Moments in Awsten and Otto's sex lives, including: Heavy BDSM; Whipping; Pet Names; Bondage/Rope Bondage; Gags; Dom/sub; Bottom/sub Awsten Knight; Trans Awsten Knight; Dom/top Otto Wood; Subspace; Degradation; Overstimulation; Risk Aware Consensual Kink.
Awsten rests his head on Otto’s thigh. His leg is warm and solid underneath him, and the hand in his hair is a constant reminder of who he belongs to. This is his favorite kind of scene. He would never admit it, because truth be told, he also enjoys being fucked up, but this kind is by far what he most looks forward to every week.
Mostly because it’s a regular occurrence. Once they reach the end of the week and Friday night rolls around, both of them are usually too tired for a super intense scene. So they default to this, and they have for a long time now. He can count on it. It’s just simple, easy, comforting. It still lets Awsten lose his control and his ever-present worries about the choices he has to make. It still lets Otto take his power back and keep Awsten safe and protected.
There’s some meaningless show going on behind him, but it’s just fuzz and static in the back of his mind. The only thing that matters is the body he’s pressed up against and the familiar and comforting ache in his knees. It’s not exactly a relaxing position to be in, but it isn’t one he would dare complain about.
A spreader bar is cuffed to his ankles, forcing his legs out wide. His hands are tied tight behind his back, wrists pressed against each other, with another tie leading down to the bar between his legs. The best (and worst) part is the gag, though. He always misses talking and the feeling of having a voice, but sometimes all he needs is for it to be taken away.
It’s a smooth, black panel gag. There's a rubber ball inside for him to bite down on. The harness is fitted perfectly for his head and is not uncomfortable, even when he’s wearing it for a long time, like tonight. His jaw is a little sore, but not enough to be particularly distressing.
"Hey, lovely. How are you?" Otto’s voice is filtering through a sheet of plastic wrapped around the inside of his skull, enclosing his thoughts into little pockets of air and nothing more. It’s the only thing that can break through, but even that is muted and far away.
Awsten snaps twice. He’s fine.
And then they return to silence, and Otto’s hand returns to his hair. Awsten’s back aches with the curve it’s forced awkwardly into from the bend he has in his shoulders so his head can rest on Otto’s knee. It’s worth it. Beyond worth it.
"Aww, pretty boy can’t even hold himself up. That’s fucking cute," Otto says with more than a hint of vitriol in his voice.
Of course, there isn’t much Awsten can do like this to stop that. His arms are shaking, and his options are either to place the weight of his body on his shoulders or on his muscles, and right now his muscles aren’t taking that super well.
His feet are just barely dangling over the floor; if he really tried, he might even be able to touch his toes. He doesn’t have the energy to try at the moment.
Otto’s whip hits again, and Awsten can barely even choke out a sound anymore. The tension has been forced out of his body; all he can do now is take the pain as it comes.
He’s so wet his thighs are sticky.
Drops of blood lay on the concrete floor beneath them, sure proof of the state of everything from Awsten’s back to his calves. Most of the hits Otto has gotten are barely harsh enough to do anything, but he’s managed just enough severe ones that every other strike is still stinging on his skin.
"Are you going to say thank you?" Otto’s voice is sharp and dangerous. The deal was 20 blows. Awsten hasn’t been remembering to thank him. At this point, it’s only a pity that he's actually reminding Awsten about his commitment to this punishment.
"Sorry, thank you, thank you, sir," Awsten mumbles. His chin is practically resting on his collarbone.
"For what? What are you thanking me for, whore? Say it."
"F-for fixing my mistakes," Awsten is crying harder now than before, "for putting me in place and giving me what I deserve. Thank you for making me yours, sir." He had thought his tears had fully dried up, but they haven’t. This is always the hardest part of these scenes. When Otto degrades him, it's just hot. When he makes Awsten degrade himself, it’s asking him to spill his worst thoughts out on him.
"More. Tell me why you deserve this." A stinging pain in Awsten’s side and the bite of the whip through the air accompany the command.
"Because. Because I’m useless. Because I’m just a dirty whore and a fag, and I’m lucky you even pay attention to me. Because I’m annoying and I interrupt your work, and I’m not worth this, and I’m certainly not worth better, and-”
"No. That isn’t why."
"I don’t know, sir. I’m sorry, I don’t know." Awsten can’t breathe; there’s a tightness in his chest.
God, he needs his clit rubbed.
"It’s because you asked for it. Now, I want a list of the best things about yourself. Then I’ll let you down." Otto finally moves in front of Awsten instead of hovering behind him. He still looks stern, but he isn’t the looming presence of pain anymore.
Awsten gives him his list. He repeats it again and again, until Otto believes that he means it.
It’s not like everything is like that. Awsten isn't always messed up by the end of the night. Sometimes it’s more normal. Sometimes it’s Otto rocking in and out in a sweet, gentle way. Sometimes it’s whispered words of affection and bodies entwined tightly under the covers. Sometimes it’s Awsten kissing Otto breathless and blushing, not feeling the need to give himself up until his brain quiets.
Most of the time, though, it’s not. Most of the time it’s the way Awsten likes it; unforgiving and mean. Tonight it’s him on his hands and knees. Tonight it’s a collar and leash tight around his neck and the consistent tug of Otto urging him forward.
The blindfold wrapped around his eyes tucked under his muzzle means all he can do is trust wherever Otto wants to take him. He’s being gentle at least, letting Awsten take his time as he carefully treads after him. The wood floor of Otto’s house is smooth and cold under him, almost slippery. He only knows they’ve made it to the bedroom when he feels the soft rug under his shins. Otto brings him up to the cage in the corner of the room.
“Go on, mutt, inside your crate,” Otto commands softly, stern but quiet. Awsten whines through his muzzle but doesn’t complain any more. All that would get him is worse treatment. As it stands, the cage is relatively comfortable. It’s big enough for him to fit inside easily, though he does have to curl up if he doesn’t want to press against the bars. There are blankets lining the bottom of it and even a pillow propped up.
Otto removes the blindfold before he closes the door, but he doesn’t remove the gag. Awsten is so fucking horny he can’t focus on anything but the sparks from where Otto’s hand brushed him.
“Good boy. I’ll come get you in the morning, settle down and be a nice puppy now, yeah?”
Otto walks away without giving Awsten so much as a moment to nod in agreement.
Otto’s hand is running through his hair. It’s all Awsten can focus on, all he can really feel anymore.
“Otto, please, please, it’s too much I can’t!” His voice breaks from pleading. His muscles won’t stop seizing and his clit feels too hot, like fireworks lighting up right under the hood.
The vibrator doesn’t move from where Otto has tied it no matter how much he tries to squirm away. The best he gets is the slightest relief from stretching out his legs as far as they’ll go and pulling it away from him by just a fraction of an inch.
He’s tied in rope with pretty knots, legs pressed together holding a magic wand right up against him. Otto was even enough of a fucking dick to pull his labia back so it pressed directly against his nerves.
His arms are tied into a prayer behind his back and he’s laying half over Otto’s lap. He’s been like this for almost an hour now and it just won’t stop. The first time, it was good. The second time it was great. The third started to ache more, and by the fourth it downright hurt.
“You’re on the last one, baby, you can do it,” Otto soothes, tone all soft and smooth as spun sugar. His fingers curl around Awsten’s hair and tug it, not enough to hurt but just enough to remind him of the power held over him.
“I can’t, Otto please, don’t make me, it hurts,” Awsten whines. His hips buck up in a desperate attempt to get away from the vibrations. It doesn’t work, just like it didn’t the last seven times.
“I thought you wanted to cum, whore? Isn’t that why you did even when I said no?” Otto’s voice isn’t even mean when he says it, more pitying than anything.
“Otto I didn’t mean to! Please, I didn’t do it on purpose it just felt so good and now it- now it doesn’t.”
“Well, you weren’t supposed to cum for a week. You agreed to it. You failed. That’s all there is to it. Just relax. You only have one more to go and it’ll be all good, baby.”
Awsten doesn’t even try to complain back. He just forces himself to try and let go, to let it happen.
It’s fucking hard. Everytime he gets close, his muscles tighten back up, and when that happens he’s back to overstimulation, turning pleasure into pain. It takes forty more minutes before he finally manages it.
He’s never felt a more unsatisfying orgasm. It peaks for just a few seconds, then instantly drops away and goes right back to discomfort.
Otto shuts the vibrator off and starts to untie him. The only thing this accomplished for Awsten was letting him go totally lax. He feels as though he’s been unwound from his very core. Otto holds him in the bathtub, lets him lay across his chest and feel calm.
He washes his hair and his body and he’s carefully tender with his aching parts, sore both from rope and his nerves being practically fucking fried. Sleep comes easy that night, wrapped in Otto’s arms and thoroughly spent. Sleep always comes easier like that.