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wolfanficsTitle: Compassion
Author: Sashataakheru
Fandom: Admish meets The Chaser
Characters: Charles Firth/Julian Morrow a.k.a Master, Adam Hills/Hamish Blake
Word Count: 1,574
Warnings: hurt/comfort, bondage
Rating: FRAO
Disclaimer: I don’t know them, not associated with them, just a slashy fangirl admirer with a very active imagination.
Author's Notes/Summary: Here are my strange ideas about the Firth persona being the cover-up fora submissive feminised little pain slut a timid, introverted little buttercup. Follow-on/Sequel from Submission/Domination/Suppression. And yeah, this was supposed to get a bit more detailed, but Adam got distracted.
Compassion
In the hour or so that I’m awake as Hamish falls asleep against me, finally, I have time to process the night’s events. Charlie has me completely fascinated. I’ve never seen a man act like that before. He was so completely and thoroughly broken. What had Jules done to break him so well? And where could I find someone to try this out on for myself? Perhaps not the feminisation aspect, but I want to know if I’m capable of training a slave like Charlie.
I pause at my thoughts.
Why do I want this when Hamish so clearly doesn’t like it at all? How can I be so selfish towards my own needs, blatantly going against what Hamish is comfortable with?
What have I done? I beat him. I whipped him. I fucked him. And I knew Hamish wasn’t happy with it. But I promised Jules I’d take care of him for the night. He trusted his slave to me. I couldn’t not discipline him, besides which I wanted to. I wonder if Hamish will ever understand this.
Although, I must admit, I did notice all the scars on Charles’ back. How long had Jules whipped him like this for? What had he been whipped with? The riding crop I have seems pretty tame in light of those scars. Charles had bled a lot over the years. I could tell that from all the scars. Those were the scars of wounds that had bled. The sheer number of them shocked me. And they weren’t just on his back. They were all over his legs.
Suddenly, I didn’t like it as much. How could anyone cause that much pain to another human being? That’s torture. Yeah, trust the sensible part of my brain to kick in now. We have another poker match in a few weeks, same terms as before. I’m not so sure I want to play again. If I lose…
I hesitate to finish that thought.
I shouldn’t worry. I trust those guys. They wouldn’t hurt me if I told them not to. It’ll be fine. I’m just not sure if I could really accept being that submissive to anyone other than Hamish. And even then, I’m not as submissive to Hamish as he is to me. He’s naturally submissive. I need to have the right person and be in the right mood to make me be submissive. He dominates in a very strange way. He dominates as if he’s serving, not as if he’s taking charge. So in a sense, he’s not really domming anyway, just serving me by doing what he wants to do without my orders. Mostly involves tying me up, actually. He quite likes that, and it is rather enjoyable. I’ve taught him how to tie the rope harnesses I’ve used on him.
Mmm… rope harnesses. He looks so good all tied up. Makes him even more submissive. He loved it the one time I made him wear the harness all day as punishment. That was hot, thinking about him at work, all tied up, no one else knowing it was there. It was hard to concentrate that day, especially when he sent me a couple of pictures he’d taken. That boy is one hell of a tease.
Thinking of Hamish sends me off to sleep, in spite of how turned on I am by them. I have such pleasant dreams when I go to sleep thinking of him. I love falling asleep with him in my arms. He feels right in my arms, like he should be there. My dreams still linger in my mind as I wake. My eyes don’t want to open, but I notice someone come in and crawl into bed beside me. It must be Hamish. I try and ignore him, wanting to go back to sleep. I hope he’s just coming back to bed. If he wakes me up, he’s in trouble. After a few minutes of silence, I hear him whisper to me.
“Adam, come on baby, wake up now,” he says.
I groan and roll over. No fucking way. Too early. Fuck off and don’t wake me for another hour at least. He knows not to wake me early.
“Come on, Adam. There’s something you really need to see. Oh, come on, Adam. Don’t be stubborn,” he says.
Oh for fuck’s sake. It can’t be that important at this hour of the morning. Whatever it is can wait until I get another hour’s sleep. I wish he’d stop shaking me. Don’t want to wake up. Fuck off, Hamish.
“C’n be tha’ imp’tnt. Lemme sleep,” I mumble.
“Adam, please, it’s Charlie. He’s here. He was sleeping by the door. Looks pretty beat up too. Come on, I need your help here,” he says.
God, he sounds so insistent. I’m sure it’s not that important. “Charlie? Can’t you deal with it? Too early,” I say, wanting him to go away and let me sleep. Whatever Charles wants, it can wait til I wake up.
“Get up! I can’t carry him by myself. He’s bleeding. Come on, Adam, get up already,” he says.
“Bleeding? You serious?” I say, suddenly aware of his words. Bleeding? Why is he bleeding? And why did he come back here? Fine, he’s forced me to get up early. I’ll have to tie him up tonight as punishment.
“Would I lie about this just to get you up early?” he says.
“Oh, alright, fine,” I say, mightily annoyed at him waking me up early. But I really should take a look at Charles If he really is bleeding.
I reluctantly leave my lovely warm bed earlier than I had planned and pull some clothes on. I follow Hamish out to the living room where Charles is lying on the floor.
“Shit,” I mutter, seeing the blood stained clothes.
I kneel beside him and check him over, making sure he’s still ok. This looks bad. He’s still alive, thank God. He’s very cold, and seems to be unconscious.
“You’d better be ok, Charles. Jules won’t appreciate you dying on me,” I say under my breath, trying not to worry Hamish. “Come on, Hamish, help me get him onto the couch. He’ll be more comfortable there.”
With some care, we gently lift him onto the couch. He doesn’t stir, and that scares me. I take a look at where the blood’s coming from. It’s mostly on his back and his legs. Like I’m surprised at that. Jules must’ve flogged him. I wonder what on earth he did wrong to deserve such a bad punishment. I don’t dare touch them. I’m too afraid of what they might look like. Don’t want to hurt him any more than necessary.
“We-we’ll just let him rest. When he wakes – he can tell us what happened then,” I say.
“What about the bleeding?” Hamish says.
“I wouldn’t want to hurt him. He’ll be fine, I’m sure,” I say quickly, trying to downplay the injuries. I don’t think Hamish knows as much about this as I do, and I don’t want to scare him. Now’s not the right time to tell him. I have no idea how he’ll react when he finds out who he is and who his Master is.
Hamish had been invited to the last poker match, but declined when I told him what the standing bet was. He didn’t like the idea of being a slave to someone he didn’t know. As it is, he’s only willing to be submissive to me. I’m the only one he trusts to implicitly. To be given such trust is immensely tiring. I don’t mean to say I’m sick of it, but it’s something you have to be very careful in dealing with. I wouldn’t want to hurt him at all, or use him or manipulate him. I care about him so much I’m afraid to hurt him. Whenever we play, I’m always asking him if what I’m doing is ok. I know he doesn’t like the sort of bondage Charles likes. I’m constantly making sure I don’t lose control and hurt him without thinking.
Suppressing this side of me is a lot harder than he can ever imagine. I’m far too afraid of hurting him or scaring him that the side of me Charles brings out has to be hidden away. If I let it come out, I’m terrified of losing control and doing something to Hamish he won’t like. It shouldn’t be like this. And now last night, I messed up. I should never have invited Hamish home when Charles was there. Bad idea. I just hope to God he can forgive me for it.
I look back down at Charles, seeing his pale lifeless face. I hope he pulls out of this. As much as Jules hurts Charles, he’s terrified of going too far. But he’ll never admit it if he comes by. When he comes by. He’ll figure out sooner or later that Charles is here. I just hope he’s not going to be too angry at him. I should call him, try and explain what happened, best I know it at any rate.
I reach out and grab Charles’ cold hand in mine, desperate for him to wake up. If he dies on me, I’ll be devastated.
“Come on, Charles. Wake up. Don’t you die on me. Everything’ll be ok. Just you wake up, ok?” I find myself whispering to him.
Author: Sashataakheru
Fandom: Admish meets The Chaser
Characters: Charles Firth/Julian Morrow a.k.a Master, Adam Hills/Hamish Blake
Word Count: 1,574
Warnings: hurt/comfort, bondage
Rating: FRAO
Disclaimer: I don’t know them, not associated with them, just a slashy fangirl admirer with a very active imagination.
Author's Notes/Summary: Here are my strange ideas about the Firth persona being the cover-up for
Compassion
In the hour or so that I’m awake as Hamish falls asleep against me, finally, I have time to process the night’s events. Charlie has me completely fascinated. I’ve never seen a man act like that before. He was so completely and thoroughly broken. What had Jules done to break him so well? And where could I find someone to try this out on for myself? Perhaps not the feminisation aspect, but I want to know if I’m capable of training a slave like Charlie.
I pause at my thoughts.
Why do I want this when Hamish so clearly doesn’t like it at all? How can I be so selfish towards my own needs, blatantly going against what Hamish is comfortable with?
What have I done? I beat him. I whipped him. I fucked him. And I knew Hamish wasn’t happy with it. But I promised Jules I’d take care of him for the night. He trusted his slave to me. I couldn’t not discipline him, besides which I wanted to. I wonder if Hamish will ever understand this.
Although, I must admit, I did notice all the scars on Charles’ back. How long had Jules whipped him like this for? What had he been whipped with? The riding crop I have seems pretty tame in light of those scars. Charles had bled a lot over the years. I could tell that from all the scars. Those were the scars of wounds that had bled. The sheer number of them shocked me. And they weren’t just on his back. They were all over his legs.
Suddenly, I didn’t like it as much. How could anyone cause that much pain to another human being? That’s torture. Yeah, trust the sensible part of my brain to kick in now. We have another poker match in a few weeks, same terms as before. I’m not so sure I want to play again. If I lose…
I hesitate to finish that thought.
I shouldn’t worry. I trust those guys. They wouldn’t hurt me if I told them not to. It’ll be fine. I’m just not sure if I could really accept being that submissive to anyone other than Hamish. And even then, I’m not as submissive to Hamish as he is to me. He’s naturally submissive. I need to have the right person and be in the right mood to make me be submissive. He dominates in a very strange way. He dominates as if he’s serving, not as if he’s taking charge. So in a sense, he’s not really domming anyway, just serving me by doing what he wants to do without my orders. Mostly involves tying me up, actually. He quite likes that, and it is rather enjoyable. I’ve taught him how to tie the rope harnesses I’ve used on him.
Mmm… rope harnesses. He looks so good all tied up. Makes him even more submissive. He loved it the one time I made him wear the harness all day as punishment. That was hot, thinking about him at work, all tied up, no one else knowing it was there. It was hard to concentrate that day, especially when he sent me a couple of pictures he’d taken. That boy is one hell of a tease.
Thinking of Hamish sends me off to sleep, in spite of how turned on I am by them. I have such pleasant dreams when I go to sleep thinking of him. I love falling asleep with him in my arms. He feels right in my arms, like he should be there. My dreams still linger in my mind as I wake. My eyes don’t want to open, but I notice someone come in and crawl into bed beside me. It must be Hamish. I try and ignore him, wanting to go back to sleep. I hope he’s just coming back to bed. If he wakes me up, he’s in trouble. After a few minutes of silence, I hear him whisper to me.
“Adam, come on baby, wake up now,” he says.
I groan and roll over. No fucking way. Too early. Fuck off and don’t wake me for another hour at least. He knows not to wake me early.
“Come on, Adam. There’s something you really need to see. Oh, come on, Adam. Don’t be stubborn,” he says.
Oh for fuck’s sake. It can’t be that important at this hour of the morning. Whatever it is can wait until I get another hour’s sleep. I wish he’d stop shaking me. Don’t want to wake up. Fuck off, Hamish.
“C’n be tha’ imp’tnt. Lemme sleep,” I mumble.
“Adam, please, it’s Charlie. He’s here. He was sleeping by the door. Looks pretty beat up too. Come on, I need your help here,” he says.
God, he sounds so insistent. I’m sure it’s not that important. “Charlie? Can’t you deal with it? Too early,” I say, wanting him to go away and let me sleep. Whatever Charles wants, it can wait til I wake up.
“Get up! I can’t carry him by myself. He’s bleeding. Come on, Adam, get up already,” he says.
“Bleeding? You serious?” I say, suddenly aware of his words. Bleeding? Why is he bleeding? And why did he come back here? Fine, he’s forced me to get up early. I’ll have to tie him up tonight as punishment.
“Would I lie about this just to get you up early?” he says.
“Oh, alright, fine,” I say, mightily annoyed at him waking me up early. But I really should take a look at Charles If he really is bleeding.
I reluctantly leave my lovely warm bed earlier than I had planned and pull some clothes on. I follow Hamish out to the living room where Charles is lying on the floor.
“Shit,” I mutter, seeing the blood stained clothes.
I kneel beside him and check him over, making sure he’s still ok. This looks bad. He’s still alive, thank God. He’s very cold, and seems to be unconscious.
“You’d better be ok, Charles. Jules won’t appreciate you dying on me,” I say under my breath, trying not to worry Hamish. “Come on, Hamish, help me get him onto the couch. He’ll be more comfortable there.”
With some care, we gently lift him onto the couch. He doesn’t stir, and that scares me. I take a look at where the blood’s coming from. It’s mostly on his back and his legs. Like I’m surprised at that. Jules must’ve flogged him. I wonder what on earth he did wrong to deserve such a bad punishment. I don’t dare touch them. I’m too afraid of what they might look like. Don’t want to hurt him any more than necessary.
“We-we’ll just let him rest. When he wakes – he can tell us what happened then,” I say.
“What about the bleeding?” Hamish says.
“I wouldn’t want to hurt him. He’ll be fine, I’m sure,” I say quickly, trying to downplay the injuries. I don’t think Hamish knows as much about this as I do, and I don’t want to scare him. Now’s not the right time to tell him. I have no idea how he’ll react when he finds out who he is and who his Master is.
Hamish had been invited to the last poker match, but declined when I told him what the standing bet was. He didn’t like the idea of being a slave to someone he didn’t know. As it is, he’s only willing to be submissive to me. I’m the only one he trusts to implicitly. To be given such trust is immensely tiring. I don’t mean to say I’m sick of it, but it’s something you have to be very careful in dealing with. I wouldn’t want to hurt him at all, or use him or manipulate him. I care about him so much I’m afraid to hurt him. Whenever we play, I’m always asking him if what I’m doing is ok. I know he doesn’t like the sort of bondage Charles likes. I’m constantly making sure I don’t lose control and hurt him without thinking.
Suppressing this side of me is a lot harder than he can ever imagine. I’m far too afraid of hurting him or scaring him that the side of me Charles brings out has to be hidden away. If I let it come out, I’m terrified of losing control and doing something to Hamish he won’t like. It shouldn’t be like this. And now last night, I messed up. I should never have invited Hamish home when Charles was there. Bad idea. I just hope to God he can forgive me for it.
I look back down at Charles, seeing his pale lifeless face. I hope he pulls out of this. As much as Jules hurts Charles, he’s terrified of going too far. But he’ll never admit it if he comes by. When he comes by. He’ll figure out sooner or later that Charles is here. I just hope he’s not going to be too angry at him. I should call him, try and explain what happened, best I know it at any rate.
I reach out and grab Charles’ cold hand in mine, desperate for him to wake up. If he dies on me, I’ll be devastated.
“Come on, Charles. Wake up. Don’t you die on me. Everything’ll be ok. Just you wake up, ok?” I find myself whispering to him.
