(no subject)
Title: GacktJob Advent 2014 Day 12: Confinment
Rating: 12
Band: GacktJob
Summary: Gackt wasn't to concerned about his arrest, it had been bound to happen eventually.
Author's Note: Just something I wrote to try and make some sense of a picture of Gackt ( here).
The whip cracked through the air, hitting the young man between his shoulder blades making his gasp out in pain. His skin was red from his previous lashing, yet the man didn't seem too concerned. He hadn't uttered the safe word at least.
“What are you?” His master asked as he stared at the chained man before him. His name was Gackt and he beat men for his profession. He was a dominatrix and knew just where the lines were that should never be crossed.
“A liar.” the man got out.
“That's right. You are a liar.” Gackt agreed with a sadistic smile. Startled as he heard footsteps on the stairs behind him. He turned annoyed, growing wary as he noticed the police uniforms. So they'd caught up with him at last? He supposed it always had been a matter of time.
Hours later he was sat in the police cell, waiting for his friend to come and pay his bail. The club where he worked was illegal, as part owner he was guilty and would soon be facing trial. He should have been sad, or scared. At very leased he should have felt guilty. He felt none of these things however. Instead of tears or anger he began to laugh hysterically. His cell mate, who was here on drugs chargers and also awaiting bale, stared at him with wide eyed fear. He was only young, Gackt could only pity him.
“You think this is funny?” a policeman demanded. He'd come to let one of them out, the key resting against the lock but he was cautious now.
“It's hilarious.” Gackt replied with a smile. “Do you know why?”
“Not at all.” the policeman replied.
“You've put me under lock and key for the crime of chaining men down.” Gackt explained. “The irony isn't lost on me in the slightest.”
Rating: 12
Band: GacktJob
Summary: Gackt wasn't to concerned about his arrest, it had been bound to happen eventually.
Author's Note: Just something I wrote to try and make some sense of a picture of Gackt ( here).
The whip cracked through the air, hitting the young man between his shoulder blades making his gasp out in pain. His skin was red from his previous lashing, yet the man didn't seem too concerned. He hadn't uttered the safe word at least.
“What are you?” His master asked as he stared at the chained man before him. His name was Gackt and he beat men for his profession. He was a dominatrix and knew just where the lines were that should never be crossed.
“A liar.” the man got out.
“That's right. You are a liar.” Gackt agreed with a sadistic smile. Startled as he heard footsteps on the stairs behind him. He turned annoyed, growing wary as he noticed the police uniforms. So they'd caught up with him at last? He supposed it always had been a matter of time.
Hours later he was sat in the police cell, waiting for his friend to come and pay his bail. The club where he worked was illegal, as part owner he was guilty and would soon be facing trial. He should have been sad, or scared. At very leased he should have felt guilty. He felt none of these things however. Instead of tears or anger he began to laugh hysterically. His cell mate, who was here on drugs chargers and also awaiting bale, stared at him with wide eyed fear. He was only young, Gackt could only pity him.
“You think this is funny?” a policeman demanded. He'd come to let one of them out, the key resting against the lock but he was cautious now.
“It's hilarious.” Gackt replied with a smile. “Do you know why?”
“Not at all.” the policeman replied.
“You've put me under lock and key for the crime of chaining men down.” Gackt explained. “The irony isn't lost on me in the slightest.”