His
Title: His
Pairing: Mylar though...you could certainly put anyone else's name on that collar if you wanted XP
Word Count: 475
Summary: No plot to speak of, it explores the idea of a Sylar made powerless...and what he then becomes.
Warning: Non-con/Dub-con, Bondage, Pain, Degradation, collar!kink,D/s
A/N: Came to me while I was at work...my first attempt at something as simple as a drabble, lol.
My slave has been mine for years now. Worn my collar for three years though he has always been mine. My slave is called Gabriel, it's the name that I allow him when not simply answering to 'slave'. Gabriel loves me, and only me. He knows that I will take care of him--that I will provide for him everything he needs. I decide what his essential needs are. Clothing is not a need. Gabriel remains bare to me. At all times he remains bare to me and ready for my use. I use my slave's body in any way that I desire. All of his holes are mine for the taking should I so choose. Eagerly, he awaits my use. When he prostrates himself before me it's in one of several positions he's been trained to remain in. My favorite consists of his kneeling form, head down, ankles crossed, and eyes down. Those dark eyes that once held the flames of resentment-- of hostility, and now burn with a keening, submissive passion to please his keeper. When in this position, the every mark and bruise I've given his flesh are exquisitely displayed. I have given him many for he can no longer heal from them. By the tip of my crop, the lash of my whip or of melted wax as it sears then coats the flesh I have taken as my property. My slave's hands remain bound at all times, as do his ankles. Reminders of his status all as he remains in some form of physical bondage. Hands that once held the power to destroy entire cities...and now are only allowed to be used if it pleases me. I have taught my slave to moan for me, to snort and whine in the ways that I wish. He has been conditioned to become hard for me in a moment's notice. Gabriel wants only to please his Master. The collar is simple, black leather that buckles at the nape of his neck, straps sifting through dark strands of soft hair. My name adorns a silver plate on the center, lest he forget who he belongs to. If he even could. When Gabriel sleeps, it is chained to the foot of my bed. His collar attached to a length of heavy, thick chain attached to my bottom right bedpost. Hands remaining cuffed. When he is especially good, he is allowed to sleep with me, collar chained to the top bedpost. Frequently it's after use, my pulsing cock--spent of all juices, resting inside of his body as I wrap my arm around my slave's middle. Fingers idling in his curly, soft chest hair. I know this is his favorite but he rarely receives this treatment. At all times he must know exactly what he is. Not a lover, not a friend. My property and pet...my slave.
Pairing: Mylar though...you could certainly put anyone else's name on that collar if you wanted XP
Word Count: 475
Summary: No plot to speak of, it explores the idea of a Sylar made powerless...and what he then becomes.
Warning: Non-con/Dub-con, Bondage, Pain, Degradation, collar!kink,D/s
A/N: Came to me while I was at work...my first attempt at something as simple as a drabble, lol.
My slave has been mine for years now. Worn my collar for three years though he has always been mine. My slave is called Gabriel, it's the name that I allow him when not simply answering to 'slave'. Gabriel loves me, and only me. He knows that I will take care of him--that I will provide for him everything he needs. I decide what his essential needs are. Clothing is not a need. Gabriel remains bare to me. At all times he remains bare to me and ready for my use. I use my slave's body in any way that I desire. All of his holes are mine for the taking should I so choose. Eagerly, he awaits my use. When he prostrates himself before me it's in one of several positions he's been trained to remain in. My favorite consists of his kneeling form, head down, ankles crossed, and eyes down. Those dark eyes that once held the flames of resentment-- of hostility, and now burn with a keening, submissive passion to please his keeper. When in this position, the every mark and bruise I've given his flesh are exquisitely displayed. I have given him many for he can no longer heal from them. By the tip of my crop, the lash of my whip or of melted wax as it sears then coats the flesh I have taken as my property. My slave's hands remain bound at all times, as do his ankles. Reminders of his status all as he remains in some form of physical bondage. Hands that once held the power to destroy entire cities...and now are only allowed to be used if it pleases me. I have taught my slave to moan for me, to snort and whine in the ways that I wish. He has been conditioned to become hard for me in a moment's notice. Gabriel wants only to please his Master. The collar is simple, black leather that buckles at the nape of his neck, straps sifting through dark strands of soft hair. My name adorns a silver plate on the center, lest he forget who he belongs to. If he even could. When Gabriel sleeps, it is chained to the foot of my bed. His collar attached to a length of heavy, thick chain attached to my bottom right bedpost. Hands remaining cuffed. When he is especially good, he is allowed to sleep with me, collar chained to the top bedpost. Frequently it's after use, my pulsing cock--spent of all juices, resting inside of his body as I wrap my arm around my slave's middle. Fingers idling in his curly, soft chest hair. I know this is his favorite but he rarely receives this treatment. At all times he must know exactly what he is. Not a lover, not a friend. My property and pet...my slave.