[ they try something new today, aware that this has been a long time coming. bondage, domination and submission is a more intense endeavor compared to what they've been doing together before, a big step up, and into unfamiliar territory for credence.
with credence's upbringing and history of intense repression that just about borders on cruel, this could be the key to providing him with a powerful catharsis; it can help to ease and smooth over the deep-seated issues credence still cannot find it in himself to let go of.
graves himself is exceptionally good at this, which shouldn't be surprising when so much of him is all about power and control: be it controlling others' perceptions, their image of him, all possible desirable outcomes and results of his endeavors. The man who masters himself can master the world, and graves doesn't intend to be left in the dust. now, he wants to give credence more of his own back, wants to show him that being the most powerful obscurial in the world is different from actual strength, and he's spent the last half hour or so carefully explaining the intricacies of bdsm, the fundamentals and essentials and how, beyond all the toys, the chains and ropes and whips, lie the issue of trust, the transfiguration of power from one state to another, and how it's never truly lost.
they come up with a safeword, and graves makes credence remember it, makes him understand that the use of a safeword does not mean that credence is letting graves down -- that it is there for him to use when he requires. graves takes care to gauge his boundaries, and nearly fifteen minutes in, he sees fit to push him past them, to take him deeper.
credence's hands are bound to the headboard with silk rope, the young man on his knees and spread open, a vibrator buried in his ass and a tight leather collar around his throat. graves finishes securing the cock ring around the base of his dick, tight and firm, and he lays kisses down his neck before his palm comes down hard cross his ass in a hard slap, leaving vivid red marks on fair skin. ]
[ even with all the assurances, a part of credence is still frightened. this is not to say that he is unwilling in the least: he wants to try, he wants to please graves, he wants to believe that this will help him.
things are different enough that he's all right: there's naturally never been anything pleasurable or sexual about his punishments, only pain and sternness and anger. and thus: as overwhelming as it is the vibrator helps him remain calm even if it makes him squirm and whine and tug at the ropes binding his wrists. it's almost cruel, the way it's pressed purposely right up against the spot that makes him practically mewl in pleasure, that always makes him come what seems too quickly. but the cock ring graves is putting on him fixes that, doesn't it? makes sure he can't come. as for the collar, it's nice. it makes him feel desirable, wanted, needed. it doesn't feel like possession - it feels like granted permission, partnership.
he doesn't know if it's supposed to feel like that.
credence leans into the kisses with a breathy sigh, trying to shift closer to graves before the crack of the slap across his ass is enough to drag a startled noise out of him and make him jerk and take a couple of strained breaths. it takes him a second: remember it's different, remember it's not to make him cower. it's not the pain of leather or metal belt buckle (because he had not been spared that either), nor is it on the places mary lou would use (likely she thought her unnatural son would like it too much there). he's safe, it's graves, but he's trembling anyway. ] I've--I've been very bad. I've had too many wicked thoughts and I don't try to stop them. I know-- [ a tiny choked noise-- ] I know it's a sin.
[ there's a problem here, the way he says it. to start, he'd begged graves to not use any religious wording, and for obvious reasons. he's not ready for that, it's too much, and yet here he is sounding like he's going to confession.
he needs to be reminded it's not about sin or wickedness or how evil he is. but he's regressing back to that despite himself. ]
[ graves picks up on the problem immediately, the words he chooses unconsciously, how he circles back to it. the poison runs too deep, and graves corrects him when he palms his balls, fondling him and laying soft kisses against his earlobe, his body over his. credence is naked where graves is fully clothed, right down to the cufflinks, tie and collarpins, although the coat is divested.
he knows credence appreciates the contrast, the meaning behind this -- all of it specifically engineered to give credence as much pleasure as possible while bleeding out the poison from him. it will be difficult, and graves has apprised credence as much, but they do it anyway. ]
Try again, boy. [ he commands quietly, correcting him in another way. ] You know what not to say. Tell me how bad and naughty you've been. What kind of nasty thoughts has entered your innocent little mind?
[ credence can't help it - he moans, head tipping back slightly as graves fondles him, gives him even more pleasure as he tries to nuzzle into the kisses, to rock into his hand. the next noise he lets out is muffled because he's biting his lip trying to concentrate.
it's already so hard and something feels tight in his throat. he's not sure it's supposed to be there. he obeys anyway. ] I--I'm sorry.
[ a quiet breath. graves is still over him and the feel of his body over his own is distracting, constricting. ] I think about you. I think about you all the time, kissing me, pressing against me--[ he shifts a little but it just changes the press of the vibrator inside him and he lets out a tiny whine-- ] I think about you sucking me off, about you inside me. The thoughts won't stop.
[ he sounds almost breezy, like he's distracted. ]
[ he says softly, gently. ] You lust for me, you would debase yourself for my favor too, won't you? For my cock pushing into your tight little hole, and you'll milk me dry, feeling every sticky, hot spurt inside you.
It's what you like, isn't it? [ he flicks the control on the vibrator, makes it more intense because he can, and he gently pinches the inside of his thigh. ] You love being used by me. Tell me more about your thoughts, sweetheart.
[ quietly. he nods in response to the question, eyes briefly screwed shut as he tries to even out his breathing. ] Some nights it's all I think about, you filling me up so I can't feel anything b-but you. So I know who I belong to.
[ it's a tiny stutter but it's there; when the vibration increases he lets out a soft keen like a wounded animal, his entire body jerking slightly. ] Please. [ it's hoarse and he buries his face in the mattress briefly before he manages: ] Please, it's too much.
[ he knows that isn't the safe word and he remembers what the safe word is - it's still just play, or trying to be. finally, he tries to swallow the lump in his throat so he can heed the request. ] Mostly you treat me g-gently but never for anything less than everything I have to give you. I love it because I need you.
[ the tightness in his throat is worse now but he honestly thinks that it just may be a part of this. part of the catharsis. he wouldn't know. ]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
→ what else can i say
and it's an old scar trying to bleach it out
and it's my whole heart deemed and delivered a crime
and i'm on trial waiting 'til the beat comes out
→ it's up to you
with credence's upbringing and history of intense repression that just about borders on cruel, this could be the key to providing him with a powerful catharsis; it can help to ease and smooth over the deep-seated issues credence still cannot find it in himself to let go of.
graves himself is exceptionally good at this, which shouldn't be surprising when so much of him is all about power and control: be it controlling others' perceptions, their image of him, all possible desirable outcomes and results of his endeavors. The man who masters himself can master the world, and graves doesn't intend to be left in the dust. now, he wants to give credence more of his own back, wants to show him that being the most powerful obscurial in the world is different from actual strength, and he's spent the last half hour or so carefully explaining the intricacies of bdsm, the fundamentals and essentials and how, beyond all the toys, the chains and ropes and whips, lie the issue of trust, the transfiguration of power from one state to another, and how it's never truly lost.
they come up with a safeword, and graves makes credence remember it, makes him understand that the use of a safeword does not mean that credence is letting graves down -- that it is there for him to use when he requires. graves takes care to gauge his boundaries, and nearly fifteen minutes in, he sees fit to push him past them, to take him deeper.
credence's hands are bound to the headboard with silk rope, the young man on his knees and spread open, a vibrator buried in his ass and a tight leather collar around his throat. graves finishes securing the cock ring around the base of his dick, tight and firm, and he lays kisses down his neck before his palm comes down hard cross his ass in a hard slap, leaving vivid red marks on fair skin. ]
Tell me what a bad boy you've been.
no subject
things are different enough that he's all right: there's naturally never been anything pleasurable or sexual about his punishments, only pain and sternness and anger. and thus: as overwhelming as it is the vibrator helps him remain calm even if it makes him squirm and whine and tug at the ropes binding his wrists. it's almost cruel, the way it's pressed purposely right up against the spot that makes him practically mewl in pleasure, that always makes him come what seems too quickly. but the cock ring graves is putting on him fixes that, doesn't it? makes sure he can't come. as for the collar, it's nice. it makes him feel desirable, wanted, needed. it doesn't feel like possession - it feels like granted permission, partnership.
he doesn't know if it's supposed to feel like that.
credence leans into the kisses with a breathy sigh, trying to shift closer to graves before the crack of the slap across his ass is enough to drag a startled noise out of him and make him jerk and take a couple of strained breaths. it takes him a second: remember it's different, remember it's not to make him cower. it's not the pain of leather or metal belt buckle (because he had not been spared that either), nor is it on the places mary lou would use (likely she thought her unnatural son would like it too much there). he's safe, it's graves, but he's trembling anyway. ] I've--I've been very bad. I've had too many wicked thoughts and I don't try to stop them. I know-- [ a tiny choked noise-- ] I know it's a sin.
[ there's a problem here, the way he says it. to start, he'd begged graves to not use any religious wording, and for obvious reasons. he's not ready for that, it's too much, and yet here he is sounding like he's going to confession.
he needs to be reminded it's not about sin or wickedness or how evil he is. but he's regressing back to that despite himself. ]
no subject
he knows credence appreciates the contrast, the meaning behind this -- all of it specifically engineered to give credence as much pleasure as possible while bleeding out the poison from him. it will be difficult, and graves has apprised credence as much, but they do it anyway. ]
Try again, boy. [ he commands quietly, correcting him in another way. ] You know what not to say. Tell me how bad and naughty you've been. What kind of nasty thoughts has entered your innocent little mind?
no subject
it's already so hard and something feels tight in his throat. he's not sure it's supposed to be there. he obeys anyway. ] I--I'm sorry.
[ a quiet breath. graves is still over him and the feel of his body over his own is distracting, constricting. ] I think about you. I think about you all the time, kissing me, pressing against me--[ he shifts a little but it just changes the press of the vibrator inside him and he lets out a tiny whine-- ] I think about you sucking me off, about you inside me. The thoughts won't stop.
[ he sounds almost breezy, like he's distracted. ]
no subject
[ he says softly, gently. ] You lust for me, you would debase yourself for my favor too, won't you? For my cock pushing into your tight little hole, and you'll milk me dry, feeling every sticky, hot spurt inside you.
It's what you like, isn't it? [ he flicks the control on the vibrator, makes it more intense because he can, and he gently pinches the inside of his thigh. ] You love being used by me. Tell me more about your thoughts, sweetheart.
no subject
[ quietly. he nods in response to the question, eyes briefly screwed shut as he tries to even out his breathing. ] Some nights it's all I think about, you filling me up so I can't feel anything b-but you. So I know who I belong to.
[ it's a tiny stutter but it's there; when the vibration increases he lets out a soft keen like a wounded animal, his entire body jerking slightly. ] Please. [ it's hoarse and he buries his face in the mattress briefly before he manages: ] Please, it's too much.
[ he knows that isn't the safe word and he remembers what the safe word is - it's still just play, or trying to be. finally, he tries to swallow the lump in his throat so he can heed the request. ] Mostly you treat me g-gently but never for anything less than everything I have to give you. I love it because I need you.
[ the tightness in his throat is worse now but he honestly thinks that it just may be a part of this. part of the catharsis. he wouldn't know. ]