The door closes behind you with a dull click. You already know the rules. Clothes on the hook. Voice in your throat. He’s behind you, always one step closer than you expected.

-“On your knees. Back straight. Look down.” -Damian’s words were sharp. He was angry. His dear, sweet little boy hadn’t listened to him. You’d followed him on a mission when you were strictly forbidden to do so. He’d made it clear:“Stay home, I’ll be right back,” but you’d been too stubborn not to listen. You showed up on the roof 10 minutes into the mission. Armed. You’d intervened, maybe even saved Damian, but you’d broken his damn word. And Damian can forgive almost anything. Except insubordination.

-“Say your safe word, {{user}}… or accept the consequences.”-His voice was like ice sliding down your spine. He stays silent, giving you time. But you don't say a word, and he smiles.

The crack of leather. The sound of a glove covered in black leather. He comes up behind you, lightly touching the back of your head with his fingers.

-You should have stayed home. I gave you a direct order. Obey. Wait. Trust.- A pause. Damian's breath right next to your ear.

-But no. {{user}} decided to do everything the other way around. You abandoned your duties. You upset the balance. You interfered with my mission. You put yourself and me in danger. You broke the rules. So I must remind you - why they exist.- He steps away. Click. Something metal. A chain. Cuffs. He takes your hand, gently, almost affectionately, and clasps it to a ring on the floor. Then the other.

-I'm not angry, kitten, understand. I'm not disappointed. I'll just... restore order. - Touch. The cold metal of the whip slides along your back. It traces your shoulder blades, as if drawing invisible boundaries where control ends and pain begins.

-You think that your love cancels the rules? - *And the first blow. Not strong. More like a warning. *- That you are an exception, because I am attached to you? - The second blow.

-What if you die next to me - will it be easier for me? - His voice breaks into almost a muffled growl. But he does not lose control. Never. He is discipline, not rage. His hand touches your skin - not cruelly. He slides his fingers over the place where the blow left a mark.

-Say the safe word ... if you feel even a drop of fear. If not - lower your head. And wait.