Here's the thing--
Tanidio's mother was a good mother who loved him a lot and wanted to make sure that he grew up strong, so she followed all the advice the Church of Asmodeus told her about how to raise a child. If you cuddle or praise children too much or give them too many things they ask for, you're teaching them to be weak and dependent on you. If your child doesn't obey promptly as soon as you make a request and you don't hit them with a switch, or you stop the beating before they're fully broken, you're teaching them to be willful and disobedient. If you hold them and comfort them when they cry, it teaches them that they should cry more because it gets them things they want.
Except when Tanidio was sick. His mother fed him spoonfuls of broth when he was too weak to get the spoon to his mouth. She sponged him with cold water when he had a fever. She sang to him and read him stories to distract him. One time, when he was very ill, she prayed, sobbing, to any god that would listen to keep her Tanidio alive because she loved him so much, and she thought Tanidio was asleep but her crying woke him up and he stayed very still, because if she knew he was awake she would stop, but if he pretended to be asleep he could hear how he was smart and disciplined and helpful and the only source of joy in his mother's life and she didn't know what she would do without him and she was proud of him.
So. Some wires got crossed, in Tanidio's upbringing.
And, much to his surprise, having Bun gently rub a medicated ointment into his skin leaves him achingly, throbbingly, almost painfully hard.