Bad Dog

Summery: Wherein Maka displays her authority as a Meister and Soul's a Masochist. "Bad boy. I'm disappointed." Maka brings down the riding crop, making Soul howl in pleasure.

Warnings: kink, perverseness, cursing, OOC-ness... and I'm pretty sure 'misuse of Sex-toys' should be added

Disclaimer: Oh, if I owned SE...

A door opens and Soul whimpers, beads of sweat trailing down his forehead. He unconsciously pushes his tongue against the cloth gag -which he was pretty sure had been the shirt he'd been wearing- that was tied around his head, forcing his teeth apart, but not doing much else. He twists his hands, trying to find weakness in the tight knots. No go. "Trying to leave so soon, Soru? That's too bad..." Soul whimpers again.

Maka's smirk goes from darkly-playful to downright sadistic. Soul's pupils dilate and his heart picks up speed. Maka steps to the side of his bed, reaching out to brush sweat-soaked hair from his face before cupping his cheek. "Something wrong, Soul? You seem... uncomfortable." She purrs the last word, grinning. Soul whimpers again, shifting on his bed.

Maka clucks her tongue at him, moving her other arm to tap something against his clothed erection. Previous experience told him exactly what it was. That knowledge brought along memories of just what it was used for. He whines, eyes glazing over as he lifts his hips. Maka frowns and smacks his crotch again, harder this time. Soul whines again, settling back down.

With a smirk, Maka trails it up her partner's stomach and chest, tilting the end so that the handle -loop a dark shock against her pale skin- stuck at an angle in the air while the other end pressed against the dip in his collar bones. Soul swallows again, feeling his pants tighten even more.

Maka's smirk widens. "What is it, Soul? See something you like?" He nods, eyes half-mast. She reaches down to pull the gag from his mouth, sending him a warning look. Pulling back, she stares down at him while tapping the end on his chest. He frowns up at her, wanting to say something; ask her to stop teasing, anything, but he knew the rules and refused to break them this early. So he settled for a blank stare and remaining limp. Maka grins in return, lightly tapping Soul's stomach, not leaving much sting. Soul glares at her, huffing and turning his head, eyes closed.

Maka frowns, lifting the metal rod to smack it against her partner. Soul jumps at the sudden change, moaning. When Maka lifts it again, a hint of worry in her eyes, it catches in the moonlight and he gasps. A leather handle; a long rod, such a dark blue it appeared black until the light hit it a certain way; the looped leather tip. All twenty-four inches of it was customized -and though they had others that caused more pain, this was his favorite one. And it was for that simple reason that it quickly became Maka's favorite as well. -Soul was always freer with himself when she used the 'toys' he liked.

Of course, his kinks soon rubbed off on her, changing her in ways she'd never thought possible. She was his opposite in this; the only one that can do this for him. Any other Meister wouldn't do this; if they did, they'd never be like her. Either too soft or too hard. Her smirk becomes more cruel and she smacks him again, this time with the leather, leaving an angry red mark on his ribs. He whines, clenching his fists to force himself still. Their little 'game' was just starting; it'd be a shame to end it now...

Maka sighs, leaning over to touch the mark. She frowns and straightens again, dragging the edge along his skin. "Something wrong, Soul? You're quiet. Maybe I should hit harder?" Soul flushes and nods, grinding his shark-like teeth together. When she finally smacks him again, he can't suppress a moan, nerves flaring with imaginary lightning.

He knows its a bad habit, he knows its unhealthy and strange, but damn if it doesn't feel good when she hits him. He can scarcely remember the time when they'd first started this game. Maka had been afraid to hit him, worried that she would permanently harm him, or hit too hard. A pair of scissors in his shoulder blade quickly soothed most of her fears. He smiles contently, dropping it when she slams down again. Yes. She'd definitely come a long way.

Maka grins at his yelp, quick to bring it back down, leaving an angry red mark that quickly darkened. It looked like it would bruise. She hoped so. With a flick of the wrist, she brings it down again, pushing onto the mark that she'd just created.

Soul groans before whimpering. Opening his eyes, he glances up, finding Maka staring blankly at his chest. Panting, he flicks his eyes that way as well. His brows raise in breathless curiosity. "Maka?"

She frowns down at where the riding crop met his skin. "Something felt..loose.. about that last swing." She turns to him, raising a brow. Soul shrugs. "Gonna stop?"

Maka flicks the crop lightly. She bites the inside of her cheek, shrugging one shoulder while she continues to mechanically flick his chest and stomach. Soul bites his lip, unconsciously checking the pressure he uses. A sudden flick to one of his ribs and he can't hold back any longer. "Maka! Please! Don't leave me hanging! Its not cool!" He twitches, pursing his lips into a thin line. Maka smirks and flicks him again before raising her arm.

Soul watches with wide eyes, sharp thrills of terror racing along his nerves. If he wasn't so desperate, he might ask Maka to stop...

Something glints in Maka's eye and Soul shivers. Actually, now that he thought about it.. it just might be a good idea to stop her. "Um.. Maka?" Her grin widens and he gulps. "Maka?" He twists his hands, genuinely trying to escape now.

She slams down, twin cracks echoing through the room. Soul squeals and writhes, not knowing whether to cry in pain or beg for more. Maka's gasp makes him sniff and blink open his eyes. She lifts the riding crop, reveling that a small section had snapped at the bend. Soul's breath catches and he watches his partner as she studies it.

Maka frowns, glancing between her partner and their 'toy'. Suddenly, her eyes meet Soul's and she nods determinedly, turning to grab something behind her. He flinches at the sound of scissors cutting through leather. When she turns back around, his eyes immediately latch onto the strips of leather hanging from the side. He gulps, breath becoming more shallow.

Maka, who'd been watching her Weapon's face for any sign of disapproval, sighs in relief. She flicks her wrist, allowing the newly-made strips to brush his skin. "Your bleeding." she tells him off-offhandedly, as if discussing lunch. She trails the loop -or what was left, seeing as how a piece had been broken and cut- down the cut, smearing the tiny droplets of blood. He blinks at her. "Really?"

She nods, smacking him again. Soul moans and clenches his fists, fighting to not arch into it. She deals a few more blows, getting steadily harder with each hit. Five hits in, Soul start yelling. Whether he's begging or spewing nonsense, she can't tell. Fifteen, and she can make out her name and what she thinks is 'more'. She reaches twenty and he starts crying, still blubbering in a way that she can barely understand.

She smirks once she reaches thirty. He's already lost the game, so he needs punished. With that thought in mind, she hits even harder.

Soul snaps at thirty-two, completely forgetting the English language. Maka's smirk turns into a sadistic grin and she nearly pauses. But then Soul yells a memorized phrase in Italian and she can't stop. Not when he's speaking his home-language in that begging tone, crying from the waves of pain and pleasure racing through him. Finally, she reaches fifty and stops, trailing the crop/whip across his lightly bleeding chest.

"Soul?..." she whispers, suddenly worried. Soul was crying, small sobs escaping every now and then. His hands and fingers twitch sporadically and he was chanting something in Italian. She had to lean forward and think back, attempting to translate what he was saying. "God, Maka, fuck, more. God, Maka, fuck, more."

She chews her lip, glancing down at his crotch. She has to take a moment to wonder how he can still be hard after that before snapping back into her role.

She reaches for his chair, pulling it up and sitting. "Soul. You lost again." she tells him, tone even as if talking about the weather.

Soul cracks open his eyes, remaining otherwise still. He moans as he watches her, smug in his chair and playing with his favorite 'toy'. She gives him her best 'I'm the pimp here, bitch' smirk. 'She could use a little more work.' he thinks fuzzily. He strains against his bonds. Just one more hit... That's all he needs right now... Soul arches his back about an inch off his bed, barring his throat to her.

She eyes him approvingly, smirk deepening. He whines, arching more and sending her a pleading look. She shakes her head, scooting his chair closer. "Soul~ Eater~" she sing-songs, lifting her arm again. He opens his eyes more, watching her while slowly relaxing back into his bed.

"Bad boy. I'm disappointed." Maka lets gravity take control of her arm, keeping a grip that promised pain. It connects; hard. Soul howls in pleasure, eyes widening and back arching harshly. He drops, quivering. Closing his eyes, he takes several deep breathes, trying to regain control of his breathing.

He blinks up at his Meister when worn leather closes around his neck. A leash is hooked onto the metal ring and he sighs, understanding instantly. He'd just gotten off, so why not return the favor?

He rolls his eyes, shifting into a more comfortable position just as Maka grinds into him, sending tingles up his spine. She must be impatient today..

Soul glances back to his Meister, slightly unnerved by the look on her face. He had a feeling it was gonna be a long night.

Sorry, I honestly though I'd posted this. Anyway, this is just an idea I got from my English class. The teacher and one of the students who'd been caught with his phone out, actually. So, let me know of any problems, helpful info, etc.