[He goes to the floor, dull impact enough to drive a breathless grunt out of his throat that soon turns gasping, suffocating on the lack of air — until his head is yanked up by the roots and he can breathe again, oxygen filtering through the crush of a knee on his back. The violence of that handling is precise, exact. It makes him aware of Cy's indomitable strength in every place where he is touched, in every word that reaches his ears from a cool, merciless voice, changed to match the imperial stature of a warlord more than ordinary man. It makes him sensitive to the first red-hot stripe switched across his thighs — Sasuke feels the hitch in his lungs, continuous brutality of pain and humiliation beginning to fracture the bulwark of defiance within himself.
Or, he's not holding so tightly onto the role the further this scene continues, a natural collapse into eventual subservience earned by punishment. It is a mindset so easy to slip into because he wants it so badly — tight muscles almost spasming as Cy moves him, rearranges him into that restricted sprawl of limbs with the same demonstration of power. The cane will hurt like nothing else across his balls, already an abused shade of blood-flushed red between thighs to match the marks Cy has beaten to the surface of skin elsewhere. So he nods, even if it costs some pride.
That threat seems to take the air back out of the room for the way Sasuke reacts to it — a sobbing gasp is lost somewhere on the plush rug where he's held down, though he silences it by biting the inner flesh of his cheek until he tastes copper.]
You can't do that. It isn't — possible. [There's a jolt when he speaks, interrupted by the laying of another strike across his ass, immediately raising a pink line.] I am not a woman. [Hissed through teeth, like some denigrative thing.] Your lies don't frighten me.
[This man, after all, seeks to break him. Why would he allow him that satisfaction? Even if he squirms, cock clearly hard in that rough hand, trying to get away from the smack to his balls because he can't stop how vocal it makes him, how such bright pain forces another smothered sound of torment from his throat.]
the cws keep evolving
Or, he's not holding so tightly onto the role the further this scene continues, a natural collapse into eventual subservience earned by punishment. It is a mindset so easy to slip into because he wants it so badly — tight muscles almost spasming as Cy moves him, rearranges him into that restricted sprawl of limbs with the same demonstration of power. The cane will hurt like nothing else across his balls, already an abused shade of blood-flushed red between thighs to match the marks Cy has beaten to the surface of skin elsewhere. So he nods, even if it costs some pride.
That threat seems to take the air back out of the room for the way Sasuke reacts to it — a sobbing gasp is lost somewhere on the plush rug where he's held down, though he silences it by biting the inner flesh of his cheek until he tastes copper.]
You can't do that. It isn't — possible. [There's a jolt when he speaks, interrupted by the laying of another strike across his ass, immediately raising a pink line.] I am not a woman. [Hissed through teeth, like some denigrative thing.] Your lies don't frighten me.
[This man, after all, seeks to break him. Why would he allow him that satisfaction? Even if he squirms, cock clearly hard in that rough hand, trying to get away from the smack to his balls because he can't stop how vocal it makes him, how such bright pain forces another smothered sound of torment from his throat.]