Fic: Make It Hurt
Title: Make It Hurt
Summary: Loki needs to be taught a lesson, and Sif is more than ready for the challenge.
Fandom: Thor
Word Count: 1878
Rating/Contents: NC-17, femdom, hairbrush spanking, humiliation, begging
Pairing: Sif/Loki
Policies: Read my archiving, feedback, and warnings policies here.
A/N: For
kink_bingo (spanking/paddling)! Here is a story that took ten forevers and I have no idea why. I just stalled out on it for the longest time. BUT NOW IT IS HERE.
There had been times when the Lady Sif had been angrier, but most of them were in distant memory. She'd known something was wrong when Thor was raving drunk at the feast and saying outrageous things to all present; she knew exactly what it was when they were things Thor would never say, insults that were, frankly, too cutting and clever for him to have come up with. Sif was moments away from defending Thor's honor with her fists when Thor himself had arrived, unaware of the happenings.
There was laughter when Loki revealed himself to be the culprit, but it was the uncomfortable sort, the kind that went along with humoring the prince. Sif resisted dragging Loki away and dealing with him, but as soon as she'd had the opportunity, she had grabbed him by the back of the neck and hissed at him to come to her after the feast.
Hours later, and here he was, standing in her room looking nonchalant, his hands behind his back.
"I suspect that you know exactly how frustrating you are," she told him, not bothering with a prelude; her anger had not diminished at all in the time that had passed since his jest.
Loki gave her a perfect look of innocence, completely indistinguishable from the real thing. "It is never my intention to be anything but a good citizen of Asgard and a kind friend," he said. "I am far from perfect, but I do try not to cause too much upset."
She glared at him. "Everyone thinks you to be playful, but I know you, Loki. I see more of you than anyone else."
He smirked, breaking his mask. He looked her up and down, stepping closer. "And I you."
Her hand shot up; she grabbed him by the neck, her fingers pressed hard into his jaw. She dragged his face down to meet hers. "If I don't teach you a lesson, who will?"
"I am beholden to no one," he said, his voice wavering.
She tightened her hand, and he winced. "Except me." She shoved him away, sitting down on the armless seat at the foot of the bed. "Take your clothes off, and be quick about it." He looked at her skeptically, glancing down at his many layers of clothing. "You've never seemed to have a problem with speed before," she told him, "and if I have to come and help you, you will not enjoy it."
Threats aside, it was a slow process, several complicated garments cast aside one at a time, but soon enough Loki stood before her, completely naked. He was different without anything on; he wasn't any smaller, but he acted like it, skittish and unsure, more like a cat without its fur than a man without his clothes. It had always suited her very well, the fact that she could debase him so much just by stripping him.
Even so, Loki's cock was already getting hard, the embarrassment of it already affecting him. For better or worse, they were a matched set, Sif and her boy; she wanted it and he needed it, and here they were.
"Bring me the hairbrush," she told him, and he obeyed, picking it up and walking towards her, presenting it. "Good." She took it and set it down on the bed, within ready grasp. "Now, over my knees."
Loki swallowed, nodding, awkwardly positioning himself on her lap. It simply wasn't a position intended for a full-grown man, which was precisely what made it so degrading, so humiliating. She stroked him, long enough that he began to relax against her; just when he did, she grabbed a handful of his ass, her fingernails digging into his skin. "You've never once been good in your entire life," she told him, and he hissed when she pushed her nails in harder. "I don't expect that you'll start, but you will be accountable."
"Yes, my lady," Loki said, in the choked-off voice he always had when she made him obey like this.
"You won't have to count," Sif told him. "Not unless I decide you need to." She struck him sharply, not waiting for a response, and he bucked against her, unready for it. "You'd better calm down," she said, hitting him again and again. "You're going to be here for a long while."
She wasn't known to allow him a long warm-up, but the longer she used her hand, the longer she could spend with the hairbrush, the more vicious she could be with it later on. Then again, it wasn't as if she was particularly worried about that; he'd take what she said, no more, no less.
His skin was beginning to take on a pink cast when she picked up the hairbrush, weighing it in her hand. She watched him tense, knowing it was coming. He jumped as Sif ran the cool surface of the back of the brush against his heated skin, soothing it momentarily. This time he didn't fall for her trick, not letting her lull him into a false sense of security. She cared not, because it only worked out in her favor; he was still tense when she began hitting him with the hairbrush, which only made it harder for him to take.
He didn't speak as she paddled him, but he was far from silent, panting and hissing as she struck him over and over. She relished every sound she drew from him, the evidence of her power over him, the way she could so easily tarnish him, suck away his eloquence and his poise.
Loki was rocking his hips slowly, as if she wouldn't notice him moving against her, the damp spot growing where the head of his cock was pressed against her leg. "You're leaking onto my dress, you filthy thing," she said, filling her voice with disgust, disguising the thrill it gave her. She hit him particularly hard, a stinging strike. "Should you be doing that?"
"No, my lady," he said tightly. "I'm sorry, my lady."
"You'll get no release tonight, so you might as well not even try."
He let his head hang, making a noise that was almost a sob. Now he was getting where she wanted him, getting nearer to crying, to giving it up for her. She tossed the hairbrush away, wanting to feel the connection, the echo of the pain she was giving him. He let out a yelp of pain; she could hit just as hard with her hand as with anything else, and he was going to know that very well by the time they were finished.
"Please, my lady," he said, weeping openly now. "Please, I can't bear it any longer."
She hit him again, harder, and he cried out. "That's for me to decide."
"My lady, I'm begging you," he sobbed.
"I like the sound of that," she said, laughing. "Go on then, beg me. If you do it prettily enough, perhaps I'll stop."
"Please," he said desperately, sounding absolutely disconsolate. "Please, my lady, I can't take the pain. You've taught me my lesson, please let me go, I'll try to do better."
"I said beg," she said, slapping him hard, making it sting. "I didn't say lie."
"You're hurting me," he said. "You've won, just stop, I give." That was more like it; she could never know whether he was playing her or not, but it was immaterial, so long as she got what she wanted from him. "I'll take what you want, but please, my lady, don't make me take more."
"That's a good boy," she said, running her hands over his hot skin; she'd turned it such a beautiful red, stark against his white flesh. "We know you'll do it again, don't we? And you'll get exactly the same when you do. Off me. On your knees."
Loki obeyed, moving unsteadily to his knees. Sif felt as she could come from looking at him, what she'd done to him; his cock looked painfully hard, even though there were tears on his cheeks. He was kneeling carefully, keeping the weight off his sore, abused ass, and Sif had to have him right then or risk losing her mind.
She raised her skirt, spreading her legs. "Don't make me say anything about your silver tongue," she said. "Just show me how you can use it." He looked at her in annoyance. "Give me that look once more and see what happens." He didn't try her again; he moved closer, leaning forward to lap at her clitoris, sucking it gently before running his tongue up and down her folds. She let her skirt drop, trapping him beneath it. "More," she ordered. "Don't just sit there and be dainty, do it."
To his credit, Loki obeyed her, licking faster, firmer strokes of his tongue. She ground herself against him; she had earned this, deserved to take her pleasure from him. She'd reduced him to nothing but this, nothing but a toy for her pleasure. She'd destroyed his grace and dignity and left nothing behind, save for something low and debauched, nothing like a prince at all.
She clutched his head as she came, fingertips digging into his scalp as she moaned, loud and long. She kept him close as she rode it out, the crash of it, the rolling pulse that followed, over and over until she could stand it no longer, until she had to pull him away.
Finished, she lifted her skirt, pulling it off of him; Loki licked his lips, a calculated gesture but still a stunningly attractive one. She leaned down and grabbed him hard by the shoulder, pulling him up and kissing her taste out of his mouth, pushing him away when she'd had her fill.
"Get dressed," she said, smoothing down her skirt. "You're finished." Loki stared at her in disbelief, looking absolutely heartbroken. "I told you what would happen, did I not?"
"My lady-" he started.
"If you want to be spoiled, you have everyone else in Asgard to do it for you," she said, and there was no disguising the look on his face, the one that said he'd been caught out. "If you want someone to hold you accountable, you can have me." She squeezed his shoulder again, hard enough that he grimaced. "But only if you obey."
He took a deep breath, looking incredibly frustrated but pulling himself back together, getting it back under control. "Yes, my lady."
She ruffled his hair, a gesture she knew he hated. "Now put your clothes on. If you can pretend to behave, you can come back tomorrow."
His eyebrows ticked up in interest. "Not to be beaten, I hope."
"It depends on what you pretend to behave as," she told him. "It is always up to you."
He shifted. "You'll pardon me if that seems a bit hard to believe at the moment."
She snorted, shaking her head; she stood, offering him a hand. "Go on, get dressed and go."
He took it, kissing it before he let her help him up. "Until tomorrow, my lady," he said.
If he walked stiffly as he went to gather his clothing, then so much the better. It only meant Sif had done her job.
This entry was automagically crossposted from http://sabinetzin.dreamwidth.org/429191.html.
comments over there.
Summary: Loki needs to be taught a lesson, and Sif is more than ready for the challenge.
Fandom: Thor
Word Count: 1878
Rating/Contents: NC-17, femdom, hairbrush spanking, humiliation, begging
Pairing: Sif/Loki
Policies: Read my archiving, feedback, and warnings policies here.
A/N: For
kink_bingo (spanking/paddling)! Here is a story that took ten forevers and I have no idea why. I just stalled out on it for the longest time. BUT NOW IT IS HERE.
There had been times when the Lady Sif had been angrier, but most of them were in distant memory. She'd known something was wrong when Thor was raving drunk at the feast and saying outrageous things to all present; she knew exactly what it was when they were things Thor would never say, insults that were, frankly, too cutting and clever for him to have come up with. Sif was moments away from defending Thor's honor with her fists when Thor himself had arrived, unaware of the happenings.
There was laughter when Loki revealed himself to be the culprit, but it was the uncomfortable sort, the kind that went along with humoring the prince. Sif resisted dragging Loki away and dealing with him, but as soon as she'd had the opportunity, she had grabbed him by the back of the neck and hissed at him to come to her after the feast.
Hours later, and here he was, standing in her room looking nonchalant, his hands behind his back.
"I suspect that you know exactly how frustrating you are," she told him, not bothering with a prelude; her anger had not diminished at all in the time that had passed since his jest.
Loki gave her a perfect look of innocence, completely indistinguishable from the real thing. "It is never my intention to be anything but a good citizen of Asgard and a kind friend," he said. "I am far from perfect, but I do try not to cause too much upset."
She glared at him. "Everyone thinks you to be playful, but I know you, Loki. I see more of you than anyone else."
He smirked, breaking his mask. He looked her up and down, stepping closer. "And I you."
Her hand shot up; she grabbed him by the neck, her fingers pressed hard into his jaw. She dragged his face down to meet hers. "If I don't teach you a lesson, who will?"
"I am beholden to no one," he said, his voice wavering.
She tightened her hand, and he winced. "Except me." She shoved him away, sitting down on the armless seat at the foot of the bed. "Take your clothes off, and be quick about it." He looked at her skeptically, glancing down at his many layers of clothing. "You've never seemed to have a problem with speed before," she told him, "and if I have to come and help you, you will not enjoy it."
Threats aside, it was a slow process, several complicated garments cast aside one at a time, but soon enough Loki stood before her, completely naked. He was different without anything on; he wasn't any smaller, but he acted like it, skittish and unsure, more like a cat without its fur than a man without his clothes. It had always suited her very well, the fact that she could debase him so much just by stripping him.
Even so, Loki's cock was already getting hard, the embarrassment of it already affecting him. For better or worse, they were a matched set, Sif and her boy; she wanted it and he needed it, and here they were.
"Bring me the hairbrush," she told him, and he obeyed, picking it up and walking towards her, presenting it. "Good." She took it and set it down on the bed, within ready grasp. "Now, over my knees."
Loki swallowed, nodding, awkwardly positioning himself on her lap. It simply wasn't a position intended for a full-grown man, which was precisely what made it so degrading, so humiliating. She stroked him, long enough that he began to relax against her; just when he did, she grabbed a handful of his ass, her fingernails digging into his skin. "You've never once been good in your entire life," she told him, and he hissed when she pushed her nails in harder. "I don't expect that you'll start, but you will be accountable."
"Yes, my lady," Loki said, in the choked-off voice he always had when she made him obey like this.
"You won't have to count," Sif told him. "Not unless I decide you need to." She struck him sharply, not waiting for a response, and he bucked against her, unready for it. "You'd better calm down," she said, hitting him again and again. "You're going to be here for a long while."
She wasn't known to allow him a long warm-up, but the longer she used her hand, the longer she could spend with the hairbrush, the more vicious she could be with it later on. Then again, it wasn't as if she was particularly worried about that; he'd take what she said, no more, no less.
His skin was beginning to take on a pink cast when she picked up the hairbrush, weighing it in her hand. She watched him tense, knowing it was coming. He jumped as Sif ran the cool surface of the back of the brush against his heated skin, soothing it momentarily. This time he didn't fall for her trick, not letting her lull him into a false sense of security. She cared not, because it only worked out in her favor; he was still tense when she began hitting him with the hairbrush, which only made it harder for him to take.
He didn't speak as she paddled him, but he was far from silent, panting and hissing as she struck him over and over. She relished every sound she drew from him, the evidence of her power over him, the way she could so easily tarnish him, suck away his eloquence and his poise.
Loki was rocking his hips slowly, as if she wouldn't notice him moving against her, the damp spot growing where the head of his cock was pressed against her leg. "You're leaking onto my dress, you filthy thing," she said, filling her voice with disgust, disguising the thrill it gave her. She hit him particularly hard, a stinging strike. "Should you be doing that?"
"No, my lady," he said tightly. "I'm sorry, my lady."
"You'll get no release tonight, so you might as well not even try."
He let his head hang, making a noise that was almost a sob. Now he was getting where she wanted him, getting nearer to crying, to giving it up for her. She tossed the hairbrush away, wanting to feel the connection, the echo of the pain she was giving him. He let out a yelp of pain; she could hit just as hard with her hand as with anything else, and he was going to know that very well by the time they were finished.
"Please, my lady," he said, weeping openly now. "Please, I can't bear it any longer."
She hit him again, harder, and he cried out. "That's for me to decide."
"My lady, I'm begging you," he sobbed.
"I like the sound of that," she said, laughing. "Go on then, beg me. If you do it prettily enough, perhaps I'll stop."
"Please," he said desperately, sounding absolutely disconsolate. "Please, my lady, I can't take the pain. You've taught me my lesson, please let me go, I'll try to do better."
"I said beg," she said, slapping him hard, making it sting. "I didn't say lie."
"You're hurting me," he said. "You've won, just stop, I give." That was more like it; she could never know whether he was playing her or not, but it was immaterial, so long as she got what she wanted from him. "I'll take what you want, but please, my lady, don't make me take more."
"That's a good boy," she said, running her hands over his hot skin; she'd turned it such a beautiful red, stark against his white flesh. "We know you'll do it again, don't we? And you'll get exactly the same when you do. Off me. On your knees."
Loki obeyed, moving unsteadily to his knees. Sif felt as she could come from looking at him, what she'd done to him; his cock looked painfully hard, even though there were tears on his cheeks. He was kneeling carefully, keeping the weight off his sore, abused ass, and Sif had to have him right then or risk losing her mind.
She raised her skirt, spreading her legs. "Don't make me say anything about your silver tongue," she said. "Just show me how you can use it." He looked at her in annoyance. "Give me that look once more and see what happens." He didn't try her again; he moved closer, leaning forward to lap at her clitoris, sucking it gently before running his tongue up and down her folds. She let her skirt drop, trapping him beneath it. "More," she ordered. "Don't just sit there and be dainty, do it."
To his credit, Loki obeyed her, licking faster, firmer strokes of his tongue. She ground herself against him; she had earned this, deserved to take her pleasure from him. She'd reduced him to nothing but this, nothing but a toy for her pleasure. She'd destroyed his grace and dignity and left nothing behind, save for something low and debauched, nothing like a prince at all.
She clutched his head as she came, fingertips digging into his scalp as she moaned, loud and long. She kept him close as she rode it out, the crash of it, the rolling pulse that followed, over and over until she could stand it no longer, until she had to pull him away.
Finished, she lifted her skirt, pulling it off of him; Loki licked his lips, a calculated gesture but still a stunningly attractive one. She leaned down and grabbed him hard by the shoulder, pulling him up and kissing her taste out of his mouth, pushing him away when she'd had her fill.
"Get dressed," she said, smoothing down her skirt. "You're finished." Loki stared at her in disbelief, looking absolutely heartbroken. "I told you what would happen, did I not?"
"My lady-" he started.
"If you want to be spoiled, you have everyone else in Asgard to do it for you," she said, and there was no disguising the look on his face, the one that said he'd been caught out. "If you want someone to hold you accountable, you can have me." She squeezed his shoulder again, hard enough that he grimaced. "But only if you obey."
He took a deep breath, looking incredibly frustrated but pulling himself back together, getting it back under control. "Yes, my lady."
She ruffled his hair, a gesture she knew he hated. "Now put your clothes on. If you can pretend to behave, you can come back tomorrow."
His eyebrows ticked up in interest. "Not to be beaten, I hope."
"It depends on what you pretend to behave as," she told him. "It is always up to you."
He shifted. "You'll pardon me if that seems a bit hard to believe at the moment."
She snorted, shaking her head; she stood, offering him a hand. "Go on, get dressed and go."
He took it, kissing it before he let her help him up. "Until tomorrow, my lady," he said.
If he walked stiffly as he went to gather his clothing, then so much the better. It only meant Sif had done her job.
This entry was automagically crossposted from http://sabinetzin.dreamwidth.org/429191.html.
comments over there.