Not Frank Fontaine (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
theproperpoison) wrote2012-01-31 07:07 pm
theproperpoison) wrote2012-01-31 07:07 pm
Entry tags:
Kiss With a Fist
Characters: Unnamed and Andrew Ryan
Prompt: "Ryan gets to top a lot--so I want to see him as a masochist. I don't really care who the one inflicting the pain is. Go wild."
Rating: R
Warnings: Sex, obviously. Bondage. Sadism & masochism. All the good stuff.
This can't be happening, he thinks, but it is, and there's nothing he can do about it. Nothing he wants to do about it, because despite how humiliating it is, despite how embarrassed he'd be if it got out, despite how much it hurt, it felt good.
"You want this? Is this what you want?" The words are repeated over and over again and he wants to say yes yes yes but he can't, his own tie is shoved so firmly into his mouth that he can't speak at all.
"You don't want anyone to know, do you, that this is all you're good for?"
No no no, as if he could shake his head enough times or make enough threats to underscore how much he didn't want anyone to know. As if there was enough time in the world to deny how much he needed it, how much it got him through his day knowing that this was waiting for him at the end.
And then the sting of the whip on his ass, unrelenting, over and over again until he felt like he was going to scream, wanting to struggle away and to never have it end at the same time. He knew he'd bruise, that it would hurt when he sat down, that every movement would be a reminder of who he was behind closed doors. The king of Rapture needs to be beaten to get off. Who'd have thought.
And he would get off, too. Harder and faster than he did when he was fucking some dancer at Eve's Garden. Harder even than when he dominated someone else, though he enjoyed getting someone on their hands and knees and showing them who was boss just as much as anyone.
A whimper escapes his throat and he wants to take it back. It's undignified. It's undignified and yet he feels like he could come just from the whipping.
A sharper stinging blow to his ass reminded him that he wasn't supposed to be making noise, wasn't supposed to be doing anything at all, actually, other than taking his punishment.
"You make one more noise and you don't get any of this..." a surprisingly gentle hand reaches around him and caresses his erection, which is so stiff now that he doesn't know if he can take much more touching.
But he doesn't want any of that, he wants to be hurt again, he wants the bruising, the bleeding, the muscle ache for days. He tries to speak, tries to say that through the gag, knowing that the punishment will hurt more, knowing that it's worth it because he needs it, he deserves it.
He's not disappointed. The blows rain down on his ass faster and faster now, and his hands knot in the sheets, trying desperately to hold back, to stop from screaming, to stop from crying out.
The beating continues and there's nothing in his mind now, nothing except the waves of pain that he is cresting over, nothing except the unrelenting crashing waves of agony. And his mouth is open now, struggling to make noise around the gag, and all he can manage is a strangled cry, something that he would be ashamed of if he were in his right mind, but he isn't.
He doesn't know when his hand made its way to his cock and he doesn't know why he's not punished more for it, but maybe the pain was enough punishment, maybe the fact that he can feel that this time it's going to scar, maybe the fact that when he's himself again he knows he'll think about it until the next time, maybe that's enough.
Silently, he comes into his own hand, and doesn't notice that it drips onto the sheets. His mind hasn't recovered yet, still pumping the messages of pain through his entire body, and fuck, it hurts, it hurts more than he realized.
The whipping has subsided and with it, his mind clears slowly. Soon he's just a man again, lying inelegantly on his stomach, hands still clenched in the sheets.
Prompt: "Ryan gets to top a lot--so I want to see him as a masochist. I don't really care who the one inflicting the pain is. Go wild."
Rating: R
Warnings: Sex, obviously. Bondage. Sadism & masochism. All the good stuff.
This can't be happening, he thinks, but it is, and there's nothing he can do about it. Nothing he wants to do about it, because despite how humiliating it is, despite how embarrassed he'd be if it got out, despite how much it hurt, it felt good.
"You want this? Is this what you want?" The words are repeated over and over again and he wants to say yes yes yes but he can't, his own tie is shoved so firmly into his mouth that he can't speak at all.
"You don't want anyone to know, do you, that this is all you're good for?"
No no no, as if he could shake his head enough times or make enough threats to underscore how much he didn't want anyone to know. As if there was enough time in the world to deny how much he needed it, how much it got him through his day knowing that this was waiting for him at the end.
And then the sting of the whip on his ass, unrelenting, over and over again until he felt like he was going to scream, wanting to struggle away and to never have it end at the same time. He knew he'd bruise, that it would hurt when he sat down, that every movement would be a reminder of who he was behind closed doors. The king of Rapture needs to be beaten to get off. Who'd have thought.
And he would get off, too. Harder and faster than he did when he was fucking some dancer at Eve's Garden. Harder even than when he dominated someone else, though he enjoyed getting someone on their hands and knees and showing them who was boss just as much as anyone.
A whimper escapes his throat and he wants to take it back. It's undignified. It's undignified and yet he feels like he could come just from the whipping.
A sharper stinging blow to his ass reminded him that he wasn't supposed to be making noise, wasn't supposed to be doing anything at all, actually, other than taking his punishment.
"You make one more noise and you don't get any of this..." a surprisingly gentle hand reaches around him and caresses his erection, which is so stiff now that he doesn't know if he can take much more touching.
But he doesn't want any of that, he wants to be hurt again, he wants the bruising, the bleeding, the muscle ache for days. He tries to speak, tries to say that through the gag, knowing that the punishment will hurt more, knowing that it's worth it because he needs it, he deserves it.
He's not disappointed. The blows rain down on his ass faster and faster now, and his hands knot in the sheets, trying desperately to hold back, to stop from screaming, to stop from crying out.
The beating continues and there's nothing in his mind now, nothing except the waves of pain that he is cresting over, nothing except the unrelenting crashing waves of agony. And his mouth is open now, struggling to make noise around the gag, and all he can manage is a strangled cry, something that he would be ashamed of if he were in his right mind, but he isn't.
He doesn't know when his hand made its way to his cock and he doesn't know why he's not punished more for it, but maybe the pain was enough punishment, maybe the fact that he can feel that this time it's going to scar, maybe the fact that when he's himself again he knows he'll think about it until the next time, maybe that's enough.
Silently, he comes into his own hand, and doesn't notice that it drips onto the sheets. His mind hasn't recovered yet, still pumping the messages of pain through his entire body, and fuck, it hurts, it hurts more than he realized.
The whipping has subsided and with it, his mind clears slowly. Soon he's just a man again, lying inelegantly on his stomach, hands still clenched in the sheets.