Dec 6, 2025
semi-ironic but i put too much effort into it
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semi-ironic but i put too much effort into it
Shyfiga BDSM with a riding crop
—
Figaro stared at the riding crop, mesmerized by the efficacy and precision of its wielder, the pink mark it left on his skin.
It stung a bit, but left no injury. A tool designed to hurt without hurting.
There's something fascinating about that. Whether it be pleasure or punishment, it was rare for injury to be a consideration between Northern wizards, they (the twins and Tiletta especially) simply did whatever they wanted, without any regard for broken skin or broken bones. Anything that wasn't fatal could be mended by healing magic.
The riding crop striked twice more on his thigh, this time at a different location, a reminder of what they were doing. The sharp sting was clean and gentle.
"You seem to be spacing out, Lord Figaro. What's on your mind?" Shylock's voice was silky smooth, tugging his mind back to where it should be. The flat tip of the riding crop trailed gently across his bare skin, tantalizing in its idleness.
"I was simply mesmerized by your precision and grace, that's all," Figaro smiled. He leaned forward, and brazenly kissed the smooth hand holding the instrument.
"My, are you perhaps seeking for punishment?" Shylock withdrew the riding crop, tapping it gently against his other hand.
"No, I'm only happy to sample what you can show me," Figaro demurred, resuming his kneeling position.
"Then you'll have to be a very good boy," Shylock murmured, fingers stroking through blue-grey hair. The elder wizard leaned into his touch in conscious obedience.
Shylock smiled.