cHesHiRe_CaT_0013
ℓєиωë тîωєℓє
тяαιи ℓιкє α мα¢нιиє
∂αи¢є ℓιкє α ѕσυℓ
¢σмє, ∂αи¢є ωιтн мє...
At first, Lenwë tried keeping track of how many lashes he got. After five, he started loosing count. He couldn't keep his balance. He couldn't stand. Near the end, he could barely even breathe. Yet he kept his eyes open as much as he could, watching the coldness in Alaric's demeanor. Perhaps the only advantage to this was that when he played Le Corsaire, if he ever got out (not likely), he'd actually look like a weather-beaten pirate. But that wasn't the only thought that was running through his head at the moment. This other thought was actually more shameful than anything. If he'd had any energy left, he probably would have reddened in the face with shame.
He noticed it after the first couple of lashings. A strange stirring that somehow felt familiar. But why familiar? He'd never been whipped before, so that couldn't be why he was feeling deja vu. After a couple more lashings, he felt butterflies in his stomach, and he was subconsciously biting his lower lip. Then places that ought not have gotten warm did under this horrible duress. Then came the shame as he realized that he was actually waiting in dreaded anticipation for the next strike. The shame over-rode everything else once it came, waiting for the end now.
Once the punishment was over, he just hung there weakly, not caring about the pain in his wrists, or shoulders. Not caring that his clothing hung in tatters about his shoulders, or ruined on the floor. He barely even noticed when Alaric walked over. When the bonds were ripped away, Lenwë simply felt to the ground heavily. Hearing the order, he responded with a shaking voice, "Yes Haru Alaric." He didn't want this beautiful dance floor to be stained, so he worked as quickly as he could. He even mopped a bit in all of the places his blood was. He was only partially through his work when he tied the longer shreds of his robe around his chest to keep the blood from continuing to fall. Once he finished, he walked over heavily back to Alaric and got on his knees. Breathing heavily, he simply waited for the next thing.
((OOC smile )
ι'м ¢υяяєитℓу fєєℓιиg {So much pain} ωнιℓє ι'м нєα∂ιиg тσωαя∂ѕ {No where} ι'м ¢υяяєитℓу ωєαяιиg {My emerald elfin robes} αи∂ ι'м ωιтн {Alaric}
He noticed it after the first couple of lashings. A strange stirring that somehow felt familiar. But why familiar? He'd never been whipped before, so that couldn't be why he was feeling deja vu. After a couple more lashings, he felt butterflies in his stomach, and he was subconsciously biting his lower lip. Then places that ought not have gotten warm did under this horrible duress. Then came the shame as he realized that he was actually waiting in dreaded anticipation for the next strike. The shame over-rode everything else once it came, waiting for the end now.
Once the punishment was over, he just hung there weakly, not caring about the pain in his wrists, or shoulders. Not caring that his clothing hung in tatters about his shoulders, or ruined on the floor. He barely even noticed when Alaric walked over. When the bonds were ripped away, Lenwë simply felt to the ground heavily. Hearing the order, he responded with a shaking voice, "Yes Haru Alaric." He didn't want this beautiful dance floor to be stained, so he worked as quickly as he could. He even mopped a bit in all of the places his blood was. He was only partially through his work when he tied the longer shreds of his robe around his chest to keep the blood from continuing to fall. Once he finished, he walked over heavily back to Alaric and got on his knees. Breathing heavily, he simply waited for the next thing.
((OOC smile )
ι'м ¢υяяєитℓу fєєℓιиg {So much pain} ωнιℓє ι'м нєα∂ιиg тσωαя∂ѕ {No where} ι'м ¢υяяєитℓу ωєαяιиg {My emerald elfin robes} αи∂ ι'м ωιтн {Alaric}
