Weiss Kreuz Fan Fiction ❯ Schuldig's Punishment ❯ Discipline ( Chapter 8 )

[ X - Adult: No readers under 18. Contains Graphic Adult Themes/Extreme violence. ]

DISCLAIMER: I don't own Weiss or Schwarz. If I did, the show would be better animated and Schuldig would be in chains. *sigh* but I guess that's why they wont let me have the show.

I don't own pop tarts either.

I don't even own Listerine.

( those are all things in this story.)

WARNGINGS: I can't believe I wrote this… I feel kind of bad for Schuldig… okay, major BDSM, Crawford is really harsh on Schuldig.

AWESOME IDEA: If you request it, I will send you the next chapter several days before I post it on AFF.net. Why? Because I feel like discriminating. : P as well as just sending a bunch of smut over e-mail.

Anonymous Reviewer:

Finally, I've got a plot for this chapter. And if all goes as planned, there will be rimming in it! I've been trying to find some idea for fisting, because it could be fun to write about!

LegendaryDreamGirl:

I hope this chapter suites your needs. I've been working for a while on it.

Rabidfan:

I appreciate some other weiss pairings, but weiss isn't shady enough to have actual master slave relations like Schwarz does (in my story). Besides, its so much more fun to break down stubborn Schuldig into submission than it is to break down the other boys. At least, in my opinion it is. Lol, and I'll think about that nickname, `the punisher'.

Kikvws:

I have an obsession with Schuldig's tongue. Lol. But I was totally getting off on that outfit he wore. ^___^.

SephielyaJMaxwell:

Yes, someone else pointed that out on another site, they were confused that Schuldig kept forgetting to say `master' or be obedient, considering he was raised with it. So I'm going to dedicate this chapter to that theme!

Darkephoenix:

Not that I've written it, but I imagine Schuldig has been a slave (not sex slave) since 12, and became a sex slave when he was brought home by Crawford. So, he's been a slave for 5 years and should be quite educated on his duties as a slave, especially with a hard ass master like Crawford. However, Schuldig has a naturally rebellious nature and in his adolescent years he's abandoning his roles. Luckily, in this chapter, Crawford will whip him into shape. ^__^

Cesar:

Bizarre… Eh… you sounded like you liked it… why did you give me a one out of every 10? *confused* its okay if you thought I was that bad though, I wont hold it against you.

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REBELLION AND ORDER

Crawford buttoned up a shirt and slid on pants before brushing his teeth, washing his face, and brushing his hair into perfect order.

He watched Schuldig's refection in his mirror. The German did not have any interest in being orderly in the morning. He ran his fingers through his wild mane with pleasure.

The American rolled his eyes, “You're hair is a mess, do something about it.”

Schuldig laughed, “Its too wild for me to tame it with a brush. Besides, it looks better this way.” The German ran his hands through his hair, loving the silky texture.

Crawford gave a small smile and sigh, knowing that he couldn't argue that. He instead stated, “We have a meeting this morning, think: orderly.”

The German rubbed a silky strand of the hair against his face and joked, “Maybe a very organized Mohawk would do the trick.”

Bradley shook his head, not even trying to imagine the sheer horror of anyone from Esset attending a meeting with some teen with a Mohawk. He walked out of the room reminding the naked slave, “Put on some clothes before you come out.”

“Ja, ja.” Schuldig answered casually, still admiring himself in the mirror.

Bradley thought to himself quietly as he walked away, wondering how the slave had come to be so comfortable with him that he could talk back to him in such a casual manner. He decided it wasn't an issue, so he shrugged it off.

Though he did make a mental note to remind his pet sooner or later how to address him properly.

The dark haired 22-year-old started some coffee and sat down to read a mission report he'd been working on the night before.

The morning continued in its rather uneventful path. The Oracle drank his coffee and read the report quietly, waiting for Schuldig to join him.

Eventually, the German came in, almost as naked as before. However, now he wore socks, a yellow bandana, and a blanket draped over his shoulders.

“Schuldig, that blanket belongs on the bed, go put it back.” Crawford instructed, not even having to look up to recognize the sound of 300 thread Egyptian cotton being dragged across the floor.

“I'm cold.” Schuldig replied as he raided the cupboards.

“Then put on clothes.” Bradley stated.

Schuldig ignored him, finally finding what he wanted and heading towards the toaster.

Crawford instructed, “Pour yourself either milk or orange juice. I want you to save your appetite, we have a business breakfast this morning.”

The German unpackaged the pop tarts and stuck them in the toaster.

Quickly growing irritated, Crawford repeated himself, “Schuldig, you aren't eating those.”

“I'm hungry.” The German growled, looking over his shoulder.

Bradley met the boy's glare with one of his own, “Those things are pure sugar and wont do anything for your hunger. Now pour yourself orange juice or milk if you're hungry, that'll at least hold you over till the breakfast meeting.”

“I'm too old for milk or juice!” the 17-year-old argued.

“Then drink coffee.” Crawford growled, quickly losing his patience.

The two fixed each other with steady glares and a silence passed.

Crawford stated again, “Put it away Schuldig. You aren't having pop tarts for breakfast.”

Schuldig's eyes narrowed, challenging the man.

The American took a deep breath and when he exhaled he counted, “One…”

The pop tarts popped up and they both watched them. The only thing that broke the silence was the steady and firm, “Two…”

Right when Crawford opened his mouth to say three, Schuldig turned back to him, looking at him defiantly and grabbing the breakfast treats, forcing them into his mouth.

The American's jaw dropped slightly as his pet used his hands to try to keep most of the food in his mouth, though a great portion of it crumbled and fell onto the floor, blanket and everywhere around.

Schuldig watched the American defiantly, as he chewed the treats and tried to swallow them.

Swiftly, the American stood and walked around the counter, grabbing Schuldig firmly by the neck and forcing him towards the sink.

Before he could even register that much, Schuldig found himself forced over the sinks edge, his face over the drain.

The shock and movement caused him to spill a great amount of the crumbly food in his mouth. He shut his lips as tightly as he could, determined to swallow all of it and in the end, win.

“Spit it out, Schuldig.”

The boy tried to expel a hearty, “Ha!” sealing his lips when he dropped more of his mouth's contents.

*SMACK*

Schuldig yelped and jumped slightly when a wooden spoon from the firmly landed across his rear.

He protested loudly, not caring if he spilled a few more crumbs in his effort.

*SMACK*

Enraged, the boy tried to stand up and turn to face his opponent, but was forced down again by the hand in his hair.

*SMACK*

Schuldig kicked his foot up when the spoon landed again on his rear, expressing his irritation further with a growl.

*SMACK*

The German bucked and wriggled, angrily.

“Spit it out, damn it.” Crawford instructed, somewhat worried his slave might not have heard his order, or he might need a reminder.

Schuldig smiled wickedly to himself and started swallowing little portions of the large pop tart mess in his mouth.

*SMACK*

He succeeded in getting down some, making it easier to hold what was left in his mouth.

*SMACK*

He swallowed another amount, choking on it only slightly.

*SMACK*

This hit was slightly delayed, Crawford was cautious that he might have caused his pet to choke and he certainly didn't want to make it worse.

*SMACK*

Almost all of the pop tart was gone now.

*SMACK*

“Schuldig, I said spit it out!” Crawford ordered.

The German said in a voice, completely clear and not the least bit mumbled by food, “A respectable person always swallows.”

Bradley quickly turned the boy around and stuffed a pill from the cabinet into his mouth.

Schuldig protested, turning his head to spit it out. Crawford intercepted and put a hand around the boy's mouth and used his other hand to pinch the unruly boy's nose.

The German struggled valiantly, quickly becoming tired and light headed with his lack of air. He began to kick and claw, pulling at his master's arms, fighting for breath.

Finally he swallowed the pill, and the moment he did his master released him, allowing him to take in full long breaths of air, coughing up a few more crumbs of his earlier `snack'.

Turning, the slave glared, “You're a real bastard when you want to be.” With that he pulled the blanket a little tighter and turned for the refrigerator.

Crawford grabbed his arm above the elbow, “I'm not done with you.”

Schuldig rolled his eyes and looked despairingly at the refrigerator as he was hauled out of the room and into Crawford's study.

Everything was pretty much in order except for Crawford's large leather chair in the middle of the room. Crawford assumed it was there only because Schuldig had been playing on it the evening before, which was true.

Crawford pushed Schuldig to the chair and walked to his desk, ordering, “Remove that blanket.”

Schuldig nodded to himself, reaching a hand up to remove his bandana, he toed off his socks and let the blanket fall to the floor, kicking it out of the way.

He rested his elbow on the chair and leaned on it, watching as Crawford dug through the drawers of the desk.

Finally the American pulled out a type of whip Crawford had never shown him before.

Schuldig looked at the long thin leather rod that stood stiffly. The tip was rounded and slightly, just slightly larger than the tail that lead to it, meaning it would give thick welts.

He recognized this device, though it was never used on him, he'd seen it used on many other slaves. It had a similar structure to a riding crop, but where the crop delivered a whack that merely slapped the skin, this would erupt welts and sometimes open wounds.

The German stared at the device with disdain, thinking the appliance too crude to be used on him.

Crawford stood behind the boy and motioned to the chair he leaned on, “Lean over the chair, now.”

The German watched the whip, noticing that it was flexible and it moved when it was used to point to the chair.

Bradley stepped forward and grabbed his pet, turning him sharply and pointing him towards the chair, pushing him closer, then positioning him to lean over it.

Schuldig rested his hands on chair, not sure where else to put them, he looked back at Crawford, expecting him to tie them up or order him on where to put them.

“You may keep your hands wherever you want, so long as they don't impede the punishment I'm about to give you. You are to remain over the chair, if you try to escape, fight me off, or lessen your punishment by some means I will start again. Is this understood?”

Schuldig took in the information and quickly thought through his options of how to address the man at this point. Given the situation he answered, “Yes, Master.”

Crawford stood behind his pet, the switch gripped tightly in his hand, “Are you ready?”

“Yes, Master.” Schuldig consented in a quiet voice.

*CRACK*

Schuldig lurched forward with a grimace when the tip snapped over his lower back, opening a welt and cut on his skin.

“Do you know what this punishment is for?”

*CRACK*

Schuldig cried out, “Yes, Master.”

*CRACK*

“State you're infraction.” Crawford ordered.

*CRACK*

The German had to stand up slightly from how much his muscles were tensing. The whip landed further up on his back, giving his abused rear a short rest.

*CRACK*

“I ate the… pop tart, Master.” Schuldig answered meekly. He stumbled over `pop tart', finding that in his current situation, mentioning the silly snack that got him into this mess was rather embarrassing.

*CRACK*

Crawford asked, “Is eating such food against the rules of this house?”

*CRACK*

Schuldig arched and thought about it then answered, “No, Master.”

*CRACK*

“Then would you be punished for that?”

*CRACK*

Schuldig released a choked sob and shook his head, “No, Master.”

*CRACK*

Crawford asked, “So what are you being punished for?”

*CRACK*

Schuldig leaned back over the chair, trying to escape the brutality of the strikes, “F-for… dis-disobeying you.”

*CRACK*

The three quick strikes landed over the bottom of Schuldig's rear, all in the same area, just barely missing the back of the boy's balls.

Schuldig cried out in pain and fear that his balls would be hit with the whip, “No! Stop!”

*CRACK*

These strikes landed in the same area, filling in the base of the rear to a darker red. Schuldig squirmed relentlessly in pain though he managed to keep his mouth shut, deciding that these fast strikes were for a rule he just broke.

Which was correct, Schuldig had forgotten to say `master' in his sentences.

Crawford chuckled, “Let's try that again.”

*CRACK*

Schuldig asked quietly, “Try what again?”

*CRACK*

The boy bit his lip and lowered his head to hide the tears forming in the corners of his eyes.

Crawford answered, “You forgot to say master. So repeat the sentence, now.”

*CRACK*

Schuldig thought desperately to remember what he'd been saying before he'd been receiving 3 quick strikes in succession.

“I'm being punished for disobeying you, Master.” Schuldig stated.

*CRACK*

“That's correct. Don't forget `Master' again.” Crawford stated.

*CRACK*

“I wont, Master.” The boy replied.

*CRACK*

“Now, where was I… Yes, for disobeying my orders you will receive punishment.” Crawford stated as he now started paying his attention to the backs of his pet's thighs which were exposed and had no where to hide.

*CRACK*

The strikes were all landing in quick succession and Schuldig held onto the chair tightly, trying to bear with the repetitive strikes. He believed that Crawford would whip him just for another moment or so, to get his point across.

However, before Crawford would believe he got his point across, Schuldig would have to seem quite regretful.

Schuldig released a pitiful whimper and he dug his nails into the chair as Crawford punished him thoroughly.

*CRACK*

The male tossed his head back and released a scream, maintaining the mentality to keep his cry of pain free of anything that could be considered a word, in which case he would be speaking without permission.

*CRACK*

Schuldig fought to remain still and not lose his temper as the whip actually cut his flesh now and then.

The whip being used on him now was definitely used in a much more serious way than any riding crop, or cat-o-nine that Crawford usually used. While most of Crawford's devices of punishment merely left painful welts, this left small lacerations over the skin, just deep enough for a small amount of blood to surface.

Schuldig began to distract himself from the reality he was being subjected to by the thoughts of what was to come.

Every session followed one basic order.

Schuldig is naughty

Crawford decides to punish him

Punishment ensues and Crawford lectures

Schuldig cries out a few times

Crawford has mercy

WILD WONDERFUL KINKY SEX!

Now, even in the brunt of punishment, the German couldn't help but think ahead about the sex session he and his master were sure to enjoy.

As the Mastermind received his punishment he projected images within his mind of how Crawford would drop his whip and kneel behind Schuldig, uttering calming phrases and words of kindness and apology.

Schuldig would still be resentful and sour from the treatment and not respond. Crawford would kiss each of the ugly marks covering his beloved pet's rear, then delve between the muscular cheeks to lick the tight ring of muscle.

Schuldig would be brought to life, moaning in pleasure and ecstasy as his most private regions were explored and massaged with the wet tongue appendage.

After the rimming continued for a while, Crawford would stand and penetrate Schuldig, fucking him over the black leather chair. When the sex was over, Crawford would nibble on Schuldig's ear a little and whisper sweet nothings into his ear.

Finally they would go to the bedroom and lay down, their eyes closed but their hands still exploring each other's bodies.

Of course, this was all just the fantasy that Schuldig decided would most definitely happen at the end of his punishment. Which brought him back to the reality that he was still serving punishment and Crawford wasn't on his knees giving him rim.

Schuldig moved from one foot to the other slightly, noticing that he was beginning to sport a rather urgent erection.

*CRACK*

Each strike hit with as much brutality as the last, but the jolts of pain that rippled through his body would flow in a wave up his cock, exploding in pleasure once they reached the top.

Schuldig was surprised to find himself growing hard from the harsh treatment, though he was still screaming with each strike. He none the less continued wiggling his ass back and forth.

*CRACK*

“Stand still!” Crawford ordered.

*CRACK*

Schuldig grimaced as the three strikes landed within centimeters of his now very sensitive balls. He gave a groan, which could be deciphered as either a pleasured or pained sound.

Schuldig sighed in a breathy voice, “Master, fuck me. Please.”

*CRACK*

The strikes landed in the same place as before, this time slightly brushing the backs of the sensitive balls.

“I did not give you permission to speak.” Crawford stated.

Schuldig twisted and looked over his shoulder, “Come on, Master. I'm hard, I need you, please.”

*CRACK*

Crawford stated in a firmer voice, “Your punishment will continue. Do not speak another word. Understand?”

*CRACK*

“Yes, Master.” Schuldig sighed, defeated.

The whipping continued far longer than Schuldig suspected. Images of sex and copulation eventually left his mind, and the once hard erection sagged and disappeared.

There was no speaking for a while, only screaming and the cracking of the whip, Crawford spoke.

“Do you have an excuse for what you did?” Crawford asked as he started thrashing the areas where the butt met the thighs.

*CRACK*

The boy was about to bawl out his explanation but caught himself with the rules in time to answer correctly, “Yes, Master.”

*CRACK*

“What is your excuse, Schuldig?” Crawford asked.

*CRACK*

The German answered, “I was hungry, Master.”

*CRACK*

“There is a scheduled brunch, you would not die if you had to eat your morning meal an hour later than usual.”

*CRACK*

Schuldig choked on a sob and nodded, “Yes, Master.”

“Hunger had a very minor role in this, I think we both know that. Tell me why you disobeyed me for such a small thing.” Crawford ordered, but in a softened tone.

“I… don't know how to say it, Master… There were thoughts and emotions that I just can't put into words.” Schuldig stated solemnly.

Crawford shifted to a slightly firmer voice, “I know something was going through that head of yours. Tell me what you were thinking. I want to know, Schuldig, not so I can judge you, its so I can understand you.”

Schuldig noticed that Crawford hadn't whipped him while either of them spoke. He assumed that the man could have somehow forgotten, and the boy made an effort to eagerly participate in the conversation, if it could keep the American's mind from remembering the whip at hand.

“It was childish, Master… but I assumed I'd be able to eat whatever I wished and I got set on eating one of those.” He completely avoided saying `pop tarts' finding the words mockingly silly compared to the situation. “Then to learn I could not have it… I guess I felt it was almost… my right, Master.”

“A childish thought indeed. I can't blame you for your reaction, but you will be punished for not suppressing such responses and obeying your orders.” Crawford stated, flicking the switch through the air, creating a hollow `whoosh' sound.

Schuldig gave a small mewl of apprehension, feeling like he had been sentenced to a punishment that went undeserved.

Bradley gripped and turned the switch a few times, searching for the best grip, and asked in a firm voice, “Do you have anything to say before I begin.”

“Yes, Master.” Schuldig answered in a desperate voice.

“And what would it be?”

Schuldig looked over his shoulder, fixing Crawford with his eyes, “You said you wouldn't judge me, Master.”

“I'm not judging you Schuldig, I am punishing you. And your punishment has not been shortened or lengthened because of anything you said. I decided on the severity of your punishment at the beginning.” Crawford stated.

Schuldig asked meekly, “How long will the punishment last, Master?” He cringed slightly, afraid of the answer.

“I foresaw that your punishment will last until you can no longer stand.” Crawford answered.

Schuldig gave a small sob but otherwise didn't respond. His grip on the chair tightened and his face hardened, defiance burned hot within him, and he wanted to simply refuse to be subjected to such punishment.

However, the smug boy was at least comforted that he still had the snack, deep within his belly. An award that Schuldig had in fact, in the end, won.

*CRACK*

Schuldig cried out as the first hit crossed his upper thighs, creating a stinging burn that jolted up and down his legs.

*CRACK*

Crawford ordered, “You are to obey me whenever I make an order. You belong to me, and so does your freedom and ability to think for yourself. I expect you to treat me like your master and obey me on all accounts from now on. Understood?”

*CRACK*

“Yes, Master. I understand.” The 17-year-old answered as he tried to ignore the growing pain.

*CRACK*

“Good. But just to make sure you do, I'd like you to explain to me how I own you, and how you belong to me.” Crawford demanded.

*CRACK*

“You are my master, and I am your slave, Master.” Schuldig answered.

*CRACK*

“Explain it. I want to hear exactly how well you understand this situation.”

*CRACK*

Schuldig took a deep breath, finding the amount of submission required utterly humiliating to the bit of pride he'd managed to protect through out his life as a slave.

“You, as the master, own me in every way and form. You own my thoughts, my body, my loyalty, my obedience, my rights, my f-fate… and my love, as well as whatever else you wish for.” Schuldig tried to stop himself from faltering over `fate' and `love'. As unreal as it seemed for someone to things so intangible, it was very real, and it often unnerved the boy.

Bradley listened to the words, recognizing them rather quickly. These ideas, thoughts and regulations were constantly thrown at young slaves until they accepted the notion they belonged entirely to their master.

The whip continued to punish the abused flesh, never stopping or relenting, continuing through out Schuldig's recital.

Schuldig bit his inner lip and scowled, both from pain and concentration, “I exist to serve you, my master, however you please. You hold my life and existence in your hand and without you I wouldn't be anything. Therefore, it is only right that I dedicate all of my existence towards pleasing you, Master.”

Crawford recognized this too, knowing how newly bought slaves were always told this, just to remind them that they were only there for their masters, and beyond that they were nothing.

Schuldig tried to delve into his memory and bring up thoughts he thought he'd completely disposed of.

He resentfully brought back the memory of his servitude before Crawford. He repeated the words that were repeated to him almost daily.

When he finally stated everything he could remember, and he was sure it was all of it, the whipping stopped.

The young man lay over the chair in an undignified position. Crawford put the handle of the whip in his mouth while he unrolled the sleeves from his elbow back down to his wrists. He put back on his glasses and allowed Schuldig to silently cry for a little while.

He knew he hadn't broken his pet, but he had come close.

As muffled cries of pain drifted to his ears, the American asked himself if his punishment had been too harsh. He quickly discarded that idea, justifying that this was not over a simple pop tart, this was about restating that he was the master and demanded obedience.

Crawford walked to Schuldig and held the whip in front of his face, assuming Schuldig would remember this `proper' way of ending punishment, back from his days of servitude before he belonged to Crawford.

The German suppressed his sobs and gently kissed the whip and stated, “Thank you, Master.”

Bradley stroked the boy's hair and upper back, letting him calm down and regain his normal breath.

When Schuldig could finally breath normally, without sudden gasps of breath and stifled sobs, he braved against the rules of speaking out of turn and said, “Thank you, Master, for your mercy.”

Crawford stated, “I didn't give you mercy, Schuldig. That was as long of a whipping as I decided.”

Schuldig took a confused look, though he didn't raise his gaze any higher than his master's shoes. He did not speak further, he simply allowed himself to be comforted by the hand on his back, stroking his hair and reassuring him.

He had stopped trembling and had his occasional choked sobs under control, finally breathing regularly.

Schuldig was completely calmed when his body lurched forward. He made a gagging sound before closing his mouth and looking up to his master pleadingly.

“Yes?” Crawford asked, knowing exactly what the situation was.

“May I be excused, Master?” Schuldig asked quickly.

Bradley took his hand off the boy's back and stepped aside, “You may. Don't spill, or you will be cleaning it up.”

The boy nodded and barely got out, “Yes, master.” Before he felt bile rising in his throat. He turned and ran for the bathroom, holding both hands over his mouth as he barreled through the door way and fell to his knees before the toilette.

He began expelling the contents of his stomach violently, his entire body shuddering and lurching as he hugged the toilette.

Tears streamed down his face as he was forced to vomit the pop tarts as well as any other contents, into the toilette.

Schuldig wracked his mind as he tried to think why he would be vomiting all the contents of his stomach. He suddenly remembered the pill Crawford had forced him to swallow shortly after he'd consumed the pop tarts.

The German allowed more tears to drip from his face as he realized that his master had intentionally made him sick so in the end he would be completely defeated, without even the food he had almost gotten away with.

Footsteps slowly made their way down the hall and Schuldig grimaced. He felt so utterly humiliated at the moment that he didn't want to see anyone at that moment, especially not the man that was the reason for his pain.

Crawford stood in the doorway, thought Schuldig couldn't see him. He watched the young man for a moment before kneeling next to him and resting his palm on his cold, moist flesh.

He gently pulled back the long fiery locks and smoothed them together in the palm of his hand. Bradley reached into his pocket and took a rubber band out, quickly using it to restrain the wild hair.

Schuldig made a small gurgling noise that was supposed to be a thank you. Nonetheless, the words ere interrupted as the boy's face disappeared once more into the toilette and he wretched from his insides.

The German's face was stained with more tears, and he squeezed his eyes shut, trying to keep them from rolling down his cheeks. The tears had come when he realized he couldn't even thank his master for keeping his hair back, a small relief from this non-conventional, and horrid punishment.

Bradley rubbed the slave's upper back soothingly, “I'm going to be in the living room reading the reports. Join me once you're able to stand and have cleaned yourself up.”

The German nodded and garbled something that, if nothing else, had the same amount of syllables as `yes, master'.

The American left the room and the German lunged continuously at the porcelain bowl, the walls of his stomach banging together as nothing was left inside him.

After finally working up enough strength to flush the toilette for the -nth time, he tried to stand, but found he could hardly lift his head. With a groan he moved his arm to the sink drawers, where he felt around till he found the Listerine bottle.

He had used almost the entire bottle by the time he was done rinsing his mouth with it. Schuldig gripped the counter of the sink and considered trying to stand again.

After much hard work, the boy succeeded in standing. As his body stretched in the motions for standing, the pain of the thin, but open, wounds on his back came back again in a harsh wave.

Schuldig groaned in resentfulness at the severity of his punishment. He found the treatment almost inhuman. But hadn't he just been monologue-ing for the past `eternity' that he wasn't human, that he was a slave?

The boy vigorously washed his face with a warm rag, and then used it to clean his chest and arms of the cold sweat that had gathered. Schuldig released his hair from the ponytail it was in and ran a hand through it, bringing it back to life.

He paused when he saw his wild and fiery locks in the mirror. Schuldig lowered his eyes from the mirror, he took a brush and slid it through the already untangled hair. As he continued to stroke his hair with the teeth of the brush, his hair continued to lay tamer in thins strands.

When he looked in the mirror again, the once wild hair that never settled now lay down placidly.

The German left the bathroom and prepared to approach his master… after he picked up one more thing…

Crawford sat in the living room reading the report on their last mission, which he would be discussing in about an hour or so during the meeting.

He dropped the papers in his lap and rubbed his tired eyes with his fingers, removing the glasses simultaneously.

When he started to pick up the paper again, he noticed that Schuldig was before him, previously hidden by the papers held in front of Crawford's face.

Schuldig's head was lowered, his gaze resting on Crawford's feet. His skin, having been cleaned of its perspiration, was back to a healthy tone. His hair lay neatly and orderly, a group of hair hanging next to each side of his neck, and the rest lay on his back.

Bradley explored the naked body before him with his eyes. He came to a stop when he noticed the collar around Schuldig's neck. It was one of his many collars.

More specifically, it was the first collar Crawford bought Schuldig, shortly after the German himself was purchased. It was a `memoir' of the first time Crawford stated his authority over Schuldig.

http://www.temptatia.com/collar_celticlion.jpg ((that's what I imagine it looked like.))

Crawford set the papers on the table next to him, and put his glasses on top of them. He looked back up at Schuldig and noticed that the teen seemed very tense. He informed him, “You're punishment is over, Schuldig.”

Schuldig bowed his head, “Thank you for correcting me, master.”

Bradley let out an inaudible sigh and spread his legs slightly to provide more of a lap for the pet to sit on, “Schuldig, come here.”

The stepped forward, his bare feet timidly taking each step with caution. When he reached Crawford, he realized he was higher up than the man on the couch. Schuldig quickly, yet gracefully moved to his knees between Crawford's knees.

Bradley looked down at the boy who knelt submissively before him. He ran his fingers through the smooth and tamed hair, disappointed that it lacked its usual wild beauty.

He ran his fingers through the hair a few times, bringing some of the often out of place hairs back to life. It helped a little, but Schuldig still maintained a very placid, tame, and obedient demeanor.

Crawford slipped his hands under Schuldig's arms and pulled upwards. Once he understood, the slave assisted in lifting himself and allowed himself to be directed until he was put down to sit on the American's lap.

Schuldig folded his hands in his lap and looked down.

Bradley took the boy's hands and lifted them, pulling Schuldig closer with his other hand. Now Schuldig, still sitting in his master's lap, leaned closer, his head bowed submissively in front of Crawford's chin.

Crawford stroked his pet's back gently, eventually making his way down to the well-punished rear. He asked in a calm voice, “Have you learned your lesson, Schuldig?”

Schuldig nodded, “Yes, master.”

Bradley tilted the German's face up, “Have you forgiven me?”

Schuldig looked confused, and slightly fearful of answering wrongly, “Master?”'

Crawford explained, “I know you're not happy with me when I'm punishing you. And this punishment was… rather severe to say the least.” He stroked the male's hair again, “I don't want you to be upset with me all day for disciplining you, Schuldig. I wanted to know if you've forgiven me.”

Schuldig nodded, “Yes, Master.”

Bradley prompted, nuzzling his pet's head with his cheek, “Say it.”

“Yes, Master. I forgive you.”

The American kissed the head, “I forgive you as well, Schuldig.”

The two-lovers/ partners/ assassins (or whatever else you wish to call them) held each other on the couch for a while longer.

Schuldig rested his head on Crawford's shoulder, his mouth next to the tender neck. As he spoke his lips brushed over the sensitive column of flesh, “I won't ever be disobedient again, master, I promise.

Bradley chuckled and continued stroking the boy's rear, “I'm glad to hear that, it will make your future with Esset a lot easier on you. They are much less tolerant than I.”

“Yes, Master. I'll be the perfect slave from now on, just like you wanted me to be.” Schuldig stated, a frown forming as he ran down the list on all the regulations of his servitude, insuring himself he could do them all.

Bradley gave a loud laugh and almost snorted, “No you wont.”

Schuldig sat up and looked at Crawford with his determined face, “Yes I will! You'll see!”

Bradley patted the rear gently and said, “You're going to back to normal as soon as the pain dulls. You'll just be a little more wary before you defy me.”

Schuldig protested, “I'm going to be better, Master!”

Crawford chuckled, “See? You're already talking back to me, you'll be back to normal in no time at all.

Schuldig grumbled, realizing he'd already broken his own vow.

Bradley looked up at the clock and sighed, “We should get ready to go soon.”

Schuldig nodded and stood, allowing his master to stand. He turned to look in the direction of the bedroom and asked, “Master? I'm not sure how formal to dress.”

The 22-year-old examined the 17-year-old, or what was visible to him from his place on the couch. As Crawford's eyes traveled up and down the boy's well-punished thighs, rear, and lower back he felt a constriction in his pants.

Schuldig continued speaking in that direction, as if trying to motivate himself to go off and get ready for the meeting, instead of curling back up into his master's lap, “And I'm going to need to clean myself up… my back that is. Master? Would it trouble you terribly to help me apply the... ointment?”

Crawford grinned as he saw about 3 minutes into the future. He nodded, “Its no trouble at all, Schuldig.” He stood up and looked at the clock again deciding that those people from Esset could bare having to wait a little while longer…

Next Chapter: Crawford buys a new slave?!? How does this affect Schuldig? Well, there isn't any angst, just smut and BDSM as usual! So review! And tell me if I was too hard on Schuldig here.

I stopped for now… because this is 28 pages and my fingers are dead!

Wow! You read it all! *applauds you* Now here is a moving treat!

http://www.dreamanime.de/picture/animation/bottlekla.gif

Several girls and a sudden burnt Chibi. But that isn't what matters, it's the trampoline!

Other awesome collars:

http://www.lionshearth.com/lioncollar.jpg

http://www.themillenniummall.net/MetalCollar1.jpg

http://www.temptatia.com/collar_celticlion.jpg