[That grip aches dully, leaving hard imprints of bloodless white on skin that may color to bruises later — harmlessly turning his arm away to refasten the rope, then dragging it down, palm forced over the outline of the man's cock where it has grown hard within his slacks. Sasuke hears himself make a soft, bitten sound of protest, but even that is pathetic to his own ears. The effortless power and degradation wielded against him cuts like a hot blade. There's no stopping this.
Like someone who has realized their own fate at last, who has begun to internalize it — his hand scoops beneath the pliable shape of his breast, holding it up, chain strung from one sore and reddened nipple catching the light in a silver blink. His own obedience is shameful, and he turns his head away to avoid looking at Cy.]
no subject
Like someone who has realized their own fate at last, who has begun to internalize it — his hand scoops beneath the pliable shape of his breast, holding it up, chain strung from one sore and reddened nipple catching the light in a silver blink. His own obedience is shameful, and he turns his head away to avoid looking at Cy.]
Don't.
[It's barely a whisper, this time.]