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“Relax. Men these days are so fragile,” comes a sharp purr to Kajii’s left. Even blindfolded, Kajii can all but see the smirk that unfurls across her face. He can’t help the shiver that runs through him: not fear, but excitement.
He really should have suspected Doctor Yosano would have these sorts of tastes. It’s not as though he’s never done something like this before, but handcuffs, a blindfold, and a muzzle feels excessive. He’s on his hands and knees besides, hands bound tight behind his back. The side of his face presses awkwardly into the pillow she’d left him on this cold examination table.
Had he really annoyed her so much that she wants to take away not just one of his senses but his very ability to speak?
Sort of flattering, when he thinks about it. To have left such an impression.
He’s paying for it now, though, but isn’t that just how these things do? Cause to effect, progression of paths, variable-dependent…
Long nails dig into his skin, and he hisses. He can’t make much of a sound muzzled, but he hopes his hiss of pain is what she wants to hear. When her nails drag more gently downward, he concludes that this was the right answer.
“There’s more to this than a simple game of dominance and submission, of course, but we’ll get to that. You know, you’re not the only scientist in the room right now.”
That makes him perk up a little. It’s not that he doesn’t consider a doctor a type of scientist, per se, because of course they utilize science within their practice and are studied in numerous fields, but more that he has never conceptualized the boss and other doctors he’s known personally as scientists themselves. Because of this, Kajii does not necessarily ascribe that label to doctors in general, as they are, in his mind, not innovators but rather practitioners of the sciences.
If Doctor Yosano wishes to claim the label for herself, though, not only will he make no move to contradict her, but it will also spark his curiosity, with regard to what she means by it.
“That’s right,” she continues, her voice dropping to a low purr as she trails her hand up his side. “So we’re going to run a bit of an experiment. I want to see how much flogging a member of the Port Mafia can take…”
Now, Kajii really wishes he could speak up and object here, because as far as mafia members go, he’s not exactly the most resilient. The list of organization secrets he has access to isn’t exactly lengthy, but it’s only because it’s a known fact that he’ll crack under enough torture, unlike some of the more sturdy members.
He can’t object with the muzzle on his face, though. But it doesn’t seem worth it to use the safe-gesture they’d negotiated (three snaps of his fingers) just to tell her he’d break under pressure, because it’s not like this is an interrogation . No, this is for her benefit. And Kajii knows her skill pretty well by now, knows he’s in… good hands is maybe too generous a term here. It’s not trust that he feels, but he does know she won’t let anything happen to him.
“I think I’ll use… yes, this one,” she says, clearly more to herself than to him, as she deliberates over a selection of something or other. Whatever it is, he knows it won’t be pleasant for him. Again, an excited shiver runs down his spine. There’s something oh so thrilling about this, even if her understanding of the scientific process seems dubious. Still, it’s not like he really wants to try and correct her, nor would he even if his mouth wasn’t obstructed.
The slide of cold leather down his back alerts him to the fact that this seems to be a whip of some kind, and the sharp, stinging sensation across his back confirms it. That’ll leave a welt. He doesn’t know if she has a mind to bring him into a state where she can heal it. The sound he makes, while muffled, expresses both the pleasure and pain that he’s feeling.
“Mind you, this isn’t just an experiment. It’s also a punishment for annoying me again earlier. Nod if you understand,” she says, calmly.
He nods. She rewards him with another sharp strike. The pain is bliss. He wonders how she’s mastered such a skill, but doesn’t question it. However it’s come to her, he gets to reap the benefits, and it doesn’t need to be simpler than that.
As she continues, he counts the strikes in his head. Three four five and so on. After ten, she stops and runs her hand along the bruised flesh and open wounds she’s left on his back.
“Oh, and you were keeping it together so well ,” she laments as this finally tips him over the edge. As pleasurable as the pain is, it is still pain, and he has never made any claim that he’ll be able to hold out under any sort of significant pressure.
When the tears spring to his eyes, she sets the whip down and begins cleaning his wounds. In this, she is no more gentle than she was in administering them. The sting of disinfectant and soap soon has him howling through what obstructs his mouth. Oh, this is worse than the whipping, in all honesty, and there’s nothing to count.
But it’s over as soon as it began, and before he knows it, she’s uncuffing his hands, carefully unclasping and removing the muzzle from his face, gently running her fingers along his jaw.
“You didn’t snap your fingers,” she notes. “So you did better than I expected.”
“You flatter me,” Kajii says, weakly.