[The sting of that slap carries him into the next moment, unceremoniously rearranged into a bent position over Cy's knees, ass offered up to the administration of the brush. With his arm bound, there's no way to leverage himself in a way that prevents his face from dragging against the bed, messy cheek turned against the sheets with a sharp exhale of breath.
The bristles send a pleasant tingle over nerves, soon undone by a quick smack that then dulls, turned over to the flatter side. Playing into the role of someone who has witnessed this but never had it performed on himself — Sasuke does fight, trying to kick his feet and unseat himself from the man's lap, embarrassed because of the implement being used in addition to that task of submission.
And he does want it harder, contrary to the words that spill out of his mouth next.]
No — don't. Stop. [Even if the weeping evidence of his cock belies this; even if a ragged moan is drawn out by the clench of muscle around the plug that his body can't help.] Why are you doing this? Why me?
no subject
The bristles send a pleasant tingle over nerves, soon undone by a quick smack that then dulls, turned over to the flatter side. Playing into the role of someone who has witnessed this but never had it performed on himself — Sasuke does fight, trying to kick his feet and unseat himself from the man's lap, embarrassed because of the implement being used in addition to that task of submission.
And he does want it harder, contrary to the words that spill out of his mouth next.]
No — don't. Stop. [Even if the weeping evidence of his cock belies this; even if a ragged moan is drawn out by the clench of muscle around the plug that his body can't help.] Why are you doing this? Why me?