ic; salt inbox

[ripher]

WELCOME TO THE SALTBURNT NETWORK

USERNAME: GILES

text ❖ audio ❖ video

note: this inbox is a choose not to warn experience and may contain nsfw threads

Comments

[ripher]

[ Aha. Well, he's had more practice with this lately. ]

I think I will need proof that you've been good, Timothy. Please write "I am a good boy" 100 times and send me a picture.

[holyposition]

[ If that’s not the craziest thing to make his cheeks flush in a while, he’s not sure what is. It takes a moment of pondering (not as many moments as it should) before he fishes out a pen and paper and does exactly what he’s told. Tim’s script is a loopy cursive, very neat, which he refuses to let slip even through his impatience, and the ache in his hand near the end. He sends a picture with every line numbered, one to a hundred, several sheets single-sided which he photographs individually to ensure they stand up to scrutiny. ]

Finished. Here you are.

[ripher]

[ It's a strange request; Giles isn't entirely sure where it came from, besides certain bitter memories of boarding school. There's probably something Freudian in that. He's trying not to think about it. ]

Very good. Here you go.

[ Feeling somewhat absurd and a little nervous, not even sure if this is what Tim actually wants, he sends a photo of his feet -- that is, his Italian leather loafers, one foot crossed over the other at the ankle. ]

[holyposition]

[ Tease. What a cruel, terrible man. It makes his mouth go dry, imagining. ]

How many lines to get those off?

[ripher]

[ It helps that Tim asks for it. Makes it clear he wants the rules, the punishment. ]

50.

[ A moment of inspiration: ] And I'd like you to take off your clothes.

[holyposition]

[ After another ten minutes: a picture - but instead of the underwear covering the most intimate bits, it's a few sheets of paper. Numbered, one to fifty. I am a very good boy. ]

[ripher]

[ The photo sends a thrill through him; he's getting hard, just imagining what's going on in Tim's room, inside his head. How eager he must be. Giles could get dangerously used to this. However: ]

Did you write what I asked you to?

[ No, he didn't. ]

Kneel. Another 10 lines. Write them on the floor.

[holyposition]

I’m sorry, sir. Right away

[ Immediate. Do what you’re told, Tim, no cheeky flourishes.

The next one that comes is the promised ten lines, framed between his knees on the rug. ]

[ripher]

Good boy.

[ He gets his reward: a photo of Giles' socked feet, placed squarely on the rug in front of him, rather like the picture of Tim's homework. Let him imagine himself there instead. ]

[holyposition]

[ And imagine he will, for quite a few minutes, as if he's forgotten to respond, or is just so blindingly horny that he's forgotten about words. ]

Thank you, sir. You're very kind to indulge me. I imagine you'll want more than lines to see them bare.

[ripher]

Smart and diligent as well as obedient. Very good. Shall I ask Harry what you ought to do? I imagine he has a good idea of how hard you can work when you want something.

[holyposition]

rurejkuur

[ Dropped his phone... ]

Sorry.

He'd know. He knows really well.

[ripher]

Very well. While we wait for Harry to respond, please stay where you are and think about how you will thank the both of us for taking care of you today.

2/2

[ripher]

[ A little over five minutes later, a follow up: ]

Harry has recommended the mat in the closet. Fetch it please. You will kneel on this while you write. We'd also like you to select something you would like to put inside you (you may prepare yourself for it, I can wait). You may not pleasure yourself outside of inserting it, however.

Then, when you're ready, we'd like you to write a paragraph on why you selected the toy you chose, how it makes you feel to be told what to do, and whether you feel you've earned your reward.

[holyposition]

[ Oh, he's actually...oh.

He's half a mind to call Harry and confirm that this is really his idea, and that it really is all okay with him, but...Harry likes this kind of thing. Enjoyed hearing about everything they did at Otherworld, enjoys the idea of watching. The biggest surprise is that Giles actually contacted him. Flushed and hard just from a handful of messages, he replies. ]

Okay. Give me a few minutes, please.

[ He pulls the spiny mat from the closet, takes the hardback he's been using to write on, pen, paper, takes it all down to the floor with him. A favorite plug. Tim thinks about the two of them here as he works himself open, daydreams about them feeding him their cocks. One after another, together. The taste of them both on his lips. Once it's inside, he writes, pen and paper, a photograph of it sent along. ]

I selected a plug, which is inside me now as I write. It's metal, I like the weight of it. I like this one specifically because it keeps me just the right amount of stretched out for Daddy - he can replace it with his cock easily, but not too loose, there's still some sting. That's how he likes it. I like it, too. I like doing what he tells me. It's a way to prove my devotion, and prove that I'm worthy of the very generous attention that you and Harry have both given me. It's fulfilling to be able to make someone else happy. I tend to overthink things, so I feel more comfortable letting someone else decide. That's the honest truth, and I've done everything else you've asked, so despite my shameless overeagerness with the "very good boy" line, I do think that I've earned my reward. I'm happy to defer to your judgement, though, Mr. Giles. And Harry.

[ripher]

[ It's a delicious wait, wondering what Tim is up to, imagining him kneeling naked and eager on the rug. Giles spends not a little time looking at the photos of the lines again, running the flat of his hand over his hard cock through his trousers, enjoying the self-denial and the interesting new pleasure of being in control -- being everything he had always hated in his father and his tutors, but in a different way, a way that's wanted and pleasurable, putting on a role he can take off again.

The response, when it comes, is somehow much more thrilling than simple words deserve to be. But then again, if nothing else, he understands the power of words alone. He finds himself glad to have asked for this window into Tim's own enjoyment, soothing a few of his own lingering doubts. It's fulfilling to be able to make someone else happy. ]

Very good, Tim. Thank you for your hard work. You've more than earned your reward.

[ He sends it across, feeling far less silly now: a few photos of his bare feet, planted on the rug and crossed over each other, toes spread and not. And as a bonus, a photo of where he's hard in his trousers, his free hand resting on his thigh. ]

[holyposition]

[ The hard plastic spikes dig into his shins and knees, a test of endurance he's grandly rewarded for. How far away is Giles' room, he wonders. Far enough that he has a hold over him at a distance, it makes it all that much hotter, how degenerate he feels, debasing himself like this for just a photo. Not even the real thing.

But the pictures help him imagine it, how the curve of his arches might feel cupped against his cheek, how many toes he could fit in his mouth at once. Tim's cock twitches and leaks onto the mat. ]

Thank you, Mr. Giles. You have very handsome toes. They're worth every line and every spike.

[ Another image, in profile, of his kneeling position, so he can see the spines digging into his legs. Tim's cock is carefully hidden by the angle of his thigh - a useless bit of modesty, at this point, but one he maintains nonetheless. ]

[ripher]

Beautiful.

[ And it is, in its odd and unfamiliar way. The pain that must be present in him, and the willingness to endure it. Even the way he hides himself has its own artfulness -- Giles gazes at the photo for a long moment, fascinated by the new discoveries.

He remembers, belatedly, the offer he'd planned to make. ]

Would you like Harry or myself to come and take care of you? Since you've been so good, you can choose, and we will both be pleased by whatever you pick. Or you can stay like this, if you want, and I can ask Harry to come to you afterwards.

[holyposition]

I'm sorry, I hope I don't sound ungrateful - but as nice as it sounds, I can't have you here. I won't invite anyone into our bed without Harry present.

I'd like for him to come home, at his leisure. I can wait.

[ripher]

Of course. I'll send him along.

I'll talk to you soon, Tim. Thank you for being good.

[holyposition]

Thank you, sir. I'm looking forward to it.