melodywilde (melodywilde) wrote in kinkfest, @ 2007-09-03 10:47:00 |
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Entry tags: | a: melodywilde, f: dragon quest viii, p: angelo/marcello, september 03 |
Story, Discipline, Dragon Quest VIII (Marcello/Angelo)
Title: Discipline
Author: melodywilde
Rating: PG-13?
Warnings: Pain
Word count: 801
Summary: Marcello and Angelo have a discussion of proper Templar behavior.
#5, Dragon Quest VIII, Angelo/Marcello, control/restraint – “I had to break you to save you”
Discipline
by Melody Wilde
“You understand why I’m doing this.”
Because you hate me. Because you’ve always hated me.
“Your...extracurricular activities are a disgrace to the Abbey, to the Templars, and to Abbot Francisco.”
If he were here, instead of off on some Abbey business, you wouldn’t dare do this. You wouldn’t even dare to think of doing it.
“I’ve tried reasoning with you.”
Not reason--lectures. Endless lectures.
“I’ve tried to explain your position—your duty—to you.”
Duty as you see it. Rules that don’t always apply to the others, just to me.
“I’ve even tried asking the Goddess to intercede—to show me the way to reach you.”
I’ll bet She loved that. If you spoke to Her about me at all, it was probably to beg Her to strike me dead.
“This is the last resort. It seems that I have to break you to save you.”
You don’t care about the saving—only the breaking. You’ve wanted to do this since the moment you learned my name.
“Do you want to say anything before we begin?”
At least you sent the others away, so you’ll be the only one to witness this. He didn’t want to think that sending the others away had also removed any chance that someone might step in to stop Marcello before he went too far.
Marcello finally has me exactly where he wants me. They had stripped him, bound him, and left him like this—standing naked, spread-eagled, and horribly, hideously vulnerable.
“Angelo?”
He shook his head. There was nothing to say.
“Very well.” Marcello turned to the table and lifted the whip. Angelo’s soul shrank away as Marcello uncurled it and let the end trail across the floor, but he forced his body to remain still. Marcello gave a practice crack, and, against his will, Angelo moaned.
Marcello tried not to smile at the sound. He was only partially successful.
“I suppose this is where I should tell you that this will hurt me as much as it will hurt you. But we both know that would be a lie.”
Angelo tried to brace himself. Tried to send his mind away. Tried to cast some sort of protective spell that would soften the blows. Nothing worked. Liquid fire flashed across his back. Then again. And again.
I’m not going to scream. I’m not going to give him the satisfaction. I’m not going to...
By the tenth blow, he was arching in an attempt to escape, breath stolen with the force of his screams. Marcello paused and circled to look at him.
“Not quite yet, I think.” Flexing his fingers, he returned to his task.
Angelo lost count after twenty, his mind too busy trying to claw its way out of his skull and flee to safety. He was only barely conscious when Marcello stopped again to inspect his work.
“Are you beginning to understand what I’m saying to you?”
He tried to nod. It hurt too much.
Marcello stripped off a glove and raised his hand to catch a few of the tears streaming down Angelo’s cheeks. He brought it to his mouth and tasted, as if it were one of the finest delicacies.
“You know,” he said in a casual tone, as if discussing the weather, “I’ve focused my attention on your back, but it occurs to me that the cause of your most serious offenses is here.” He reached down and wrapped his hand around Angelo’s cock. “Perhaps I should separate you from this. Perhaps then you wouldn’t be led astray so easily.”
Somehow Angelo found the strength to try to pull away. Marcello laughed. He allowed Angelo to struggle for several long moments, his grip painfully tight. Then, with a sigh, he released Angelo and wiped his hand on his jacket.
“Sadly, I think the Abbot would be less than forgiving if I maimed you permanently.”
Oh thank the Goddess!
“Still, there’s nothing to keep me from doing this.” Replacing his glove, he stepped back, stared for a moment at his new target, then lifted the whip again.
* * *
“Angelo? Can you hear me?”
The voice was distant, muffled. Angelo was floating in clouds made of flame and agony, unable to hear.
“Can you hear me?”
A white-hot spike of pain, and he found he was able to focus and hear after all.
“Yes.” His voice was worn. He felt absently surprised that he had a voice at all.
“Do you think you’ve finally learned your lesson?”
Lesson? What lesson?
“Angelo!” The word was a threat.
“Yes. Yes. I’ve learned.”
“And you won’t go back to gamble and whore and disgrace us?”
He shook his head.
“You swear this?”
“I swear.”
Even after he was fully healed, it was an oath that he kept for a very long time.