duke_of_illusions | Advanced Flogging

It's an early evening, back in the club. Barma has sent Al on his own, to make friends, to try something new.

Dodo is a breath away.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

From:

al_truism

"Sir." He nods, still breathing, and spits out a little lingering water.

From:

duke_of_illusions

He smiles, and crouches down, taking his ankles and lifting him completely upside down.

From:

al_truism

He whimpers, shuts his eyes.

From:

duke_of_illusions

He fixes the tube back in, tapes it down once more, and gives him a few long seconds to get scared.

From:

al_truism

He makes a low, thin noise before he realizes he's making it, opens his eyes to watch for the moment he turns the water on.

From:

duke_of_illusions

Click. There it is, up the tube, into his nose.

This is going to hurt.

From:

al_truism

He'd scream if he had the breath. This time he thrashes.

From:

duke_of_illusions

He keeps it up for seven seconds, this time, then turns it off, tipping it so it drains out of the tube quickly. Leaving Al to hang there and choke on air.

From:

al_truism

Al coughs and wheezes, gagging on nothing, and tries to breathe again. He's trembling, eyes shut tight.

It felt like eternity.

From:

duke_of_illusions

"Please. Please, sweetheart, nod if you can do one more, just for me."

He cajoles, like sugar, kneeling down to kiss his ear.

From:

al_truism

Al sputters up more water, spits it out, and nods, shaking.

It's the kisses that do it.

From:

duke_of_illusions

"This is going to be worse."

He turns away. There's the crack-snap of a soda can opening.

From:

al_truism

Al whimpers, recognizing the sound.

He'd probably make some smart remark, but he's still concentrating on breathing.

From:

duke_of_illusions

Into the equipment it goes. Enjoy trying to breathe out ginger ale, Al. It actually foams out of the mouth, more agitated by the breathing, not solid enough to be spat. Drips down into his hair and eyes.

From:

al_truism

It's terrible, burning and impossible to make go away. He thrashes at first before it becomes sheer panic -- and then terror. Even if he knows Gerard will protect him, his brain is convinced it's going to die.

He fights.

From:

duke_of_illusions

He gives it twenty seconds.

Then decides he probably wouldn't be able to safeword if he tried, pulls the cannula out and pulls him upright, so he can spit up pop.

From:

al_truism

Al coughs it up, wheezing and sagging in the restraints, his face streaked with it all. He tries to get his bearings and is unable to. Even with his air back, he's not all there.

From:

duke_of_illusions

He drops his feet down, springs him from the point too, and helps sit him down onto the ground gently, so he can sit and lean into him.

From:

al_truism

He crawls to him, shaky, in need of contact.

From:

duke_of_illusions

"Come on, baby, let's get you home."

Getting that chest harness off him too.

From:

al_truism

He relaxes somewhat with the touches, the sound of his voice.

From:

duke_of_illusions

Gerard scoops him up, bridal style, and walks him out to the club- where Barma has arrived to collect him to go back to the hotel.

From:

al_truism

Al cuddles into him, though he's hiding the mess this made of his face. When he does catch sight of Barma, he reaches out for him, even if his throat is too raw to try to talk.