bakerstreet | (no subject)

(no subject)

The HURT ME Meme
For kinks of pain: physical and emotional.

WARNING: Prompts will contain sexual and violent content and triggers. Click with caution!

THE PHYSICAL:
1 - Slapping. Bare-handed: including spanking, face-slapping.
2 - Flogging. With a leather flog, as soft or hard as you want.
3 - Breathplay. Cut off their oxygen.
4 - Beating (soft). Leaving bruises and marks.
5 - Waxplay. Feels like a burn, but isn't.
6 - Biting. Use your teeth.
7 - Gunplay. It might be the hurt, or the threat of it.
8 - Bloodplay (soft). Just a few cuts…
9 - Sexual exhaustion. Forcing them just a little too far, until it hurts more than it feels good.
10 - Suspension. Bind them so they can't (or can only barely) touch the ground, and wait for it to do its trick.
11 - Dubious consent. Don't know if they want it or not.
12 - OTHER.

THE EMOTIONAL:
1 - Loss. You've taken away something they care about deeply, perhaps destroyed it - or killed someone close to them.
2 - Rejection. All they want is you. Best to crush their feelings into the dust.
3 - Humiliation. Take away their pride.
4 - Punishment. They've done wrong. Time to let them know exactly how.
5 - Revenge. They've hurt you personally, and you want to hurt them back.
6 - Deception. Use the truth, or a lie, to make them hurt.
7 - OTHER.

THE HEAVY:
1 - Beating (hard). Draw blood, leave scars.
2 - Whipping. As hard as you want.
3 - Choking. The hard side of breathplay.
4 - Burning/Branding. Leave your marks.
5 - Fisting. The whole hand.
6 - Oversize Penetration. Double, triple, or just larger than they can take.
7 - Mutilation.
8 - Amputation.
9 - Vore.
10 - Guro.
11 - Non-con. They don't want it, but you'll force the issue.
12 - OTHER.

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[Loki examines the gag with his head slightly tilted. He does visibly roll his eyes in disdain at humans and their overcomplicated aesthetics at the sight of the ball. Honestly, what happened to just using a length of cloth and tying it off?

And then something in Balthazar's tone makes Loki sit up a little straighter, a little shiver that's neither pleasant nor entirely unpleasant racing down his spine. Somehow, the chaste kiss to his forehead is enough of a contrast to make that darkness seem all the sharper.

He meets Balthazar's gaze, one eyebrow raised, looking as though he's almost contemplating biting down too hard and seeing what happens. But when the gag is moved into place, Loki does as he's bidden, taking the rubber between his teeth and waiting while the straps are adjusted.]

[Well, Balthazar could have saved his money and just bought a length of fabric...but that wouldn't have been as elegant.

He raises both eyebrows at the look Loki gives him, a half-skeptical, half-challenging glance. Remember, you asked for this. But he says nothing aloud, clicking the straps closed at the nape of his neck and the back of his head, then tugging and fiddling with the adjustments. The end result is snug, enough pressure that no shake of his head will move the gag from its position flush against his skin.

The angel crouches, frowning a moment to make sure he can breathe through his nose, then backs off to get the overall picture--and beams.] Oh...yes, that's very pretty on you, indeed. Good.

[Pleased, he traces the straps against Loki's cheek for a moment, teasing, then summarily undoes the fastenings at the back.] Felt all right?

[He did ask for this, and he still plans to go along with it. But that doesn't mean Loki isn't going to push and challenge just a bit, even if only to test Balthazar and where the limits are.

Loki is perhaps the textbook example of a smart-assed masochist, so the gag is probably for the best. Balthazar doesn't need the sort of goading he could provide.

Still, Loki will allow the gag to be fastened and tested, and can't help the way his heart skips a beat at the soft "click" of the clasps. He realizes that the rubber ball helps truly silence him, keeps him from making any sound rather than just muffling.

Insidious, that.

He turns his head this way and that, tilts up and down, testing how it feels around his face. In the end, it's snug enough to be noticeable, but loose enough to let him get a little air in around the edges. He can breathe, but he can't speak.

When Balthazar first undoes the gag, Loki immediately goes to test his jaw - opening and closing his mouth, massaging his fingers over the bone. No real ache yet.

Good, and so he nods his agreement.] Well enough.

[Really, no one needs the sort of goading Loki can provide. As far as the angel can tell, it's one of his greatest talents. The more he thinks about it, the better he likes the idea of the gag, for that very reason. Balthazar does have a temper and he's capable of losing it, for one thing.

For another, despite his outward confidence, he has a few fears and misgivings and the wrong word could shake him out of this altogether. After what their last attempt did for him, he'd feel bad if he failed Loki.

So the stakes do feel high, and he watches his lover test and feel out the sensations intently.] Good.

Very good. Let's begin.

[He turns away, and there's an audible rustle of his wings shifting as their posture changes. He's folding them tightly, lifting them high in much the way he would if he were addressing an angel he had command of. It seems to pull his vessel's spine a little straighter, making a subtle change in body language, and yet he's still easy and languid as he chooses a length of cord and unloops the end.] The ropes come first. The goal is not to cut off your circulation, so if anything goes numb, you are to let me know with the word 'red'. Once the gag is on, you'll have to use the clicker instead.

However, I don't expect that to happen because I have a fair bit of experience in this. [He smiles, then, and there's no loss of warmth in it. Instead, there's a sly superiority. He's powerful, and he's smug, and while Loki no doubt realizes by now that's a part of his everyday personality, it appears to be a much larger part of his persona for this experiment.]

On the floor, now. Kneel, spine straight, shoulders back, and hands at your sides. [It's almost a test, to see how much resistance he's going to have to fight through. He can certainly put Loki on the floor if he has to, and has no objection to trying, but if they can begin with some conservation of energy, so much the better.]

[It's almost immediately apparent that their respective approaches to taking command and control couldn't be more different. Loki gives command like he's trying to earn obedience by sheer force of will, because he otherwise doesn't believe he deserves it. Balthazar gives commands like he has no doubt that he'll be obeyed to start with. There's also clearly an almost military air to him, in this moment, something practiced and poised as opposed to Loki, who tends to move like a hungry snake when he gets in that place.

It would be fascinating if it wasn't so distracting. As it is, the sight of even that subtle shift reaches into something deep at the back of Loki's mind and flips a switch. It's a part of him that was molded and made use of by others in the past, but something that has always, on some level, been there.

So there's already a note of almost-hunger underpinning his interest, as he watches Balthazar pace. Still, he frowns somewhat skeptically at the command.] Hands by my sides? [That seems a somewhat awkward position to be bound in, not to mention easier to get loose from.

But he does move to obey, to take up the position anyway, because not obeying at that point is borderline unthinkable.]

[He thinks he catches a flicker of something in Loki's eyes, under the skeptical frown. Enough to tell him he's not setting off on the wrong track, at least. He can adjust his approach as needed, as they move ahead, but he's begun with definite, if malleable, plans in mind. Break down, build up, comfort.]

Correct. [His smile widens, briefly. He's not going to explain himself, at least not yet; that's not what this interaction is about. Leaving that uncharacteristically terse reply as it is, he slides the rope through his hands.

It's not a very large cord, actually. About the diameter of an index finger, although partly the dark color may make it look narrower than it is. It's long, though, and he seems to be measuring it out as he smooths and tugs at it, eventually settling on a midpoint.

He moves closer to Loki, crouching in front of him, and hooks the curve over the back of his neck, as if the rope were simply a long scarf.] This will take a few minutes. Stay as still as you can, it will be good practice for later.

[His fingers move quickly, confidently, as he twists the rope into a stable knot halfway between Loki's throat and his sternum. From there, either end gets led across his shoulders, and the angel circles around, making a twist at his upper back.

From there, his actions get harder to follow, as he circles, wraps, knots, twists, and pulls the cord snug against his skin. It's tight enough that Loki will feel the pressure, and there's a significant chance of rope burns if he strains or struggles, but Balthazar wasn't lying about having done this before.

By the time he's come to the end of the black rope, several multi-stranded bands criss-cross Loki's torso, leaving large triangular spaces open on his chest and stomach and back, but effectively pressing his arms to his sides, all the way down to his hips.

Balthazar inches back to look him over, frowning thoughtfully.] I need space, you see. You wouldn't feel a thing if I just dropped wax on the ropes, obviously, and I don't want your bound hands in the way, either.

[Rising, he fetches a second cord, this one a bright red.] I think I'll put you on your back to start with. I want to watch your expression. But let me make certain you're secure first.

[Loki frowns, almost petulantly, because that is not a sufficient answer and the angel knows it. Yet he doesn't press the issue or try to dig any further, not least because in this new, entirely unfamiliar territory, a simple "correct" takes on entirely new levels of reassurance. He hasn't messed up. It's okay. Start from there.

He watches Balthazar almost owlishly as his lover kneels down before him, his gaze darting only briefly from the rope to the other man's face and back again. But he bows his head just a bit to let the rope be hooked over the back of his neck, and his eyes fall half-closed in an almost meditative expression while the rope is tied. He gives up trying to follow the patterns very quickly. There's almost certainly no point. He's dimly aware of the pressure increasing, but really only tries to move when his hears Balthazar step back.

That's...pretty secure. He could of course break out if he really made the effort, but...Loki doesn't particularly want to make the effort. Not really. Having his hands bound at his side is particularly odd.

It takes him a second to realize that the other man is explaining, and then a second more for Loki to even remember what he'd asked. But of course, then he understands. Even through the ropes, being bound like this really is an extra layer of vulnerability. A man with his hands bound in front of him can still defend himself, in some small way. The fact that he probably won't need to is not important. The point has been made.

Fascinating.]

This isn't secure? [His tone is arch, but it's almost like his heart isn't in it. Loki is finding it increasingly difficult even to put up the pretense of mouthing off. He doesn't need to. This is...comfortable.]

[The angel hums softly, fetching a throw pillow from the couch and kneeling again.] Not yet, no. There's a lot that can be done with this type of bondage. Perhaps we'll even try suspension some day, if this goes well.

But not today. [That would be a bit much to start with, and moreover they don't have anything sturdy overhead to tie the ropes to.

He threads the scarlet cord through one of the twists over Loki's shoulder and weaves the ends down his right side, knotting over and under the ropes and stopping at his hip. Two long ends still trail, but he stops for a moment, straightening.

He fetches the gag, and the band with the clicker attached, and returns to loop the latter around the other man's wrist so that the item rests in the palm of his bound hand.]

Show me you can use it. Then this goes back on. [He taps the gag with a fingertip.] And then I'm putting you on your back.

[Loki glances curiously at the clicker as it's affixed to his wrist. He moves without thinking to grip it properly in his fingers. Then he shoots Balthazar an almost offended look at the command. Or, more specifically, that his ability to use a glorified dog toy is in question.

He moves his finger over the button and presses down, firmly. The clicker lets off a long series of clicks in response, before Loki removes his finger and raises an eyebrow.]

Satisfied?

[His imperious tone is belied somewhat by the way Loki can't quite keep his eyes off the gag.]

[He wants to laugh at that offended look, but that would disrupt the momentum he's trying to build. His lips twitch, but he recovers quickly. Saying nothing, he simply nods, and flips the gag around in his fingers, leaning in to hold it up to Loki's mouth.

Once the fastener in the back is done up, straps tight, he turns his head so his lips are close to the other man's ear, and, as if he's read Loki's mind, murmurs:] Good boy.

[When he backs up, he's recovered from the fit of amusement, though, and grasps the ropes on his lover's chest, one arm sliding behind him to keep him from hitting his head as he pushes him back.]

[Loki tilts his head slightly, reflexively, as Balthazar leans in towards his ear and oh. Oh, it is absolutely unfair how much that affects him - the words, the ghosting of warm breath over his skin, the nearness and control and helplessness. His eyes fall closed for a moment, and even through the gag, Balthazar will probably be able to hear the way his breath catches and shudders as it leaves him.

When Balthazar moves to lower him down, he does tense for a moment, fingers flexing in agitation at the weightless feeling. Only for a moment, though, and then - it's okay, it's okay. Breathe, keep breathing. He's not going to fall. Loki just repositions his legs a bit in order to feel a little steadier, bracing his feet flat against the floor.]

[Oh, dear Heaven. He can feel that little catch in Loki's breath, a subtle energy rippling between them. Maybe...maybe this was a good idea...

He nudges the pillow under his head, positioning it to reduce strain on his neck as much as possible. After all, just because he plans to induce some kind of pain doesn't mean he wants any other discomfort to ruin the effect. For just a moment, he strokes Loki's forehead with the backs of his fingers in mixed reassurance and reward. He's doing well.

The angel's smile is briefly gentle, but he returns to his more formal posture a moment later, without a word, and takes hold of the trailing ends of rope.]

Asymmetrical bindings are ideal for making a person feel off balance. Increasing that sense of vulnerability. [He explains mildly, and begins to wrap the scarlet rope around his right thigh. A pull, a twist, and a knot later and it's captured his ankle, as well, and then with a few more coils there is a lattice of bright strands holding his leg bent. The network pulls his knee lightly but irresistibly back toward his chest, such that even in the supine position his toes can't quite reach back to the floor.

It's not too terribly unstable, as poses go, but it does force him to use his unbound leg to counterbalance, or else roll to the side. That might get tiring, in the long term.

Maybe that's the point.]

There. [Balthazar releases a breath he didn't know he was holding.] That's beautiful...

[Loki lets out a faint whine at the brush of fingers against his forehead, tilts his head a little into the touch. Yes, it feels like a reward. One he's earned. And a reassurance - he's doing well. He's not doing wrong. It's okay. It's okay.

He opens his eyes in time to see Balthazar recover his composure. Loki's gaze is steady and mostly calm, though what's building is clearly still excitement and interest over distress. He does watch, albeit with a mostly passing interest, as his leg is bound. The red cord stands out against his skin as surely as blood on the snow.

Once he realizes that he's slowly being put off balance, Loki growls a little as he struggles to stay on his back, brow furrowing with effort. Around about the time he realizes that that's impossible, he realizes that that's the point anyway. It's definitely a vulnerable feeling, like a turtle that's wound up on its back. But the compliment soothes some of the bruising to his pride.

This time, the look he gives Balthazar is one of invitation - to keep looking, and definitely to keep talking.]

[Balthazar's pupils are slightly dilated, although his body language is still controlled. There's something incandescent behind his eyes now, though, feverish as he studies the picture before him, trying to memorize everything down to the most minute detail.

Most of the time, Balthazar doesn't look especially angelic, but every now and again his gaze can be otherworldly at its most intense.

He holds out a hand absently, bringing the candles closer with telekinesis, one by one, and setting them out beside him without looking away from Loki.]

I have a thousand eyes, and they're not enough. [He sighs again, the sound of mixed pleasure and regret.

His idea was initially to render the man helpless, passive, a canvas for Balthazar to embellish. He does so like art, and the inherent mild objectification seemed like an ideal way to bring about the altered state of consciousness Loki wants. The plan of action doesn't need to be changed, but Balthazar's not sure how objective he's feeling.

He licks his lips, then picks up the black candle and turns it in his hands.] This is paraffin; the hot wax will sting, but it shouldn't blister.

I believe I said before, you're already a work of art. This is gilding the lily, but I always say if a thing is worth doing, it's worth overdoing.

So this is how it will work. [A snap of his fingers, and the wick sparks to life.] There will be four layers of color. Black, white, green, then blue. You don't need to worry about the end result. That's my responsibility.

Your responsibility is to stay still. Don't roll too far to the side, and don't flinch. [The latter command comes out almost fiercely.] You can make as much noise as you want, but don't move.

Every time you move--if you do--I will slap you, either across the face, or the back of the thigh. But for every layer of color you get through without wincing, you'll be rewarded. And when the design is done, I'll bring you a mirror so you can see.

[The wax hasn't melted yet, but he moves closer, candle held aside so it doesn't drip before he's ready; he curls the backs of his fingers against Loki's chest and strokes once. What he meant to be objectifying may in fact feel more like a kind of painful, bittersweet worship. In a lot of ways, that matches their relationship better, though.

His hand drops to touch Loki's, fingers slipping to press his palm.] Squeeze twice to show me you understand and consent.

[Balthazar has Loki's full and utter attention - indeed, he's looking at the angel almost as though he's the only thing in the world. The light dancing on the end of the candle wick is reflected in his slightly glassy eyes.

His breath grows noticeably faster, taking on a ragged edge, because oh, this is wonderful and insidious in how likely he is to fail. Even now, knowing what's about to come, he feels that long-ignored part of him twist and shy away in terror at the sight of the slowly melting wax and good. Let him fear, let him burn.

He doesn't want to fail, he wants to be rewarded, he wants to see the end result. Loki shivers bodily at the caress, unable to hold back a soft moan from behind the gag.

In the end, he doesn't break their locked gazes as Balthazar touches his hand. But he does squeeze - once, twice, no more.]

[He's enchanted by that expression, the widened eyes and glimmering reflections. Even as Loki squeezes his hand to acknowledge and consent, it's a struggle to maintain the illusion of control. It's never felt so intense before. Doubtless, that has a lot to do with the bond they already have. Balthazar's only ever played this game with short-term flings or one-night stands in private clubs. People he liked, certainly, but not people he loved. Part of him wants to comfort Loki already, but mostly he wants to take, consume, and keep.

Loki's assessment of his flaws was certainly perceptive, if not comprehensive: arrogant, selfish, and possessive.

The angel draws in a breath and releases it slowly, with a grave nod, and pulls his hand away. He lets the first drops of wax fall on his own inner arm, testing the temperature, then, satisfied, braces his free hand on the other man's throat lightly.]

You're almost guaranteed to jump at the first drop, so I'll give you a freebie, so to speak. But from there, I expect you to try to control yourself. [He doesn't necessarily expect him to succeed.

He holds the candle over him, not quite at arm's length, but far enough to let the falling wax cool on its way from wick to skin. The first scalding drops land over his mid-chest, making a dark pool about the size of a quarter.]

[Loki nods his understanding and appreciation for this allowance, but his gaze is fixed on the candle as it drips and burns, tracking it as it hovers. His chest is heaving a little, anticipation of pain and instinctual revulsion leaving him hypersensitive already.

This is going to hurt. But even with the angel's generous allowance, he resolves to try and control himself.

It seems to take an eternity for the wax to fall, but the reaction when it touches his skin is instantaneous. Loki lets out a twisted yowl from behind his gag, expression contorting in agony. He twists and writhes a little on the floor, almost overbalances entirely, but by curling his toes against the floor and deliberately tensing his muscles, he at least manages to stay on his back. The cry trails away to a growl, fading as the pain does, hissed through teeth clenched as tightly as he can around the rubber ball. It probably won't last too long tonight.

But the pain goes deeper than skin. Scouring. Cleansing. Good. Dragging in a few ragged breaths, he prepares for the next drop.]

[The hand cradling his throat moves to card through his hair, but the angel's expression is impassive. He gives the reassuring touch generously, but doesn't couple it with words this time. And then his hand drifts to brush over the cooling-but-soft wax on Loki's chest, wondering briefly.

Truthfully, he wasn't expecting that intense a reaction. Due to his own elemental affiliation, the burn of melting wax strikes him as little more than a brief sting. But then, that's the point, isn't it? That this is a thing so counter to Loki's own nature, that this will hurt all the worse because of that.

So he stays the course, turning the candle in his hands thoughtfully to let it melt evenly.] There's so much anticipation in this. Letting the temperature rise, letting the wax heat, drop, and watching it cool again. I like how it goes opaque as it goes back to room temperature.

I think it's a good reminder about the reward of patience. Not that I've ever had much.

[This time, he raises the candle higher, and spills the liquid a couple inches below the first drop. It's about the same amount, but the natural contours of Loki's body, and the fact that his chest is rising and falling so quickly, make it spread further.]

[Loki makes a sound that might almost be a laugh. He's slumped back against the floor in such a way as to leave his head slightly tilted to the side. But some sixth sense, some awareness of the heat, makes him raise his gaze to the candle once more in time to see the wax fall once more. There's already a note of something decidedly worshipful in his gaze, though more for the candle than for Balthazar himself at this point.

This time, knowing what sort of pain to expect, it's...easier. Or, if not easier, more controlled. He growls - a visceral, animal sound of pain - visibly tensing, fingers flexing, but doesn't flinch more than a hair's-breadth. Not that Loki is even entirely aware that he's managed that far, so as awareness returns once more, he finds himself braced for a slap anyway.

As much as it's a visible, painful effort, however, he manages to stay still through the layer of black.]

[He extinguishes the candle with a thought, setting it aside, and leans in to blow gently over the surface of the cooling wax. His breath is warm, but cooler than the paraffin, and might be pleasant in itself, but that's not the reward he promised.

The angel moves to rest one elbow beside Loki's head, lowering to murmur softly into his ear.] There. You did well, that time. Breathe, and relax a moment.

[This time, the caress through his hair is more lingering, openly tender.] Have I told you how much I adore your stubborn streak? Stubborn's not the right word...willful, maybe? Mm...or obdurate. Obdurate, and iron-nerved.

I'm sure it's been a source of tremendous frustration for most of the people who've loved you. And it probably will be for me, as well, in time, but I love it anyway.

[It feels very pleasant, under the circumstances. Loki sighs, long and content and relieved, understanding even before the angel speaks that this part, at least, is over. He goes slack, eyes falling closed, expression almost peaceful by comparison to before.

Rest. Breathe. Almost on command, he does - a long, deep, shuddering breath that rasps a little around the rubber ball still clenched tightly between his teeth. Though he still shivers a little at the breath and words suddenly so close and near, near enough to reach out and touch if only he could. Loki tilts his head against the caress and listens.

Obdurate. Always has been. Even when he consciously wanted to give up, some part of him just...never does. Frustration. Frustrating. Yes, he's very frustrating. He is to everyone. Even Thor. Especially Thor. Balthazar says he doesn't mind. Hopefully he will continue not minding.

Loki manages to open his eyes and turn his head to look at Balthazar, his gaze almost apologetic.]

[He murmurs softly in Enochian, eyes drifting closed for just a moment, tasting the endearment on his own tongue. It takes the space of a few heartbeats, a few breaths, before he can steel himself to straighten and begin again.

He's impassive once more as he meets Loki's gaze, but that shifts to mild surprise at the expression he sees. This is not Loki as he's used to him. It's like a layer of defense has been peeled back. The angel's breath hitches, and he allows himself the indulgence of one more caress to Loki's hair.]

You're doing beautifully. Now it's time for the white candle. [He places his hand in Loki's.] Squeeze if you're all right to go on.

[Loki feels like a level of defense has been peeled back - flayed, perhaps, or scoured away. It's a heady, almost dizzying feeling, one he could never have achieved on his own. He would find it fascinating, were he in remotely any position to get contemplative. As it is, his thoughts are splintering, fracturing, coming in short bursts and pieces of emotion and impulse.

Those murmured endearments make him moan softly, a pleasure almost as intense as the fading burn of wax. But he feels Balthazar move away, and gives a little nod of acknowledgement. When he feels a hand pressed into his once more, Loki gives it a squeeze, only just stopping himself from squeezing twice as he had before. Only then does he manage to open his eyes, though when he does his gaze is drawn as though on a winch to the candle once again.

Unfortunately, it quickly becomes apparent that the rest was, perhaps inadvertantly, its own form of punishment. With the previous layer of wax still itching at his skin, and time to come down from the adrenaline-fueled high of pain, the first dollop of white wax is an unexpectedly fresh hell. Loki isn't aware at first that he actually is biting through the rubber ball, but manages to stop himself with minimal tearing at first.

But as it is, he won't get too much further before he actually does flinch, his body momentarily overwhelmed enough to act entirely on his own, without any conscious thought or registration that he's done so.]

[He almost wishes Loki could speak; he's curious what he would say now, if anything. Perhaps before it's all over, he'll get a chance, but the gag is part of the scene and stays where it is for now (although Balthazar would certainly worry if he were aware the rubber was tearing; it must not be rated for Asgardian bite strength).

The white candle has a faintly sweet scent. Vanilla, maybe, or even gardenia? Like the previous one, he tests before using it, and like the black candle he holds it a fair distance over Loki's body before dropping the wax lower on his abdomen. This time, though, he lets more fall, and some of it drips to the side in rivulets.

And there's the flinch. Balthazar knew that was coming, but he has to steel himself for what comes next, anyway. All his impulses are turned toward comfort and praise, and he has to deliver the opposite now, as promised.

His free hand comes down to grip Loki's upper arm, as if to force him to stillness again, clamping over a stack of ropes in a way that's sure to press the pattern into his flesh.] Ah. You moved.

[It's quiet and matter-of-fact, but he blows out the white candle and sets it aside.] You haven't altered the design, though, so at least there's that. You remember what I told you?

[He's sure Loki remembers, so he's not really waiting for a response, simply buying time while he looks him over and considers.] Three strokes. The less you tense up, the easier it will go.

[That's all the preamble he gives, to spare himself the anticipation. And his eyes go distant as he strikes: left cheekbone, right cheekbone...pause...and the left again. He chooses the face this time because it's more shocking, more intimate, but it also means he has to pull his blows. Loki may never realize how much calculation it takes to deliver the three open-handed slaps, enough force to hurt, to bruise, without cracking bone or damaging muscle.

The hand gripping Loki's shoulder drifts to his hair, afterward, to curl and tighten in the locks. He's not pulling, simply holding him steady, but it's clearly meant to feel like a directly opposing sensation to the earlier caresses.] Breathe. Recover.

[Loki winces audibly as Balthazar takes hold of his shoulder. His grip isn't quite bruising, not to a Jotun, but it's definitely noticeable and, for a moment, he doesn't even entirely understand why.

Except...he moved? He doesn't remember moving. But Balthazar says he did, so he must have. And Loki does remember what that means. At least he didn't mar the design. That's good. That's something, and lets out a soft exhale of relief upon hearing as much.

This is a punishment. That's fair. A lesson in how much easier this will all be if he doesn't tense, doesn't fight. That's good. Loki nods his understanding and acceptance, just in time for the first slap to catch him without warning and snap his head to the right. Then the next, and...after just enough time for the fade to start to fade...the last. He makes very little noise during each slap, to the point that it might sound a little like he's choking on any cry he might otherwise make. His eyes are wide and glassy and dark from how dilated his pupils are.

But somehow, the blows themselves are nothing compared to the look in Balthazar's eyes. That distance is...almost terrifying. It certainly brings up a fair few bad memories. He almost shies away from that, but the hand in his hair is grounding, reminding him to stay still.

Then the order comes, and Loki makes himself start breathing properly again - deep, shuddering breaths. In between, he makes sounds that might almost be words, were the gag not in the way - sorrysorrysorry.

But after a moment, he swallows, grits his teeth, and nods that he's ready to continue.]