than that was your very presence amongst them. You didn't have any basics, didn't even know this world existed until you begged Geto for help. He must run out of patience at some point, you thought. But everyday he found even the smallest moments to give you some insight or reevaluate your progress so far.
Geto Suguru was a proud man. After all, he was leading a cult. Your desperation hit a very sensitive spot inside him that he wasn't even aware existed. Something about your crying face, so pretty despite your agony, gave him the satisfaction of being your saviour. The feeling caught him by surprise as well. Usually, people begging him for help disgusted him. However, he took a lot of pleasure out of teaching you everything, starting with the most obvious things. Your eyes fixed on him, taking in his every word, so well behaved, so eager to make him proud.
It was a completely different feeling from taking care of Nanako and Mimiko. His care for them came from a genuine concern, an honest wish to defend the people like him, wronged by the unfair world. With you, his protection and guidance came from a more perverted part of his soul. A part that he ignored for long, uninterested in trivial matters like this.
He enjoyed having all the answers for your questions. He enjoyed solving your problems, being the person you depended on. He was teaching you how to be strong, yes, but he also enjoyed knowing he would always be above you, no matter what. Something about your lack of pride, your straightforward questions, your awe in response to his knowledge and strenght, everything about you rubbed him the right way.
"Tell me again about your village, miss early bird." Three months later and he still insisted on not using your name. You were convinced he had to know it, he simply found it amusing to use this silly nickname. It didn't bother you anymore.
"It's very peaceful." You said as you poured Geto some tea. After you found out about his unpleasant technique, you made it your daily task to offer him some consolation in order to make up for the nauseating taste of curses he absorbed. "People are very close to nature, it brings a lot of peace to the soul." The tea you were preparing for him had calming properties, besides the floral mild taste. "There are no natural calamities and no thieves. People learned to take what they need from nature and share it with the community. The wi-fi signal is shitty, though." You joked and he smiled before taking a sip.
You found yourself fall for that smile. It was quite inevitable, if you really put some thought into it. He was so kind, so gentle, so generous, so patient with you. Not to mention his handsome face. Soon, you started wishing you could see more of what was hiding under his attire. You quickly learned how to distinguish between the subtle undertones of his smile. Maybe you were delusional, but you never saw him smile to other people like he smiled for you.
"Sounds like a nice place." That's what he would always say. You guessed the idea of your boring home village was some kind if utopia for him. No wonder you never saw curses before. They didn't exist there.
"Why did you leave?" It was the first time he asked. He was usually more interested in the way the community worked, how people avoided conflicts, how secluded the place was or how many modern things were absent there.
"I had no future there." He nodded, understading your perfectly valid point.
"Would you go back?" He asked, his eyes already searching the answer in your wavering gaze.
"Only to visit." You answered. He already guessed that from the sad look on your face as you remembered about your home.
"Make sure you take me too some time."
***
You gradually grew closer to everyone else. The dedication of Geto's followers was quite impressive and it only made you want to compete even more fervently for his favours. You quickly realized that the basic martial arts you learned as a kid held more importance than you initially thought. Sometimes Geto would challenge you, only to have you immobilized humiliatingly fast. But thirty seconds turned to one full minute, then two, then five. The more you trained your body, the longer you were able to face him. And the longer you lasted, the more satisfying became the moment when he had both your wrists behind your back in a tight grip, his other hand in your hair while his weight pressed your body firmly on the ground. You've never noticed him paying time and energy with anyone's training, let alone enjoy defeating them as much.
"Gotcha, miss early bird." He would whisper in your ear and you would unsuccessfully try to resist, to break free of his grip, which only made him laugh and hold you tighter. "You'd be dead by now."
When he would finally move away, you would find yourself wishing he remained longer, althought the strain in your shoulders and the pressure of his weight were painful.
"Ten minutes, that's a new record." Geto would praise you when checking the timer. You thought your heart was about to explode out of your chest when he slipped the robe off his shoulders, groaning in the scorching sun of noon. "You've got me sweating, good job."
You were still laying on the ground, rolled on your back, watching his tall figure tower over you. The sun was behind him, like a halo around his head crowned with messy raven hair that fell down to his waist. You couldn't see his face clearly, the light behind him too strong, blinding you. But what you could see was the shape of his body, the round and sharp turns that shaped the contour of his silhouette. His broad shoulders, his fit arms, his slim waist and muscular abdomen right above the band of his baloon pants. In that moment, he looked otherwordly to you. A light in your brain was switched on and you completely understood why people gathered around him, why they pledged allegiance to his cause, why he was worthy of worship. You were left speechless, on the ground, at his feet. He had all the rights to step over you, punish you. Compared to him, you would always be weak, insignificant.
Geto noticed your awe. It was only the two of you, no one else in sight. He pretended not to, but the corner of his mouth was curled in a patronizing grin. All the light of day was reflected on your body, sweaty and gasping for air after only ten minutes of facing him. How pathetic. And yet, your weakness didn't trigger repugnance or malice. Your helpless attempts to fight back, fully aware that it was futile, delighted him. Especially now, when your eyes sparkled in the sun, pupils dilated in veneration, your presence was so unbearably arousing to the point that all the blood seemed to flow into his cock.
"I looked into your fairy tale village." Geto finally said. You would have never stood up from the ground, willing to witness his greatness for the rest of your life. "There's a very high chance you have inherited a special cursed technique." You blinked several times, like trying to get rid of a haze covering your eyes. You sat up, your previously high ponytail only a tangled mess now.
"I don't understand." How could you be so shamelessly blunt? If he were in your shoes, Geto would be embarrassed to admit his lack of knowledge so easily. But in front of him, you bluntly and carelessly showed your most innocent and pure self, like a clueless lamb unaware of the coming slaughter.
"Remote villages are common but yours seemes to have the best of both worlds. No greed, no crime, no hatred yet it's fairly modern and economically thriving."
As the words left his lips he realized that maybe this was the very reason you trusted him so easily, laid all your flaws in front of him so he could pick and choose which way to build you up. You hardly ever went through hardships in life. You learned to trust the people around you. Consequently, seeing curses for the first time was probably the worst thing that had happened to you. You were so untained by the unfair world. So untouched. So easily breakable. You were a blank canvas of innocence with plently of space for him to paint any sinful whim residing in his soul.
"Turns out you're a descendant of an old clan of sorcerers who abandoned the old ways of jujutsu a few hundred years ago. Most were exterminated, the surviving never found."
You parted your lips in an attempt to protest but not sound came out of your mouth. Insead, an astonished expression fell over your face, as you watched Geto sit back down on the ground, a couple of steps away from you.
"You've never seen curses because jujutsu sorcerers don't produce curses. And your tiny mountain village was made up of exclusively descendants of this clan. It may be dormant, but your legacy is still there."
Geto's dark eyes shimmered with a violet shade in the sun, contrasting with his long dark locks that fell over his shoulders, absorbing all the light.
"Isn't it... the world you want to create?" You asked unsure, feeling like he was a teacher testing you. One wrong answer and you could fail the class.
"A scaled-down version, yes." He agreed.
Your eyes uncontrollably fell down his body, watching how his chest softly rose and fell as he breathed, how toned his arms were, how inviting his posture was. You felt a primal urge to crawl up to him, touch him, provoke him. And you did. Gathering your remaining strength, you closed the distance between your bodies. He stood there, unmoved, his eyes looking down at your smaller body, like a hunter watching his prey. Except that his prey was walking right into his jaws, so close. Now, the words death to the fool made perfect sense. A faint breeze of air brushed over both of you, so weak that only the ends of his hair fluttered in the air, grazing against your skin.
"Geto-sama." You said, closer to a whisper, afraid that the wind might carry your words for others to hear. "I believe I was born to serve you."
***
The stronger you became, the closer you got to Geto. Or perhaps it was the other way around. Needless to say, the toll his cursed technique was taking on his body and, more importantly, on his mind was painful to witness. There were times when he would keep the distance, isolating himself so his vulnerable side would remain unknown. A couple of days later he would come back to his usual self, as if nothing happened. Everyone was used to this rare occurence, respecting his space and his choices. After all, who were they to question master Geto's actions? But it always bothered you.
Whenever the sickening taste of curses would become overwhelming and his entire soul would feel like an abandoned landfill, Geto would try to find comfort and pleasure in distractions that could help him cope, keep him one step away from the edge until he would rebuild his strength again. Soon enough, such a distraction was the thought of you, or, to be more specific, the thought of things he would do to you. The idea of corrupting those innocent, honest eyes which trusted him too much. He was almost sure you've never been with a man before, and this detail only made the thought of tainting you with his touch even more pleasing. Geto's soul was damned to be the abyss that trapped curses while yours was so empty, so peaceful, so quiet. Perhaps this was the only thin string of common sense that held him back from unleashing all his urges upon you. If he did bring ruin to your serenity, what was left for him to cling to? Everything you knew about the world, about jujutsu, it was all throgh his lens. Your convictions, your ideals, your motivation they were all his. Your loyalty to him was unbreakable, but wasn't it really his merit? If he did, after all, choose to ravage the holy garden and taste the fruit, wouldn't it also destroy the unsullied image of him in your eyes?
These thoughts were harder to resist whenever you cluelessly insisted on being next to Geto even when he pushed you away. You were knocking at his locked door, telling him you prepared some tea.
The tea is fucking useless.
The real medicine for his nerves, for his fatigue, for his dark thoughts was you. Only you. He would drink all the tea in the world just to have you sitting next to him, talking about nothing in particular. Geto used to think that your relationship dynamic is unchangeable. He was playing god, building the world around you, while you cluelessly looked up to him, not guessing even a fraction of his thoughts or intentions. He was superior in every sense. Then why did he feel so vulnerable when you knocked on his door, spoke his name so respectfully? Why was it so hard for him to control himself, send you away like all the times before?
Maybe this was what addiction felt like. Or was that tea really poisonous? Alone in his dark room, only a dim light creeping in from outside, Geto realized that maybe the dynamic you had changed. He changed. You gave him small bites of your presence, quick sips of your warmth every day until he found himself addicted. How could he send you away when you were the last remedy he could use to cope?
"Geto-sama?" You asked again when no sound came from inside his room.
"Come in." His voice was languid, reverberating in your brain like a lustful invitation. No, he was feeling sick. You were too caught up in your own desires while he was having a hard time.
His room was dark, unlike the brightly lighted hallway. It took a moment for your eyes to adjust to the change, but the first thing you noticed was the mass of long hair shining in the dim light. It was so captivating how in the bright light of the sun it was a dark shade absorbing everything, while in the soft night light it was almost glimmering, so luscious and silky.
"I don't feel like drinking tea tonight." His voice filled the room, soft and vulnerable, and it almost made you think he was hurt. So you put down the tray on the floor, your eyes still unable to spot the table exactly, and hurried to his side, to the light coming in through the window.
"Are you alright, Geto-sama?" You asked, voice full of worry, as you placed a hand flat on his forehead. His hair was beautifully unkempt and you pushed some strands away to see his face better. But as soon as he raised his eyes to look at you a shiver ran down your spine and you took your hand away swiftly.
He successfully tricked you. Contrary to his frail voice and his lethargic posture on the bed, his eyes were sharp, full of energy and piercing right through you. You felt threatened, although it was the same Geto you admired and served, the same Geto who taught you how to fight curses, how to defend yourself. But how could you defend yourself from him?
"I'm sorry if my presence is not as neat as you're used to." He said. He was still wearing the usual kesa and you wondered how much of his identity really resided in the religious facade. You wanted to see past that.
"Are you in pain?" You asked. He looked like a wounded animal, one that could still do you harm even in this state.
"Yes." He said, but nothing about the way he looked at you seemed to signal that he was in need of help. Instead, he was luring you in.
"How does it feel?" You slowly approached him again and sat down by his side. His back was resting against the wall and he watched you with a certain amused look. How foolish could you be?
"Like you felt when you first came to me." Geto answered, his eyes glued to yours. "Only that all those curses are inside me."
"Is this why you helped me?"
It was painfully ironic how, despite of how smart he thought he was, you delivered the answer so effortlessly.
"For the most part, yeah." He admitted. The rest of the reason was blatantly reflected in his eyes that were eating you alive as he spoke.
"Let me help you." You breathed out, without thinking. There was no logical reasoning in your brain. You natutally felt it in your body that you had what he wanted and you wanted to give it to him. "If I could take only a fraction of your torment away it would be worth it."
"How would you do that?" He asked, noticing how you leaned in and your hand touched his in a seemingly platonic attempt to comfort. But there was nothing platonic about the way you looked at him.
"Show me how curses taste." You breathed out.
For a moment, Geto was taken by surprise by your bluntness. What if you really could feel the sickening taste of curses on his lips? Would it make you turn back in disgust? Would it shatter the perfect image he built for himself inside your mind?
You didn't give him any more time to think. You simply stood up in front of him and pulled at the hems of your shirt, taking it off. Geto's eyes followed your every move in the dark, noticing the round contour of your breasts and the white lace of your bra. All his focus, his control, was gone. He was looking at you wide eyed, his pupils devouring every inch of your body as your fingers unclasped the bra in the front. He felt his mouth water, a primal hunger sparking alive inside his soul when your tits bounced free as you discarded the bra on the floor. You were offering yourself to him like a tribute, like a sacrifice to the gods. His train of thought was broken off, all the confusion and tumult in his mind completely turned off by the feeling of your lips on top of his. For a moment he remained frozen, the shadow of doubt still lingering, waiting for you to break away in repulsion. But you didn't. Instead, you placed your hand on his cheek, pressing your body closer to his. It was the last hint he needed.
Geto's hungry lips moved along with yours, easily taking control. You moaned in discomfort when his body shifted, pressing you down on the bed in an uncomfortable position, his lips never breaking off from yours. The feeling of his weight on top of you, his hair falling over his shoulders, brushing against your skin felt oddly familiar and, while you struggled to find a more comfortable position under him, you realized it felt just like the times you would fight. It was the same tension, the same blood rushing in your veins in excitement, the same anticipation for what would come next. Except that now you were taking it one step further.
To Geto, right now, you had only one purpose. His pleasure. Altough his hands touched you greedily, your flesh kneaded under his palms so roughly yet so satisfying, and his mouth moved to your neck to suck and bite every spot he found, earning soft moans of pleasure from you, it was all for himself. He was drunk on the taste of you. So desperate to forget everything else, eager to taste only you on his lips, forever. Your flesh was so soft, so sweet, so addicting. You were soaking wet already by the time his tongue ran circles around your sensitive nipple, rubbing your thighs together under your skirt. Both your hands were buried in his hair, pushing it away from his face while he couldn't be bothered with anything else but your flesh. You could also feel it, how selfish, how insatiable he was. Your pleasure was only a fortunate side effect, a convenient occurance. Between soft whimpers and muffled sounds of sucking and licking on your skin, you realized that he didn't care. His chaotic movements, his bites that were getting deeper and deeper everytime he sank his teeth into the soft tissue of your breast, his uncontrollable groans as he devoured you, it was all for himself. You were no different than the curses he was swallowing for later use. He would eat you alive if he could.
By the time he had your skirt pulled up, your panties discarded somewhere in the dark, his teeth grazing against the sensitive skin of your thigh, it was too late. If there was a chance you could stop him before, check on him, try to get him to slow down a little, when his tongue first touched your wet and sensitive core it was already too late.
You gasped for air, your grip on his hair tightening as his tongue ran between your folds, running circles over your throbbing clit. He was eating you out with an aching thirst, sloppy and loudly, the only thing covering the dirty wet sounds of his tongue drenched in your juices being your own moans, significantly louder than before. He had your legs over his shoulders, his arms keeping your legs spread apart while his face was burried between them. He had you arching your back, dark strands of his hair falling from between your trembling fingers as his tongue dived inside you, his nose nuzzling up against your clit.
Your taste, your smell, your everything was numbing all his other senses, his mind blank, asleep, thoughtless. The only thing driving him, dictating every turn of his tongue, every press of his lips was the unquenchable thirst to eat you, consume you. Something inside his blood, his bones, his soul dictated that the pitch black abyss where he kept all the curses he ever swallowed could be obliterated by you.
"So sweet for me."
It didn't take much before his tongue got you close to the edge, your orgasm only a few touches away as your toes curled and your muscles tightened, although his arms kept your legs pushed apart. He didn't care at all if anyone heard your filthy moans or the sound of his name echoing from inside his room. You were loud enough, even louder than ever as you came, the peak of pleasure washing over you.
But soon, pleasure turned to pain as Geto kept the same hungry rhythm, continuing to eat you out with the same determination like he didn't even notice your orgasm.
"So fucking sweet."
He couldn't have missed it, his name reverberating in the silent room like a fervent prayer, your thighs tightening under his touch, your hands pulling at his hair. He didn't care. He was doing it for himself, eating you out for his own pleasure. Moreover, his effort only intesified as you fought to push him away. The more you struggled to get his face away from your overstimulated pussy, the faster his tongue moved. You cried out his name again, this time in pain, begging him to stop. You tried pushing your legs together, fighting to break free. Your hands tried pushing his head away. The back of your heels hit his back, your legs trying to force him away. You begged, implored him to stop as tears rolled down your face. But he had your hips tightly pressed on the mattress, arms forcing your thighs apart. Once again, you felt exactly like the the times he would train you. So easily defeated. So helpless.
"Ge-geto... sa-ah-ma." You begged between cries, your salty tears falling uncontrollably like the first day when you came to him. "No more... ple-please." He pushed one of your legs with his elbows, his palm pressing firmly on your lower belly, forcing your convulsions to stop.
"Shut up or I'll have you chained up." He found the time to growl, even the feeling of his breath against your painfully overstimulated clit making you cry out.
His warning meant nothing compared to your discomfort, but your second orgasm started building up shortly. Your struggle died down and your hands were pulling him closer again, nails digging into his shoulders. A wet pool of your fluids and his saliva mixed together was dripping off your skin on the sheets as your body shook again, more violently than the previous time. He seemed to have had enough, at least for the moment, because he let you go, your legs desperately pressed together as you rolled on your side, whole body trembling, heavy breathing, every cell of your body exploding with raw pleasure.
You didn't know for how much time you simply laid there, your mind hazy from the overstimulation, your body exhausted from both pleasure and pain. It could have been five minutes or as much as the whole night that had passed when you finally became aware of Geto's eyes fixed on your body.
But the thing that really made you snap out of your lifelessness was his voice calling out your name. Your own name, for the first time. Almost as if he learned it only after having your taste left on his lips.
"You're a blessing." Geto breathed out as the strain in his jaw was slowly creeping in. You didn't say anything in return. There was nothing to say to those intoxicated eyes. Those swollen lips still covered in your juices. His tongue ran over them, collecting the last remains of your juices. But the pain in his voice was gone. Although bewildered and curious, he seemed to have regained his energy, rediscovered a reason to live.
Your breath hitched when he leaned over you again, his lips offering soft kisses along your leg, upwards to your hips. He seemed more collected, more in control of his instincts as he put the minimal pressure on your skin with every kiss until he reached your lips again. Your hands pulled at his clothes, the desire to see him naked like he saw you taking over. He chuckled, giving in to your petty efforts.
"Please, Geto-sama." You said. "Let me satisfy your needs."
He smiled, that patronizing smile of satisfaction.
"You can try."