Chapter 1

He goes down when he’s told. He drops. Click. 

It’s easy to sink down at his command. He hardly has to push himself under. Click.

He is emptied and filled with nothing, with ambiance, a white noise in the body. Click.

It is an unknowable feeling. Oceanic and drowning, like being in a basement but floating in the inescapable darkness. His arms are too heavy to move with the mind, only at the command of sound, strong enough to push them. 

Up, he says, and his back rises straight as if it were being shifted by a fast car. He still sees only cold grey. His head does not go up. It stays where it belongs, below, not deserving to look at its master. 

Come to me , he says, and he does, transferring the density to his feet and away from his knees. It isn’t standing, it’s moving. Drop . He swaps the weight again to kneel between his thighs. Only in this way is he aware of how the earth pushes up on you in equal measure to the push you put upon it. His spine is held up with a force string from both above and below. A hand parses his hair, threading it into the natural formation for the individual strands to make. 

It’s windy inside him. 

The same hand thumbs his bottom lip in separation. It passes something into this crater, a gentle, folded slip of paper under a stone. In reality it is nothing tangible at all. Head up , he’s told and his neck snaps itself up. He has no idea how blank his eyes are. Essentially they are white on their whole surface and unable to take in anything. But he senses the siren red glare burning through him, so pleased with what it sees. 

It sees complete relinquishment. Click. Right in front of his face, the sound goes off. His head does a perfect reversal of its rise. 

He’s buried deep enough, then. His master will help him feel his way through it, as he always does. The hand is on his chin with a Click. It raises it up for him. No autonomy is needed when he will do it for him. What his master says is what he wants.

It’s no longer the Click. It’s the 

Snap. He convulses. 

Snap. Head falls down in the empty space on his master’s seat, between his legs. He can’t hold it up with how good it feels when he

Snaps.

Noise walks out of his mouth. Hand , he says, and he drags one onto his master’s thigh, still faced into leather. Touch me, he says. It slides then to where his master has already opened up for him, to his cock. 

Snap

when he grabs him, his ache is so heavy. 

Each 

Snap is mountainous. He can’t see it but he feels himself dripping onto the floor but he doesn’t want to touch himself. Even as it hurts with each

Snap, twitching, his master had said touch me so he did. He doesn’t have to think about it. Not that he could think about anything. Haze circles his head and in through the slight gaps in the cavity for his eyes. A wandering haze strengthened by each

Snap. He whines into the seat, but his hand does not tighten. It continues, rhythmic, following a fast-slow tempo. Faster , he says, this time choked. Head up . His head snaps up from the leather like the 

Snap. Snap. Snap. He stares through his own action, his hand disappearing from view around his master’s cock, coming. Coming on him, on his face. Snap. Snap. Snap. Snap. Snap.

Snap. It doesn’t stop he kept

Snapping. He doubled over, planting his dirtied face again. He wouldn’t stop 

Snap. 

It all blanked out.

When he walks out it’s so simple. Ascending the same stairs he had slid down. Risotto kisses him, ignoring his own taste. He was so good, like always. They would clean up later and only at his command.