*Slides in* @bonebo has been a hooooooooorrible enabler and gave me all those ideas about gruff!Sub!Gabriel and how his very first abusive dom treated him ❤
Please heed the following warnings: Abusive relationship, gaslighting, forced body modification, mental and physical torture.
Gabriel is p young when he first tried the lifestyle… like maybe 20-25ish.
“You know… it’s Saturday tomorrow.”
Gabriel grunts in affirmation, eyes on the news on the TV. Lúcio shifts a little on his lap and starts scratching idle fingers through the short curling hair on top of his head. Weeks ago, Gabriel had been confused by the kid’s constant need to touch without it being sexual. By now he takes it in stride – and maybe enjoys it a little, too.
“You could sleep here,” Lúcio ventures. “I can make you breakfast. Like… get it to you in bed and shit.”
Gabriel becomes still for a moment, eyes still fixed on the TV, hands carefully loose at his sides. Lúcio squirms on his lap, lifting his head from where he put it on Gabriel’s shoulder. “You’d like that, right? I could feed you if you like? Get you the paper or something?”
Gabriel could feel himself flush slowly from the pit of his belly, the heat crawling up his chest.
Truth is, he kinda would like that. He can almost see himself – head in the kid’s lap after getting wrangled into it, letting him feed him bites of whatever he put together. He feels Lúcio’s eyes on him, and when he flicks his gaze over, the kid is right up his grill, staring.
“Geezus,” he hisses, head jerking away, eyebrows drawing together into a fierce scowl. “We’ll see,” he grunts. Lúcio smirks and lowers his head towards Gabriel’s shoulder once more, hand idly stroking along his jaw, scritching at his goatee, and finally idly tracing the scar on his cheek up to the gash across the bridge of his nose and back again.
It is a thing he likes to do, and while Gabriel has nearly dislocated his wrist the first time he had touched, it has become somewhat of a comfort by now. Enough to make him slump down and rearrange the kid on his lap. He feels stupidly fond when Lúcio purrs: “Good boy.”
.oOo.
Gabriel stared at the short, polished blade the guy presented to him and felt his pulse jump in nervous excitement.
“You like that?” The man asked him, lifting the dagger up until it was right in Gabriel’s face to show him the way the murky light reflected off the blade.
“I… think so, yes. We can definitely try.” Fuck, but he wanted to try that real bad. His cock was chubbing up from the thought of getting nicked by the shiny, sharp metal.
“Yeah, I knew you’d say that,” the man cooed, “Could see you were a pain slut all across the room.”
Gabriel flushed and refused to pull his shoulders up to his ears. He wasn’t sure if he liked this kind of talk, but didn’t want to put a damper in so soon; it’s been the first time one of the guys talking to him had taken him home, and he was more than eager to finally try some of the stuff he’d only been nervously fantasizing about.
“Neat. Okay, then-”
“Not the face,” he quickly blurted out and curled fingers into nervous fists when the guy blinked and frowned. “You can do my chest and… and back. Not the face.”
“My, my… aren’t we a scared little girl. Okay, princess. Don’t worry your pretty little head about it.”
Gabriel’s belly burned with resentment and his cheeks felt hot, but his cock was still all on board: pulsing in his underwear and making him slowly more uncomfortable.
“Any other fears, princess?”
Gabriel’s face hardened in determination and he stared fixedly at the man’s chest. “No.” And then, after a moment of debating: “What’s your name?”
“You’ll call me ‘Sir’ or ‘Master’. Oh, you’ll be fun, I can tell. Baby whores like you are always fun to break in. Come, now. We’re going to play. I’m going to make it so good for you.”
.o.
The thing is, it had been good. Scary, but good.
He’s had problems calling the stranger ‘Master’ and tried it with ‘Sir’ instead but even then he got told that his attitude was shit.
‘I’m doing something for you, whore. I can get a lot prettier subs than you. You need to work for it, right?’ And he did want to work for it. It was why he considered this lifestyle in the first place, after all; why it had intrigued him so much.
He kind of wanted to get pushed around and told what to do by another person. In his head, it always had seemed sort of nice.
In reality, he didn’t like the way Sir talked to him. He had him kneel on the floor and bow his head and make himself small, and told him how lucky he was to have found a dom like him.
“People don’t usually go for the big, burly subs – but I like ‘em. They’re more desperate, y’know? They suck cock like they need it to live and don’t cry around too much. You don’t cry, do you?” And even before he parsed the question, there had been a booted foot kicking him in the side – not too hard, but enough to startle an ‘oof’ out of him, head snapping up to stare at his assailant, only to get it roughly pushed back down by a big hand. “Naw, you’re no crier, I can see that. Good boy.”
Warmth filled his head at the praise, the tips of his ears pounding with blood. Oh, wow…
–
There wasn’t a lot of praise, unfortunately, which made the few crumbs thrown his way even better and more addicting.
He wasn’t sure if he liked getting called names, but his cock was on board the whole time so he figured it was okay. Everything was new and overwhelming, after all.
“Fuck. You got the fattest ass I’ve ever seen. Holy shit,” Sir exclaimed behind him, his hands around Gabriel’s hips after urging him to lift up on his knees and ‘show off the goods’. Gabriel’s toes curled and he felt a little nauseous with embarrassment at hearing him say that.
“At least you’re good for getting fucked, hm? If nothing else works out, you can at least sell that huge ass of yours. God damn.”
He liked slapping him as he fucked; a steady rain of progressively harder hits against Gabriel’s thighs and cheeks that soon had him feel a stinging burn that made him squirm and try to get away until Sir hissed at him to ‘stand fucking still’.
It felt good, pleasure mounting dizzyingly fast, but Gabriel still bit his knuckles bloody in an attempt to remain as silent as possible. He was not sure what constituted as being a cry baby, and he sure as hell didn’t want Sir to finish before he had gotten off. He felt like slapping and spanking was definitely something he liked. Definitely. Absolutely.
Sir was miffed with him that he had come without permission but let him get away with it because “You’re just a newbie and I hadn’t thought of it. Next time you’ll have to ask.”
He didn’t like the condescension but it was softened by the afterglow of what had been one of the hardest orgasms in his life, and the fact that there would be a ‘next time’.
Sir hadn’t even pulled the short blade out during that first session, and Gabriel felt stupidly reassured because of it. Sir would obviously go easy on him since he was new at all of it – as he liked to remind him with an air of annoyance.
.o.
“Come on. Come on. Watch the teeth damn you!”
Gabriel jerked when Sir’s palm connected with his forehead and pushed him away from his cock, drool connecting the tip with his bottom lip. He was gulping in huge breaths, trying to get as much air into his lungs as possible before Sir forced him back down. His throat was burning, heart pounding in his chest like a rabbit’s.
Sir didn’t force him back down, however – he just sat there with a scowl on his face and his cheek against his fist.
“You’re too stupid to suck cock. I can’t believe it. How can you be so bad at it with a cock sucker mouth like that?”
Gabriel’s belly felt like it was clenching into a fist, cold and painful, the hair on the back of his neck standing up in protest at the harsh words even though his cock jumped hopefully – already trained to associate Sir’s pissy attitude with an incoming fuck.
“I’ve never deepthroated…” he mutters and jerks back at the sudden, harsh slap to the cheek (and, oh, how he loves and hates it – cock eagerly drooling a bead of pre-cum).
“Are you for real? Fuck, but you’re one high maintenance bitch. Do I have to show you everything?”
Gabriel looked to the side, slowly licking his lips as his head spun. He was not… stupid. He was not. He usually was very good at putting people in their place, but as soon as he stepped inside Sir’s home, everything of that… of him… seemed to disappear. It was difficult to form coherent thoughts, anything that made sense, anything that could help him defend himself against the verbal abuse.
“It’s alright. Don’t cry,” Sir murmured, suddenly concerned, voice pitched low and soothing, and it sent Gabriel spinning even faster, his eyes huge, mouth hanging open wordlessly as he stared up, caught like a rabbit in front of the snake – and all the while his cock was fucking hard and pounding insistently, flexing when Sir pet him with a big hand across his head.
“Come. I’ll show you. No need to be upset.”
Gabriel let himself get pulled forward once more, a whine stuck in his throat, feeling vulnerable and exposed and so thankful for Sir’s gentleness as he taught him how to take his cock.
.o.
“Come on, useless slut. Work it. God, do I have to do all the work?” He slaps Gabriel’s thigh and jerks his hips up, forcing himself deeper into him. Gabriel’s eyes widen, a cry stuck in his throat as he stretches that little bit farther around the base of Sir’s cock, his sweaty hands scrabbling for purchase at Sir’s chest until the man hisses and slaps his cock, fingers catching the sensitive head harshly and knocking the breath straight out of Gabriel’s lungs.
He sits there, the pain from his burning anus fading in the face of the pain pounding in his cock, a wave of nausea swamping through his body. For a second utter panic seizes him as he thinks he has to vomit – but it thankfully abates.
“Stupid cunt, that fuckin’ hurt. Don’t touch me without permission. Fuck!”
Gabriel stares down, watches in dismay as red lines slowly start spreading across his dom’s chest where he scratched him in his surprise about the new stretch.
“I’m… sorry,” he murmurs and hates himself for how small he sounds – and how his throat feels scratchy and clogged up. Like he’s close to crying. He thinks distantly how just yesterday he’d been guffawing with his pals at the shop; how they sat around swapping stories when nothing was there to be worked on, and how comfortable he had felt being there because the others were respecting him. Maybe feared him a little with his gruff exterior. It had felt really, really good.
Now, right here, sitting on this man’s cock and close to bawling, it felt unbelievably far away – like the Gabriel Reyes that was still in apprenticeship and yet had the respect of his more experienced co-workers was a totally different person to the one stepping foot into the apartment of this man whose real name he’d only found out by secretly looking into his wallet.
“Why does everything have to be so difficult with you? You’re not that great of a fuck. Being a sub means you got to service me, right? Not the other way round. So get to work, stupid shit.”
.o.
“Hmmm.”
Gabriel turns his head even though he is blindfolded, following the soft hum of Sir. He sounds disappointed and the fear the sound immediately evokes makes him sick to his stomach. He has done nothing but obey this time – stripped himself bare without protest and laid down on the filthy carpet Sir put out for their play times.
“We haven’t really talked about your body yet, pet.” Gabriel relaxes a bit at the petname, a hopeful flush spreading across his shoulder blades while he hides his face against the ground. He feels Sir’s boot between his ankles and spreads them eagerly at the first nudge; showing off his body willingly. He is preening silently, eager for Sir’s approval.
He was still building up muscle, hitting the gym whenever time allowed, and finally the lankiness of youth was starting to give way to a thicker build.
“I kinda picked you because I figured you’d have a big cock, but…” Again, there is the tip of a boot. It’s cold and smooth against the side of Gabriel’s knee, urging him to spread his legs even farther. Gabriel realizes with a nervous jump of his Adam’s Apple that Sir was wearing boots with metal caps.
“No tattoos, no piercings, no nothin’.” He is towering over Gabriel by now, one foot next to his hip, the other between his thighs. Gabriel is breathing fast and silent against the dusty rug, sweat springing up on the crown of his head.
Still, his cock is eager as always – even when he can feel the cold tip of Sir’s boot nudge against the swollen, ripe sack of his testicles.
“You’re an eager slut, you got that working for you. Never saw a guy with an ass like yours. It’s like fucking a cadillac. Kinda luxurious to be honest.”
Gabriel feels embarrassment gnaw up his throat and grits his teeth so he wouldn’t make a sound. The tips of his ears burn and he clenches his eyes shut, hips carefully moving to rub his fattening cock against the rough surface of the mat.
“Show me your cunt, babe.”
And how could he not? It’s been weeks since he started this thing with Sir, and while he did recognize, purely intellectual, that this wasn’t an ideal relationship, that something was distinctly off, he couldn’t place his finger on why because he obviously enjoyed it, didn’t he?
He was always hard and wanting; always came at the end of the day, even if his body hurt or he was hating himself for letting himself get debased the way Sir did.
Though being a Submissive meant just that… didn’t it?
The boot pressing down on his cock jerked him out of his thoughts, breath hitching in his throat, fear trickling down cold and numbing right into his belly.
“Show it to me. Move, stupid shit.”
Gabriel does move, hands reaching back, pulling his cheeks apart even though he doesn’t want to; feels vulnerable in a not-fun way, cock actually going soft for once beneath the threat of the heavy boot pressing down painfully.
“Yeah… that’s it. Stay.”
He stays as Sir starts rounding him, appraising his body, nudging – gently kicking – his sides, his ribs, against his temples and finishing between his thighs where he steps on his cock with an unrelenting, slowly increasing pressure that has Gabriel clench his teeth so hard it hurts, eyes bulging from their sockets, bladder close to giving up.
“You’re pretty enough,” Sir says, ignoring the low, pained groans coming from Gabriel. “But your junk really is disappointing. Here I was looking for some BBC and you got the most average lookin’ dick I’ve ever seen. What the fuck.”
Gabriel, in his mindless animal panic was just about to apologize for it – for his inferior cock – when Sir moved, kicking him in the balls with the steel caps of his boots with an almost gentleness as if done out of sheer, petulant boredom but strong enough to have Gabriel scream after a second of sensory overload, body curling up into a tight ball, hands between his thighs and nausea making him near blind.
.o.
Gabriel was sweating uncomfortably, pulse thrumming quick and scared in his throat. Sir had bound him tightly on his knees, arms held together by handcuffs behind his back, and Gabriel had no idea how it had come to this.
He didn’t trust Sir to undo the handcuffs if (when) he needed to ask for it. He was, for better or for worse, absolutely vulnerable.
“I… I have a safeword,” he rasped, fingers curling into helpless fists behind his back. Sir looked up sharply from the utensils he had strewn out across his bed, eyebrows drawn up high on his forehead.
“What for?”
Gabriel can just huff, looking up at Sir, pleading with his gaze. Inside he was screaming at himself why he was being a stupid asshole and not fucking telling him that he didn’t trust him as far as he could throw him and that he wanted out of the cuffs immediately. His head started swimming again.
His cock was hard and he had no idea why. It made him feel sick to his stomach.
“You don’t need a safeword, pet,” Sir told him, not unkindly. He talks to him like he is a small, dumb child and Gabriel feels close to crying again because he enjoys it. It makes him feel protected. Like he doesn’t need to worry about anything.
Sir lets his work lie on the bed and comes over; squats so he is on eye-level with Gabriel and holds his face in warm, big hands.
“You don’t need a safeword because you’re my good boy, aren’t you? You’re no cry baby. You know how much I hate them, right?” Gabriel bites his tongue, hard, and nods slowly. Sir smiles at him and looks so proud, Gabriel feels breathless, and good, and perfect. He’d say yes to anything in that moment.
“And now,” Sir says, eyes drifting down, watching the eager curve of Gabriel’s cock, hard and needy, “I like some jewelry on my boys, and I think your cock can use some help, really. So I got you some piercings. Sound good?”
Gabriel nods before the words even properly reach his head.
“Good. I got something to help you with being loud while I work.”
And then comes the gag – and then the pain.
.o.
Gabriel had to take the rest of his vacation days for the whole year in order to bounce back from the piercings and give his body time to heal.
Sir didn’t let him go during the time – he was concerned about his well-being. He actually let him sleep most of the time, making sure he was hydrated, bringing him food, cleaning the ladder piercings down his cock and the ones in his nipples.
He told him the whole time how pretty he was, calling him his gorgeous boy.
–
Thankfully, the piercings heal well, and Gabriel finds himself unable to say anything when Sir ruffles his head and tells him “Looks good now, doesn’t it? No need to cry.”
.o.
Gabriel would never be able to say why this was the thing that finally shook him out of the self-destructive circle of misery-fear-cautious, addictive happiness:
Sir hadn’t taken out the knife since that first night. He had been drinking – not enough to make him piss his pants and stumble around, but enough to get Gabriel to jerk back from him when he steps closer, dagger in hand, blade glinting.
The movement was small, contained, but enough to get the other man furious, stepping up and gripping the short curls on top of Gabriel’s head with one hand, the other pressing the blade flat against Gabriel’s cheek, the tip right underneath his right eye.
“Are you afraid?” Sir hissed, seemingly vibrating out of his skin, and Gabriel wonders whether he’s taken something else as well. He doesn’t dare to speak, just thinks wildly: I said not the face. Not the face.
“I can see you’re afraid. Fucking pussy. Fucking stupid piece of shit. I’ll give you something to be afraid of. God damn it! I’m going to cut your fucking eyes out. Slice your nose off. Fuck your god damn useless head through the hole.
You stupid, worthless cunt!” he screams the last word, voice shrill and cracking, hand drawing back abruptly as if wanting to slap him and taking the first long slice down Gabriel’s cheek.
It finally jerks Gabriel out of his stupor.
.o.
He fingers the scars from the scuffle that ensued whenever he is thinking hard about something.
He never thinks about Sir or the time some ten or fifteen years ago.
.oOo.
“What the fuck are you wearing,” he groans, eyeing the apron Lúcio is wearing as he knee-walks onto the bed, carefully balancing a tray. Gabriel tugs the blanket up a little higher, not bothering to turn around on his back, and indulges in watching the kid.
Lúcio is, as ever with his wardrobe, not phazed in the least.
“I don’t want to get my stuff dirty, ya feel? Come on, come on… I got you somethin’ from everything because you refused to tell me what you like, pal. Damn, this is heavy.”
Gabriel grunts and stays for a minute or two just for good measure – just so it doesn’t seem like he is too eager to follow Lúcio’s urging. The kid, as always, lets him do his weird shit and just rearranges stuff how he wants it to be while he waits.
When Gabriel finally slides over, feigning listlessness, Lúcio’s fingers immediately dive into his short hair and scratch at his scalp, the other one smoothing over his beard and straightening the hair.
“Good morning, good boy-o.”
“Don’t call me that.”
Lúcio cackles and thumbs his cheek affectionately. “You got it. Good boy it is, then. My good boy.”
Cyberrat Writes 