This Thread-Thin Line We Tread [5]
anonymous
June 27 2009, 15:01:52 UTC
“Both what’s outside,” Ivan breathes, “and in.” Ivan matches Alfred’s growing alarm with his own degree of serenity, a serenity that would be frightening to anyone but the man beneath the blue eyes that egg him on. “This is mine. Mine to control and to own. I intend to make you understand that.”
Ivan stands, takes the whip in hand again as he circles around to Alfred’s back. “Let’s start your reeducation, then.”
The whip slices through the air and snaps on Alfred’s shoulder blades. Ivan watches Alfred arch, gasping and moaning around his gag.
“I’m going to ask a question, and you’re going to answer it with a nod or shake of your head. Answer wrong -” swish, crack, yelp, “- and there will be consequences. Do you understand?”
Alfred bowed his head. Ivan’s eyes narrowed as he imagined Alfred’s face - tight lips, tighter brow, eyes narrowed in disgust as he defied Ivan.
He brought the whip back, snapped it on the small of Alfred’s back. “Or I could use my pipe, if you’d prefer,” Ivan mused.
Alfred sobbed, his head jerking up and down. Ivan smiled.
“That’s what I thought.”
He paced back and forth, fascinated with the gentle slope of Alfred’s skull, the way the hair feathered and disappeared at the nape of his neck before spreading out in broad, tight, tinted skin marred with scars. From him. From other wars.
Oh, how beautiful.
“Do you belong to the USSR?” Ivan asks, voice quiet and soft.
Alfred shakes his head left to right this time, flashing defiant blue eyes. Ivan smiles, the curve of his mouth following the curve of his arm, of his whip as he brings it down to lash against Alfred’s left shoulder.
“Wrong answer,” Ivan says. “Though…I suppose I can’t blame you. You’ve grown up with this selfish, self-centered mindset. It’s only natural that you cling to it. So we will come back to that question.”
Ivan pauses, rolls questions around in his mind until - ah. There’s one.
“Do you accept that things are better than before for your people?”
This time Alfred’s head whips around, lips pulled up in a snarl. The meaning behind it is clear.
“Another wrong answer.” Crack. Scream. Alfred’s body is beautiful, all tense and tortured beneath his gaze. Ivan imagines blood welling up from the welts on Alfred’s back, if he whips hard enough. His head grows giddy and his cock swells at the mere thought that right now, Alfred would let him do that, would let him whip him raw and bleeding and just sit there while Ivan licked him clean -
The thread, his mind whispers. Tread the line. Don’t go over. Know for certain what he wants - especially since he won’t tell you so.
Ivan doesn’t know if Alfred wants that.
So instead he asks one last question.
“Do you love me, Alfred? Do you love being one with the Soviet Union?”
Alfred doesn’t even bother to look at him as he bows his head and laughs, loud and ludicrous behind the gag.
Ivan doesn’t hate him for it. Ivan knows how Alfred likes to play this game.
Ivan drops his whip, drops to kneel behind Alfred. He doesn’t touch him, only leans in to breathe against the back of his neck.
“I’ve always found that capitalist stubbornness both endearing and annoying,” he murmurs into Alfred’s ear, and arms come to circle Alfred’s shoulders in deceptive tenderness. “So passionate about your ideals and your democracy - when they’re threatened, at least.”
Ivan breathes a hot, deliberate breath over Alfred’s ear, relishing the whimper as Ivan moves his hand up to brush Alfred’s throat, rub his shoulder.
“Why can you not contribute at least some of that energy to caring for your less fortunate?” Ivan says, and lets some sadness leak into his voice. “Why do you not see that this way, no one will have to starve? That everything and everyone will belong to everyone else? Power will belong to all, da? Power to the people. Just as you believe.”
One hand moves down to brush a nipple; Alfred sobs, arches into it, making his cock jut out and twitch with every shift.
“Can’t you just give up that power?” Ivan asks. “I’m doing this because I love you, can’t you see that? You already do a bit, don’t you? Yes,” Ivan continues, “why, otherwise, would you attempt to centralize health care and subsidize your General Motors?”
Ivan stands, takes the whip in hand again as he circles around to Alfred’s back. “Let’s start your reeducation, then.”
The whip slices through the air and snaps on Alfred’s shoulder blades. Ivan watches Alfred arch, gasping and moaning around his gag.
“I’m going to ask a question, and you’re going to answer it with a nod or shake of your head. Answer wrong -” swish, crack, yelp, “- and there will be consequences. Do you understand?”
Alfred bowed his head. Ivan’s eyes narrowed as he imagined Alfred’s face - tight lips, tighter brow, eyes narrowed in disgust as he defied Ivan.
He brought the whip back, snapped it on the small of Alfred’s back. “Or I could use my pipe, if you’d prefer,” Ivan mused.
Alfred sobbed, his head jerking up and down. Ivan smiled.
“That’s what I thought.”
He paced back and forth, fascinated with the gentle slope of Alfred’s skull, the way the hair feathered and disappeared at the nape of his neck before spreading out in broad, tight, tinted skin marred with scars. From him. From other wars.
Oh, how beautiful.
“Do you belong to the USSR?” Ivan asks, voice quiet and soft.
Alfred shakes his head left to right this time, flashing defiant blue eyes. Ivan smiles, the curve of his mouth following the curve of his arm, of his whip as he brings it down to lash against Alfred’s left shoulder.
“Wrong answer,” Ivan says. “Though…I suppose I can’t blame you. You’ve grown up with this selfish, self-centered mindset. It’s only natural that you cling to it. So we will come back to that question.”
Ivan pauses, rolls questions around in his mind until - ah. There’s one.
“Do you accept that things are better than before for your people?”
This time Alfred’s head whips around, lips pulled up in a snarl. The meaning behind it is clear.
“Another wrong answer.” Crack. Scream. Alfred’s body is beautiful, all tense and tortured beneath his gaze. Ivan imagines blood welling up from the welts on Alfred’s back, if he whips hard enough. His head grows giddy and his cock swells at the mere thought that right now, Alfred would let him do that, would let him whip him raw and bleeding and just sit there while Ivan licked him clean -
The thread, his mind whispers. Tread the line. Don’t go over. Know for certain what he wants - especially since he won’t tell you so.
Ivan doesn’t know if Alfred wants that.
So instead he asks one last question.
“Do you love me, Alfred? Do you love being one with the Soviet Union?”
Alfred doesn’t even bother to look at him as he bows his head and laughs, loud and ludicrous behind the gag.
Ivan doesn’t hate him for it. Ivan knows how Alfred likes to play this game.
Ivan drops his whip, drops to kneel behind Alfred. He doesn’t touch him, only leans in to breathe against the back of his neck.
“I’ve always found that capitalist stubbornness both endearing and annoying,” he murmurs into Alfred’s ear, and arms come to circle Alfred’s shoulders in deceptive tenderness. “So passionate about your ideals and your democracy - when they’re threatened, at least.”
Ivan breathes a hot, deliberate breath over Alfred’s ear, relishing the whimper as Ivan moves his hand up to brush Alfred’s throat, rub his shoulder.
“Why can you not contribute at least some of that energy to caring for your less fortunate?” Ivan says, and lets some sadness leak into his voice. “Why do you not see that this way, no one will have to starve? That everything and everyone will belong to everyone else? Power will belong to all, da? Power to the people. Just as you believe.”
One hand moves down to brush a nipple; Alfred sobs, arches into it, making his cock jut out and twitch with every shift.
“Can’t you just give up that power?” Ivan asks. “I’m doing this because I love you, can’t you see that? You already do a bit, don’t you? Yes,” Ivan continues, “why, otherwise, would you attempt to centralize health care and subsidize your General Motors?”
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