Descriptions of Consensually Inflicted Wounds
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Summary
Alastor leaned his forehead against the dark wood, his trembling thighs struggling to keep him upright much longer. Every inhale had his lungs saturated in the smell of his own musty sweat and the sharp, iron tang of blood. He’d lost count of how many lashes he’d taken until Lucifer called it quits only moments ago.
Mundane questions and worries for the day were stripped free from his being, sure as the skin was flayed from his back. All that mattered was being good, doing what he was told, and relishing in the safety that was Lucifer’s care for him. And he had, he had done good.OR
Alastor's reward for not coming while being flogged is Lucifer fucking his hooves. You read that right.Series
- Part 5 of RadioApple RACK Week 2025