(no subject)
The idea of the shaved head was not mine; thank you darling, I couldn't do it without you! This is for all my Flist, specially those of you I neglect. My small and perfectly formed Flist is made up of very special people and each and every one of you is appreciated even if I neglect you.
It’s hard to learn lessons. It’s hard when you expect to be petted, expect to be kissed, held, soothed and yet you find yourself thrown across a room. He was so shocked when Sir backhanded him with such force that he’d fallen awkwardly, nearly knocking himself out. Sir just dragged him up by the hair and continued to slap him, thump him, hurt him. Now he is bound, gagged once more, being punished.
Slowly he is beginning to understand. What he wants does not matter. What he feels does not matter. Sir is all that matters, being Sir’s boy, giving Sir pleasure. Being what Sir wants. But he broke the rules, he showed pride, he showed that he wasn’t concentrating on being a good boy, a perfect boy.
It’s cold and dark in the attic. He is cuffed to a cross, the cool air dances across the welts on his skin so that it feels almost like a caress. He shivers, his newly shaved head still acclimatising itself to the exposure. . He feels ugly without his hair but Sir was right to punish him. Sir is always right.
It’s hard to learn lessons. It’s hard when you expect to be petted, expect to be kissed, held, soothed and yet you find yourself thrown across a room. He was so shocked when Sir backhanded him with such force that he’d fallen awkwardly, nearly knocking himself out. Sir just dragged him up by the hair and continued to slap him, thump him, hurt him. Now he is bound, gagged once more, being punished.
Slowly he is beginning to understand. What he wants does not matter. What he feels does not matter. Sir is all that matters, being Sir’s boy, giving Sir pleasure. Being what Sir wants. But he broke the rules, he showed pride, he showed that he wasn’t concentrating on being a good boy, a perfect boy.
It’s cold and dark in the attic. He is cuffed to a cross, the cool air dances across the welts on his skin so that it feels almost like a caress. He shivers, his newly shaved head still acclimatising itself to the exposure. . He feels ugly without his hair but Sir was right to punish him. Sir is always right.