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Sephiroth looks up from his book to see Cloud staring out the window again. He’s been doing that a lot lately. It’s an idle stare — he can see how Cloud’s sweet blue eyes are drifting aimlessly to watch the clouds and trees move with the breeze. It’s not the calculating gaze of someone trying to scheme. Still, something about the wistful look in Cloud’s eyes unsettles him. He’s not allowed out, and he knows it.
Probably best to redirect his attention before it turns into a bigger problem.
“Cloud,” he calls softly, patting his lap invitingly at the same time. “Come over here, pet.”
Cloud’s eyes flick over to him on the sofa for only a second before his attention is back out the window.
“Cloud. Now.”
Cloud does not acknowledge him again.
Absolutely ridiculous.The clear defiance of it makes Sephiroth grit his teeth. Until now, it had been a good day; breakfast had been lovely and Cloud had been obedient, darling even. Now — his pleasant mood is ruined. His eyes narrow and he frowns, considers his next course of action.
He didn’t particularly want to punish Cloud today but it seems like he’ll have to to. This is what he gets for being soft. If Cloud wants to ignore him — if Cloud wants to make him be forceful — then that’s what he’ll get.
Cloud. Eyes on me, he commands, applying unyielding mental pressure. He feels Cloud’s mind give underneath him like foam. The sensation is heady, the way Cloud’s consciousness cannot help but yield to him, soft and unresisting and complete.
And, of course, the sheer satisfaction of watching Cloud’s eyes ripple green and his pupils elongate as his attention snaps to where it belongs, his gaze focused entirely on Sephiroth. That’s a nice feeling too.
Normally he keeps Cloud on a looser chain. He enjoys Cloud’s stubborn nature; it is entertaining and makes his submission even sweeter. So on a typical day, he’ll use the barest amount of mental manipulation he can get away with — just enough to make his nemesis the perfect amount of compliant, just enough to give those pretty blue eyes the slightest tint of green. When Sephiroth exerts his control to the fullest, Cloud’s mind floats away in hazy contentedness. Like this, he’s blissful just standing and breathing. It’s too easy. Almost boring.
He drops his control. Cloud is many things but he’s never been stupid; he keeps his eyes fixed on him. He knows better than to look away now that Sephiroth’s displeasure is clear.
“Did you forget the rules, Cloud?” Sephiroth asks, voice quiet and intense.
“No,” Cloud answers. He sounds petulant.
“So you broke them on purpose.”
He pauses there — it’s an unspoken offer for Cloud. Explain yourself or beg for forgiveness. But Cloud does not move to do either. The fact that he just stands there, silent and stubborn, makes Sephiroth’s eyes narrow. Perhaps the punishment should fit the crime. If he wants to act like an unrepentant child, he can be punished like one.
“Answer me,” he demands.
Cloud finally looks away from Sephiroth to stare down at the floor instead. He shifts nervously and seems to hunch in on himself, seems to curl even smaller. Something in Sephiroth’s chest seems to contract tight — it’s pathetic. He’s adorable.
“Yes,” Cloud mumbles.
“Speak clearly,” Sephiroth snaps.
Still staring at the floor, Cloud tries again. His voice is unsteady. “Y-yes. I knew the rules and I broke them anyways.”
Sephiroth is torn between the desires to remind Cloud what he should be afraid of and the desire to stroke and soothe his pet’s fears away. He doesn’t struggle with it for long. Why not indulge himself and do both? It’s not like Cloud is going anywhere. There is plenty of time for Sephiroth to enjoy his puppet in whichever ways he’d like.
So he stands up silently from his chair. He shifts towards Cloud slow and sure, like a predatory cat. Cloud’s eyes widen — the expression on him is absolutely delicious.
“So you agree you need to be punished then,” Sephiroth half-purrs.
Cloud swallows roughly. “Yes,” he says. But his voice isn’t in it; he sounds close to tears.
“Bend over and brace your elbows on the table,” he commands.
It’s a good position for Cloud; maybe it’s one he should use more often. He certainly looks appealing spread out like this. The curves of Cloud’s ass, his pale thighs peeking out from under those tiny shorts…
He doesn’t give Cloud any warning before the first smack — it’s hard and sudden, makes the most beautiful sharp noise, and Cloud outright jumps. He doesn’t make a sound though, which makes Sephiroth frown. He had wanted to hear him. Maybe he’ll let a noise slip if he has to use that smart little mouth.
“Count,” he orders.
His next two hits are softer, but still hard enough to hurt.
“O-one — two.”
“Good boy.”
He continues in that way for a while, alternating his hits between Cloud’s clothed ass cheeks and his bare thighs until he finally, finally cries out. “Ah!” The little breathy gasp — so quiet and so hurt — is incredible. “Thirty-two,” Cloud says, exhaling hard.
Now that Cloud’s pain tolerance has been breached and Sephiroth’s hand has been warmed up, perhaps it was time he took this seriously. Sephiroth reaches forward, skimming up underneath Cloud’s shirt to begin fiddling with the waistband of his shorts. His skin is so warm and soft. Sephiroth is half-hard in his pants already.
“Ah —“ Cloud says, jerking forward a little bit, apparently not expecting that.
Sephiroth hooks his fingers underneath Cloud’s shorts and panties, pulling them down swiftly.
Cloud doesn’t exclaim anything else, but Sephiroth glances forward and catches a glimpse of his expression. So flustered that it’s cute. Sephiroth has seen him in more compromising positions than this but his face still gets so red. It is such a good position though, forcing his ass up and out, leaving his soft little cock exposed to hang between his legs…
The flesh of his ass isn’t red yet but it will be soon. Sephiroth reaches out, cups one of Cloud’s cheeks, squeezes the flesh there until Cloud is squirming. Then — when he is sure that Cloud has relaxed slightly, let his guard down a little — he smacks him hard with his palm again, this time on his bare cheek. It’s hard enough to near-cripple an unenhanced man; it’s meant to hurt.
“A-ah!”
Sephiroth gives him a moment. When he doesn’t resume his count, Sephiroth hits him again, just as hard but on the opposite cheek this time. “Count,” he reminds him.
“T-thirty-four,” Cloud gasps.
He smacks Cloud relentlessly until his skin gone hot and red and he has to take a deep, harsh breath before each count. He’s starting to leave handprints behind too. It’s beautiful to see these marks on Cloud’s skin; he almost wishes he could keep the boy like that permanently. It hurts — it must, with the way Cloud jumps underneath him at almost every blow and the way his voice wavers as he counts. He’s crying out more often now, but he doesn’t cry out for mercy — he knows better than to expect any of that.
Still, it doesn’t feel like enough for the deliberate disobedience.
He slips his belt out of its loops slowly, but doesn’t make any measure to do it quietly. The buckle clinks as he draws it out. Just once — he snaps the leather, hard. The sound reverbs in the small room. He revels in the way Cloud’s back tenses in front of him, the way he goes stock-still even as he pants hard, unable to catch his breath.
Sephiroth reaches forward with his free hand, tangling his fingers in the soft blonde spikes of Cloud’s hair before pulling his head back at an awkward angle so he can get a good look at his face. His face is still flushed dark but from crying now instead of embarrassment. His eyes are bright and red-rimmed; his face is sticky with tears.
“Twenty five lashes,” he says. “If you lose count, we’ll start over.”
He lets go of Cloud’s head. He doesn’t bother to hold it up on his own; he lets it fall to the table, between his elbows.
Sephiroth raises the belt up high. It whistles through the air.
Cloud chokes on a pained moan when that first strike hits him. It sounds like he’s trying to trap it behind his teeth, trying not to let it out. Sephiroth simply stands back and appreciates the fresh red welt beginning to stand up.
“One,” Cloud manages finally, breathing harshly.
He doesn’t want to overlap the blows — he wants to see as many distinct marks as possible — but there’s only so much space. Cloud is such a dainty and petite thing after all. He does not go fast; he draws it out, savors it. The pauses in between strikes are not to take it easy on Cloud. Sephiroth wants this to last, and if Cloud gets used to the pain, that just means Sephiroth can force him to take even more. Every hit is perfectly timed so that Cloud isn’t fully recovered from the last, but just recovered enough to take it.
On the eighteenth lash, Cloud devolves into snotty, miserable tears. Sephiroth can hear the way every breath catches in his throat, harsh and choking. He sees the shudders that wrack his entire body. He’s pleased enough to see Cloud break down like this. But it’s even better than that — even through his tears, he stays in position like a good pet, pushing his ass out and not letting himself collapse in on himself. Such a sweet thing. So stubborn. So proud.
Sephiroth gives him a moment. Lets the belt fall to his side briefly, reaches out to stroke underneath Cloud’s thin shirt, to petting at the skin of his flank. Cloud shudders again but slowly begins to relax under the gentle attention.
“Eighteen,” Cloud manages to get out between his heaving breaths.
“Good pet,” Sephiroth comforts him. He gives him a moment more. He gives himself a moment to appreciate the smooth skin of Cloud’s back, the dip of his slender waist. Appreciates the thick red welts on his ass, too, the way the skin there must be burning in pain.
When he finally pulls back, Cloud stiffens in preparation.
His next blow is harder and drifts a little lower, onto the flesh of his thighs. The skin there is fresh; he hasn’t hit him there with the belt yet. Cloud lets out a scream — high and loud — on impact and jerks forward.
Sephiroth waits as Cloud gasps in a desperate breath. “N-nineteen.”
The rest of the strikes are not at full strength — now that he’s gotten a scream out of his puppet, he’s more or less satisfied with Cloud’s punishment. He still does not go gentle on him. Cloud sobs at each blow, struggles to stay in position. At one point he almost collapses onto the table and seems to hold himself up by sheer force of will.
After the last strike, Sephiroth turns away from Cloud’s shuddering form to slide his belt back through its loops. Cloud holds his position. He looks desperate to sag down, but he clearly isn’t going to move until Sephiroth tells him to. Smart boy.
He cups Cloud’s poor ass with one hand, causing his sweet puppet to let out a fresh wail as the sore flesh protests its abuse. He wants to savor the way Cloud squirms, tries to pull away from him, the way his eyes clench and his breath wavers through the pain. It’s cute. Still, Sephiroth doesn’t tease him for long.
Instead, he grabs Cloud by the waist and sits back down in his spot on the sofa, swinging Cloud down on top of him. Cloud’s breath hitches as he’s forced to set his full weight down on Sephiroth’s lap. It must hurt to sit. He hopes it does. Sephiroth isn’t worried, though; his puppet will heal soon enough.
Sephiroth wonders if Cloud can feel the thick line of his erection pressing up against him.
“Shhh,” Sephiroth soothes him. He even wipes some of the tears off of his face. It’s always fun to indulge himself in this way, too — to soothe and to dote. Him, doting, and Cloud unable to do anything but soak it up. There’s something sickly satisfying about that. “Shhh. There, Cloud. Stop your crying. You took your punishment well.”
Cloud takes a deep shuddering breath, trying to clear his throat. “I did?”
“You did. You’re such a good boy when you want to be. Isn’t it easier, Cloud, to do what you’re told the first time?” he asks, cupping Cloud’s cheek with one hand. “This is all I wanted. Don’t disobey me again.”
“Sorry,” Cloud sniffles. “I — I’m sorry. I won’t do it again.”
“Good boy.”