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Dec. 27th, 2016 10:35 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
iniquiticitytorture, body horror, bloodplay cw
wellreadfan asked
I would be very interested in seeing Tyrant/Marquis, if you feel like sharing something with them. :).
for a while washington watched his man tease his prisoner. prisoner was generous. fingers hung at odd angles, and for some of them there was no flesh left and only a steady drip of blood. no clothes. flesh rended in strips. one eye socket gaped black and dribbled down the man’s face. brand-shaped burns and ripped fingernails. broken teeth.
the good eye made an effort to focus on him, and the brain of the prison recognized him. and the marquis saw the shock of his prisoner and turned.
the marquis was bloodstained all over, smeared into his torture clothes. a bit was flecked on his cheek. he held a switchblade in his hand, and immediately brightened at seeing him. “my most exquisite majesty!” he said, and then he plunged the weapon into the bicep of his prisoner (who gasped and choked out blood) for apparent lack of a better place to put it. “how long have you been watching me? i hope my work satisfies your standards, for you know i seek only to bring you the most pleasure you deserve.”
“only a few moments,” he said, “your work entertains me. you know i think you quite the artist.”
the marquis took off his bloody gloves and walked over to him, eyes brilliant. he took his hands in his own and pressed him close, smearing blood on his rich clothes. he did not mind, of course, he could have new clothes made.
the marquis pulled him close for a length kiss, wet and loud, the slurp of their tongues evident in the low-ceiling roomed. he knew the marquis did it to revolt his prey.
he could play. he pressed his fingers to the bloody clothes and slid one, then two bloody fingers into the marquis’ mouth. the marquis groaned, his eyes sliding shut, and sucked on the fingers in his mouth.
“is my marquis too busy with his games to attend to me?”
“you know there is nothing more important to me than his most excellent highness, king of kings, the great unifier, the most just,” marquis veritably purred, once fingers had been slid from his mouth, “here? or?”
“the room down the hall.”
the marquis nodded. he turned back to his plaything and yanked the weapon from his arm. “You will rust it, you vermin,” he said, and cleaned the weapon, and then set it down on the table. then he came back to his king and pressed close, “i hope my dissarray does not disturb you.”
“on the contrary,” he said, and he drew his thumb over a fresh stain and traced red over the marquis’ lips, “I relish your evident enjoyment and how you display such a thing.”
“i am much too blessed to be in the service of his great and glorious excellency,” the marquis murmured, red-lips flashing.
“perhaps if you are lucky, you shall be whipped.”
“do not make such sweet promises, your highness,” the marquis said, but he disappeared down the hallway, his prey forgotten.
he turned and walked down the hall to their bedroom, trying to imagine the instrument likely to give his man his best pain-pleasure.
wellreadfan asked
I would be very interested in seeing Tyrant/Marquis, if you feel like sharing something with them. :).
for a while washington watched his man tease his prisoner. prisoner was generous. fingers hung at odd angles, and for some of them there was no flesh left and only a steady drip of blood. no clothes. flesh rended in strips. one eye socket gaped black and dribbled down the man’s face. brand-shaped burns and ripped fingernails. broken teeth.
the good eye made an effort to focus on him, and the brain of the prison recognized him. and the marquis saw the shock of his prisoner and turned.
the marquis was bloodstained all over, smeared into his torture clothes. a bit was flecked on his cheek. he held a switchblade in his hand, and immediately brightened at seeing him. “my most exquisite majesty!” he said, and then he plunged the weapon into the bicep of his prisoner (who gasped and choked out blood) for apparent lack of a better place to put it. “how long have you been watching me? i hope my work satisfies your standards, for you know i seek only to bring you the most pleasure you deserve.”
“only a few moments,” he said, “your work entertains me. you know i think you quite the artist.”
the marquis took off his bloody gloves and walked over to him, eyes brilliant. he took his hands in his own and pressed him close, smearing blood on his rich clothes. he did not mind, of course, he could have new clothes made.
the marquis pulled him close for a length kiss, wet and loud, the slurp of their tongues evident in the low-ceiling roomed. he knew the marquis did it to revolt his prey.
he could play. he pressed his fingers to the bloody clothes and slid one, then two bloody fingers into the marquis’ mouth. the marquis groaned, his eyes sliding shut, and sucked on the fingers in his mouth.
“is my marquis too busy with his games to attend to me?”
“you know there is nothing more important to me than his most excellent highness, king of kings, the great unifier, the most just,” marquis veritably purred, once fingers had been slid from his mouth, “here? or?”
“the room down the hall.”
the marquis nodded. he turned back to his plaything and yanked the weapon from his arm. “You will rust it, you vermin,” he said, and cleaned the weapon, and then set it down on the table. then he came back to his king and pressed close, “i hope my dissarray does not disturb you.”
“on the contrary,” he said, and he drew his thumb over a fresh stain and traced red over the marquis’ lips, “I relish your evident enjoyment and how you display such a thing.”
“i am much too blessed to be in the service of his great and glorious excellency,” the marquis murmured, red-lips flashing.
“perhaps if you are lucky, you shall be whipped.”
“do not make such sweet promises, your highness,” the marquis said, but he disappeared down the hallway, his prey forgotten.
he turned and walked down the hall to their bedroom, trying to imagine the instrument likely to give his man his best pain-pleasure.