（ he leans forward to drop a kiss against sasuke's shoulder where it's held in cruel flexion, and then he briefly covers sasuke's hand with his own, a crude imitation of holding hands before he settles back in his chair. there's a shift of his posture, easing into a slouch, and then he lifts his legs and settles them across the small of sasuke's back, ankles crossed and heels digging in. the end result leaves him at a bit of an angle to sasuke's bound position, but there's still plenty of space to work.
there's neither mercy nor kindness offered — the fall of the rod is brutal, precise. the blows redden at first, and then darken along the gradient of fresh bruising as each newer stripe is laid into his skin. normally, he is so attentive on sasuke's body language during the infliction of pain that he never quite loses himself in meting it out, but — knowing this is genjutsu, knowing that sasuke is in absolute control of the scene helps him to brush past the innate concern and fear. as much as it's dangerous and intoxicating to let go of his inhibitions, trusting beyond trust that sasuke will catch him if he strays is a panacea that allows it.
it's an act of love quite unlike any other — that lowering of his walls, that sidestep into the whipping as an enforcement of reality and not an indulgence of fantasy that requires strict rules and unyielding control. it becomes the only thing that occupies his senses, everything else filtered away, filtered out. the snap of impact, the way the vibration echoes along the rod to his hand, the sounds sasuke makes, muffled and truncated as they are. the way he tries to cringe away, the way he trembles but ultimately, keeps the correct count on his fingers.
when he's finished with one breast, he rolls the cane against the nipple piercing, raps it once to cause a bright starburst of pain, and then drops his feet back to the ground to lean in and touch him, palming over reddened, inflamed skin that radiates the heat of the blows back at him. this handling is gentler by contrast, soothing the way he holds him, supporting the weight of that heavy breast. ）
Oh, my sweet whore. You took that so well for me. You were made for this, weren't you?
（ his hand shifts lower, cupping the curve of a prominent belly and the promise contained therein, following the chain that's affixed to both nipples and clit down between his legs for another agonizing, teasing touch there, slick against his messy cunt. ）
You never could have known this bliss if you'd stayed as you were. Never known true submission, true pleasure, true meaning. This will be your life — an endless cycle of being used to meet my needs, bear my children, take my punishment. If I would have known you would be such a perfect slave, I would have captured you years ago.
no subject
（ he leans forward to drop a kiss against sasuke's shoulder where it's held in cruel flexion, and then he briefly covers sasuke's hand with his own, a crude imitation of holding hands before he settles back in his chair. there's a shift of his posture, easing into a slouch, and then he lifts his legs and settles them across the small of sasuke's back, ankles crossed and heels digging in. the end result leaves him at a bit of an angle to sasuke's bound position, but there's still plenty of space to work.
there's neither mercy nor kindness offered — the fall of the rod is brutal, precise. the blows redden at first, and then darken along the gradient of fresh bruising as each newer stripe is laid into his skin. normally, he is so attentive on sasuke's body language during the infliction of pain that he never quite loses himself in meting it out, but — knowing this is genjutsu, knowing that sasuke is in absolute control of the scene helps him to brush past the innate concern and fear. as much as it's dangerous and intoxicating to let go of his inhibitions, trusting beyond trust that sasuke will catch him if he strays is a panacea that allows it.
it's an act of love quite unlike any other — that lowering of his walls, that sidestep into the whipping as an enforcement of reality and not an indulgence of fantasy that requires strict rules and unyielding control. it becomes the only thing that occupies his senses, everything else filtered away, filtered out. the snap of impact, the way the vibration echoes along the rod to his hand, the sounds sasuke makes, muffled and truncated as they are. the way he tries to cringe away, the way he trembles but ultimately, keeps the correct count on his fingers.
when he's finished with one breast, he rolls the cane against the nipple piercing, raps it once to cause a bright starburst of pain, and then drops his feet back to the ground to lean in and touch him, palming over reddened, inflamed skin that radiates the heat of the blows back at him. this handling is gentler by contrast, soothing the way he holds him, supporting the weight of that heavy breast. ）
Oh, my sweet whore. You took that so well for me. You were made for this, weren't you?
（ his hand shifts lower, cupping the curve of a prominent belly and the promise contained therein, following the chain that's affixed to both nipples and clit down between his legs for another agonizing, teasing touch there, slick against his messy cunt. ）
You never could have known this bliss if you'd stayed as you were. Never known true submission, true pleasure, true meaning. This will be your life — an endless cycle of being used to meet my needs, bear my children, take my punishment. If I would have known you would be such a perfect slave, I would have captured you years ago.