Anaxagoras could barely think.

Each subtle brush of the breeze on his flushed skin, each slightest twitch, each pointed sneer and cum stain on his thighs only reminded him more of his... 'predicament'.

'Your punishment is to be rid of your pride,' Aglaea had said, and the very notion had sounded ridiculous-- Did she even know who she was talking to? Was her humanity so far gone that she had forgotten that Anaxagoras was the one standing before her? He had said as much to her, his head raised in a defiant manner--

--until her damned garmentmakers had grabbed him, dragging him back out to the city square of Okhema and forcing him to undress in front of everyone. It was then that Anaxa knew exactly how Aglaea, that damned woman, had planned to 'rid him of his pride'. He couldn't escape, though-- Anaxagoras, running away like a mere dog with its tail tucked between its legs? He had scoffed at the idea, shaking off the hands of the garmentmakers and disrobing himself properly.

When his wrists were bound, Anaxa thought nothing of it-- Fine, give them a show, he had said to the garmentmakers, though they couldn't respond. When they forced him into the pillory, he had just rolled his eyes and fixed his legs himself so that the position wouldn't be so uncomfortable-- Who knew how long he would be out here, after all.

Even when Aglaea announced to all of Okhema that a new stress-relieving station had been installed in the city square, Anaxa hadn't even blinked. He thought himself prepared.

Perhaps he had too much faith in others' humanity, because he was not prepared.

As soon as the garmentmakers were gone, he was immediately swarmed with Okhemans, their musky cocks out and leaking like faucets. The next hours were a blur, filled with getting fucked by cock after cock until they shot their disgusting fluids on him- It was in his hair, on his legs, in his mouth, in his pussy, just-- everywhere! It was ridiculous! Have these people no wives to go home to?!

At the end of it, he could barely even protest when another approached, his eyes glazed over and lips parted. He had squirted more times than he could count, the wet stone beneath his puffy, abused cunt a testament to his body's trials. Anaxagoras raises his head slightly, panting as he looks up and sees you of all people looking down at him.

'... What are you doing here?' he whispers, his voice raspy as he coughs weakly to clear it. 'S-Stop gawking, you fool..!'