Mmmmm~ Double Megane...

When Alfred presents Arthur with a pair of gold-rimmed spectacles, Arthur is decidedly confused. He stares at them in his hands, wondering what on earth he's supposed to do with them. "I don't need glasses," he informs Alfred promptly. He knows he's on the precipice of disobedience, but he's willing to push the edge just a bit for this matter.

Though really, what is one more accessory? Alfred controls everything he wears and his closets are stocked full of the finest clothes, shoes and accessories that Arthur has ever seen much less owned. All courtesy of Alfred's very expensive, private tailors and the younger man's immense wallet. With the side-benefit of not spending a single penny of his own rather hefty salary. (Arthur often daydreams about retiring early to his own private island somewhere in the Caribbean.)

Still, something about this is just... galling.

"I don't care. You're going to wear them," Alfred growls, his eyes narrowing dangerously. The younger man is lounging naked on top of Arthur's bed in his chic brick walled condo, looking all the world like he owns the place. Considering he is also paying for this, that's fair enough. The company had offered Arthur free housing, but Alfred wanted him in the same building as him, which is too steep for Arthur's budget. It's only fair that Alfred pays the price for convenience. Spoiled brat.

Knowing Alfred is likely going to go for the flogger any second, Arthur still presses on regardless. "But you like my eyes. Why in the blazes would you want me to cover them up?" he demands, clearly offended. Yes, that's it. He's horribly offended. This is an affront to his... well, not dignity. Something.

Seeing this, a sly smirk works it's way to Alfred's lips as the dangerous air seems to dissipate. For now. "You're right," he admits, waving Arthur to come over to him to the bed. Arthur comes, if a little unwillingly, as though he's dragged by a leash. Alfred's hands wrap tightly about Arthur's lithe body, his grip harsh and possessive. Arthur very much enjoys the feeling. "You have the most beautiful eyes in the entire world," Alfred purrs, his words cascading warmly down Arthur's skin like the seductive tracing of a feather. "They belong to me and only me. No one else is allowed to see them like I do."

Ah~ So that's it.

"Oh, I see..." Arthur replies sagely, his lips betraying his delight. "Just so that we're clear, I do not wear the spectacles in private then?" The younger man shakes his head. "Just in the company of others?" A nod and the hands around him tighten, rough and jealous. Arthur not-so-secretly relishes it. He lets out a laugh, his hand sifting through his the younger man's fringe and the wild streak of purple. "My poor, dear, jealous master. I suppose a collar would be too obvious, wouldn't it?" he teases, pressing all of Alfred's buttons. He knows them so intimately after all. "Are you imagining it, Alfred?" he asks softly, running his hands down the younger man's broad shoulders and down his hard back. "A tight black leather collar with a bright silver buckle. Like what I used to wear in Uni... I would feel it against my flesh all day, only just restricting my breath, a constant reminder of who I belong to..."

The words work like magic on the younger man, his blue eyes glazing over with liquid desire. His breath grows shallow and his flesh heats underneath Arthur's hands. Arthur has done that to him, watching in pleasure as Alfred fights for bodily control over himself. It's nice to not be the first one coming completely undone for a change. Not that he doesn't enjoy it, mind you.

"You know, you needn't feel so jealous if you let everyone know I belong to you," Arthur reminds his lover lightly.

Just like that, he knows he's gone a step too far. The lovely haze surrounding Alfred suddenly shuts down, replaced instead by a harsh, cold fury. "I warned you not to talk about that," he hisses, his blue eyes blazing in anger. His ire is so lethal and fierce that Arthur is immediately thrown from his teasing mood back into the guise of submissive pet.

"I-I'm sorry," he apologizes, his eyes wide in an expression of sincere contrition. "Master, I'm so sorry. I know I shouldn't have mentioned it. I know it upsets you." How stupid he'd been! He just had to push too far, didn't he? He'd only meant to get Alfred a little riled. But no~ he has to go and bring up the one thing that Alfred has absolutely no control over. The hold that Alfred's father has over him. Not for the first time, he silently wishes death upon the CEO.

However, it's already too late. His amorous lover is gone, replaced by his brutal taskmaster instead. And not the playful, teasing one. This is the one hiding there underneath the surface, the one that all of Alfred's other faces merely hint at. A thrill of fear shoots through Arthur, especially when Alfred grabs him and throws him on top of the bed without warning.

"On your stomach, now," Alfred snaps. Arthur obeys, letting out a muffled yelp when a strong hand shoves his face roughly into his pillow. He whimpers when Alfred finds his ties and binds him to the posts of his bed, all four limbs. For a brief flash of panic, he has the absolutely terrifying thought that Alfred does not have any control over himself and his anger. No, he cannot think like that. This entire relationship is based off of trust.

Red. His safeword is Red.

Alfred gets off of him, sliding out of bed and heading to a corner of the room where the box of instruments is kept. A sharp chill goes through Arthur when he sees the tool that Alfred has chosen. The yew cane.

Oh lord, this is going to hurt.

Steeling himself, he wraps his hands around the silk ties around his wrists. He shivers when the tip of the cane caresses his back, the misguiding anticipation before the strike. It slides over his flesh like a serpent, teasing him as it slid between his cheeks. Then it disappears, only to come harshly down onto Arthur's naked back. Not as hard as it could have been, which would have sent Arthur to the hospital. Yet it still bites.

Arthur gasps harshly, tears prickling at the corner of his eyes as the initial sting turns into a fiery sear of pain. The tip of the cane is back again, tracing gently over his muscles and along the delicate line of fire that seems to split his back. The touch seems to take measure, lustfully soaking in his pain and his pleasure like ambrosia. He hisses sharply, squeezing his eyes shut as he feels his body responding with painful arousal to the light strokes and brushes caressing his flesh. He's already overwhelmed, writhing in want even as he dreads the next strike. How pathetic, one hit and he's already nearly at his limit. That's when the next hit comes. In a different places this time, spreading out the pain. A sharp cry issues from Arthur's mouth, piercing the room.

"Shhhh~" his master hushes, the tip of the cane once more on him, sliding over the small of his back. "Be good, Arthur. Unless you want me to hit you again."

"No. No, please," Arthur begs, tears free flowing from his eyes. He lets out a scream, when there's another sharp strike. Then the snake is back, threading over his bright red skin. He's almost delirious in pain, his thoughts growing dizzy.

"Red!" Arthur cries out, tears streaming from his eyes as the pain threatens to overwhelm him. He cringes when he feels the rush of wind just as the cane is about to hit him again. Yet it stops short, just inches above his back. Arthur gasps for breath, sobbing with relief as the onslaught ceases.

He hears the cane clack onto the wooden floor and feels Alfred's hands come up to his bound wrists and ankles. They are red from their wrappings, though in a much better state than his beleaguered back. There is no doubt that his flesh will bruise and blister. "Arthur..." he hears Alfred call his name softly and winces when he feels the other man's fingers come up to his reddened skin. "Just a minute, I'll be back."

The younger man departs from the room and then returns with a small jar of salve. The bed dips as Alfred comes up into bed beside him and applies the bitter smelling ointment to his painful skin. It has an immediate cooling effect, doing much to numb the sting. Alfred is unbearably gentle as he massages the balm in, bringing his legs underneath Arthur's head so that he can rest upon him. "You haven't needed the safeword in ages," Alfred notes softly. It's as close to an apology as Arthur knows he's going to get. Not that he particularly needs one.

"You stopped," Arthur responds hoarsely in turn, shaking his head. He relaxes fully against the younger man, confident that Alfred will never do anything to hurt him. At least not without his permission. "You gave me a fright. I didn't think you would."

"Of course, I would," Alfred huffs in reply, clearly offended. His hand briefly fists in Arthur's hair, tugging his face up to meet his. "But don't bring up outing us again. I mean it." As though he hadn't just demonstrated that.

"Yes, sir," he replies quietly. The fist releases, allowing Arthur to comfortably rest once again atop his thigh. Then it resumes gently petting him. It feels absolutely lovely. Not to mention, now that the pain has settled into a delicious, stinging throb, he feels outright restless. Arthur turns his green eyes up to his lover. "After all that, you aren't going to even have me?"

Alfred raises an eyebrow and smirks. "I didn't think you'd be up for it."

Arthur glares at him, before gingerly pushing himself up to a kneeling position on the bed. Alfred's smirk only grows as he eyes Arthur's erection. "I suppose I can forgive you for not realizing it while I was on my belly," the Brit says, quite tetchy. "But right now, I want you to take me. On my back."

"You are such a glutton," Alfred teases, his eyes brimming with dark delight and even a little awe. He roughly pushes the older man onto his back, making Arthur hiss at the deliciously painful sensation. "After this you'll be feeling me for weeks."

When Arthur finally does go to work two days later, his glasses are a securely in place, a brand new addition to his work attire.