[And he remains obedient, counting each crack of the rod against sore, swollen flesh aloud — this time with his voice betraying every compulsion of pain, five breaking on a gasp and ten cried out, desperate, unable to keep his jaw gritted shut. He's on the verge of dry sobs by the time they near the mark of fifteen, left breast as tenderly abused as its twin. Every strike that lays down a new welt causes his breast to sway, splattering pale milk on the floor beneath his feet, jewelry glittering in the low light of the room.
He stops holding himself back by twenty, because by then the height of pain has reached a point that it would be impossible. The illusion is still under his control — but for a moment he lets himself pretend this is real, this is all he is and will ever be. A sobbing, panting, pregnant whore.
When it stops, Sasuke hangs in his restraints utterly boneless. He has no energy left to fight or struggle even as an act.]
no subject
He stops holding himself back by twenty, because by then the height of pain has reached a point that it would be impossible. The illusion is still under his control — but for a moment he lets himself pretend this is real, this is all he is and will ever be. A sobbing, panting, pregnant whore.
When it stops, Sasuke hangs in his restraints utterly boneless. He has no energy left to fight or struggle even as an act.]