#treating James like a dog 😵‍💫😵‍💫

[nahoyasboyfriend]

I'm stuck on this concept of watching James while he indulges his bloodlust, but him being almost like a puppy to you.

There's a man tied down before him, and an array of tools of pain and death (well, mostly knives and plain fixing tools) layed out nearby. You sit down in an armchair, legs crossed, lighting a cigarette with such nonchalance it drives March crazy. He doesn't just make a show out of the torture, he lets you chime in with whatever requests you might have. You tell him to use the hammer, or the smallest of his knives, and he can't bring himself to refuse. Both the submission to you and control over the victim drive him nuts. He can't tell you "no". Be a little authoritative and he's all yours. Like a puppy. Well, a very morbid puppy.

Also, calling him by his last name only🥰 whenever you're mad and want to treat him like the dog he is a little harsher, curtly call him March, not Jimmy, not James, just his last name. He will kneel and grovel for your amusement and forgiveness - as long as you don't tell anybody, of course.

(Or maybe he would like you to tell someone because he would love to be humiliated. But he'd never agree to it, so it stays a secret little fantasy.)

I'm absolutely in love with the thought of this so here is a little something!!

James sees you in his peripheral vision in your pretty dress and your plump red lips. you're watching him, but you're not truly looking at him. rather your eyes are focused on his hands and the man strapped before him. your reactions are lukewarm. silently watching. judging. today, for reasons unknown to James, you're not being as doting as you'd normally be. you haven't trailed your eyes up and down the length of his body, you haven't told how good he's doing, and you didn't come give him a kiss when you came in. he doesn't question it, but it burns him up. the lack of attention makes him feel like he might break out in hives.

"use the small knife, March," your sweet but firm voice rings out, and the sound of his last name sends chills creeping down his spine. it's so rare the word sounds foreign on your tongue. pausing what he was doing, he listens, picking up a smaller knife.

"no, the smallest one," you sigh, taking a drag from your cigarette. he quickly picks up the one you requested. it makes things slightly harder, he has to cut deeper to get better results, put in more effort. the man groans in agony, drooling around a gag that you suggested James stuff in his mouth. there's an odd enjoyment he gets out of this, out of listening to your every word without question. wrapped around your finger, while this man’s life is wrapped around his.

you do this a few times, commanding him to use different weapons on this poor man. each of them putting more strain on James as well as causing the man more suffering. he tries to rejoice in the man's pain, and he does take great pleasure in it. but he can't help notice how with every switch your attention ebbs. a few yawns here and there, checking your nails, and adjusting your dress. he doesn't up the torture, doesn't stop doing what you've asked of him. he can follow orders and be good for you.

“March, come here,” you call out, beckoning him over, your painted nails glinting in the light. he looks over at you with wide eyes, glancing at the man in front of him.

“kill him and come here, don't make me wait,” you add, impatient. without hesitation, he slits the man's neck, and rushes to you. he stops in front of you, and you tap your nails against the arm of the chair.

“kneel,” you hum, giving him a mean smile. it surprises the both of you when he drops to his knees. you half expected him to stop going along with your whims. he didn't realize how a singular smile could render him this subservient.

“dearest, I don't understand why you're withholding your affections-” you cut him off with a finger pressing against his lips. then you lean in close, close enough that your lips are almost touching, “if you want my love, you have to earn it. show me how well you can obey, March.”