The sound that emits from the slave's throat is not quite a scream, but it's no more held back than Devero's strength. Heber allows himself a thin, satisfied smile before ordering, "Again."
And again.
And again.
The ties on the slave's wrists quickly show another purpose; to actually hold them up and in place, as their legs quickly give out under them. The slave gasps for breath in between blows, weeping freely.
A sound that Heber seems to be drinking in like fine wine, by his expression. Though he seems to be paying just as much attention to Devero as he is the other.
Another Devero, in another life, might have faltered once the kid's legs gave out. Another Devero's heart might not have been able to handle the needless pain he's inflicting. Another Devero might have tried to put himself between Heber and this wretched slave.
Not this Devero. This Devero's arm rises and falls, again and again and again. And his training with Valdana shows-- he knows how to give an effective flogging. The loop of steel cable quickly reddens the slave's back, leaving curved welts everywhere that it lights with particular strength.
But he doesn't always use excessive strength. Better to sting and redden a patch of skin before he hits hard enough to welt. Better to vary his timing and his pattern, so that Heber's slave can't anticipate the blows. Better to here hit with the full length of the flogger, and there to snap just the tip of it against shuddering flesh, and there to turn it sidelong and whip hard enough that the skin-- splits.
Shit. Only then does he pause, rocking back a step and looking over for Lord Heber's reaction.
There's just something about it that's - enchanting? Mesmerizing? Something about this situation that draws Heber's attention like a moth to flame. The sight of blood - it has his tongue flick out, briefly tracing his lips in further appreciation, but Devero stopping...
An eyebrow raises, and whatever humor he had been drawing from this vanishes in an instant. Narrowed eyes are the only warning Devero has before he's backhanded once more, the CRACK briefly silencing the other slave's wretched noises.
"Is your arm tired, slave? Or have you another excuse for stopping?"
Devero lets the sound of pain escape him as he's hit again, head whipping to the side. Too late, he remembers Master Samir's advice to let Heber tell him when to stop.
He licks his lips, tasting fresh blood. It shows on his teeth as he says, "I didn't want to presume to damage your property." He bows his head, eyes on Heber's feet. "Shall I continue, my Lord?"
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And again.
And again.
The ties on the slave's wrists quickly show another purpose; to actually hold them up and in place, as their legs quickly give out under them. The slave gasps for breath in between blows, weeping freely.
A sound that Heber seems to be drinking in like fine wine, by his expression. Though he seems to be paying just as much attention to Devero as he is the other.
no subject
Not this Devero. This Devero's arm rises and falls, again and again and again. And his training with Valdana shows-- he knows how to give an effective flogging. The loop of steel cable quickly reddens the slave's back, leaving curved welts everywhere that it lights with particular strength.
But he doesn't always use excessive strength. Better to sting and redden a patch of skin before he hits hard enough to welt. Better to vary his timing and his pattern, so that Heber's slave can't anticipate the blows. Better to here hit with the full length of the flogger, and there to snap just the tip of it against shuddering flesh, and there to turn it sidelong and whip hard enough that the skin-- splits.
Shit. Only then does he pause, rocking back a step and looking over for Lord Heber's reaction.
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An eyebrow raises, and whatever humor he had been drawing from this vanishes in an instant. Narrowed eyes are the only warning Devero has before he's backhanded once more, the CRACK briefly silencing the other slave's wretched noises.
"Is your arm tired, slave? Or have you another excuse for stopping?"
no subject
He licks his lips, tasting fresh blood. It shows on his teeth as he says, "I didn't want to presume to damage your property." He bows his head, eyes on Heber's feet. "Shall I continue, my Lord?"