chokuto

Is that so?

（ the knife begins to cut, fraying the waistband of his pants away. beneath, he's bare — revealing the broad, flat butt of a plug between his cheeks. he makes a speculative sound, and then: ）

We're coming back to this.

（ there's a tap to the base of the plug that's almost affectionate, and then he shifts his position — no longer kneeling quite beside sasuke, but roughly shoving his thighs apart to position himself between them, cutting more of the fabric away so that there's no impediment to him widening the space. once he's satisfied, the knife is set on a shelf well out of sasuke's reach and both hands reach for the boy's hips, jerking him roughly up just enough that one hand can slip beneath him to palm his cock. not just hard, but — ）

See, now it's hard to say if the precome's because you're a liar, or because you've been sitting here like a whore with a plug up your ass.

（ his hand comes away with a damp, tacky streak spooled across his fingers, and methodically he lifts his hand to sasuke's lips. he doesn't ask, he doesn't wait for that sweet, pliant obedience sasuke shows him so reverently in the bedroom. instead, he just shoves his fingers into his mouth, the other hand levering his jaw open with a cruel pinch at the sharp angle of the bone. ）

Clean your mess. Every drop.

[A chill shivers over skin bared to the room, and there's a slight twitch of hips at the tap to the base of the plug for the way it disturbs silicone against sensitive, stretched inner muscle — but the shame courses a bright river of arousal through him as the truth is dragged into the light for the physical evidence he bears. Thighs kicked apart, clothing torn in great cuts of fabric, he can do nothing to prevent how he's handled. It pivots his ass up slightly so that hand can reach, a drag of friction over his cock that only makes him want more he isn't given.

Sasuke clenches teeth through the sound he makes, but soon it isn't possible because strong fingers pry his jaw wide apart, shoving in. The bitter taste of himself floods his mouth — there's a moment where he tries to resist, tongue pushing against the pads of fingertips to reject their forceful intrusion, but it's not a battle he wins. Air comes patchy between those thick knuckles as he swallows because he has no choice, then laps away the residue of precome until Cy's skin is clean and wet with his own saliva.

Then he bites down. Not hard enough to draw blood, but enough to feel the pinch of flesh yielding to his meager act of rebellion.]

Oh, sweetheart. （ there's a sigh of condescending disappointment, and a shake of his head. he pulls his hand back, though not before wiping the spit across sasuke's face in something that's half a caress. once he's satisfied, his hand drops down to sasuke's ass and delivers one hard smack, powerful enough to redden the skin immediately. ）

See, I know you're smart enough to know the only thing that's gonna do is piss me off. Cute little act of rebellion, though. I knew you wouldn't go down easy — well. Varying degrees of the word down.

（ there's a rummage in the box until he finds what he's looking for, the spider gag — and he turns it over in his hands, and then dangles it within easy view of sasuke. ）

I was gonna have you suck my dick the old fashioned way, but I'm not so sure I can trust you now. Luckily, I came prepared for you to be a little cunt. Any last words before I reduce your pretty mouth to a warm hole to stick my cock in?

[It's degrading, that smear of spit across his cheek — he burns with it in the moments before that hand comes down hard on his ass, slap of skin resounding in the quiet room. He swallows a whimper from being voiced despite himself, putting his face down against the bed.

Sweetheart. There's an echo of Cy in the endearment, only tinged with something darker, potent, arousal a single flame building into fire.]

You don't know me at all.

[He picks up the sound of the box, attention fixated there until the gag is dangling in front of his eyes, deliberately presented. Sasuke's face flushes, pinched with clear understanding. The struggle is renewed, arm yanking at the rope around his waist even as it abrades skin in hot pink lines.]

Don't, [despite the earlier command, the words slip out of him unheeded.] No. You can't do that. I've never— [gasped, cut off.] I'll choke.

[He knows that Cy likes to see the fear, the fight, and so it's played here with ease, less because he is sincerely afraid than it is the act of electrified lust at the thought of Cy using his throat like this.]

Then think next time before you bite me.

（ sasuke's right — that fear is its own aphrodisiac, one that hooks in deep and sinks beneath his skin. he rides out a shiver — anticipation, lust — and then strokes sasuke's hair back from his forehead. it might be tender, if not for the fact that it's a ploy to slip the back of the gag over his head. he doesn't tighten it, because of course the next step is getting sasuke to open his mouth to accept the ring. he forces his thumb in past sasuke's lips, skirting the space between his teeth and cheek, fingers stroking at his jaw. ）

And there will be a next time. Be a good little slut and open for me.

[That threat hangs in the air between them. His jaw yields to the driving intrusion of that thumb, parting to accept the metal of the ring into a hot mouth — fighting the urge to push his tongue out against it, because he knows it's useless. The ring clicks against his teeth as it is fitted, drool already beginning to collect from the 'O' his lips are made to maintain.

The metal cuts into the soft corners of his lips; he can feel it heavy around the back of his head, Cy's fingers notching the strap tightly snug. It feels obscene — like he is an animal that has been muzzled, belted down, no room allowed for anything but obedience. To have his mouth forcefully gaping makes him feel more like the whore he's accused to be, waiting to be used.

Sasuke makes a sound — a ragged little whine — and it's louder because he can't silence it by swallowing or sealing lips. He tries to wrench his head away from Cy's hands, tries to roll his body sideways on the bed even if there's nowhere to go.]

Edited 2024-05-21 02:50 (UTC)

（ the second he tries to buck away, cy hits him again — this time the placement of his hand is right over that plug, driving it more deeply into him. ）

We both know if you really wanted to escape you would've swallowed your pride and screamed for help the second you realized what was happening. You would've endured the well-meaning pity, the furtive glances, and people treating you like a fragile victim if you didn't actually want this.

（ it's tricky in the small space, but he manages to roll sasuke onto his back, that bound arm jutting his shoulder at a cruel angle beneath him. ）

You know what I think? I think that part of you recognizes that no matter what, despite all your power, all your strength, you're better served being my whore. Just a warm hole, huh? So you don't have to think, don't have to feel anything except what I do to your body. How long were you at the club hoping I'd notice you and take what's mine?

（ he slips three fingers into the circle of the metal ring, plunging them into sasuke's mouth until his last knuckle bottoms out, and he can finger fuck him slowly like this. he makes eye contact as he does it — equal parts serious check-in and hunger to see further expression of that fear. then: ）

This is a good look on you.

（ unable to close his mouth, lips cinched tight at the corners, drool pooling wherever gravity wills it, and most importantly the deep penetration of his fingers. cy angles his other hand until he can snap a picture of it, and then another of his weeping cock tucked in against his belly, and then he leans in to kiss sasuke's forehead. ）

I'm going to fuck your mouth now, nod your head if you understand.

（ notably, not giving him room to decline. ）

[The strike lands directly on the base of the plug — eliciting a harsh noise he only just manages to smother against the bedsheet before it can rise high enough to carry through the walls of the room. He can feel the blunt end of the silicone pushed that much deeper into him, threatening to target his prostate at a slightly better angle.

And then Cy is speaking to him, washing away the rest. Pain lances through his shoulder at the exaggerated angle; no longer face down, he can't stifle the quiet sob, working against the saliva that pools in the back of his throat with a hard swallow. There's no way to stop those fingers from driving into his mouth, violating it, shoved far enough back he can feel the tight squeeze that threatens to seal off air. Cy looms above him, features partially shadowed in the dimness of the room — the feeling of that dark gaze on him makes it all more intense. The slick sound of fingers sliding in and out is vulgar in his ears.

Just the same as those words, filtering through a haze of arousal — and fear, of course, demonstrated in the hitching breaths, the rapid stutter of his pulse, the gathering wetness in black eyelashes. His hand feels like it's going numb behind his back; he tries to jerk his away at the click of the Watch's camera setting, humiliation becoming a bright sore inside of him.

It burns even hotter. Better. That kiss is like a sweet taunt amidst everything else. He nods, never dislodging the thick knuckles that fill his mouth.]

（ the sob lances through him, a spear of lust that settles low in his belly. that's the deciding factor, then, in how the rest proceeds — he can't exactly have sasuke undress him bound as he is, even his mouth restrained — instead he unbuttons his pants and pulls his cock out — where there's evidence of his arousal in the faint glaze of precome that's been otherwise wicked away by the fabric of his slacks. he doesn't give sasuke time to adjust or get comfortable with the weight of the plug or the new position, he just bends him in half at the waist until his face is inches away from cy's own cock, hand firmly grasped at the back of his head, thumb hooked beneath the strap of the gag, fingers tangled in his hair as he pulls him down.

they've been plenty sweet about this act. plenty gentle. but so too have they explored boundaries, and cy has become intimately acquainted with what sasuke can take. the gag adds a new but not insurmountable dynamic — but he's perhaps more careful than his rough handling would suggest as he seats his cock within the pliant, open heat of sasuke's mouth. ）

It'd be so cruel of me to come down your throat like this, you can hardly swallow. So I think I'll use your face instead.

（ it's his left hand that's holding sasuke down — the right skims down his spine, and follows the line of his bound arm to his the bell with its new, braided cord around his wrist so it can't get lost, gently coaxing his fingers open to touch the warm metal. just a reminder for them both, like this. sasuke can hardly say pomegranate when he's gargling on a cock. ）

[The role he is playing has never been made easier than when he's bent in half, open mouth forced over the head of Cy's cock, taking it down in a swallow of hot flesh, velvet on his tongue. He has no control over the descent; it simply fills him to the brim, straining at the effort to fit Cy all the way down, throat flexing as if it will somehow make room in the very back where it is tightest and most essential. He breathes air in hard through his nose through necessity. It's true, in that moment, he would have no way to accommodate Cy's come — even if he wants to take it, yearning to swallow that load no matter how it will choke him. He wants everything Cy is willing to give him.

But it's enough, just this. Dark strands of hair slip into his face, sticking where saliva has dried on his cheek and sweat has begun to prickle at his hairline. He can taste Cy at first, heavy in his mouth, bitterness and salt and musk so associated with masculinity, and he craves it, wants to lap at it with his tongue if only he had the control. Yet all he can do is try to breathe through his nose and weather the abuse of his throat for this man's pleasure alone. As if it is some trial.

Then it's so deep he can hardly taste anything. Drool gathers around the metal ring that keeps his lips pried apart, messy on Cy's slacks, soon worsened by the tears that drip from tightly closed eyelids. There's a moment where his mind entirely fades out — blissfully lost in the demands of the body, aware only of the ache in his jaw, in his shoulder, in the tight plug up his ass and the neglected throb of his own cock. He even forgets not to be noisy, allowing the wet and strangled sobs to emerge as they will, unconsciously threading his fingers into Cy's offered hand.]

Edited 2024-05-21 05:50 (UTC)

（ he keeps up a litany of filthy words. not his usual praise — crass but achingly fond — but things primed towards degradation. your neighbours should see you like this, he croons as he holds sasuke down against him until his shoulders shake for want of air. until it's clear that he's pared down to only a thing, an unspooling of sensations that bleeds into every muscle fibre and empties him of all possible thought.

this is what you deserve, is said with that bespoke cruelty as cy gently folds sasuke's fingers back over the bell and checks to make sure that the ropes aren't too tight at his wrist and elbow. the sobbing, cut off by the slick, wet noises of his mouth as he forces sasuke to take him deep earn sasuke a low, throaty moan of pleasure and a flex of his hips pushes the head of his cock into the waiting warmth of his mouth. he knows he's leaving bruises, that sasuke will be hoarse later and will struggle to swallow — but he knows too that he'll relish the feeling of having been so claimed, and miss the pain as it fades.

he shifts into something almost conversant. talks about keeping sasuke collared and caged like a pretty thing, wearing scraps of silk that leave nothing to the imagination at all, brought out only for use of his body — or perhaps fucked through the bars. being kept ready and waiting with a plug in his ass, how cy plans to train him for no other purpose but that. no one else can have you, he tells him on one particularly rough slide of his cock against the back of sasuke's throat. not unless i say.

and it's not until he's whisper-close to orgasm that he hauls sasuke up and off his cock and shoves him roughly to his back — half-sprawled in a rough heap from the angle of the bound arm. from there he kneels over him, lifted just enough off his haunches so he can palm his cock and swat sasuke across the face with it, pay attention, before another stroke carries him off.

they've done this before, so sasuke will know to close his eyes — but he still tries to aim as much as anyone can aim their dick for a cumshot, painting a stripe across his cheeks and the bridge of his nose, forehead up into his hair.

his one concession to knowing how much sasuke likes to swallow is to drag his fingers through the mess as it rapidly cools, and push his fingers through the ring of the gag to drag slick fingers against his tongue. ）

[As it plays out, Sasuke finds it easier to sink into the fantasy — Cy's voice spills over him and he becomes the victim suffering this act, the one claimed, the one taking everything he is given without choice. This is what he deserves. He's a possession meant to be caged and owned and used, and this man will use him well. The idea subsumes him, surrendering to that helplessness and forfeiting his autonomy, his will, his body. The back of his throat aches from rough handling; his throat burns for lack of air, face hot with the blood that has rushed to his head from being bent over Cy's lap. It's perfect. If it's what he deserves, then he has never been so fortunate.

Spots of black crowd his vision just as he's wrenched off and flipped over. Sasuke gasps, coughing, unable to close his mouth to prevent the drool from escaping down his chin as the position changes. He knows he's a mess — he does not care how he looks, too lost in pleasure to recall modesty. The arm bound under his back throbs, a warning at its placement, but this too slips out of thought when he sights Cy kneeling above him, cock jutting out, gleaming wet from the work of his own mouth. He hears himself make some unintelligible sound — an airless moan unable to form into words with his lips pried open by the metal ring.

Eyelids flicker when Cy's slaps at his cheek with the hard line of his dick, and the moan becomes another broken sob, hiccupped quietly. The degradation scorches through him, unexpectedly intense. Then his face is painted with hot stripes of come — Sasuke knows to close his eyes, voice devolving soon into a whimper. He feels it coat his skin like a glossy finish even into his hair, making him filthy, staining him. When fingers wipe over his tongue he tries to speak: please barely coherent, lacking the sharp consonant of the p to become something more like uh-lease.]

Sorry, I don't speak 'breedable whore'.

（ that's said playfully, as he pets come directly into sasuke's hair with a faint upwards quirk of one corner of his mouth, using the motion to slip his hand to the back of his head to undo the gag. the metal ring is pulled from his mouth, not gently even where spit has dried and sealed at the corners of his mouth. ）

Say something worth my time, or it's going back in.

Edited 2024-05-22 02:07 (UTC)

[His mind is a blur of thought when the gag is pulled free from behind his teeth. The corners of his mouth sting; he blinks away unshed tears, panting out hard and ragged breaths.]

Please. The pictures you took— [a trembling attempt to squirm on the bed, shifting his arm from its bloodless pin under his back.] Please delete them.

[It feels like he's speaking past sandpaper, tone raspy and wet, cheeks hot enough to melt a candle. He can feel the come drying in his hair in a debauched mark of ownership.]

（ cy just laughs, warm and low as he reaches out to pet sasuke's face. ）

You think that's something you get to ask me? I've got you at my mercy, did you miss that part?

（ he shifts, moving so he can essentially sit astride sasuke's chest, knees tight to either side of his ribs. forcing the boy to take his weight even as cy reaches behind him and starts stroking his cock off in a way that is torturously gentle. ）

Tell you what. I'll make you a deal. I get to do whatever I want to do for the next three hours, and if in that time you can keep yourself from coming, I'll delete the pictures.

（ and he doesn't plan to make it easy — as evidenced by the quick, skillful flicks of his wrist that are intentionally honed to sasuke's body — scene aside, he's got a standing cheat code. ）

Of course, I'm still not letting you go afterwards, but maybe you can save yourself some shame, huh?

[The lightheadedness hasn't eased, made worse when Cy settles the bulk of his weight across his chest — enough stature and solid muscle to make it a strain, half-breaths coming in quick little bursts. He can feel where come has dried and become tacky on his face, almost cool compared to the flush of blood beneath skin.]

I'll do whatever you want, [is the gamble made in a rasping voice, thick in his throat] just don't — show anyone else.

[The plea ends on a squirm he doesn't manage to withhold, that hand on his cock too brutally exact as it squeezes over him. It knows where to touch, and in the context even of this scene he responds to it anyway, trying to take a deeper breath of air. Three hours. It feels impossible, not after how long he's been made to wait with a plug in his ass, imagining what would happen when Cy came for him.

And the promise that Cy won't release him no matter what — it's an acute burn, humiliating, deeply arousing.]

What if I can't? Hold it in.

[There's a tremor in the words, composure flaked away to reveal panic.]

Then you're not really doing what I want, are you?

（ there's a ruffle of his hair, the hard, tacky areas where come has dried in the strands. ）

And I guess you're going to have to get real comfortable real quick with the idea of everyone you know seeing you in your natural habitat as a filthy little whore, huh?

（ his thumb presses hard against the slit of sasuke's cock, and then he lets him go finally, finally. ）

I think I'm going to start with a spanking. Only naughty boys try to go to bed with a plug in their ass, keeping them prised open, keeping them easy and loose. Were you waiting for someone, or do you just like the way it feels?

[Is it better or worse, when Cy's hand slips off of his cock and leaves it a mess of leaking precome? Sasuke can't tell. There's a certain path of humiliation that the words scour through him at the idea of anyone else seeing those pictures, knowing what he looks like in this state, and the thought goes to his head in the breathlessness of being sat on.

At the prospect of pain under Cy's hand, he squirms again, a startled little jolt of movement — to no effect trapped as he is, but the excitement is well-disguised as fear.]

I like how it feels. [A quiet confession scraped reluctantly out of his throat.] I didn't think anyone was paying attention to me. There. At the club.

[If he fell to pleading, would he be listened to? Would it be better if Cy put the gag back in his mouth, even if it meant a puddle of drool in his mouth?]

I— [and a soft gasp, playing into the inexperience that he once truly had.] I've never done it before.

I don't know if you're oblivious or just fucking naïve. Everyone was watching you. I'm just the one that got here first.

（ he laughs, and slaps at sasuke's hip hard enough that the sound seems to shiver in the air. ）

And as for being a virgin — we'll fix that, don't you worry.

（ he gets off of sasuke and just moves him however he sees fit — in this case, slipping to the foot of the bed with him anchored across his lap, bare ass angled upwards by one knee cocked higher than the other. cy skims his hand across the curve of his ass, nudges that plug a little more deeply, and then reaches behind them to rummage through the box. he comes up with a hairbrush — chosen earlier for its flat shape and the fact it's a rather innocuous, every-day item. he drags the plastic teeth of it across the boy's skin and then lightly hits him with it before turning it over to the smoother back and swatting him more firmly. ）

Thirty strokes. If you fight they'll be harder.

[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?

（ of course he struggles. cy puts a hand against the back of his nape to hold him pinioned against the bed, fingers closing a little, uncomfortably tight. enough to compress the arteries at the sides of his neck, though not quite enough to drop him into that hazy state of twilight consciousness. ）

Because you're pretty.

（ that's a murmur as he leans down, breath a hush against his ear as he holds him down. the more sasuke struggles, the more his hold tightens — eventually he shifts the boy's hips to his other thigh, so he can wedge his left leg over his knees and keep him from kicking or twisting his hips to get away. ）

Because I could tell you wouldn't give in right away. And because I could smell the fucking slut on you from across the room.

[It feels primal to be held by the back of the neck, blood pulsing against the pinch of fingers where they close over arteries, wavering over the threat of a drop. With anyone else, it would be enough to inspire true fear beyond the veil of fantasy — but he trusts Cy. He would put his bloody, still-beating heart into Cy's hands, knowing he would be well-cared for, knowing he would not be harmed.

The praise sinks alongside degradation, his body's protest forced still across the man's lap. His ears burn; his cock is throbbing; he has to swallow hard to keep from deteriorating into pleas. Hit me, I can take it, I want to take it, hurt me... Instead he emits a low whimper muffled down against the sheets.]

I won't give in. [Affirmation that tastes metallic in his mouth, which he realizes is because he's bit the inside of his own cheek.] Three hours. I won't come.

We'll see about that.

（ cy eases up just a little — enough that sasuke can continue to thrash and fight if he wants to. and then he starts to hit him.

the blows are calculated. a certain intensity, certain placements. never the same place twice in a row — but where usually he waits, and sometimes soothes the area with a gentle rub of his hand, that tenderness is absent here. he just hits him, again and again, not waiting for sasuke to call out the count or breathe between blows. he strikes the plug, too — and every time sasuke struggles, or tries to say no, or any of its many iterations, the next blow is harder, until his skin is mottled with bruising across the seat of his ass.

cy can feel sasuke's cock hard against his thigh, and the dampness from its weeping slit — and the answering echo of his own arousal feels like it's smothering him in the haze of the room. he's more himself — as he is at present, as he is to sasuke — in this scene than how he'd been during the genjutsu, when he'd leaned more into the conquering warlord that he's been a thousand times over across a thousand brutal years — but by no means does that diminish the intense fervour of his desire. he wants sasuke beneath him, wants him to cry and beg as he's fucked. he wants to see the fear on his face — but he wants, too, to know that the fear is simulated. that it's not real. that it could be stopped at any moment by either of them in turn, and that not doing so is a choice.

but for now — for now, he contents himself with the beating. a cruel, brutal thing, no pain spared as he lands the blows again and again, until he's finished and his breath rings harsh and jagged in the room. ）

[He is no stranger to the hooks of pain that dig into him upon the first strike. Experience has seasoned him to anticipate what it is like beneath Cy's hand, but it is never the same twice — and even if it is, even if this is a position they've taken before, the sensation never fails to blot out his mind like dark ink. This time, Cy doesn't have him count the strokes, and soon he's carried off on waves of blistering pleasure with each strike.

It hurts. It is brutal, the brush's slender wooden handle precise enough to leave pink welts quick to bruise, his skin like pale ripe fruit beneath the severity of the implement Cy wields. Sasuke's mouth hangs open; he's less cognizant of the sounds he makes and so they spill unfiltered, gasps of breath building into a rhythm that, eventually, edges close to hiccups and sobs.

Pain makes it easier in such a controlled context, so he feels no strain, no withholding of the tears that stick dark lashes together. Cy likes to see him cry, and it's not difficult to let himself do so now where it would have felt insurmountable anywhere else. And the refrain of please don't and please stop simply become please, please, please — a senseless litany on his tongue.

If he was counting, if they were going slowly, perhaps he might have been able to hold onto a shred of his own self-composure. But the assailment leaves no room for rest, for air, for thought — and Sasuke feels the very moment of defeat, shaking and crying facedown on the bed, striping come into a hot mess under his hips.]

（ he won't say, by now, that he's wrung every willing orgasm from sasuke's body — but he won't deny ownership of a good eighty-five percent of them. he knows the way his body reacts, when he's trying to resist and when he's resigned to surrender. he feels the ejaculate, hot and slick against his thigh, and the sheet beyond — and he's cruel as he fists a hand in sasuke's hair, fingers tightening against his scalp. ）

Three hours, huh?

（ his tone's mocking, even as he drags sasuke into a new position, pushes him down to be confronted with the reality of the mess. this means that sasuke's mostly back on the bed, pressed flat, with the jut of cy's elbow pressed down against his nape to keep him from gaining any leverage to right himself. cy fiddles with his watch, and sasuke's will chime lightly with the notification — he did not, of course, send the pictures for real. but he'll happily pretend he did. ）

Lick up your mess.

（ and while sasuke decides whether or not he's going to oblige, cy starts rummaging around for the lube to slick up the end of the hairbrush's handle. ）

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