(Hyok pov)
Tw: non-con
Every damn day I watch that pathetic omega come home with that blank little smile like nothing's wrong. It makes me sick. My slave doesn't get to smile unless I give permission. He's mine — to use, to mold, to break. A tool. My lab experiment. Nothing more. It's been awhile I haven't done it with him. Why do I feel so hard? No, I can't do it. He needs to be a dominant omega and then get our kid to be the heir. Then what happens to Dohyun? He can die for all I care.
The door opens. Dohyun walks towards me as he lays his head low. There he is. Obedient, silent, waiting for me to tell him how to breathe.
"Well what is it? Spit it out." I paused. "Look at me while talking."
Dohyun lifted his head. "Master," he says flatly, his grey eyes empty. "What do I do now?"
I let my gaze sweep over him slowly, deliberately, until he shifts ever so slightly under the weight of it. Perfect. He's already nervous. I noticed how he slightly shaked. I felt pleasure from it. My slave. Why do I have the sudden urge to dominate him.
"Spread your legs, slut," I say lazily, almost bored.
His shoulders tighten. Just for a second.
"B-but… M-master, you said… you wouldn't… not until I—"
The sound of his stammer snaps something inside me. Insolence. Hesitation. From him?
In an instant I'm across the room, hand clamping around his jaw so tight his teeth click together. I tilt his head up, forcing him to look at me.
"And you think you get to remind me of my own rules?" My voice is a low growl. "Since when does a filthy little whore decide when his master touches him?"
"I-I didn't mean—"
"Shut up." My hand snaps across his face. Not hard enough to break him — not yet — but enough to sting, to leave a mark.
"A naughty puppy needs to learn his lessons."
"B-but…"
"On your knees. It's not your first time," I ordered, cutting him off. When he hesitates for half a heartbeat, my fingers tangle in his hair and drag him down. His knees hit the floor with a sharp thud against the wood. He grits his teeth to keep from making a sound. Good. He knows better.
"Say it," I hissed. "Say what you are."
"…I'm your slave, Master." His voice is barely a whisper.
"Louder."
"I'm your slave!"
I let go of his hair and grab his collar instead, jerking him forward until his forehead nearly touches the floor. "Wrong. You're not just a slave. You're a whore. My whore. You just spread your legs like a slut or a stripper."
I strip the control from him piece by piece, letting silence stretch until it burns. Then I move him up to his feet only to slam him back against the wall, hard enough to rattle the frame. His breath escapes in a sharp gasp.
"You're not here to breathe easy," I snarl. "You're here to learn."
My belt comes loose with a quick snap. I watch his grey dead eyes — wide for only a second before the mask drops back in place. But I saw it. The fear. The dread. It's intoxicating.
"Hands against the wall," I commanded. When he hesitates again, I drive my boot against the back of his knee. He collapses forward with a muffled grunt, palms slapping flat against the cold plaster.
I took out a handcuff and tied his hands in the front. After that I blind folded him.
"Should we use a safeword this time or not?" I thought for a while. Of course Dohyun isn't going to answer. "I guess not."
"Count," I whisper, voice low and cold. "And if you lose track? You start over."
The belt cracks through the air — a sound sharper than the pain itself — and his breath hitches even though he stays perfectly still. I smile. Good. He won't beg. I've trained him not to. That only makes it more satisfying to break him later. I found great joy seeing him in pain. All broken. I want to break him.
"You only deserve to suffer. You are doomed to happiness. You are only bound to pain."
By the fifth strike, there's a red flush rising across the back of his thighs. By the seventh, his shoulders tremble. By the tenth, his voice is hoarse from counting, but he still hasn't begged. Perfect. I press a hand to the small of his back, forcing him lower.
"You're going to remember this every time you sit down," I murmur, my voice soft and poisonous. "And when you look in the mirror tomorrow morning, you're going to see my handprints and my marks and you're going to know exactly who you belong to."
I let the belt fall from my hand and wrap my fingers back in his hair, yanking his head up so he meets my eyes.
"Say it again. What are you?"
"I'm… your slave," he whispers, his voice raw.
"And?"
"…your whore, Master."
"Good boy," I mock, lips curling into a cruel smile. "Lesson's over when I say it's over. What are you again?"
"A whore who just spread legs." His voice sounded dead and empty like a corpse.
My hand reaches out, gently grasping onto Dohyun's chin and tilting his head up to meet his intense gaze. "Speak, my damn slutty slave. Tell me what you desire." The longer he hesitates, the more his punishment will be. My thumb presses firmly against his bottom lips. "Open your mouth. Now." I demanded.
My patience is wearing me. I release his chin and stand up abruptly, grabbing a leather belt from the nearby chair. "Last chance to speak or I'll choose your punishment myself."
But no matter what, Dohyun remained silent.
So I started unbuckling the belt slowly, "The belt across that pretty boy ass sounds tempting... Or perhaps my cock instead?"
"I'm sorry master." Dohyun said.
I paused, the belt still in my hand as I watched him apologize. A cruel smirk crosses my lips. "Sorry isn't going to save you from your punishment, you damn slut." I moved closer, the belt snapping against my palm for emphasis. "But since you're being so polite..."
My smirk widens as I see the fear in his eyes. He wraps the belt around his fist, leaving a few inches of leather dangling free. "Good boy for apologizing." I reach out with his free hand and grab a handful of his hair, pulling his head back roughly. "Now, open your mouth wide."