[It's fortunate they've practiced this act so many times, because otherwise Sasuke would not be able to take that forceful slide of a cock without choking outright — seconds of adjustment become meager when his mouth is so full, so fast, back of his throat tight with the squeeze around the thick crown. He drags in air through his nose where it's shoved into the man's pelvic bone, jaw stretched to an ache, cheeks taking on a flush of color for the effort. As immediate as it is, all of his senses are flooded with Cy — that heady masculine scent and bitter-salt taste, the sight of smooth muscle and careless grace when he dare a glance up through dark lashes. He could get carried away like this, could show his hand and break the fidelity of the scene by letting his throat relax around the heavy burden on his tongue, allowing a moan around the girth of Cy's cock.
Privilege. Sasuke hangs onto that word, uses it as fuel in the mindset of the role he's playing as if there truly are lives on the line. It isn't as difficult as he'd expected to pretend like he is a resentful captive. He can sink into this, mind slipping away as if he is within subspace already — the nudge of a foot at the humbler all the more effective as a result.
The pain is electric. He can feel it all over his body, pulsing to the beat of his heart. He gags — an attempted inhale on the dick in his throat quickly extinguished, a jerk on the leash only to learn there's nowhere to go. The sheen of wetness in his eyes is less because he's trying to cry, knowing Cy likes it, than a compulsory response to choking. And in this role he restrains the reflex, lashes blinking the tears away.
In the awareness that it will save men from suffering, Sasuke bends into the act as if he is steel in a forge, hot with fire yet unyielding, gliding his mouth back down rigid flesh with less care than dutiful finesse. He knows how to suck a cock, and that knowledge is demonstrated now in the lash of a tongue, the tight seal of lips, the avoidance of sharp teeth.]
（ it's said with a sort of imperious approval — satisfaction at someone put so thoroughly into their place that there can be no mistaking their subjugation. cy slinks lower in the chair, tipping his head back against its frame, throat working in a long swallow that does not mask the groan that sasuke pulls out of him. why should he be resolved against a demonstration of pleasure, in a situation like this?
he affords sasuke no autonomy at all — or at least the illusion of its lack. he's attentive as ever to his breathing and the tension of his body, and when he has cause to concern himself he will shove sasuke back enough to breathe properly, using it as an opportunity to taunt him, to draw attention to the rank debasement. ）
If your men could see you now.
（ is one such sentiment, murmured as he cleans a line of drool from one corner of sasuke's mouth, wiping his hand off on his cheek as if annoyed by the filth. he meets sasuke's eyes briefly — brow lifted in an unspoken check-in — and he clearly sees what he's looking for in the boy's expression, because he settles and then continues: ）
What would they think of you sucking cock to spare them a slow, torturous death?
[The degradation rolls over him, pushing his mind into that gray and heady place where it becomes less necessary to think, to be. The context of this scene helps, though he retains enough awareness not to slip out of the role completely — pulled off of Cy's cock with a wet choking sound, eyes cutting away to avoid the directness of that question.
And perhaps he plays it up a little, knowing Cy will like it. The way his jaw works, swallowing, saliva messy where Cy wipes his hand. The rough and ragged breath he sucks in like he can't get enough air, like he's fighting against himself to perform this act.]
They would understand it was for a reason. [There's pride in this, too, spirit unbroken even as his voice comes thick and ruined from having the man's cock forced down his throat.] If you mean to humiliate me, it won't work. Use me as you wish — abuse me, I don't care.
[So long as his men are shown mercy.
Never mind that Sasuke shifts to squeeze his thighs together, only to stop at the first throb of pain from the humbler hinged over his balls — he can feel his own cock thickening, filling out, the silicone band at its root growing steadily tighter.]
（ cy pets at sasuke's cheek, almost lovingly, and then he bends down and kisses him — this too a violation, a deliberate act that forces sasuke's mouth open that cy might lick the taste of himself from it. the chain at sasuke's throat stays taut, disallowing him the chance to slip away and it isn't until cy's satisfied that he lets it go slack again, lets sasuke have the space to breathe.
then he levers one foot against sasuke's shoulder and shoves him hard down to the floor, standing as he does it to loom over him. coordinating the backwards splay of limbs is all on sasuke to manage, and then cy leans his weight against that point of contact, pinning him down. ）
You've given me a challenge. （ he leans one forearm against his knee, intensifying the downward pressure against sasuke's shoulder even as his other hand slips to his own cock, still wet and messy with sasuke's saliva and hot with the warmth of his mouth. cy works his hand down the shaft, squeezing over the head of his crown, deliberately working himself off. ） You see, I — ah... bet I can humiliate you just fine.
（ the foot is removed from sasuke's shoulder just long enough for him to drop down to a knee instead, half-straddling the boy's chest while using the hard press of a knee to disable his right arm, shin braced overtop sasuke's bicep. like this, the intent of his pose is made more obvious and deliberate — he's going to come on sasuke's face, though the way he works himself off is unhurried, sensual. as if he's as much enjoying the exploration of his own body as he is sasuke's place beneath him. ）
I'm going to break you down until you're nothing but a sheathe for my cock. Then you can tell your men how much you enjoy it while I make them watch, hm? Open your mouth, boy, let's see how good my aim is.
（ he doesn't genuinely intend to aim, but he knows that sasuke will appreciate the taste of him even if most of the ejaculate coats his face or gets striped up into his hair. but whether or not he complies is another thing entirely — and cy doesn't particularly care if he chooses to or not. he comes on a harsh exhalation, hinging forward to brace himself with his free hand against the floor as he shivers through a blistering orgasm, milking himself beyond the aftershocks so that every last drop of come ends up on his boyfriend's skin. ）
[The kiss is deep, breathless. He cannot pull himself out of it with the leash taut, collar a brand around his throat, and that restriction is enough to send a rush of heat into his belly as his mouth is taken by a forceful tongue. And there's no time to adjust to the moment after, because soon he's shoved hard to the ground with a strength that is dizzying, fall broken with his right arm, heels quick to find stability so that he's not made to sit on the humbler. He manages only barely — and the carpeted ground still jars the device enough that bright pain fishes a sound out of him, gritted high and strangled around tight teeth.
Cy towers above him, natural height made more stark for the difference of their positions. He is cruel and magnetically confident — he wields his power in this scenario with such effortless grace that, without the parameters of the scene they've established as well as Sasuke's own experience with BDSM so far, it would be easy to succumb to that thrall. To feel it is real, rather than Cy's iron-fisted control at work.
Sasuke, if he was himself, would have opened his mouth with soft obedience, would have licked his lips like a cat lapping up cream — but he is not himself, and so his mouth remains a defiant line pinched at the corners and his head turns away from those obscene words. He takes the hot load across his cheek and temple, stripes of come painting his face in a humiliating portrait. Some trickles down the bridge of his nose; some sticks in closed eyelashes, in the fridge of dark hair at the crown of his head. With his right arm pinned and useless he can't wipe it away so he simply wears it — debased as much as he is claimed by the act.]
（ he makes a faint noise of amusement at that little act of defiance, and then he leans down to rub the mess more thoroughly across sasuke's face before wiping a hand on his hair and standing, stepping back. he puts his foot beneath sasuke's side and shoves him, intending to force him over onto his hand and knees. ）
There's a rack of riding crops along the wall. Crawl to it. Pick something out and crawl back. I'm going to beat you with it.
（ he, conversely, just sits back down in the chair, casually tucking his cock back into his pants. he sits in an open-thighed splay, one elbow braced on the chair's arm, the other loosely holding the collar's leash. there's just enough slack there that sasuke can reach the indicated display of implements — straps and crops and floggers, leather belts and assorted other implements for the purpose of nothing else but pain. they'd negotiated on a number, with the option to increase or decrease based on how the scene's going and what sasuke feels of his tolerance level — but by the way his cock has filled out, and how he's still playing along, cy has a pretty reasonable gauge on how he's feeling about what's transpired up to now. there's a swell of soft affection that all but takes him by the throat, and if sasuke happens to chance a look back at him he might see it naked on his face — the adoration and the love that are lit like a constellation across the set of his mouth and brow. ）
[He can feel the come cooling on his skin where Cy has wiped it off, a mess that sticks hair at his temple and along his cheekbone, leaving him dirtied and marked in a way that aches at the pit of his stomach. Then he's turned over in a breathless kick, nerves alight with the promise Cy sets in the air between them — eyes already turned toward the rack of implements, studying them.
There is a glance back, but only briefly before he begins to crawl, and the look he glimpses on Cy's face makes that painful passage across the ground feel like nothing, even when every movement hurts. Without his left arm it's almost a humiliation how slow his pace is — forced to hop his weight on the palm of his right hand until he gets to the end of the leash's slack. It doesn't matter what Sasuke takes from the wall, but in this role he would never select the easy way out, would never choose a soft-tressed flogger for the perception that he is weak, that he can't bear worse. So into his teeth he takes one of the slender crops, biting down in order to carry it back.
That claim to pride against humiliation feels hot and heavy on his skin like this, leashed and collared, crawling on his knees, fetching the implement like an obedient pet for its master with come still drying on his skin and in his hair. He's burning with it by the time he reaches Cy's chair, vividly aware of the fact that he would never — not by any stretch of the imagination — ever allow someone else to do this to him, to see him like this.]
（ by the time sasuke makes that slow return trip, cy's slipped back into the moment. his gaze is assessing, imperious — a cruel sneer as he leans down to take the crop from him. then, he pats one thigh invitingly, making it clear that sasuke should bend himself across it. ）
Come here. Over my knee. I won't ask twice.
（ but what he'll do if refused is hard to say. as warlords go, he's as mercurial as he is merciless. the persona he's pulled down over himself like a mask is not, for all intents and purposes, so disparate from who he is that it's a challenge, kulo vayn's influence bitten deep into the core of his personhood. what's different is that, for all the gratification that comes from these acted scenes, cy is not that person on purpose — and that difference is what has given sasuke the safety necessary to surrender into the scene.
ultimately, whether sasuke comes to him 'willingly', or resists the further humiliation, his demand will be met, and he smooths a hand across sasuke's bare ass in a pure, aesthetic appreciation. the humbler is given a little tug, straining delicate skin, and then the crop is dragged in a sensual pass over his balls and up the cleft of his ass.
a warlord wouldn't care about the state of sasuke's cock, but cy does — reaching beneath sasuke's body to make sure it's not pinched against his thigh. he gives him one stroke, a moment's loving attention, and then: ）
You're doing well, （ he says, and there's genuine appreciation in his tone — for all that it's not one cy generally uses with sasuke to express that sentiment. ） I wouldn't have expected anything less from an Uchiha, after all, but you're still managing to impress me. （ he swats the lacquered wood of the humbler with the crop, more to create a sudden sound than to hurt. ） Beg me not to hit your balls and I might be inclined to capitulate.
[Cy has to make him do it. A rough yank to the end of the leash forces him forward, then a well-aimed kick folds both knees, so that he's bent over the man's thigh — all in the time it takes to sharply inhale a breath. His head hangs down, messy hair in his eyes, vision obscured so that he's left with only a narrow channel of perspective to see the world. He's led by Cy's voice and the mean little tug at the humbler, physically jerking at the sharp bolt of pain, a reflex easily stayed by the hand that holds him steady in that folded-over position.
The riding crop teases across his lower body, threat written into the gentle drag across the tight, abused sack of his balls held by lacquered wood, along the furrow of his ass bared and vulnerable. There is no denying the humiliated submission of this act — like a misbehaving child meant to be disciplined. If he notices the gentleness with which Cy arranges his cock between them, he says nothing. It feels so natural that it barely hiccups in his attention during the scene. A soft, soothing pet — affection left like a gift within simulated cruelty.]
I don't — beg. [His voice isn't so even any longer, and he can't help the flinch from the crop when it strikes wood.] I said I'd endure your demands of my body, but I will never beg you for it.
（ that gets a laugh out of him, something that's distinctly cleaved to cruelty, a soft husk of sound, and then cy tucks sasuke in closer to him so he can feel the fact that he's half-hard again even with the relatively spare downtime, using it surreptitiously as an opportunity to ensure the bell is still tucked in against sasuke's palm as he hooks his right leg over sasuke's knees to pin him down.
his right hand holds the crop, and his left has the leash wound around it — its restriction won't matter much in this position, so perhaps that's why he puts his hand against the back of sasuke's collar, long fingers closing in a powerful grip right above where the band of it terminates. ）
I'm gonna make you eat those words.
（ the statement is made all the more sinister for the fact he sounds playfully promising rather than threatening. the crop is trailed against sasuke's thigh, and without any more warning than a slight tightening of his left hand he brings it down in a crack across sasuke's ass. it leaves an immediate livid mark with the force, and cy's attentive to the intrinsic language of sasuke's body, folding his thumb over the crop so he can rub the spot with his palm. he does it too roughly to be at all soothing, more like he's jostling the new injury on purpose, fingers pressing in over the bruise to deepen its burn. ）
[It is a position they've assumed enough times in the past that it feels familiar to Sasuke now, yet his heart races a little faster when he's tucked close, when he feels the shape of Cy's cock against his hip telling of that mutual arousal. There's an exhilaration for having caused it — the part of himself in pursuit of approval as much as pain, wanting as much as Cy will give, wanting to be the receptable for Cy's pleasure until all lines between them smear and blur. Until all he can feel and taste and see and hear is Cy, Cy, Cy.
Fingers restrict the collar around his throat so that when he swallows it becomes tight, difficult, eyelids squeezing against the starry pain of that first strike. It falls bright and livid across his skin, a lingering burn intensified by the rub of the man's palm.]
Un. [Then, with each snap of the crop across his body, the French stumbles out of his mouth —] Deux. Trois.
[Numbers are easy. There is almost a logic to it, the lyrical fall of the foreign language from his mouth in such a regimented way, even as it calls the implement down against his skin in another red line.]
（ they fall into a rhythm, the crack of the crop and sasuke's refrain carrying them to vingt easily. heat radiates from the affected area, blood beginning to pool beneath the skin in a rich gradient of bruising that later he will soothe and tend and offer a spill of praise for enduring — but for now there is only the directive to endure. ）
Brace.
（ just one word — that, and the way his hand slips upwards from the collar to cradle the back of sasuke's head are the warning he gets before the next blow is delivered directly to his balls. unlike the strikes to his ass, which are measured and heavily meted out by dint of familiarity and practice between them, each one done with exacting and painful precision, this blow is by contrast barely a whisper. a light, controlled tap with the leather tongue of the crop.
he breaks character now, only for a moment — fingers curling into sasuke's hair, and in a soothing murmur that falls back into his honey-warm east side drawl — ）
Don't fight the pain. Open your body to it, and let it wash over you. （ then, stepping back into the cold veneer he's worn for this engagement — ） You know, I had the idea of keeping you alive to use as breeding stock. （ there's a pointed pass of his hand against sasuke's balls, palm cupping them. while it's easily played off as the deliberate cruelty of ownership, cy knows that the difference in the sensation will notch the sting down to a dull roar. ） At first I considered enlisting volunteers to bear your children. Your bloodline would strengthen my army.
（ as he talks, his attention shifts back to sasuke's ass, except instead of returning to the cadence of measured blows, he teases at the crease of it with the handle of the crop. pushing it in against his hole just enough to be suggestive of penetration, waiting to see if sasuke will relax or resist. ）
Is it true that the Sharingan is passed down matrilineally?
[He braces, but it is not enough for the sensation that floods his system when the crop falls across his balls — pain like a living thing, electric through every nerve-end, fraying him to shreds in that gentle flick. He jerks bodily, loosing a ruined cry that he is unable to halt with either teeth or tongue though he tries a hard swallow at the end of it, muffled over that vocalization of effective pain. Cy's voice, in its normal tenor and drawl, washes over him like cool water and he doesn't hesitate to obey even when it seems impossible not to twist and thrash away from the warm palm cradled over stinging, sensitive balls.
Breathing hard through his nose, calm eventually begins to creep back in with the effort of discipline — until the man says what he says next. Cy steps easily back into that role, and he attempts to do the same, muscles so rigid they begin to cramp. His voice is a hoarse protest.]
That won't work.
[Surely this is obvious. He is not a woman, and he cannot bear children. But it also isn't a denial — that yes, the Sharingan passes genetically through matrilineal descent.]
You're insane.
[A harsher criticism, half-gasped breath when the crop drags over the furrow of his ass and probes at his hole with leather warmed by his own skin. It will find Sasuke's body still firm and resistant, unwilling to yield to intrusion.]
cw: now we're into object fucking and breathplay ig
（ god, the way that cry of pain goes straight to his dick. cy adjusts his hips just a little, tugging sasuke closer so he can feel just how instantly at attention it made him, and then: ）
Shh, shh.
（ like someone directing an unruly child, it's said with a sort of condescending, chiding bent to the exclamation. with one final pet to his ink-dark hair, cy lets his hand drift down the boy's spine to his hips. the handle of the crop is a steady pressure against his hole, and cy deliberately spreads the cheeks of his ass so that he can force it inside with a cruel, deliberate push. the come from earlier will ease the penetration a little, but it will still hurt — all the more for the resistance in every line of his body. the braided leather will provide an interesting array of sensations, not that the warlord seems especially concerned with sasuke enjoying himself. ）
I'm surprised you don't know more about what I'm capable of. Here, let me show you a party trick. Take a breath — it'll be your last for a while.
（ he's used his powers around sasuke enough that he's familiar with the basic capacity — but he's never used it to shunt all the air out of a specific area before. he waits until he feels the expansion of sasuke's lungs against his thigh, and then he does it — extracting the molecular structure of oxygen. it's a slightly more complicated equation, but it's one he's had a lot of practice at, clearing the radius within sasuke's easy reach while leaving himself enough to breathe and talk.
he'd been careful not to simply eliminate the air itself — that would create a cavitation bubble that would slap them both in the face with explosive power, but it means that if sasuke tries to breathe it will not yield a useable lungful. now with the handle of the crop seated well inside sasuke, he lets his other hand wander back to press palm-down over his shoulderblades so he can feel when the oxygen deprivation starts to cause those small, physiological hitches to the lungs.
he takes his time fucking him with the crop, knowing that it'll make him burn with very real humiliation however safely the act is executed between them. returning to his prior topic as if he hadn't deviated at all — ）
But then I realized I'd have to share you, and you know what? （ a long, deliberate thrust of the crop carries it as deeply into sasuke's body as is physically possible. ） I'm just not cut out for that.
[The combination of that shushing murmur and the sudden, blunt penetration of the crop — Sasuke cannot help the way his back curves, reactive to the ache as unyielding leather drags at sensitive skin, ass stretched to take the handle into his hole without mercy. There's not enough lube to make it an easy slide, so he feels every hard inch of the object as it's forced further, deeper. His jaw throbs in his effort to keep his mouth shut, head down, blood flushed into his face to make cheeks bright pink and overly warm compared to the room's temperature.
He has found this sort of physical pain — sexual pain — is unlike any sort of agony brought by battle. Though his threshold to bear what Cy metes out is high, there's an intimacy to the nature of this practice that sensitizes him, combined with his own tendency to let down his guard with Cy in particular, so he's gasping before that order to take a breath even comes. He feels raw with the debasement of being fucked on the handle of a riding crop, like a plaything, a toy to sit pretty on someone's lap with no choice but to simply take it until it's over.
An obedient inhale follows because he knows better than to disobey in that moment. And then there's no air at all, ears popping for the sudden shift in pressure, a pocket of lack around his head that causes him to be too-aware of the frantic drum of his own pulse. Muscles are rigid, holding himself in the compromising position until the strain becomes too much — and he feels the dull drag of the handle push as deep as his body can permit, not enough pressure on his prostate but still making his cock drool precome in a humiliating mess between his legs, staining Cy's slacks.
He fights, of course. What else would a man in his state do? His body thrashes, trying to get his knees out from beneath Cy's heavy leg, using his right hand to grab the arm of the chair in an attempt to pivot his weight, to roll off and onto the ground, even if it means he might land directly on the cruel humbler encasing his balls.]
cw from here on out for deliberate misgendering/threats of sexual violence/breeding/etc
（ sasuke struggles, twisting his hips in an attempt to escape that feels more animal instinct than deliberate action — and so he doesn't hurt himself in the fall, cy pulls the crop free from his body, letting it drop on the floor before he loosens his grip on sasuke and then bodily shoves him off. if his foot happens to break enough of the fall to safeguard sasuke's balls from an impact on the floor, it at least appears more incidental than not.
cy stands up, shoving the chair back with the motion, and then he stoops to grab sasuke by the hair to bodily force him onto his stomach, pinning him with a foot against the small of his back. he does relinquish the oxygen, letting him breathe again, though not deeply with the press of his weight against his back. ）
You know, if you can't take your punishment like a man, maybe it's time to talk about the next thing I have planned for you.
（ he studies the rack of toys briefly, and then calls to hand a birch cane. slender and flexible, the sort that will sting and raise welts against skin, and then he brings it down — hard — against sasuke's thighs, narrowly missing the humbler where it's painfully indented against his skin. the rod makes a whistle in the air and a sharp crack on impact. ）
You move again, the next one's hitting your balls. Do I make myself clear?
（ there's a nod as sasuke drags air frantically into his lungs, and cy eases off his foot and instead circles around, sitting at sasuke's feet before he grabs him by the ankles and forcibly hauls him backwards, knowing that the drag of his cock against the plush rug is still going to be uncomfortable to bear. he arranges sasuke's across his splayed thighs, which forces his apart as well, and so that he can't squirm or fight again, he also hooks his right leg over sasuke's back, pressing his torso flat to the rug while also trapping his arm.
the birch rod makes whisper-light contact with his balls, teasing them with the promise of torment and cy turns it into a little pat before the next blow falls, striking sasuke vertically along the cleft of his ass. ）
— Anyway, back to my point. That parlour trick isn't the only one I've got up my sleeve. Once I've had my fill of you like this, you can say goodbye to your cock and balls. （ left-handed, he reaches to give sasuke's cock a stroke, and then there's another little slap to his tormented balls. ） Now the only question is whether or not I should let you come one more time before I make you a woman. What do you think, Uchiha?
[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.]
I'll keep your scepticism in mind after I've knocked you up.
（ he milks sasuke's cock with a practiced hand, stopping with no clearly defined interval to deliver another sharp blow across his ass with the cane. the angle means there's slightly less power behind it, and the stripes fall at a different angle, more vertically than horizontally across his ass. the strikes fall sometimes against his thighs as well, and though he avoids further direct trauma to sasuke's balls, it's clear he hasn't forgotten about them — every once in a while there's a swish of the cane that ends without impact, the air stirred around them, the effect more psychological than physical. he wants to see sasuke cringe away from it. ）
Do you really want to risk resisting the last orgasm you'll ever get? Because trust me, once you're breeding stock, your pleasure's off the table. Replacing the men I lost in this campaign is gonna keep you busy on your back.
[The threat sears through him, evoked to flames by every strike of the cane across his body — and the suggestion of worse, that draft of disturbed air over his balls enough to make him strain in the restricted position like he means to get away from it even when there is nowhere to go.]
I won't, I won't let you... [Cy holds him in the cradle of those two sensations: the pleasure of a hand stroking his cock, full and heavy with blood from the snug ring at its root; and the sharp pain of every stripe of pink drawn up on the skin of ass and thighs, jostling the humbler that holds his balls in vulnerable imprisonment.] No. Stop.
[A suggestion of begging at last — bright with the shame of being forced to the brink of an orgasm, though it comes slower with the ring in place, building up behind his composure like a tidal wave. It's almost frightening, that intensity he seems to hold at bay through sheer will in his unwillingness to debase himself further.]
（ that's punctuated by another crack of the rod, this one drawing a line of blood across delicate, bruised flesh split from the blow. he sets the birch aside, and wipes the blood into a smear. not a stopping point to the scene, but to that particular activity — he knows what sasuke can take, but he also knows his own limits and for now at least, that line is drawn. with his hand newly free, he jostles sasuke's ass higher with a lift of his left knee and spits against the crack of his ass, letting it drip downwards to his hole. there's a lave of his tongue against his own fingers, and then he pushes three of them into sasuke's body with careless force.
he strokes sasuke down to the encircling band of the cock ring, and then back to the head in a torturously tight squeeze as he fucks his fingers into him, as merciless now as he was with the crop, knowing that taking three fingers is sometimes still a challenge for sasuke well-lubed and plenty prepped. tense from the pain of impact play and the show of resistance he's putting up? the snarl of pleasure and pain will be intense within him. ）
Go on, then. Fight me. See how much what you'll let me do matters to me. I can take whatever I want from you, Uchiha. Your men, your body, your pride, every ounce of agency you've ever had. You'll be nothing but an empty womb to fill — pretty breasts and a swollen belly. You will never see the sky again, feel the breeze on your skin. You're mine.
[Noise is blocked behind his teeth from the blow, but he feels the smear of blood, warm against skin bruised and aching — and he also knows that it represents a line in the dirt between them based on discussions of scene parameters. He doesn't mind. How can he, when next he hears the telltale vulgar spit against his hole and the slick sound of Cy's tongue? He knows what is coming, although there is little to do but brace himself from the breach of three fingers, those knuckles stretching him to the brim of what he can stand in that moment. New, fresh pain blooms up his spine — this one deep inside of him, throbbing in his cock.
His thoughts scatter. For a time there is only sensation of being fucked open on nearly-dry fingers, of Cy's voice in his ears promising a mean reality that only makes him harder, makes him squirm at the suggestion of becoming nothing but a hole for the man to fill, to breed, to own and possess. He hears himself make a fragile sound, pushing his head down against the rug as he begins a litany of no, no, no — unable to free himself from the way he's held across Cy's lap.
That absolute robbery of autonomy and control is all it takes, in the end. He half-sobs into the plush fibers against his face, muffling it purposefully because he knows it will be loud otherwise, the orgasm so intense it grips his body like a vice. He feels the way his hole constricts around Cy's knuckles, so tight it makes the pain worse but he enjoys that, too, hot splash of seed spilling between thighs almost against his will.]
（ the benediction of that protest is sharp and hot in his mind, lancing through his iron-banded control. he tastes blood, and realizes a moment's later it's because he's bitten the inside of his cheek to bleeding in an effort to subjugate his own awful impulses. sasuke is the only one that can get him this far, that has in thousands of years — and cy is so, so glad he cares for him enough that the love's a bulwark against all the awful things that live inside his mind.
but he laughs, the sound wintrous and cruel — and then he shoves sasuke off his lap abruptly, as if content to discard him as nothing more than a used toy. he stands, then, delivering a kick to sasuke's flank that is carefully calculated not to hit him anywhere damaging, or to hurt too much — and puts the birch rod back on the shelf. collects the crop for later cleaning. washes his hands in the standing sink in the corner of the room. not a look is spared for sasuke where he lays sprawled on the floor as cy starts ropework on the bed, cords and cuffs at each of the four posters, and a fifth and sixth from the slats atop the canopy, hanging in questionable places. once he's satisfied, he returns to sasuke in a long stride, grabbing him by the hair and by his wrist — thematically so he can't fight back, but more realistically because hauling him by the hair alone would hurt — as he drags him to the bed and then hefts him up onto the mattress. the clasped wrist is the first to be put into a cuff, closing the shackles around him and latching them, and then his thighs are wrenched apart with a punishing grip at one ankle to repeat the process. idly, as he works: ）
Pick a colour.
（ it's said so breezily, so playfully it might have no influence on all with what they're doing — but sasuke has insider information, and the dildos they brought along for use in this scene are coded by colour and size, with blue being the biggest. ）
[His own come has barely cooled on his thighs before he's shoved, weight half-caught on the bend of his own arm when that kick strikes his side, driving the next breath out of his throat. Then he simply lies there in the bed of that pain — all of its different points throbbing through him, off-set by the effusive warmth of orgasm until that begins to fade, and he just hurts. It's an acutely mindless sensation, as if he is lying in a pool of water that is too cold and too hot for his skin at once.
There's only a superficial fight when he's dragged onto the mattress, body weak like a kitten as his limbs are shackled into their respective places and his body is displayed on its back. Yet those dark, mismatched eyes glare up with a coal of that fire still alive — and at the question, he spits at the man's face.]
（ he makes a sort of 'hm' sound to himself as he wipes the spit away with one thumb, ratchets sasuke's legs up with bindings beneath the knees and then reaches between his thighs to start undoing the humbler. punishment for that little show of defiance comes in a firm squeeze of his balls before he undoes the pins holding the device closed against him, and then it's set aside. ）
Still got some fight in you.
（ he drags the bag he'd brought along a little closer, and starts rummaging through it. alcohol swabs and cream are brought out, and cy goes over the one bloody injury he'd inflicted, ruthless in sterilizing and painting it over with a salve. he murmurs something about keeping his whore free of infection, spinning it as less about his health or safety and more about simple property damage.
next taken from the bag is one of the dildos in the mid-range, and lubricant. as he pours it along the shaft of the dildo: ）
It's cute. I like it. Let's hope you pass that trait down to our kids, huh?
（ from between sasuke's bound legs, lifted and spread by the network of ropes above them and fastened beneath his knees, cy reaches up to stroke his belly suggestively, fingers digging in against the skin, before he lets his hand slip back down to sasuke's spent cock. the silicon ring is worked gently off, and then sasuke gets an affectionate little pat to his balls: ）
It'll be easier on you if you relax. You gonna do that for me, or are you going to keep making me hurt you?
[The squeeze at tender balls is almost too much, sensitivity sharp across nerves, causing his thighs to flex and attempt to pull away — soon stopped by the restriction of shackles that keep ankles affixed. He tries not to pant, tries to stay utterly silent as Cy removes the humbler and then tends to his wound without even a hiccup to the scene, but it's difficult. He wants to moan and squirm and thrash; he won't allow himself this indulgence, bound up in the pretense of his unwilling role easy as it is to perform. That self-denial is second nature.
The trust, however, is not — but they have worked to build a foundation over the months resilient to fear, to doubt, so that he puts himself in Cy's hands without question. Eyes follow the man's movement on the bed, knowing what is coming next and letting his expression wrinkle with a disturbance of calm.
Fingers touch him, pull off the ring, pat his balls, rub his belly with an insinuation that leaves him dizzy with desire. But his gaze never leaves the threat of the dildo, shiny from the smear of lubricant, silicone colored deep red.]
I will never surrender to you willingly, [are the hoarse words, a little slurred now from pain and pleasure alike.] I thought I'd made myself clear.
[Hurt me, the defiance in his glare suggests — and the deeper, submissive want in his heart begs.]
Do you really care? [Quieter, a murmur of low and ragged breath.] You're going to do what you want regardless. I won't demean myself for the sake of comfort.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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Privilege. Sasuke hangs onto that word, uses it as fuel in the mindset of the role he's playing as if there truly are lives on the line. It isn't as difficult as he'd expected to pretend like he is a resentful captive. He can sink into this, mind slipping away as if he is within subspace already — the nudge of a foot at the humbler all the more effective as a result.
The pain is electric. He can feel it all over his body, pulsing to the beat of his heart. He gags — an attempted inhale on the dick in his throat quickly extinguished, a jerk on the leash only to learn there's nowhere to go. The sheen of wetness in his eyes is less because he's trying to cry, knowing Cy likes it, than a compulsory response to choking. And in this role he restrains the reflex, lashes blinking the tears away.
In the awareness that it will save men from suffering, Sasuke bends into the act as if he is steel in a forge, hot with fire yet unyielding, gliding his mouth back down rigid flesh with less care than dutiful finesse. He knows how to suck a cock, and that knowledge is demonstrated now in the lash of a tongue, the tight seal of lips, the avoidance of sharp teeth.]
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（ it's said with a sort of imperious approval — satisfaction at someone put so thoroughly into their place that there can be no mistaking their subjugation. cy slinks lower in the chair, tipping his head back against its frame, throat working in a long swallow that does not mask the groan that sasuke pulls out of him. why should he be resolved against a demonstration of pleasure, in a situation like this?
he affords sasuke no autonomy at all — or at least the illusion of its lack. he's attentive as ever to his breathing and the tension of his body, and when he has cause to concern himself he will shove sasuke back enough to breathe properly, using it as an opportunity to taunt him, to draw attention to the rank debasement. ）
If your men could see you now.
（ is one such sentiment, murmured as he cleans a line of drool from one corner of sasuke's mouth, wiping his hand off on his cheek as if annoyed by the filth. he meets sasuke's eyes briefly — brow lifted in an unspoken check-in — and he clearly sees what he's looking for in the boy's expression, because he settles and then continues: ）
What would they think of you sucking cock to spare them a slow, torturous death?
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And perhaps he plays it up a little, knowing Cy will like it. The way his jaw works, swallowing, saliva messy where Cy wipes his hand. The rough and ragged breath he sucks in like he can't get enough air, like he's fighting against himself to perform this act.]
They would understand it was for a reason. [There's pride in this, too, spirit unbroken even as his voice comes thick and ruined from having the man's cock forced down his throat.] If you mean to humiliate me, it won't work. Use me as you wish — abuse me, I don't care.
[So long as his men are shown mercy.
Never mind that Sasuke shifts to squeeze his thighs together, only to stop at the first throb of pain from the humbler hinged over his balls — he can feel his own cock thickening, filling out, the silicone band at its root growing steadily tighter.]
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（ cy pets at sasuke's cheek, almost lovingly, and then he bends down and kisses him — this too a violation, a deliberate act that forces sasuke's mouth open that cy might lick the taste of himself from it. the chain at sasuke's throat stays taut, disallowing him the chance to slip away and it isn't until cy's satisfied that he lets it go slack again, lets sasuke have the space to breathe.
then he levers one foot against sasuke's shoulder and shoves him hard down to the floor, standing as he does it to loom over him. coordinating the backwards splay of limbs is all on sasuke to manage, and then cy leans his weight against that point of contact, pinning him down. ）
You've given me a challenge. （ he leans one forearm against his knee, intensifying the downward pressure against sasuke's shoulder even as his other hand slips to his own cock, still wet and messy with sasuke's saliva and hot with the warmth of his mouth. cy works his hand down the shaft, squeezing over the head of his crown, deliberately working himself off. ） You see, I — ah... bet I can humiliate you just fine.
（ the foot is removed from sasuke's shoulder just long enough for him to drop down to a knee instead, half-straddling the boy's chest while using the hard press of a knee to disable his right arm, shin braced overtop sasuke's bicep. like this, the intent of his pose is made more obvious and deliberate — he's going to come on sasuke's face, though the way he works himself off is unhurried, sensual. as if he's as much enjoying the exploration of his own body as he is sasuke's place beneath him. ）
I'm going to break you down until you're nothing but a sheathe for my cock. Then you can tell your men how much you enjoy it while I make them watch, hm? Open your mouth, boy, let's see how good my aim is.
（ he doesn't genuinely intend to aim, but he knows that sasuke will appreciate the taste of him even if most of the ejaculate coats his face or gets striped up into his hair. but whether or not he complies is another thing entirely — and cy doesn't particularly care if he chooses to or not. he comes on a harsh exhalation, hinging forward to brace himself with his free hand against the floor as he shivers through a blistering orgasm, milking himself beyond the aftershocks so that every last drop of come ends up on his boyfriend's skin. ）
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Cy towers above him, natural height made more stark for the difference of their positions. He is cruel and magnetically confident — he wields his power in this scenario with such effortless grace that, without the parameters of the scene they've established as well as Sasuke's own experience with BDSM so far, it would be easy to succumb to that thrall. To feel it is real, rather than Cy's iron-fisted control at work.
Sasuke, if he was himself, would have opened his mouth with soft obedience, would have licked his lips like a cat lapping up cream — but he is not himself, and so his mouth remains a defiant line pinched at the corners and his head turns away from those obscene words. He takes the hot load across his cheek and temple, stripes of come painting his face in a humiliating portrait. Some trickles down the bridge of his nose; some sticks in closed eyelashes, in the fridge of dark hair at the crown of his head. With his right arm pinned and useless he can't wipe it away so he simply wears it — debased as much as he is claimed by the act.]
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There's a rack of riding crops along the wall. Crawl to it. Pick something out and crawl back. I'm going to beat you with it.
（ he, conversely, just sits back down in the chair, casually tucking his cock back into his pants. he sits in an open-thighed splay, one elbow braced on the chair's arm, the other loosely holding the collar's leash. there's just enough slack there that sasuke can reach the indicated display of implements — straps and crops and floggers, leather belts and assorted other implements for the purpose of nothing else but pain. they'd negotiated on a number, with the option to increase or decrease based on how the scene's going and what sasuke feels of his tolerance level — but by the way his cock has filled out, and how he's still playing along, cy has a pretty reasonable gauge on how he's feeling about what's transpired up to now. there's a swell of soft affection that all but takes him by the throat, and if sasuke happens to chance a look back at him he might see it naked on his face — the adoration and the love that are lit like a constellation across the set of his mouth and brow. ）
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There is a glance back, but only briefly before he begins to crawl, and the look he glimpses on Cy's face makes that painful passage across the ground feel like nothing, even when every movement hurts. Without his left arm it's almost a humiliation how slow his pace is — forced to hop his weight on the palm of his right hand until he gets to the end of the leash's slack. It doesn't matter what Sasuke takes from the wall, but in this role he would never select the easy way out, would never choose a soft-tressed flogger for the perception that he is weak, that he can't bear worse. So into his teeth he takes one of the slender crops, biting down in order to carry it back.
That claim to pride against humiliation feels hot and heavy on his skin like this, leashed and collared, crawling on his knees, fetching the implement like an obedient pet for its master with come still drying on his skin and in his hair. He's burning with it by the time he reaches Cy's chair, vividly aware of the fact that he would never — not by any stretch of the imagination — ever allow someone else to do this to him, to see him like this.]
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Come here. Over my knee. I won't ask twice.
（ but what he'll do if refused is hard to say. as warlords go, he's as mercurial as he is merciless. the persona he's pulled down over himself like a mask is not, for all intents and purposes, so disparate from who he is that it's a challenge, kulo vayn's influence bitten deep into the core of his personhood. what's different is that, for all the gratification that comes from these acted scenes, cy is not that person on purpose — and that difference is what has given sasuke the safety necessary to surrender into the scene.
ultimately, whether sasuke comes to him 'willingly', or resists the further humiliation, his demand will be met, and he smooths a hand across sasuke's bare ass in a pure, aesthetic appreciation. the humbler is given a little tug, straining delicate skin, and then the crop is dragged in a sensual pass over his balls and up the cleft of his ass.
a warlord wouldn't care about the state of sasuke's cock, but cy does — reaching beneath sasuke's body to make sure it's not pinched against his thigh. he gives him one stroke, a moment's loving attention, and then: ）
You're doing well, （ he says, and there's genuine appreciation in his tone — for all that it's not one cy generally uses with sasuke to express that sentiment. ） I wouldn't have expected anything less from an Uchiha, after all, but you're still managing to impress me. （ he swats the lacquered wood of the humbler with the crop, more to create a sudden sound than to hurt. ） Beg me not to hit your balls and I might be inclined to capitulate.
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The riding crop teases across his lower body, threat written into the gentle drag across the tight, abused sack of his balls held by lacquered wood, along the furrow of his ass bared and vulnerable. There is no denying the humiliated submission of this act — like a misbehaving child meant to be disciplined. If he notices the gentleness with which Cy arranges his cock between them, he says nothing. It feels so natural that it barely hiccups in his attention during the scene. A soft, soothing pet — affection left like a gift within simulated cruelty.]
I don't — beg. [His voice isn't so even any longer, and he can't help the flinch from the crop when it strikes wood.] I said I'd endure your demands of my body, but I will never beg you for it.
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his right hand holds the crop, and his left has the leash wound around it — its restriction won't matter much in this position, so perhaps that's why he puts his hand against the back of sasuke's collar, long fingers closing in a powerful grip right above where the band of it terminates. ）
I'm gonna make you eat those words.
（ the statement is made all the more sinister for the fact he sounds playfully promising rather than threatening. the crop is trailed against sasuke's thigh, and without any more warning than a slight tightening of his left hand he brings it down in a crack across sasuke's ass. it leaves an immediate livid mark with the force, and cy's attentive to the intrinsic language of sasuke's body, folding his thumb over the crop so he can rub the spot with his palm. he does it too roughly to be at all soothing, more like he's jostling the new injury on purpose, fingers pressing in over the bruise to deepen its burn. ）
Compte en français.
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Fingers restrict the collar around his throat so that when he swallows it becomes tight, difficult, eyelids squeezing against the starry pain of that first strike. It falls bright and livid across his skin, a lingering burn intensified by the rub of the man's palm.]
Un. [Then, with each snap of the crop across his body, the French stumbles out of his mouth —] Deux. Trois.
[Numbers are easy. There is almost a logic to it, the lyrical fall of the foreign language from his mouth in such a regimented way, even as it calls the implement down against his skin in another red line.]
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Brace.
（ just one word — that, and the way his hand slips upwards from the collar to cradle the back of sasuke's head are the warning he gets before the next blow is delivered directly to his balls. unlike the strikes to his ass, which are measured and heavily meted out by dint of familiarity and practice between them, each one done with exacting and painful precision, this blow is by contrast barely a whisper. a light, controlled tap with the leather tongue of the crop.
he breaks character now, only for a moment — fingers curling into sasuke's hair, and in a soothing murmur that falls back into his honey-warm east side drawl — ）
Don't fight the pain. Open your body to it, and let it wash over you. （ then, stepping back into the cold veneer he's worn for this engagement — ） You know, I had the idea of keeping you alive to use as breeding stock. （ there's a pointed pass of his hand against sasuke's balls, palm cupping them. while it's easily played off as the deliberate cruelty of ownership, cy knows that the difference in the sensation will notch the sting down to a dull roar. ） At first I considered enlisting volunteers to bear your children. Your bloodline would strengthen my army.
（ as he talks, his attention shifts back to sasuke's ass, except instead of returning to the cadence of measured blows, he teases at the crease of it with the handle of the crop. pushing it in against his hole just enough to be suggestive of penetration, waiting to see if sasuke will relax or resist. ）
Is it true that the Sharingan is passed down matrilineally?
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Breathing hard through his nose, calm eventually begins to creep back in with the effort of discipline — until the man says what he says next. Cy steps easily back into that role, and he attempts to do the same, muscles so rigid they begin to cramp. His voice is a hoarse protest.]
That won't work.
[Surely this is obvious. He is not a woman, and he cannot bear children. But it also isn't a denial — that yes, the Sharingan passes genetically through matrilineal descent.]
You're insane.
[A harsher criticism, half-gasped breath when the crop drags over the furrow of his ass and probes at his hole with leather warmed by his own skin. It will find Sasuke's body still firm and resistant, unwilling to yield to intrusion.]
cw: now we're into object fucking and breathplay ig
Shh, shh.
（ like someone directing an unruly child, it's said with a sort of condescending, chiding bent to the exclamation. with one final pet to his ink-dark hair, cy lets his hand drift down the boy's spine to his hips. the handle of the crop is a steady pressure against his hole, and cy deliberately spreads the cheeks of his ass so that he can force it inside with a cruel, deliberate push. the come from earlier will ease the penetration a little, but it will still hurt — all the more for the resistance in every line of his body. the braided leather will provide an interesting array of sensations, not that the warlord seems especially concerned with sasuke enjoying himself. ）
I'm surprised you don't know more about what I'm capable of. Here, let me show you a party trick. Take a breath — it'll be your last for a while.
（ he's used his powers around sasuke enough that he's familiar with the basic capacity — but he's never used it to shunt all the air out of a specific area before. he waits until he feels the expansion of sasuke's lungs against his thigh, and then he does it — extracting the molecular structure of oxygen. it's a slightly more complicated equation, but it's one he's had a lot of practice at, clearing the radius within sasuke's easy reach while leaving himself enough to breathe and talk.
he'd been careful not to simply eliminate the air itself — that would create a cavitation bubble that would slap them both in the face with explosive power, but it means that if sasuke tries to breathe it will not yield a useable lungful. now with the handle of the crop seated well inside sasuke, he lets his other hand wander back to press palm-down over his shoulderblades so he can feel when the oxygen deprivation starts to cause those small, physiological hitches to the lungs.
he takes his time fucking him with the crop, knowing that it'll make him burn with very real humiliation however safely the act is executed between them. returning to his prior topic as if he hadn't deviated at all — ）
But then I realized I'd have to share you, and you know what? （ a long, deliberate thrust of the crop carries it as deeply into sasuke's body as is physically possible. ） I'm just not cut out for that.
🤡 they are so (not) normal!!!!!
He has found this sort of physical pain — sexual pain — is unlike any sort of agony brought by battle. Though his threshold to bear what Cy metes out is high, there's an intimacy to the nature of this practice that sensitizes him, combined with his own tendency to let down his guard with Cy in particular, so he's gasping before that order to take a breath even comes. He feels raw with the debasement of being fucked on the handle of a riding crop, like a plaything, a toy to sit pretty on someone's lap with no choice but to simply take it until it's over.
An obedient inhale follows because he knows better than to disobey in that moment. And then there's no air at all, ears popping for the sudden shift in pressure, a pocket of lack around his head that causes him to be too-aware of the frantic drum of his own pulse. Muscles are rigid, holding himself in the compromising position until the strain becomes too much — and he feels the dull drag of the handle push as deep as his body can permit, not enough pressure on his prostate but still making his cock drool precome in a humiliating mess between his legs, staining Cy's slacks.
He fights, of course. What else would a man in his state do? His body thrashes, trying to get his knees out from beneath Cy's heavy leg, using his right hand to grab the arm of the chair in an attempt to pivot his weight, to roll off and onto the ground, even if it means he might land directly on the cruel humbler encasing his balls.]
cw from here on out for deliberate misgendering/threats of sexual violence/breeding/etc
cy stands up, shoving the chair back with the motion, and then he stoops to grab sasuke by the hair to bodily force him onto his stomach, pinning him with a foot against the small of his back. he does relinquish the oxygen, letting him breathe again, though not deeply with the press of his weight against his back. ）
You know, if you can't take your punishment like a man, maybe it's time to talk about the next thing I have planned for you.
（ he studies the rack of toys briefly, and then calls to hand a birch cane. slender and flexible, the sort that will sting and raise welts against skin, and then he brings it down — hard — against sasuke's thighs, narrowly missing the humbler where it's painfully indented against his skin. the rod makes a whistle in the air and a sharp crack on impact. ）
You move again, the next one's hitting your balls. Do I make myself clear?
（ there's a nod as sasuke drags air frantically into his lungs, and cy eases off his foot and instead circles around, sitting at sasuke's feet before he grabs him by the ankles and forcibly hauls him backwards, knowing that the drag of his cock against the plush rug is still going to be uncomfortable to bear. he arranges sasuke's across his splayed thighs, which forces his apart as well, and so that he can't squirm or fight again, he also hooks his right leg over sasuke's back, pressing his torso flat to the rug while also trapping his arm.
the birch rod makes whisper-light contact with his balls, teasing them with the promise of torment and cy turns it into a little pat before the next blow falls, striking sasuke vertically along the cleft of his ass. ）
— Anyway, back to my point. That parlour trick isn't the only one I've got up my sleeve. Once I've had my fill of you like this, you can say goodbye to your cock and balls. （ left-handed, he reaches to give sasuke's cock a stroke, and then there's another little slap to his tormented balls. ） Now the only question is whether or not I should let you come one more time before I make you a woman. What do you think, Uchiha?
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.]
the final pokemon evolution gonna be wild
（ he milks sasuke's cock with a practiced hand, stopping with no clearly defined interval to deliver another sharp blow across his ass with the cane. the angle means there's slightly less power behind it, and the stripes fall at a different angle, more vertically than horizontally across his ass. the strikes fall sometimes against his thighs as well, and though he avoids further direct trauma to sasuke's balls, it's clear he hasn't forgotten about them — every once in a while there's a swish of the cane that ends without impact, the air stirred around them, the effect more psychological than physical. he wants to see sasuke cringe away from it. ）
Do you really want to risk resisting the last orgasm you'll ever get? Because trust me, once you're breeding stock, your pleasure's off the table. Replacing the men I lost in this campaign is gonna keep you busy on your back.
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I won't, I won't let you... [Cy holds him in the cradle of those two sensations: the pleasure of a hand stroking his cock, full and heavy with blood from the snug ring at its root; and the sharp pain of every stripe of pink drawn up on the skin of ass and thighs, jostling the humbler that holds his balls in vulnerable imprisonment.] No. Stop.
[A suggestion of begging at last — bright with the shame of being forced to the brink of an orgasm, though it comes slower with the ring in place, building up behind his composure like a tidal wave. It's almost frightening, that intensity he seems to hold at bay through sheer will in his unwillingness to debase himself further.]
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（ that's punctuated by another crack of the rod, this one drawing a line of blood across delicate, bruised flesh split from the blow. he sets the birch aside, and wipes the blood into a smear. not a stopping point to the scene, but to that particular activity — he knows what sasuke can take, but he also knows his own limits and for now at least, that line is drawn. with his hand newly free, he jostles sasuke's ass higher with a lift of his left knee and spits against the crack of his ass, letting it drip downwards to his hole. there's a lave of his tongue against his own fingers, and then he pushes three of them into sasuke's body with careless force.
he strokes sasuke down to the encircling band of the cock ring, and then back to the head in a torturously tight squeeze as he fucks his fingers into him, as merciless now as he was with the crop, knowing that taking three fingers is sometimes still a challenge for sasuke well-lubed and plenty prepped. tense from the pain of impact play and the show of resistance he's putting up? the snarl of pleasure and pain will be intense within him. ）
Go on, then. Fight me. See how much what you'll let me do matters to me. I can take whatever I want from you, Uchiha. Your men, your body, your pride, every ounce of agency you've ever had. You'll be nothing but an empty womb to fill — pretty breasts and a swollen belly. You will never see the sky again, feel the breeze on your skin. You're mine.
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His thoughts scatter. For a time there is only sensation of being fucked open on nearly-dry fingers, of Cy's voice in his ears promising a mean reality that only makes him harder, makes him squirm at the suggestion of becoming nothing but a hole for the man to fill, to breed, to own and possess. He hears himself make a fragile sound, pushing his head down against the rug as he begins a litany of no, no, no — unable to free himself from the way he's held across Cy's lap.
That absolute robbery of autonomy and control is all it takes, in the end. He half-sobs into the plush fibers against his face, muffling it purposefully because he knows it will be loud otherwise, the orgasm so intense it grips his body like a vice. He feels the way his hole constricts around Cy's knuckles, so tight it makes the pain worse but he enjoys that, too, hot splash of seed spilling between thighs almost against his will.]
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but he laughs, the sound wintrous and cruel — and then he shoves sasuke off his lap abruptly, as if content to discard him as nothing more than a used toy. he stands, then, delivering a kick to sasuke's flank that is carefully calculated not to hit him anywhere damaging, or to hurt too much — and puts the birch rod back on the shelf. collects the crop for later cleaning. washes his hands in the standing sink in the corner of the room. not a look is spared for sasuke where he lays sprawled on the floor as cy starts ropework on the bed, cords and cuffs at each of the four posters, and a fifth and sixth from the slats atop the canopy, hanging in questionable places. once he's satisfied, he returns to sasuke in a long stride, grabbing him by the hair and by his wrist — thematically so he can't fight back, but more realistically because hauling him by the hair alone would hurt — as he drags him to the bed and then hefts him up onto the mattress. the clasped wrist is the first to be put into a cuff, closing the shackles around him and latching them, and then his thighs are wrenched apart with a punishing grip at one ankle to repeat the process. idly, as he works: ）
Pick a colour.
（ it's said so breezily, so playfully it might have no influence on all with what they're doing — but sasuke has insider information, and the dildos they brought along for use in this scene are coded by colour and size, with blue being the biggest. ）
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There's only a superficial fight when he's dragged onto the mattress, body weak like a kitten as his limbs are shackled into their respective places and his body is displayed on its back. Yet those dark, mismatched eyes glare up with a coal of that fire still alive — and at the question, he spits at the man's face.]
cw: abuser-coded language, hahaha...
Still got some fight in you.
（ he drags the bag he'd brought along a little closer, and starts rummaging through it. alcohol swabs and cream are brought out, and cy goes over the one bloody injury he'd inflicted, ruthless in sterilizing and painting it over with a salve. he murmurs something about keeping his whore free of infection, spinning it as less about his health or safety and more about simple property damage.
next taken from the bag is one of the dildos in the mid-range, and lubricant. as he pours it along the shaft of the dildo: ）
It's cute. I like it. Let's hope you pass that trait down to our kids, huh?
（ from between sasuke's bound legs, lifted and spread by the network of ropes above them and fastened beneath his knees, cy reaches up to stroke his belly suggestively, fingers digging in against the skin, before he lets his hand slip back down to sasuke's spent cock. the silicon ring is worked gently off, and then sasuke gets an affectionate little pat to his balls: ）
It'll be easier on you if you relax. You gonna do that for me, or are you going to keep making me hurt you?
🤡💦💦
The trust, however, is not — but they have worked to build a foundation over the months resilient to fear, to doubt, so that he puts himself in Cy's hands without question. Eyes follow the man's movement on the bed, knowing what is coming next and letting his expression wrinkle with a disturbance of calm.
Fingers touch him, pull off the ring, pat his balls, rub his belly with an insinuation that leaves him dizzy with desire. But his gaze never leaves the threat of the dildo, shiny from the smear of lubricant, silicone colored deep red.]
I will never surrender to you willingly, [are the hoarse words, a little slurred now from pain and pleasure alike.] I thought I'd made myself clear.
[Hurt me, the defiance in his glare suggests — and the deeper, submissive want in his heart begs.]
Do you really care? [Quieter, a murmur of low and ragged breath.] You're going to do what you want regardless. I won't demean myself for the sake of comfort.
they are Not Normal
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cw: now we're into piercings
can they stop being insane for 5 seconds
all signs point to 'no'.
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'making sasuke participate in his own torment is my kink' - cy, ten k years and a half
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it's not a cysuke thread without cy talking sadly abt war horrors at some point tbh
🥲🥲🥲
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here there be dragons
🐉🐉🐉
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the endlessness of horny, pt8349823^2999
they will never stop
once u pop...
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we are cringe but we are free