Jim's thumb digs deep into the wound, pressing against the stitches and forcing the barely healed skin apart. He makes a vaguely thoughtful noise and lifts his thumb to his mouth, licking it clean with slow deliberate movements. "You're not supposed to get hurt."

Sebastian doesn't respond. He knows he's not supposed to and anything he says will just make Jim even angrier at him. He continues to star straight ahead, looking over Jim's shoulder at the wall behind him, not daring to look him in the eyes and see that look, the one so angry, so frightening, so disappointed. The one that makes him want to do anything his employer asks of him. He'd probably throw himself off of a cliff if Jim asked him to while giving him that look.

Jim is turning away from him now and heading to the bedroom. "Come." It's not a request, it's a demand that he knows Sebastian will follow. He doesn't even glance back to make sure he's obeyed. Sebastian touches the gouge on his side gingerly, fingers coming away damp with blood. His brow furrows as he thinks that he'll have to re-stitch it later, even though that should probably be the least of his worries.

He leaves his clothes sitting pitifully in a rumpled pile on the floor and pads into the bedroom. His eyes flit around the room, finding Jim sitting in the chair in the corner, one leg crossed over the other. He has one elbow propped on his knee and his chin is resting in his hand, his expression carries a tone of both utter boredom and impatience. "On your knees."

"On the floor or on the bed?" Sebastian isn't supposed to talk and he knows that, but that's the point. It will make Jim just a little bit angrier, make him hurt him just a little bit harder.

His expectations come true as Jim is up and out of the chair in a split second, mood quickly swinging from bored impatience to dangerously violent and Sebastian's head is twisted roughly to one side as Jim's palm makes forceful contact with his cheek. Sebastian smirks to himself and runs his tongue over his teeth, testing to see if his teeth rattled enough to bleed. He gives in, he'll always give in, and drops down to his knees in front of his boss, looking up at him through his eye lashes with a look of feigned innocence. They both know he hasn't been anything close to innocent in years.

Jim grips Sebastian's chin tightly between his fingers and angles his face upward towards him, his grip tight enough to threaten bruises. "Better. I'll have you properly trained yet." His fingers release Sebastian and he slowly circles around behind the man, fingers dragging a trail down his jaw, his neck, along his shoulder and over his back.

His fingers are quick and violent and twist roughly into Sebastian's hair, yanking him backwards, forcing his head back. Jim's lips are at his neck, mouthing against the strained muscles, hissing out his displease. "You. Are. Mine. And no one is allowed to hurt you except for me. And I think you need to be reminded of what I can do to you."

Sebastian is thrown forward without warning and he barely manages to catch himself before his face smashes into the ground.

"Stay down." Jim's voice has taken on that all too familiar tone, the one that suggests you follow his orders but threatens a slit throat if you don't. He stays down and starts straight ahead. He wants badly to turn and see that Jim is doing behind him, but know that it's against the rules of this game. He can hear the slight creak of the floor as Jim moves around but he has no idea what's going on. Jim constantly moves his toys and his weapons – the same thing to him, really- around the room on a regular basis so he can't even guess what's coming based on that.

He is starting to relax, wondering if maybe his punishment is to stay here on the hard floor when the first painful strike of the riding crop comes down across his back. He gasps sharply in pain. Jim doesn't try to avoid leaving marks, doesn't start with any sort of prep, doesn't aim for the soft, fleshy areas. He wants his mark visible and he aims for where it hurts, along the shoulders, at his hips, deliberate strikes across old battle scars that make Sebastian's breath hitch and his cock harden.

The crop is coming down in a firestorm of hits, barely giving him the time to gasp between each strike. Jim's rage is pouring out of him and through the tip of the leather, leaving a myriad of bright red marks staining his back.

The first volley stops ad he can hear Jim panting for air. The tip of the leather is pressed to the back of his neck and Sebastian leans his head forward, pressing it against the floor.

"Why," Jim asks, dragging the tip slowly down the length of Sebastian's spine, "do you make me do this to you?" The leather trails across the back of one of his thighs. "Why do you let other people hurt you?" Jim lifts the crop away entirely. "Answer me."

Sebastian takes several slow deep breaths, trying to pull his focus back enough to respond coherently. "I…I don't."

The crop bites sharply into his left shoulder and Jim snarls."Liar! You're not allowed to be hurt and you." A sharp strike across his right shoulder. "let someone" His left hip. "hurt you" The center of his back. Sebastian can feel s skin threatening to split in several places and he shifts almost imperceptibly but is halted by the touch of the whip against the side of his neck.

"Roll over. Flat on your back."

He does as he's told, and tilts his head up as the leather drags along his jaw line. He shifts his head slightly and presses against it, like a cat nudging the hand of his master. Jim steps forward, planting one foot in the center of Sebastian's chest, making it difficult, but not impossible to breathe.

"Now. Answer me." He gently taps Sebastian's cheek. "And tell the truth this time, honey." His voice drips with a sickly sweet tone. Appealing to the dark look in Jim's eyes, Sebastian turns his head just enough to run his tongue along the flat of the crop before replying.

"I told you, I didn't." His head is forced to one side, gasping as his cheek explodes in pain; he can already feel the welt rising from the strike. Jim's heel digs harder into his sternum and his gaze flicks over Sebastian's body with a cold, calculating look before he pulls back.

"Get up. I want you on the bed."