Good. [Roman lets go of Victor's cock, making a face when it springs up, standing out hard and not-so-proud from his body. He sneers.] I still can't believe your fucking cock is so small now. Surprised he didn't think you were a girl and try to fuck you.
[He shifts, pleased at the satisfaction Roman takes in his answer as well as the insult. But he does curl his lip shifting against the wall trying to regain his intimidating height.]
[Ah, there's a jab that hurts. After all, how best to insult a misogynist than by coming for his manhood? And there's no better reflection of manhood than what you have between your legs. In Roman's mind, anyway.
He curls his lip in a cruel smile, chuckling.]
Then why do you have a clit? The Victor I remember had a dick.
[Victor yelps and then fails to keep back the resulting groan. Can't help it, not really. Roman's far too good at being the right blend of physically and emotionally abusive that presses all of Victor's on buttons.]
[He starts to drag Victor into the bedroom, which has miraculously remained more or less untouched by his rage. When they get to the bed, he forces Victor down over it, feet on the floor, face in the mattress.]
[Victor goes easily, though he considers for a fleeting moment about dragging his feet. A desire that he's quick to shut down considering Roman's foul mood. Some other time, not now.
The position he's forced into is normal, expected. He turns his head back the moment he can, even with Roman's hand on his throat.]
[Really? Really? It's as if Victor truly can't grasp the gravity of what he did. It makes Roman fume, and he shoves Victor's head further into the sheets, hand tight on the back of his neck.]
Take a fucking guess. [He smacks Victor's ass once, hard.] You lied to me. Went behind my back. [Another smack.] Did it with a smile on your face. Like I'm a fucking joke. [A third.]
[Spanking is nothing new, it's a favorite tool. Victor tries to remind himself that this is a punishment, and he should act appropriately.
He doesn't. His cock is rock hard against the sheets, ends up sticking his ass out like a fucking whore because he's got Roman's full attention. He groans, gasping out with each of the three hits.]
Then why did you act like it? Honestly, Victor, do you ever have a single thought running through that empty head of yours?
[He huffs, smacking the back of Victor's head before he pulls away. He stalks over to the closet (which he's overtaken from Dinah), pulling out a thick, heavy belt.]
I know you're going to like this. I'm not an idiot. [He smacks the folded-up belt against his palm.] But I want you bleeding. Want everyone to know you're spoken for when they pull down your ugly fucking pants.
The thought was wanting to be even and makin' you do this. I like it when you're jealous.
[That's not hard to understand right? I mean to someone as smart as Roman it probably isn't. That's what Victor was thinking. Seems like it worked out pretty well, especially when he catches sight of the belt.
I'm not jealous. [He says it even though both he and Victor know that's total bullshit.] I just don't like people touching my things.
[He cracks the belt down hard across Victor's ass.]
And you're my things. My fucking property. [Another hit, harder than the first.] You're not a Dominant. Not a top. [Another.] You're a little fuckhole who needs to be put in his place. [Another.] Should cut a line down your throat myself, show them all who the real Submissive is.
[My things. My property. Cutting a line down his throat, every fucking word that comes out of Roman's mouth hits him as hard as the belt. The sound he makes, wanton and obscene with how low his moans go.
Digging his fingers into the bed, he pants wetly, trying to steady his breathing, and not come in four seconds.]
Fuck- yeah, what I fucking deserve. Cut my throat, Roman, nn.
Don't tell me what to do. [And he smacks the belt between Victor's legs, right on his cock and balls.] I'm going to do whatever the fuck I want to you. Anything. Everything. And you're going to fucking thank me for it, you understand me?
[Roman loves the sound of Victor screaming. Music to his ears. He makes such lovely sounds, Roman can't help but draw them out every chance he gets.]
Good. There's a good boy. [He gives his cock a few more light pats with the belt, more a tease than anything.] You want to be Daddy's good boy, don't you?
Yeah, I wanna be good, fuck, I do. [He keeps himself down, plaint and exposed for the belt. There's a twitch in his legs, an urge to close them but it's easy to fight down. Looking over his shoulder, Victor finds Roman, the belt still tightly in his hands.]
[Roman runs his free hand over Victor's lower back, keeping him pinned down.]
Then you'll be a good boy and tell Daddy whenever you so much as scratch your balls in front of someone, won't you? [A hit across the thighs comes after, nice and hard.]
[He listens. He listens to every fucking word that comes out of Roman's mouth in between the cracks of the belt. Roman doesn't hold back with the snap-quick swing of his arm. So Victor doesn't bother holding back either.
He howls. He howls like a cat in heat, the sheets and blankets bunching up between his fingers. There is no one on this apartment floor that will be unaccosted by Victor's wailing. The pain is far too intense, too pointed and severe to ignore. Muffling his cries by biting the sheets, does nothing.
By the time Roman finally asks his questions Victor is shaking, on the precipice of finishing far too soon.]
Good. Good. [Roman runs his fingers through the short hair at the back of Victor's neck, then up to scratch the top of his head like he's rewarding a dog.] You know Daddy hates to make you cry, baby, but I only do what's best for the both of us.
[It's a lie and they both know it. Roman loves making Victor cry.]
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Not a fuckin’ girl.
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He curls his lip in a cruel smile, chuckling.]
Then why do you have a clit? The Victor I remember had a dick.
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It's not a fuckin' clit, use your eyes.
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Excuse me? [He slaps that sorry thing between Victor's legs, whatever it's called.] Did you fucking talk back to me?
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No-sorry.
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[Roman scoffs, dragging Victor up by his neck.]
Come on now. We're going to sort you out.
[He starts to drag Victor into the bedroom, which has miraculously remained more or less untouched by his rage. When they get to the bed, he forces Victor down over it, feet on the floor, face in the mattress.]
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The position he's forced into is normal, expected. He turns his head back the moment he can, even with Roman's hand on his throat.]
You're that mad? Really?
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Take a fucking guess. [He smacks Victor's ass once, hard.] You lied to me. Went behind my back. [Another smack.] Did it with a smile on your face. Like I'm a fucking joke. [A third.]
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He doesn't. His cock is rock hard against the sheets, ends up sticking his ass out like a fucking whore because he's got Roman's full attention. He groans, gasping out with each of the three hits.]
Don't think you're a fuckin' joke-
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[He huffs, smacking the back of Victor's head before he pulls away. He stalks over to the closet (which he's overtaken from Dinah), pulling out a thick, heavy belt.]
I know you're going to like this. I'm not an idiot. [He smacks the folded-up belt against his palm.] But I want you bleeding. Want everyone to know you're spoken for when they pull down your ugly fucking pants.
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[That's not hard to understand right? I mean to someone as smart as Roman it probably isn't. That's what Victor was thinking. Seems like it worked out pretty well, especially when he catches sight of the belt.
The promise. The reason behind it.
Victor grinds down against the bed.]
You could cut me up. They'd know.
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[He cracks the belt down hard across Victor's ass.]
And you're my things. My fucking property. [Another hit, harder than the first.] You're not a Dominant. Not a top. [Another.] You're a little fuckhole who needs to be put in his place. [Another.] Should cut a line down your throat myself, show them all who the real Submissive is.
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Digging his fingers into the bed, he pants wetly, trying to steady his breathing, and not come in four seconds.]
Fuck- yeah, what I fucking deserve. Cut my throat, Roman, nn.
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Yes- sorry, thank you
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Good. There's a good boy. [He gives his cock a few more light pats with the belt, more a tease than anything.] You want to be Daddy's good boy, don't you?
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Yeah, I wanna be good, fuck, I do. [He keeps himself down, plaint and exposed for the belt. There's a twitch in his legs, an urge to close them but it's easy to fight down. Looking over his shoulder, Victor finds Roman, the belt still tightly in his hands.]
Want to be good for daddy.
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Then you'll be a good boy and tell Daddy whenever you so much as scratch your balls in front of someone, won't you? [A hit across the thighs comes after, nice and hard.]
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I fuckin' promise.
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Kissing on the lips.
[He spanks Victor with the belt.]
Kissing on the cheek.
[Another.]
French kissing.
[Another.]
Putting your mouth on someone's tits.
[Another.]
Someone putting their mouth on your tits.
[Another.]
Oral sex.
[Another.]
Anal sex.
[Another.]
Vaginal sex.
[Another, accompanied by a grossed-out look.]
Mutual masturbation.
[Another.]
Getting spanked by anyone who isn't me.
[Another.]
Touching anyone who isn't me.
[Another.]
Looking at anyone who isn't me.
[That might be a little much. Still, Victor gets another.]
Is that abundantly fucking clear, Mr. Zsasz?
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He howls. He howls like a cat in heat, the sheets and blankets bunching up between his fingers. There is no one on this apartment floor that will be unaccosted by Victor's wailing. The pain is far too intense, too pointed and severe to ignore. Muffling his cries by biting the sheets, does nothing.
By the time Roman finally asks his questions Victor is shaking, on the precipice of finishing far too soon.]
Y-Yeah.
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"Yeah?" Is that how you speak to me? [This time, when he hits Victor, he nicks him with the belt buckle.]
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No, sir.
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[It's a lie and they both know it. Roman loves making Victor cry.]
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