Wine Afloat
I like to consider myself one of those people who doesn't get offended much. In this era, where everything is considered 'problematic' and 'offensive', finding things which disturbs me is like finding a blue orchid: it's rare, and someone had to taint with the natural beauty of it. The few times I find things which leave a nasty, lasting impression on me are times I don't forget. This story was one of them, the content of which deserves to be skewered. I had left a comment on the story, illustrating the problems I had with it. If you're thinking, 'Let me guess, it was deleted?' you'd be correct. Wine Afloat happens to be one such story I kept thinking of for all the wrong reasons.
The Author's Note says the following:
The comparison to a cow ready to be branded is adequate. Arno has no choice, and he's being branded as someone else's property and ready to be sent to the slaughterhouse. I also have to wonder how Arno, who is larger and stronger than the Marquis, manages to find himself pinned. In-game, de Sade is wiry and thin. In real life he was obese, which would yank the sex appeal right out of the air. Nonetheless, Arno is trying to regain control, and he's denied that choice.
'Hold back too much' involves choked to the point of unconsciousness and thinking he's going to die. Sexy.
Rapists have looks that can kill - and this paragraph proves it.
Arno is doing his best to weaken his restraints, and that should tell you he does not enjoy being tied up. Clearly, Arno doesn't want it. But wait! It gets better:
That is not sex. That is rape.
The suffocation only adds to it. This isn't 'light' BDSM. This is hardcore strangulation. People have actually died from this. If you don't know when to stop, permanent brain damage occurs because of a lack of oxygen supplied to the brain.
1. You think someone is going to legit strangle you during sex.
2. Your windpipe is crushed while you're being kissed.
3. Your 'lover' only refrains from killing you out of sheer enjoyment of your misery.
4. You think said refrain from death is tenderness.
Also, how in the everlasting fuck can you possibly appreciate what is being done to you when you described it as an unwanted invasion not two paragraphs before? Get fucked, Kalincka. Don't think for a minute this is a consensual kink.
People complain about slut shaming, but not much attention is given to virgin shamers. This is an example of a rapist taunting his victim and denying him care or affection because it's his pleasure which matters, dammit.
And I'll say this, Arno: you sure did destroy yourself. You were torn apart, physically and mentally. This is you trying to rationalize it.
The second chapter is an ending which leaves much to be desired. Arno goes off into the world thinking nothing about what happened to him. It would not surprise me if he decides to crawl right back into de Sade's arms; after all, the only chaste kiss on his temple 'chained him the most.'
The Author's Note stated historical accuracy should not be considered. de Sade's historic case of imprisoning a girl and forcing her to recant Catholicism is highlighted, but not him going through the streets looking for underage prostitutes (or kissing them in-game). It is also written how de Sade would be jealous of Arno's relationship with Napoleon, because how dare he have a consensual relationship.
As expected, Izzy Grinch and Marjolys both like this story, and both wrote fics where de Sade completely dominated Arno with the latter having no choice to refuse. Every time, they succeed in capturing the 'rapist' element.
Now, I'll tell you what insulted me the most about this fic. Kalincka, and people like her, think writing a brutal BDSM session with little preparation and unwanted sexual contact is hot, or can make people feel pleasure. When Arno described his penetration as an 'invasion', and gave up trying to fight back, that was a clear sign he never consented to this. However, the author reneges and has him appreciate everything done to him. Why? Because fuck you, that's why. He starts moaning and has a massive orgasm, because for whatever reason, authors think writing a brutal sexual assault - let alone sodomy - leads to someone moaning and having a massive orgasm. I get irritated when people do this with rape and prostate massages: they think the man being touched there will make him forget he is being ruthlessly sodomized. It does not work that way.
I've gotten shit for pointing out the obvious, and scores of people have told me 'it's just fiction!' or how they aren't offended because they've been a victim of sexual assault themselves. Sorry, but your head is screwed on so far backwards you could probably put an owl to shame. Under no circumstances does a person who feels they are being invaded, who doesn't want to be penetrated, who is upset and choked to near unconsciousness means they consented. Under no circumstances was this a 'light' BDSM story or 'rough sex', this was a rape. No way around it.
There were no negotiations or preparation. de Sade mocked Arno for being a virgin and laughed at any idea of being tender. Arno is left bleeding, sore, and bruised. Not to mention humiliated when the Marquis brings up Élise. There is no way you can sell this as rough sex, Kalincka. The minute you have a character describe the sex act as an 'invasion', and where they desperately want to be free changes it to rape in an instant.
There are kinks, and there's rough sex, but the key is that both parties want it. They trust each other. And even if it's a one-night stand, there's mutual agreement. There was none of that here. This was a nasty rape session with ropes and strangulation, and the author thinks she's going to sell me this shit. Well, maybe reviewers like this will give you praise. But I won't. I called you out and you deleted my review. You won't delete this one.
The Author's Note says the following:
I sweated blood and water to write this OS (two-shot?), Especially since the character of Sade (at least, the version presented in Unity) is particularly complex, but it was a real treat to write the dialogues between these two. No need to explain myself about pairing, it pops my eyes and it's amazing that Sade jumps anything that moves. There is also mention of a certain commander, because I am trash and that the action taking place post-Dead Kings, it is impossible for me to mention Arno without him. (Thanks)It is 'amazing' de Sade jumps anything that moves, and from the tags, this includes choking, possessive behaviour, and 'light' BDSM which involves zero consent and choking to the point of unconsciousness. Oh, did I mention Arno never consented to any of what was happening to him? You'll see, dear reader. You'll see what his mindset is.
"Your help was precious to me, dear Arno. And I appreciate the visit."
If you're getting defensive at his honeyed tone, that should be a red flag. Arno is already feeling unpleasant at being probed, but don't worry, he'll get over it soon.Arno folded his arms, in no way intimidated - but perhaps a little defensive - at the honeyed words of the man in front of him. The latter did not observe his reaction until after having put away the bundle of documents that the assassin had just obtained in a drawer, something having to do with scabrous affairs that the marquis would have liked to forget so as not to touch the guillotine . The look he was given was almost accomplice, sparkling, and he had the unpleasant feeling of being probed with all his soul.
The atmosphere was heavy, filled with this characteristic scent of brothels that flourished in the Court of Miracles, but they were far from being there. The houses that could be seen, through the single window of the room and the falling darkness of the evening, these scattered houses and darker than those of Paris, belonged only to the village of Franciade. Sade had every interest in staying there for a few months, given the virulent accusations against him in the capital.Yeah, no shit. Accused of anything from rape, basic sexual assault, sexual torture, and writing pornography so bad the French are turned off by it should be a sign you did something wrong. In the summary, Arno wonders if his wine is drugged. If he's even thinking that, you have a major problem. It crossed the line of 'rough sex' once date rape drugs are involved.
Paris. The place he had only returned to a few times since he ventured into the royal crypts, and found the sword of Eden. Arno didn't know why he was still doing this. The brotherhood. Missions. He would have had every reason in the world to abandon, and finally take, this boat for Egypt; and yet he was there, in this little room upstairs in an inn, lit by the lights of a hanging chandelier and a crackling fireplace.This is after the DLC, so Arno's decision to leave France is set aside. Léon gave him new purpose in life. But let's say the DLC didn't matter. Arno is here pondering what to do with his life, and de Sade offers him company. If he is already feeling unpleasant at this atmosphere, normal people should want to leave. Yet here he stays, and boy, will he regret that decision.
"Do you have pressing obligations this evening?"
The assassin raised his eyebrows in shock. He knew very well that the Marquis never spoke to say nothing, that each word, each intonation was meticulously ordered; and the question implied so many things at once that he did not know how to react immediately.
Was it an invitation?
"Why this question ?" he replied suspiciously.
Sade let out an amused laugh laughing at his answer, as if he expected this reaction. He went on looking straight into his eyes, a strange spark animating his pupils:
This was de Sade's opening to box Arno in. He knows Arno has nothing to do and nowhere to go, so he's going to plot his moves to force him into sex. You start off by easing someone out of their discomfort zone into their comfort zone, and then they realize, too late, what you have in store for them."You seem very eager, for someone with no particular task."
"Oh, Arno," said the marquis, in a theatrical tone. "If you do not wish to answer the question, there is no point in asking others."
The assassin blinked and crossed his arms, touched by the truth of the statement despite himself. Sade gave him an equivocal sidelong glance without giving up his confident little smile. The latter took off his white gloves to put them on the bedside table, near the large canopy bed which was particularly sumptuous for a place like this. He ends up turning his now bare palms upwards as if to prove to him that he had nothing to hide, in an engaging posture of confidence.You should be more touched, Arno, as to why the bed is 'particularly sumptuous' and why you're in a dark room alone with him with the door closed. de Sade knows what he wants. You don't. This won't end well.
Arno thought he saw a glimmer of disappointment pass through the irises that pierced him, and he thought he had dreamed it; because never, at any time in his life, had he seen Sade make a mistake or lose control. Intrigued, he heard himself speak more than he did:
" It's an invitation ?"
An amused face scrutinized him.
"It depends on your will. "Don't worry, mon beau garçon, your will won't matter one lick when de Sade regains control. He'll punish you for ever having a choice; you don't have the right to refuse. No matter how loud you scream, or beg for him to stop, he won't listen. Arno never has a choice with de Sade. It's decided for him.
He didn't know why he was doing this, but he pulled out a chair and sat down at the small table in the box, still without removing his hood. Sade chuckled.
"At the right time," he declared, uncorking his bottle.
Arno watched the dark stream flow into his glass, focusing more on the sound of the liquid than the vision itself - he still found it hard to focus on the Marquis, who sat on the other side:
You 'don't know why' you're doing it, but you do it anyways. Besides, I know what's going to happen. Arno is already trying to focus on the wine more than the Marquis, as if he knows de Sade is planning something for him. It sounds easygoing for now. It gets progressively worse."Cheers, Arno."
The assassin calmly grabbed the glass, while the man drank from the bottle after brandishing it as if toasting him. He looked up to heaven ; even in this kind of situation, where any individual - and especially him - would be passed for a drunkard, the writer seemed incredibly sure of his actions, as if it was perfectly agreed to drink from the neck in the presence of a guest. His uncovered Adam's apple went up and down as he took a sip, and Arno took a while before he realized he was not supposed to be looking at that place. He turned his attention back to the wine, and he drank.I'll admit it: I really, really hate the use of the term 'the writer' whenever de Sade is mentioned. It's so vague, and so ill-fitting for someone of his calibre. I'm supposed to interpret it as some grand thing, but I don't. Also, Arno staring at de Sade's neck is a warning sign.
The drink was good, he had to recognize it. The glass was slightly fruity, but it had been a long time since he had been drinking for taste. Generally, alcohol had been synonymous with a remedy to forget unpleasant memories, although since Franciade, he had had little opportunity to ravage bars. The brotherhood still needed him, despite his expulsion, and he could have refused - but he hadn't. He knew that the missions were still the only thing that kept him alive. He didn't know why he was doing all this.This is a turn-around from Arno's initial view the Brotherhood doesn't need him at all and how his redemption plot with Léon meant jack shit. The Brotherhood 'needs' him; it's the only thing keeping him alive, yet he doesn't realize he walked into a trap with a man who only sees him as an orifice to ravage. Unlike 'The Perfection of Man', this story's pretty words hide something sinister.
"Oh, unfortunately I fear that Madame la Guillotine and I are not on very good terms. Or, again, the press. Or even public opinion in general."
"People think you're dead. You would have no trouble blending into the background," said the assassin flatly.
While the end of the Reign of Terror brought about a halt to indiscriminate executions, in de Sade's case the guillotine is deserved. We know in history he died at a considerable age, even while dodging prisons and living in them. Arno is right, though: he'd have no trouble blending into the background. His final quote here, however, is a double entendre: the 'few days of rest' will include sodomizing Arno in 'light' BDSM sessions."Certainly," conceded the Marquis, nodding. "But is it not advisable to take a few days of rest? Far from obligations ..."
And he noticed it too, good job. He doesn't want to linger, he doesn't want to stick around, but de Sade won't let him make those decisions.Arno raised an eyebrow, not wanting to emphasize the double meaning of the sentence - as if he wanted to linger in the first place. He looked at the room, drank again, silence reigned. An amused laugh pulled him out of his contemplation, and he turned his head to find that Sade was throwing him a glance happy with he did not know what situation.
He drank the bottle again, and Arno looked again at his Adam's apple, unwittingly intrigued. He frowned and finally deigned to answer:
"How long have you been concerned about my condition?"
Sade moved the neck away, a delighted look on his face, waiting to quote a particularly tasty reply.
"I consider it my duty to help those who have known, like me, the cruel grip of the Bastille. It seems to me that it was my first words to you. Very nice introduction. I wrote it down, just in case. "Just so you know: de Sade isn't actually concerned about Arno's health or well-being. He says this to give an air of nonchalance and comfort. What he has always wanted is Arno's body, and he considers it his duty to 'break him in' so to speak.
"The same entry in the matter which served to you to take the power on the Court of the Miracles," answered the assassin of a mocking tone. "What a case of conscience ..."
"Splendid, isn't it? You should have seen your head. Such a beautiful face ravaged by seriousness. Such a waste."
There was a silence where he saw the marquis gauging him from the feet and the head, before making a sign of the chin:
"It hasn't worked out over the years, that said. Don't take it the wrong way, Arno. You remain very advantaged."In-game de Sade, in the French version, calls Arno 'my beautiful boy'. Certain fans interpreted this as an invitation, and I have not seen a single story where this so-called relationship benefited both parties versus it all being in the Marquis' favour. While I do like that line, the context in which it's delivered doesn't give me hope. He's already begun his flirtations and Arno doesn't see the threat in front of him.
The other sighed, already tired from the interview which was just beginning, and he tried to ignore the burning gaze on him. He dared not add anything, suddenly feeling in a hurry to leave the room, and he had the impression that at any moment he would have to pull out his sword to defend himself. His head was spinning.
"Did you drug the glasses?" he threw in a detached tone, as if asking the time.
A chuckle answered him.
"What an ugly thing to say for your host. You saw me drink with you, right?"
" I wouldn't be surprised if you had been drinking anyway. Reputation precedes you."
Like Marjolys' fic, date-rape drugged wine is brought up as a joke. Protip: if anyone even thinks their wine is drugged for the sole purpose of making them defenseless in the face of sexual advances, your 'consent' argument gets thrown right out the window. de Sade even jokes it wouldn't be fun to take him against his will, which is another 'Nope' from me. Kalincka doesn't seem to understand that the minute you joke about using drugs to subdue another so you can sexually use them, this ceases to be sex. It becomes a rape. Apparently this is sensational and controversial to point this out to fanfic authors."Come on, Arno. Do you know me. There would be no prestige in getting you this way."
Arno was on his feet without him knowing how or why, and the satisfied little smile he received held it out. He looked for a way out. His eyes lingered on the bedroom door for a few seconds. When he heard the click of the heels that were heading towards him, he turned his head, just in time to meet the glowing gaze of the Marquis on his.
"What exactly do you think you are getting from me?" asked the assassin coldly, not flinching.
Sade smirked, and a captivated glow lit his eyes:
"Arno, Arno, Arno. My interest in you goes far beyond what you can imagine. "There we have it: the beginning of the sexual coercion. de Sade's 'interest' doesn't involve consent, boy, so you better run. If Arno is looking for a way out, he clearly has no intention to stay there. de Sade is boxing him in. Once you do that, once you start with that, consent isn't there. This isn't 'Baby It's Cold Outside', it's 'Baby, I'm Going to Rape You and You'll Like It.'
An index finger rested on his chest in the middle of his chest. He could still back off, but he didn't; the simple idea of challenging the writer interested him enough to play this game. For the past few months, there had been nothing that kept him within the framework of society. He went about here and there, accomplishing some missions, but in the end, what did he do, since the delivery of the artifact of Franciade to the brotherhood? There was Leon, with Madame Margot, at the orphanage - visits that could still give him hope in something. Faces known to the general public and those, more discreet, who asked him to call on his services. The swordsman who hit the headlines north of the capital, the Amazon whose hatred towards the Jacobins had never dried up. The clairvoyant on the Saint-Michel bridge, the rabid poet against a painter, the constantly censored playwright. The two lost souls in a small cabinet on the banks of the Seine. Figures who will drown in history one day.
Let's get one thing (among many things) straight: this is not about a challenge. This is you stalling for time, Arno. Don't try to negotiate or rationalize your thinking you want this man to box you in and assault you. It never, ever works that way. You have thoughts where you know de Sade will burn your wings. You know he's not going to give you hope. You know he'll destroy you - yet you rationalize his advances anyways. That is one of the things which pisses me off about this story: if you rationalize your assault, it means you weren't assaulted.Then stood out Sade, and an artillery commander arrogant to burn his wings.
The index finger was no longer alone: a whole hand had landed on his uniform, like a spider. His slender, slightly curved fingers seemed ready to plunge into his flesh to tear out his heart.
"Is he still beating?" joked the Marquis, making an interested pout.
"Sade," he said suddenly. "Enough."
The hand didn't go away - obviously - but instead, he was smirked. Arno shivered unintentionally, and a heat wave rises inside him when he instinctively took a step back. He immediately brooded: this act against such a character made him lose all control of the situation, if he had never had it in the first place.
When someone tells you 'enough', that means they've had enough. If you keep insisting and pressuring them into acts they don't want to do, that is called sexual coercion. If Arno has no control over the situation or himself, he is not wholly consenting. de Sade knows he's backing him into a corner, and Arno decides acting the blushing bride will save him. I don't know why he's losing control, but it's happening, and for that I will not and cannot see this as consensual sex."All these years of good and loyal service. And not a single one… Distraction. Admirable."
"I have to go back to the cafe-theater," he said in a voice he was trying to master.
A chuckle answered him, and the assassin admitted in spite of himself that it was only a poor excuse, especially when he was in Franciade and that Paris was thirty minutes from checking.
I wonder if the authors writing this pairing realize they do a good job constructing a rapist. What they don't realize is normalizing such horrific treatment does more harm than good. Here, Arno is clearly unsure of what to do. Afraid, maybe. de Sade's response is to tell him it's time for him to get naked and give himself up."Maybe it's time to drop the coat, Arno. In both ways."
The hand settled under his chin, taking him in a cup. He didn't even have the strength to react when he felt his hood slip and reveal his entire face. After all, what good is it? It was already too late to back off. Recalcitrant, he allowed himself to be examined, a member of the cattle waiting to be branded with a hot iron. He rolled his eyes, annoyed when a finger touched the scar under his left eye with curiosity. Taken by a sudden inspiration, he put his two hands on the waist of the marquis, ready to regain the advantage, but hardly did he press when he found himself pressed violently against the wall of the room. The latter trembled under the impact, and the glasses placed on the small table to her right tinkled. Breathless, the assassin's eyes widened, dumbfounded that the man showed such strength,
It is never, ever too late to back off. When that choice is taken away, there are no choices left. You don't have a say to what happens to your body. It. Ceases. To. Be. Sex."Not yet."
The comparison to a cow ready to be branded is adequate. Arno has no choice, and he's being branded as someone else's property and ready to be sent to the slaughterhouse. I also have to wonder how Arno, who is larger and stronger than the Marquis, manages to find himself pinned. In-game, de Sade is wiry and thin. In real life he was obese, which would yank the sex appeal right out of the air. Nonetheless, Arno is trying to regain control, and he's denied that choice.
The index finger slid over the corner of his mouth before patting him gently, the same way you would have congratulated a dog. Arno frowned, frustrated, before trying to move again - he only managed to be pressed a little more against the stone wall of the building, and Sade's leg came to push his own pressing in the middle . Surprised, he bit his bottom lip, and hissed as intelligently as he could:
"Sade. Enough."
A satisfied little laugh answered him. In return, he glared at the man who was watching him with notable appetite.
"Hurry, Mr. Dorian?"
Sade's mischievous tone was repeated with even more delight if it were possible:
"When you imagine all the poor souls who dreamed of this moment. I have to consider my luck."This isn't luck. Far from it. Arno is being pinned in place when he clearly doesn't want to be, and de Sade is mocking him. He delights in Arno being powerless and at his mercy.
"If you don't act -"
Ho-ho, the fucking nerve. Oh yeah, convincing a guy that because he's a wanderer and never stays in place for long means he's asking for this. He is clearly telling you to stop, and if you had a conscience, you would. But oh no, go for the sexual assault and rape approach. That works!"So what, Arno? Letting yourself wander is your specialty. Whether by your entourage or the drink."
Then suddenly the fingers encircled his throat, and the assassin put an iron hand on the wrist that controlled him, his eyes flashing. The skin was warm on contact. Sade chuckled, as if his reaction was exaggerated:
"Slowly. I will not strangle you."
Here begins the choke play, and as you'd expect, it's not consensual. Arno doesn't want any of this happening to him; it's all at de Sade's initiation. He does not even try to be gentle. He goes right in there and strangles Arno, letting him know Arno never had a choice when it came to sex with him."Looks like you want to," noted Arno sarcastically, not taking his own hand.
The writer gave him a carnivorous grin. For the first time, his true purpose was reflected in his eyes, focused on him with what could have been akin to devouring fanaticism.
Said activities being: strangled to the point of unconsciousness, closing your eyes to being sodomized, and being bitten where the skin is broken and blood comes out."For other activities, surely."
Whenever I read teeth knocking against each other during kissing scenes, I cringe. But in the greater context of this work, I cringe even more when I am supposed to take this sexual assault seriously. Arno expects de Sade to be brutal in his kisses, and when he tries to break free de Sade pins his other hand. He is 'helpless'. Let that word determine the course of this fic.Then, without giving him time to analyze these words, he leaned down to kiss him. The murderer would have lied saying that he had not seen it coming, but the act was not surprising to say the least. The kiss was brutal; the teeth knocked against each other and he didn't let go of his wrist for a moment, threatening to suffocate him, tightening his grip even more. Arno tried to use his second hand, to put it somewhere, on a shoulder, a back or a hollow of the kidney, but it was seized in flight, that of Sade pinning it above his head with amazing ease . Helpless, he let himself be carried for a few seconds, surprised by the language that interfered soon after, and he had to admit that the marquis had enough experience for two - not that he had ever really doubted it.
When he finally felt the mouths part, he had no time to put his clothes and his thoughts in order; the man was already tracing his path lower, descending on his chin and throat with frenzy. He wanted to speak, but the hand that held his neck quickly migrated to his lips to prevent him from adding anything.
"Hmpfade ," he managed to let escape.
"Not now, Arno," reprimanded the other in an affable tone.Oh, fuck off. You're not letting Arno make his own choices. You are forcing yourself on him. You simply think if you molest him enough he'll grow to adore your touch. It sickens me to think the author rolled with this thinking, as did the other authors of this pairing.
He was looking for a way to stop the sudden rise in temperature, feeling more and more receptive to the hickeys and other bites he received with strangely alluring brutality. Determined, he still managed to remove the wrist he was still gripping between his fingers, releasing the hand that prevented him from expressing himself:
"One second," he demanded in a chaotic voice.
You don't become receptive to kisses or actions which you don't want. This is called dissociation: the subject of the assault is put in a place of helplessness and tries to rationalize what is happening to them. In this case, Arno decides he actually likes the hickeys and bites he's getting, even though he cannot defend himself or even speak on his own behalf. Depriving your partner of a say is a surefire way to convince me this is a one-sided rape rollercoaster.He realized then that he was out of breath as he was after running away from the rooftops, and he was surprised to find that the marquis obeyed him. One second: that was the time he was given before coming back to attack his mouth, and he tried to defend himself again, without success.
So he plunged body and soul into this kind of close combat, trying somehow to keep up with the frantic pace that was imposed on him; then, as quickly as the kiss had been initiated, everything stopped. Sade moved away slightly, his breath falling on his half-open jaw, and a soft grin stretched the corner of his lips. He was not in the least breathless, unlike the assassin who had the feeling that his head was going to burst.
Having a future rapist mock you for your good qualities, or how it's futile to resist, is definitely a way to set the mood. The reader can see Arno is in no position, let alone mental state, to want this kind of sexual attention, and yet de Sade keeps forcing himself on him. When Arno cannot fight back, de Sade denigrates him with his snark, adding to the humiliation."You do not disappoint, my dear. It is one of your many qualities," declared the marquis, scrutinizing him as he had done over the bottle of wine.
"And ... How ... Am I supposed to ... Take the thing?" he replied in a choppy voice.
God, he felt like he was already at the end of his strength.
"I pay the innkeeper enough so that he does not ask questions about the activities in this room," continued the writer, ignoring him perfectly.
"Why are you telling me that?"
An enigmatic smile answered him.
That should be a clear sign de Sade wants to use you for sex, Arno. And what does it say when de Sade openly admits he relishes in Arno's strength being sapped from him? It makes it easier for bondage, since Arno can't physically fight back. Sexy."So that you don't hold back too much, my handsome boy."
'Hold back too much' involves choked to the point of unconsciousness and thinking he's going to die. Sexy.
"Will I forget the most important?"
Arno replied without thinking, a cynicism become habitual flowing out of his still panting mouth:
Decency was never an option. Neither was consent, but we don't talk about that."Decency?"
It appears de Sade is the only one who has any free will: he can take his clothes off as he pleases, he can decide what he wants to do. Arno? Nope, no choice. Just make him think he wants it. BTW, pretty sure de Sade was looking for the lube and/or the rope.He saw an amused flash streaking Sade's eyes, who nodded with a seduced look. He looked like one of these hall merchants, particularly satisfied with the deal he had just concluded with an uninformed client. The writer turned around and then put his hat on the edge of the dresser, his hands seeming to be of his own free will: while one opened a drawer to search inside, the other unbuttoned the top of his jacket with two buttons, with an ease that Arno found singularly fascinating.
Amusing, because Arno is choked to where he almost becomes passed out. So much for 'these days are behind me'. What a load of bullshit."Not quite," replied Sade calmly, closing her drawer. "You should have a drink, Arno. Although the idea does me great honor, I do not want a body passed out in my arms. These days are behind me, do you understand?"
"I'm fine," defended the assassin, frowning.
He moved away from the wall, finding the task of standing stranger anyway. The marquis turned around, revealing in his hands the length of a small thin but apparently resistant cord, and Arno realized that the man had undone more than two buttons on his jacket. A laugh made his gaze go up from the white shirt now perfectly visible, to fall on a snorted grin:
"Do not make that face. Looks like you're going back to the Bastille."
So, Arno knows full well what the rope is for, and what de Sade plans to do with it. Hence his horrified expression. Does he have a choice in this? No. It's for de Sade's pleasure only - not his."It looks like it," he noted, gesturing to the rope with his chin, which was meant to be casual.
He jumped when he had barely gotten rid of his weapons, a click of heels was heard just behind him. Arno wanted to turn around, and he had just enough time to be violently pressed against the door, his chin cut as before. With his left arm gripped, he stifled a curse, frustrated that he had been so easily fooled before strangling a groan when a whisper crept into his ear:
Arno getting rid of his weapons was a huge mistake. He never should have lowered his guard, especially when he knew what was coming. He showed his hand and now he'll pay the price. He didn't 'think of the implications' of getting rid of his Hidden Blade or his weapons. de Sade takes advantage of his weakness even more, mocking him further."Do you lower your guard as much when you are on a mission?" whispered Sade in a velvet voice.
Arno suppressed another jolt when a hand slipped towards the inside of his thigh, and he launched in the same sarcastic tone which had not left him since 1789:
By all means, he should. Right now he's openly touching him and Arno has to rely on his sarcasm for protection. Unfortunately, it's useless. He doesn't stand a chance. de Sade is a threat, and has always been a threat. Arno will pay for his lapse in judgement."I don't consider you a threat, marquis."
A non-intimidated laugh accompanied an equally burning and threatening response:
"You should. I was not sentenced to the guillotine for only a few indecent novels, do you know?"
Sexual sadism, suspected sexual assault with minors, male and female, traits you absolutely want in a man who made it his mission to sodomize you. de Sade is throwing his criminal history in Arno's face, letting him know just what sort of trouble he's in. What was that about consent, again?"I know perfectly well what you were accused of," he retorted, not wanting to lower his head.
The pressure slowly rose to his crotch, and he tensed, supporting the two glowing coals aimed at him despite the urge to close his eyes. Inspired, he moved his valid hand back, gradually understanding the rules that governed Sade's games. The latter widened his grin with a satisfied air when Arno unbuttoned the shirt in front of him, and busied himself chewing on the lobe of his left ear. With impressive speed, he heard his royal blue coat fall to the ground with a dull noise. When he thought he was getting rid of his shirt with the same flexibility, a tear told him that it was not.OK. I really, really hate how people assume physiological responses automatically mean consent: 'She was wet, it means she wanted it/ he had an erection, he clearly loved what I was doing to him.' Or, it can be said insultingly: 'Yes, this person was sodomized repeatedly. Him getting an erection doesn't imply consent.' I also hate how these authors assume people moaning/groaning or getting stimulated means they really enjoy the sex. It doesn't work that way. Don't even ask me why someone being raped/sodomized would 'moan' in pleasure. Arno is getting his clothes torn off and he's getting an erection while it's happening. Do tell me how one gets an erection despite feeling disgust at every turn? Porn does crazy shit, but this ain't it.
Arno frowned, taking this as a challenge, and he managed to peel off the door - which surprised him first. With new satisfaction in his gestures, he hurriedly drew back the marquis to the four-poster bed, tucking him violently against one of the wooden columns which creaked under the weight. The man briefly changed his face: the light amusement had flown away from his features, and the latter were walled up like a rabid dog by the presence of a scent of blood. A carnivorous smile, both burning and colder than he had ever seen it, revealed canines as sharp as Sade's mind, giving him an air of wild beast. His pupils had turned to the assassin with devouring excitement, and he guessed the thoughts that crossed his mind without really wanting to know them.This small ounce of defiance is the only time Arno ever shows it. Here, he decides to take control and fight back, and de Sade knows he's up shit creek. However, de Sade has a way of regaining control.
No sooner did he absorb this image than he felt a current of air pass around his neck; and without him seeing it coming, the rope tightened, making him widen his eyes at the moment when the mouth of the marquis returned to mark him. He had the impression of drowning in the Seine, for a moment, of having jumped in a cart of hay and of having gone astray on the landing, of jumping from the bell tower of Notre-Dame while stumbling ; with a start, he grabbed the collar of Sade's jacket, which he still hadn't taken off, and he felt only that infamous grin triumphant against his lips. Defeated, he tried to catch his breath, but it was not allowed: the rope wrapped once more around his throat, and he groaned in spite of himself, redoubling his effort to bear the kiss.de Sade knows in a fair fight, without alcohol, he'd lose against Arno. So he uses a rope like one lassos a calf and tightens it around his neck to the point Arno feels like he is drowning. Also, if you are being choked to where this feeling is occurring, you don't really 'groan'. You gasp. You are too focused on getting air groaning is the last thing on your mind.
That should tell you everything, Arno. This man doesn't love you. He doesn't care for you. You are a tool he can use at his pleasure; at his disposal. When you tried to fight back, he strangled you. And the author thinks she can convince me this is 'sexy smut'.When he finally opened his eyes, he was only a few inches apart from the abyssal pupils, who scrutinized each of his reactions with a delight far from healthy. He didn't realize he was bleeding until they drifted onto his lower lip, which then appeared to be cracked. He shivered as he felt a tongue heal his wound with a calculated appetite.
"Your hands."
He did not react, shocked by the suave tone that Sade had just used, completely off stage with the spectacle so violent that they offered. A contraction of the rope brought him back to order, and he slid his fingers along the jacket he perceived with a ghostly sensation, as if he was not really there and that it was only of a dream. Not knowing what to do once his hands were down to the waist of the writer, he lodged them in the crook of his loins - a chuckle sounded immediately in the room:
"Here, Arno. Are you tender now?" mocked Sade, genuinely surprised.Nothing says 'tender', like choking a man you know doesn't want you. Always a nice way to get someone to submit to your whims: you can't say no when air is being ripped from your lungs. de Sade mocking tone also sets the stage for the fic: he knows Arno doesn't have a choice.
He couldn't find a word to answer - his mouth was dry, and he just applied pressure to the body in front of his. The Marquis' smile flew away for a few seconds, as if it weighed the pros and cons with intense reflection, the different arguments dancing in the reflection of his eyes clouded with desire.
This is one-sided desire, by the way. This whole time Arno felt threatened, so there is no way the desire is mutual. Plus, I wouldn't even argue it is desire, but primal lust and savagery. You don't see the person as human, but a sex object. When feminists complain about sexual objectification, they usually point to how men see women in sexy clothing as less than human. They seldom talk about legitimate cases, like this one, where one does not regard their partner as human or a willing participant in their acts. In certain cases I am willing to give a pass to BDSM, but this case is worthy of condemnation. There was no negotiation, no mutual desire for being tied up or being teased. de Sade is demanding Arno's hands to it'll be easier to sodomize him."Your hands," he repeated.
Arno paused before moving. Then, out of a desire for challenge - this whole masquerade was only a fight, after all, and he was not going to obey everything that this man was going to offer him - he tightened the grips on his waist, and plunged to his turn to mark the throat within reach. The body against his arched to seek contact, and he embraced the writer possessively, grabbing a shoulder and hugging his lower back, feeling the skin heat under his mouth as the screams of his heart echoed in his temples. A sigh escaped him during a hickey, but he found it discreet enough to go unnoticed.It's more than a fight: it's a fight for survival Arno was never poised to win. Here, he says he will not obey everything de Sade wants him to do, but once de Sade starts tightening the rope, his will crumbles. Here he kisses and embraces the Marquis, but do you think de Sade will let him show affection? No.
Two seconds.
It was the time he had to accomplish his task.
Immediately afterwards, he heard an annoyed growl falling in his ear, like a warning, but he ignored it, thinking it was only rude intimidation. Then, with violent pressure, the rope choked him again, so much so that he had to bring himself to give up. He raised his head, suffocating, to support the other's sly look, which clicked his tongue:
This is exactly what I mean: whenever Arno tries to fight back, to equalize the situation, he is punished. It is all about de Sade's pleasure and demands, not Arno's. Arno could not see the warning signs in front of him, the predatory looks thrown at him all night. Having a suffocating Assassin is a sure way to get him to do what you want, eh, boyo?"When I ask for your hands, it's your hands, and nothing else," Sade growled in a horribly sweet voice.
Then, with a dry gesture, he finished tearing his shirt, which landed on the ground with a certain lightness. Arno arched an eyebrow, ignoring the moist air that weighed him down more than when he had something on his back. He felt the rope slip over his skin as if it had never strangled him, and slip through his wrists which he presented side by side.
"And now ?" he asked calmly, catching his breath.
"Now…"
Sade left his sentence in suspense, taking advantage to get rid of his jacket casually which he dropped to the ground, with a plume that Arno found captivating. Then he looked up, giving him a pleasant grin. A flame lit in his eyes:
"Now I'm curious to know what you think you can do."I'm surprised Arno is raising eyebrows at this, especially when he was strangled not a minute earlier. He knows what's happening. He thinks marching along with it will make the pain easier, but it won't. Inconsistent characterization notwithstanding, Arno is in no position to do anything. It was purposefully made that way, and every taunt de Sade throws out there is done for his benefit only.
The assassin did not wait, the impulse coming naturally to him: he raised his joined hands and made them pass behind the head of the marquis, who found himself almost glued to him. As he was about to smile in triumph, for one of the few times in recent months, he displayed a forbidden head in the face of the unimpressed look of the man who had just tied his hands. The latter sneered, as if the thought that this gesture could surprise him was ridiculous, before letting go in a cold tone:
Yes, he 'doesn't need' support of his limbs because you are going to do all the work, aren't you de Sade? Sneering at him, deriding him...always making him the bug under your boots. Never his choice, but yours."Ha. You see, this is exactly what you will not need, Arno."
To support his words, he lowered one hand to the waist of his pants to unbuckle, while the other affectionately took his chin between the index and thumb. Arno frowned, more and more impatient by the clicking of the twisted loop below to be opened.You're impatient, Arno? Impatient. After everything that's happened and what will happen? Sometimes I think this isn't dissociation, but someone who's a glutton for punishment.
"This delicacy. I'm not looking for tenderness or precaution, haven't you read anything about my philosophy?"
Here's the admission de Sade is going to ruthlessly sodomize Arno and convince him he liked it all along. Arno has never been with men and is an anal virgin, yet he's being told outright this guy isn't going to show him tenderness and how much of a fool he is for believing delicacy and care was ever on the table. Remember, he laughed off the 'drugged wine' comment. It should've been a sign he was intending to assault you, Arno."It's not delicacy," he retorted in an annoyed voice that his efforts were in vain. "I'm even surprised that a man like you can know the word."
de Sade is only appreciative in the sense he has access to something he wouldn't have otherwise. Force, bondage, even drugged wine are on the menu, and whenever Arno says 'no', or tries to regain some dignity, it is denied. Greed, predatory behavior, ruthless dark eyes...all the signs are there you're dealing with a sexual psychopath. To think people hate me for pointing this out.The little laugh he started was different from the others. He was frank, appreciative, the same one that a teacher could have overlooked in the face of his student's surprisingly ingenious response. A touch of greed, if you really looked at it - that same predatory attitude that never left the Marquis, in short.
"You are already progressing. Take it as an outlet, or another of your fights related to your little brotherhood. You and I are not that different. Where I prefer to hurt between four walls, you use mourning as an excuse."
Arno didn't know what twitched him first: the ringing of the belt buckle which snapped suddenly in the air as he slipped out of his pants or Sade's words. He already felt his blood heat up in front of what he saw as a provocation, but the final nail was the last words which escaped from this mouth which he was burning to silence:
"Or maybe you inflict yourself such pain by stubbornly protecting an Icarus, is not it?"Pretty sure Arno doesn't rape little girls or boys, or chokes people in an attempt to control them. The gall of this man. Under no circumstances, no matter how much pain or suffering you are in, no one asks for this. Arno knows what's happening; he's trying to mentally prepare himself for it but it's no use. He knows he's going to be taken. He feels shame, he sees it as a provocation. And this is 'light' BDSM and 'rough sex'.
Before he even fully understood the meaning of what had just been said to him, Sade took off from the column of the bed to tip him inside in an impressive display of strength. The assassin sank into the covers, barely having time to catch his breath before the writer kissed him fiercely.
He briefly felt that the belt was slipping around his neck, and he groaned, thinking that the man could easily have been employed at the Conciergerie, if he liked so much to deprive people of their liberty - which was ridiculous, obviously , since everyone knew that the Marquis de Sade executed the death penalty as much as the Church. The leather strap slid through the iron buckle and tightened several notches around his throat, while he pressed the body a little more over his with his arms tied, in a subtle gesture of defiance. This time, he did not let himself be carried away by the kiss, seeking to impose himself also, and he succeeded in snatching a groan from his man. The words that the latter had used turned in his head like an eagle, in slow circles before melting on his prey.I fail to see how Arno can groan at having a belt tied around his neck. This isn't 'light' choke play either. He is being choked to near strangulation. He never negotiated this or asked for this. He isn't getting excited. He dreads every moment of it, and he is beginning to realize he is prey. He's not an active participant. He's not being treated with care. He's a caged bird, ready to be plucked and thrown into the oven.
The image imposed itself in his retina without him having to look far, and the moment he understood, Sade moved away from his mouth and released his arms as if they had never held him prisoner in the first place. Sitting astride him, still clothed, he busily removed the boots, then the pants of the assassin, who stared at the ceiling with wide eyes, turned over by what the other had been able to escape.
The writer swooped down on him with rapturous agility, pinning his hands over his head, and he watched him from top to bottom, judging the merchandise he had managed to buy.This is what I mean by dehumanization: Arno is not a person. He's a piece of merchandise to be haggled over. A sex slave. He didn't even have a choice in having his clothes removed. To make things worse, this paragraph follows:
"So that's what the commander could have considered before me," he noted in a strangely hot and freezing tone.
The word was spat out like an apple seed. Arno reacts for the first time, blood boiling in his veins as he looks up from the covers:
"How-"
If there was another sentence which convince me this was never about consent, this is a shining example. de Sade is enraged on how Arno had a consensual relationship with Napoleon (don't ask me why this could happen, given the timeline in-game), and how others admire him. de Sade hates how Arno is wanted and how de Sade could not have him the way Napoleon did. So what does he do? Takes Arno by force, by binding him and choking him and reminding him his sexual choices mean nothing. These are the thoughts of a sexual predator, not someone who's into kinky sex."Come on, do you take me for a fool?"retorted the marquis, making a gesture with his hand that could have chased a fly. "All of Paris has your eyes on you. The most impressive thing is that only a few people seem to realize it, and you're not one of them."
The belt seemed to tighten, but yet the assassin did not hear the buckle slide. He let out a groan as one hand took his chin, which turned out to be a tick from the other.
You don't own him, you son of a bitch. You never did. You simply internalized that Arno was yours and yours to do with however you pleased. How dare Arno choose someone on his own free will. How dare he uses his body the way he wants to. You don't like it, so you take it upon himself by punishing him for having a choice. Pure, unadulterated rapist thoughts."And I admit that I am sometimes upset about sharing my possessions," whispered Sade in a strangely languid voice.
He was about to answer, when a hand gripped him violently; a spasm ran through him, and he arched himself over the covers without thinking. He wanted to bring his hands back, but Arno realized that these - or rather, the rope that connected them - had been passed behind an asperity carved into the upright of the headboard. He realized too late that he was indeed chained, and the situation made him gasp even more when another back and forth was felt.Now Arno realizes he can't get out. He has to face the music and convince himself he wanted it all along.
Sade's mouth didn't just speak; he felt him mark his skin in different places, tightening the belt a little more each time a kiss was announced too soft, as if to punish him for having softened his methods. The bites seemed to soak into his flesh to never leave him, the fingers wandering on his chest made him feel like a hot iron fluttering here and there, while an unbearable fever took place in his lower abdomen . Soon, his vision was blurred, as much by the pleasure received down as by the suffocation, and when he realized that his chest was lifted chaotically to catch his breath, the grip suddenly loosened. He groaned, frustrated by the sudden lack of movement, and tried to wave his hips - an attempt that proved unsuccessful. Exhausted,OK, enough with this 'pleasure' bullshit. This is not pleasure, this is sexual torture. Under no means can you convince me a man who is being choked, who does not want to be touched, and who is derided for even choosing to have sex suddenly 'wants' to be touched or how he can feel pleasure. You can't write how he feels pleasure one moment and frustration of his lack of control the next. Kalincka's readers might have been squeeing with delight at this, but I'm not.
"Marquis, if you don't-"
"Are you giving me a title now?" asked Sade in an amused tone.
Without seeing him, Arno knew that he was smiling, delighted to slow down the conversation and its end by the same token. He held back a grimace when one touched his erect member, doing violence to resume:
"Take action ..."
His request stifled in a rattle when he heard how his voice was already quavering, for the other's greatest jubilation.
No. Fucking. Shit. Arno is an anal virgin - in this case, I assume he topped when he took Napoleon - and you aren't going to show him an ounce of care. Arno is only feeling 'pleasure' because the Arno thinks physiological stimulation equals consent, and it is known strangulation can cause erections in men, hence the kink. de Sade once again is happy he has Arno at his total mercy, and he can do whatever he wants to him and knows Arno cannot refuse."Are you begging him like that, Arno? attacked Sade mercilessly. "I suppose not. I see it in your eyes. All of this is new to you."
The blood in his veins seemed to take ten years to circulate, and his whole body was nailed to the sheets, captivated by the strange animosity which emanated from the words of the marquis. The latter had hardened his features, and for a moment it looked like he was about to kill someone.
Translation: 'I am punishing you for having sex with someone other than me. I'll take care of you by tearing your anus apart. I'll strangle you if you disobey me.'"And paradoxically, I have the impression that I take better care of your case."
Rapists have looks that can kill - and this paragraph proves it.
The hand came out again to fill his impatience, tensing against the sheets, and he felt his eyes close on their own under the wave that submerged him and made him exhale loudly. A contraction of the belt quickly called him to order, and he opened his eyelids to fall in front of these two black coals which seemed to consume him to his soul:
"Look at me when I talk to you," he ordered in an engaging voice.This should be a clear sign the guy wants to rape you, Arno. There's no love there. None. You disobey? You get choked. You are his slave.
He nodded, alert to any change in the features in front of his. A cruel smile appeared over him, and he stifled a groan when he saw the man move slightly on his hips, triggering a friction that was certainly not thoughtless. Arno bit his lower lip, forcing himself to keep his eyes open; his hands were still rubbing against the hook on which the rope had been hung, hoping to weaken it. The marquis seemed too focused to care, and he understood why when a raucous growl came from above, immediately followed by an impatient roll of the pelvis on his. Understanding the message, he tried to get up before remembering that he was bedridden.
The laugh that fell in his ear was a torture greater than the belt.
"Do you want it?" asked Sade gently.Still failing to see how anyone can groan at this, especially when they look at you with murderous eyes. Is that a sign of love? Mutual respect? Even prostitutes have softer eyes.
Arno is doing his best to weaken his restraints, and that should tell you he does not enjoy being tied up. Clearly, Arno doesn't want it. But wait! It gets better:
He nodded, no longer holding his gasps at the whim of the comings and goings which became a little louder, perhaps voluntarily - surely voluntarily. He watched the Marquis, desperately impatiently waiting for him to untie the rope around his wrists, his mouth damp and ajar from his chaotic breathing.
"Unfortunately, I have other frivolities in mind," said the man in a falsely overwhelmed voice.
At the same time, the latter deposited a strangely chaste kiss on his temple, which could have passed for tender if the situation had lent itself to it.Yeah, you keep telling yourself Arno wants it. He just so happens toe be 'desperate' for you to untie him and is confused by the 'tender' kiss you give him. These 'frivolities' happen to include more choking and lube, because at least de Sade is kind enough not to go in raw.
Arno thought he was going to overturn the bed, hissing in a genuinely venomous tone:
"A sort of-"
Don't try to resist, Arno. After all, this is what you really wanted, remember?"Ha ha, no such words in such a pretty mouth, my dear."
The next moment, he kissed him feverishly, and he drowned in the kiss as if it could make him forget the languid torture that he was subjected to. The heat was unbearable, the teeth that nibbled on his lips just as much, and his breath hardly came back to him at intervals when the goodwill of the other made him loosen his belt. He didn't understand how Sade hadn't yet given in to the urge to get rid of his clothes; even his shirt, open on a white chest and scarred by he did not know what experiences, did not show the slightest trace of perspiration. It fell on his shoulders like a shroud, the frilly sleeves slightly rolled up for more freedom of movement, and Arno found himself wanting to tear it apart, in the same way as his had been earlier.There is no forgetting torture, sorry. Especially when you put Arno there. He's kissing him and choking him at the same time, being 'merciful' in allowing him air. Not to mention another aspect of this one-sidedness comes through when de Sade is clothed and Arno is not: Arno is solely at de Sade's pleasure and mercy, while de Sade has complete control over his situation.
When they parted, he felt a bite land on his throat, and a whisper followed it. Arno neither heard it nor tried to decipher it, since the marquis soon began to utter what he imagined to be insanity against his skin. The hand stopped going back and forth and went up to grab his face, get lost for a moment in his hair and ruffle his ponytail; then he perceived something being caught, and he tensed all the more when the marquis raised his head to bring his attention elsewhere. Looking up, he watched Sade open a bottle that seemed to be holding oil, and he understood the purpose of using it when he saw the liquid run between his fingers. Exhausted, he dropped his head on the pillows and peeped at the ceiling, before launching sarcastically:
"I thought you weren't looking for precaution."
He felt Sade shake his shoulders, as if taken by a small laugh.
"It is true. But I'm not oblivious, and it would be a shame to break you more than you already are."I called it: de Sade's sole intention was breaking Arno in. He backed him into a corner, tore off his clothes, tied him up, and continues to tease Arno with the bottle of oil. Arno's sarcastic now, but he won't be in a few more paragraphs.
Then, the hand slid again down his chest and lower; when she arrived at her final destination, the assassin tensed, his breath cut by the sensation. He then noticed that the belt had been abandoned, since he still felt it loosely around his neck. He could no longer see the writer in his field of vision, consisting of a cracked ceiling probably decades old, and the weight on his hips weakened slightly. Arno understood that the marquis was finally getting rid of his pants, given the concentrated grunts he let out, and he groaned himself at a particularly well performed wrist movement.
Has it not occurred to you now this whole thing never included Arno's consent, Kalincka? He wasn't offered a choice, let alone a negotiation - things BDSM fans insist are integral to a healthy session. Arno shouldn't be impatient to untie his hands or feel helpless; the whole point of the bondage is to tease out pleasure. Is there pleasure here? No, though the author thinks she can sneak them in.There was a moment of silence, punctuated by a few dull gasps and the rustling of the shirt above him, before the belt tightened again. Arno gritted his teeth, still impatient to untie his hands, but Sade never wanted to give in.
Yup, totally consensual and sexy. Nothing says 'I love you' like a rapist telling his sex object he'll break his face and his body if his slave refuses to submit. 100% sane and consensual."This mask of seriousness that you strive to keep until the end makes me want to tear it away from you, and to break your poor, ingenuous face."
He nearly choked when the whisper slipped across his skin, not expecting the man to speak to him like that. He exhaled painfully:
"I could break your neck, marquis…"
This mocking, derisive attitude only pours more salt into the wound. I cringe because of its blatant insult. He's telling Arno he's already placed himself in a lower position because he calls him 'Marquis', and so he deserves everything he gets. Arno is not his equal."And you could also call me "citizen" like the others, Arno, however you choose to place yourself in the lower position even by the title. It's fascinating," said the Marquis, laughing.
The latter paused, a spark cruelly igniting his pupils. Then:
"If you feel like it, don't hesitate to break my neck. It would be greatly appreciated."
It doesn't take a genius to notice this. The shameful thing is that Arno negotiates it away. He knows what's happening, so he chooses dissociation. I would love for de Sade's neck to be broken - he deserves the pain he happily inflicts on others. But I'll never see that. Poor Arno will be broken in his stead."You are really twisted," breathed the assassin without looking away.
Sade smiled and made an evasive gesture with his hand, looking flattered.
"I would take this as a compliment. Speaking of taking ..."
This is the penultimate moment: the beginning of the 'rough sex'. Again, it ceases to be sex when the other participant does not have time to prepare or anticipate the penetration. Arno is upset he is being penetrated, and the things he feels strongly indicates he does not enjoy a single thing. His lips aren't trembling in pleasure, his body isn't pulsing in ecstasy and he feels like he is being torn apart.Arno's eyes widened when he saw the man raise his pelvis, looking completely detached from the situation. Without giving him time to prepare, the other sat down, snatching a groan from the edge of the cry of ecstasy, which later turned into a series of curses crossing his trembling lips. Upset, the assassin tried to keep hold of events, in vain; his head was spinning, his body was pulsing on the covers, his arms felt like he was dismembering and he had the feeling of choking on the spot - a feeling that became real when he realized that Sade had tightened the belt.
That is not sex. That is rape.
Sade, precisely. He looked down to observe him, and another groan escaped him from the sight that was offered to his eyes. He stood straight, slightly arched back, his shirt more used to cover his shoulders than the rest; a hand had been pressed on his chest in a possessive way, fingers almost sunk into his chest, making the assassin's breathing more and more difficult. The other held the strap of the belt like a leash, having only to pull to accentuate the embrace. His mouth curled in a small, calm smile, sending shivers down his spine - it wasn't the bloody grin he had caused earlier, pressing him against the bed column, and yet he had the same effect. The dilated pupils of a cat having finally caught its mouse devoured it on the spot. His face was firm, almost relaxed, carved in marble, so much so that he seemed to be waiting for someone to lay a laurel wreath on it. He looked like an emperor taking his place on the throne which was his right.
Do not insult me with these little 'groans of pleasure'. Do not insult me more by even suggesting it is de Sade's right to take someone without their explicit consent or approval. Arno is being strangled, is in pain and desires to be free, yet de Sade can relish in his experience over someone who he thinks belongs to him.At that moment, the man looked more triumphant than Bonaparte, if that was possible.
Arno tried to untie his hands again; once again, he failed, but he felt that the rope had become weakened from being rubbed. He would have given all of his inheritance to regain control of his body, and Sade knew it perfectly. Through his parted lips, the assassin saw his breath tremble because of their position. Arno expected to hear him speak, but it didn't. Instead, the marquis began to roll hips, and he closed his eyes to allow himself to be invaded, no longer even trying to protest his treatments. The electric current which propagated from his lower abdomen tore several gasps from him, the grip around his throat made him more and more suffocate, and at the moment when his vision began to darken, lips violently met his.There it is right there: 'Given all of his inheritance to regain control of his body.' Is this not a sign this isn't consensual? That it's a brutal assault? No? How about 'he closed his eyes to allow himself to be invaded'? Newsflash: when someone feels they are being 'invaded', that is not sex, that is a rape. No one should feel invaded at all. They should feel genuine excitement. Yet I'm treated to this insult where, suddenly, Arno is gasping and feeling 'electric currents' in his lower abdomen despite giving up on protesting the invasion of his body.
The suffocation only adds to it. This isn't 'light' BDSM. This is hardcore strangulation. People have actually died from this. If you don't know when to stop, permanent brain damage occurs because of a lack of oxygen supplied to the brain.
Arno did not defend himself, exhausted. He thought he saw the punishment tighten given his difficulty keeping pace, but he was surprised to feel the skin on his neck released. A loud snap resounded in the bedroom when the belt buckle fell on the floor. Nobody cared. The assassin was too upset by this gesture, amazed by such proof of mercy from the marquis, before quickly disillusioned when he felt his fingers slide where red marks must have bloomed.If Arno has to defend himself, or feels like he can't defend himself anymore, congratulations! You aren't writing sex. You're writing rape. Is de Sade loosening the belt out of a concern for Arno's safety? You bet your sweet ass he's not.
He thought Sade was really going to strangle him. This was the case for a few seconds: a pressure crushed his windpipe, taking his breath away from him that we took during the kiss, before relaxing just as quickly. Then, while we were still kissing him, Arno felt the fingers come and go on his throat without letting go, gently, inflicting bee stings with their nails from time to time. If he hadn't known him, he might have thought that the writer was refraining from killing him in a fit of enjoyment. He didn't know if the strangest thing was that Sade was showing a certain degree of tenderness or if this thought absolutely didn't panic him.You know it's fucked when:
1. You think someone is going to legit strangle you during sex.
2. Your windpipe is crushed while you're being kissed.
3. Your 'lover' only refrains from killing you out of sheer enjoyment of your misery.
4. You think said refrain from death is tenderness.
The pace quickened, and the kiss was broken. Arno took a deep breath, disoriented by the supply of oxygen, as he felt Sade's teeth scratch his collarbones like a dog biting a bone. He was not surprised to feel his own blood rolling down his left shoulder after a particularly violent bite - the same violence which animated all the action, which made the part spin around his eyes and tore him from all sides while he appreciated what was happening to him.Not only is there the insult of bruises from a belt, there are human bite marks hard enough to draw blood. Human mouths are notoriously dirty - I'm surprised Arno doesn't get an infection. If his destroyed anus doesn't first.
Also, how in the everlasting fuck can you possibly appreciate what is being done to you when you described it as an unwanted invasion not two paragraphs before? Get fucked, Kalincka. Don't think for a minute this is a consensual kink.
"Tell me, what is the worst thing that happened to you during a mission?"
The man released a sigh before answering, as much for the rolling hips as the nonsense of the question. He was not surprised, however, that Sade started the discussion in a tone that could very well have asked for the weather. He glared at him, annoyed, and stammered in a trembling voice:
"You are a hopeless case."
Yeah...no. You cannot and will not convince me Arno SUDDENLY realizes he likes everything that's happening to him. Don't sit there and write, 'he closed his eyes to allow himself to be invaded' and follow it up with 'his mask cracked and it's clear he enjoys the whole thing.' Do not insult my goddamn intelligence with your bullshit, Frenchie. No one with a head on their shoulders would think this is healthy sex.A satisfied smile painted on the Marquis's face. He then realized that the latter's mask cracked more and more, leaving from time to time to see signs of manifest pleasure.
"Please, boy. You must give me ideas for the next time ..."
Arno shivered under the nickname. He moaned when a heavy blow was made, before accepting the request of the other:
"They had never tied my hands," he whispered subtly.
For the first time, Sade leaned towards him without touching him, contenting himself with observing him more closely, and suspending his comings and goings for a moment. The sides of his shirt touched his chest before framing it.
How degrading. Don't sell me that shit about 'moaning' when it's an unwanted invasion, you bitch."And do you think that will make me change my mind about your ... Situation, Arno?"
"I could relieve you," he pleaded, throwing an equivocal glance at the member of the interested party.
The latter rolled his eyes, sighing in boredom, as if the assassin had just spoiled the fall of a particularly salacious joke.
Oh that's fucking nice. Insult the guy for being an anal virgin, knowing he's never done this before, and initiating him into anal sex by tearing out his insides. He wasn't even prepared for penetration, wasn't told to relax or anything. Even the song 'Relax' by Frankie Goes to Hollywood is all about preparation for anal sex (yes, it's true, the original music video was filmed in a BDSM club)."So that you can embrace me again like an enamored virgin? Pity. Spare me these tenderness, will you."
People complain about slut shaming, but not much attention is given to virgin shamers. This is an example of a rapist taunting his victim and denying him care or affection because it's his pleasure which matters, dammit.
Arno groaned. Missed. The marquis, having easily detected his frustration, straightened up and resumed his swaying, declaring in a slightly choppy voice:
" I didn't throw this belt on the ground to go get it again."
The pace quickened, preceded by a single warning:
"Don't make me regret it, Arno."As if regret was ever on the menu, motherfucker. You never regretted it. Arno is your sex toy and this was just you cutting him a break.
The interested party did not answer, too upset by the electric current which suddenly rose from his lower abdomen. The sensations suddenly became tangled, ablaze every place where his skin had been touched, and the burning gaze directed at him could have undressed him if he had had clothes in the first place. The spider had once again landed on his chest, fingers firmly planted in his flesh and ready to dig it to get his chaotically beating heart. The other graciously plucked his chin, forcing him to sustain the sight of the lips he couldn't reach, while an inch absently stroked his cheek. By reflex, he felt his arms pull on the rope with each stimulation, giving him the impression of tearing himself apart - the pain he inflicted on himself made him all the more feverish and receptive to the slightest touch, the slightest comings and goings over which he had no power. Sade was completely in control: he could very well have decided to stop everything there, to get up and leave him in agony, and this simple thought left him gasping in horror.Again, you should not be feeling upset at sex. If Arno feels like he's tearing himself apart and wants to be free of the unwanted invasion of his body, I ask again: is this consensual? No. de Sade is in control, not Arno. Arno never had a choice, and was mocked when he tried to assert himself. If he is gasping in horror at being left in agony, again, this is not sex. This is a brutal sexual assault.
Then, after a particularly well placed stroke of the pelvis, he heard himself uttering a loud groan at the same time as the man who was riding him. For the first time, he saw Sade letting go, closing his eyes; and submitting to this look, he thought he was released from his grip for a moment. He pulled his ties one last time, determined to take what he wanted.
The rope gave way.Ah, so now Arno decides to take control. Still, you aren't convincing me he ever wanted this in the first place.
Carried away by his momentum, Arno straightened up abruptly, before stabilizing hastily with the help of his now free hands. He did not even take the time to look at the damage caused by the knots on his ravaged wrists, too euphoric. Galvanized, he reacts at the moment when the Marquis opened his eyes to display a sincere surprise, hugging him wildly under his white shirt which seemed to taunt him for not being able to fully undress the other. The writer's reaction was immediate: the latter closed the embrace forcefully, but he was forced to raise his head when the assassin decided to kiss his throat at the same rate they had adopted.
Arno felt himself pushing his wings, ecstatic at the feeling of finally being able to touch and kiss without needing authorization; precipitated, he marked his neck against his lips with an endless appetite, slightly awkward, until a pressure on his chest insisted on separating him.The thing is, it never should have been a case of authorization. It was written completely in de Sade's favour; he never told Arno what he wanted to do or even allowed Arno time to accept or refuse. He did not prepare him enough, and he regarded his penetration as an unwanted invasion. The sex, though, is hinted to be rough and brutal, and for such an explicit fic it's pretty vague. Language barrier aside, it's no secret Arno was being brutalized.
He thought Sade was going to scold him, but an appreciative smile greeted him:
"And I thought you were going to break your chains much sooner."
"You never stop talking ?!" exclaimed the assassin in a dazed tone.
He had asked his question while catching his breath between two moans, almost drowning in the darkness that answered his eyes. The writer would have taken off his hat as a thank-you if he had worn it again, a genuinely flattered look blossoming on his cheeks.'Scolding' is the least you have to worry about, Arno. de Sade certainly has room to be 'flattered' considering he's a rapist.
"You know me, honey. I enjoy the conversations. I was rather known for that. Don't get me started on the Church, however, I'm afraid to digress like with this girl, the last time."
Arno ignored the uplift in his stomach from the nickname, unbearable heat turning his insides as he opened his mouth:
...I seriously have no words. Something must've been in that wine. There is no way, NO WAY someone who closes their eyes to the unwanted invasion of their body suddenly decides their assaulter is their boyfriend. Who in their right goddamn mind even nourishes this thought? Who?!"Are you only with me?" he asked, slightly upset.
A serious look suddenly scrutinized him, all traces of frivolity gone, and almost took his breath away.
"Of course it is, Arno. Now kiss me like you really want to and I think the situation would be greatly improved. "As if this situation could ever be improved in the first place. I'm not even sure Kalincka is even aware of what she wrote.
The interested party perceived the body on his to tighten following their increasingly frantic movements, and he arched in return, overwhelmed by the bliss and the crude words he did not expect to receive thus. Instinctively, he hugged his chest against his, resisting the urge to tear the crumpled shirt between his fingers. On the other side, he felt the Marquis angrily plant his teeth on his shoulder and increase the pain, speeding up the process. At the edge of the precipice, Arno closed his eyes, the other's gasps turning into a series of insanities that he had never heard in his life to flow into his ear and against his skin. Then it was the cannon shot, the last hissing before the powder trail: Sade seized him violently by the throat,I'm not sure if Arno is still being penetrated, or if de Sade is being penetrated, but either way, Arno is still being choked. And bitten. And has to clean up the mess afterwards.
The language which danced with his did not make him forget the carnage which took place below; he believed for a moment to be the victim of an earthquake, before realizing that the orgasm had just taken him with the same violence of which he had been the victim during all the scene which had taken place these last minutes. Breathless, he planted his nails on the back of the writer who arched too, not letting go of his mouth. A groan choked on his lips, and he came back down almost as fast as he had climbed, the pain escaping from his body at the same time as ecstasy.Yeah. You aren't selling me with the 'he had been the victim the entire time' schtick. Reminder de Sade only allowed Arno to take what he wanted for his pleasure only - not because he has any feelings for his sex slave.
Exhausted, Arno opened his eyes again, coming out of the lake in which he had been drowned, feeling the marquis touch to come just after him without letting go. While trying to catch his breath, he saw the other man raise his head after his own orgasm, and to his amazement, he couldn't find the sly grin on his face. Instead, he heard an unbridled breath fall on his parted lips, soon caught again. The kiss was brief but less rushed than the others; the wound on his lower lip reopened after being bitten. When they broke away, Arno met a satiated look that pierced him to his soul, incredibly triumphant. He supported him for several seconds, understanding the thoughts of the other without speaking, the hundreds of victorious words that collided in this elusive spirit. He perceived a hand resting on his chest and pushing it elegantly with a single index finger: he did not resist, having neither the strength nor the desire, letting himself fall back to crash into the blankets.A bite on the lip, a bite on the shoulder, and a torn anus. Three things to look forward to to your first BDSM session with a guy you wondered was going to kill you during the session. I assume Arno managed to penetrate de Sade, as de Sade was touching himself to orgasm. I had to read this multiple times to get that Arno finally managed to take what he wanted, versus being the bottom.
'Allow himself to be invaded' comes to mind. He never wanted this, never asked for it. Yet de Sade took it upon himself to break Arno in. Looks like his tactics paid off.His tone was weary, exhausted from the effort and the situation. He was already rolling his eyes at the thought of any service that could be asked of him - whether it was an object to steal or a target to be murdered, he had no faith for anything, and he was already preparing an acid refusal in anticipation of the Marquis' response.
"I was just observing the effect of my methods," said the man with a concentrated air.
"And is it satisfactory?" he retorted sarcastically.
"I admit that the tug of the rope annoys me," coldly yielded Sade.Of course. He broke your binds and you didn't like it. You wanted to be the one to complete your sodomy of him, remember?
Then Sade got up. He did not see it, but he knew that the man had dressed and buttoned up his shirt - which he had not even torn - while moving around the room, looking for some instrument. Arno didn't care, turning his attention to his wrists. He then noted all the violence inflicted on the latter, who appeared to him martyred: bright red circles bloomed on each place where the rope had rubbed, and a trickle of blood was already running on his right forearm. Gently, he undid the knots around each hand, shivering slightly at the feeling of the air on his now free wrists. He reviewed the rest of his body - bruises were already flourishing on every free spot on his skin, three wounds had opened, and his lower lip was still bleeding, without counting the fluids in his pelvis. With a sigh, he let his head fall back on the pillow again, an unbearable heaviness pinning him on the sheets.Ripped clothes, fluids like blood, lube and possibly semen (if I read it wrong and de Sade stayed in Arno the entire time), bruises everywhere and bleeding wrists sounds like a really fun time. If only closed his eyes to the invasion wasn't used. It'd be like getting fucked by the long dick of the law.
The latter had crossed his arms, watching him, elegantly raising an eyebrow. Arno realized it, and he studied the accusing glance directed on him without understanding before studying himself. Destabilized, he turned his attention back to his host, who impatiently clicked his tongue:
"The loss of this poor girl has really made you amorphous, my beautiful boy."
The assassin tensed, immediately irritated. A club seemed to fall on his shoulders, and he felt a weight weigh down all his words.
"Don't talk about her. Not with your mouth," he snapped without an ounce of pity.
What a way to end this 'sex' session: bringing up Élise, the love of his life, to the guy you brutally sodomized. Surely, that'll convince him what you feel for him is true love. Tell him his grief made him blind to all these sexual advances and how much he really asked for it. Go on, tell him!Sade slowly turned his head from side to side, seemingly bored.
"Although I admire your devotion to your own frustration, it would be unfortunate if you didn't come back to me, Arno. I don't like having my possessions broken by someone other than me. That said, it's even more frustrating when they decide to do it on their own."
"I do not destroy myself," replied the interested party more for the form than by real will to assert itself.
You don't own Arno. He was never your possession. This confession de Sade 'broke' Arno adds a helluva lot more salt: not only did he take him against his will, he brings up his dead girlfriend AND reminds him he's the only one who can 'break his possessions'. He just doesn't like people having free will." Of course," conceded the writer ironically.
And I'll say this, Arno: you sure did destroy yourself. You were torn apart, physically and mentally. This is you trying to rationalize it.
Oh, how nice. de Sade is treating Arno with care now, cleaning his wounds and making him feel at ease. Too bad he didn't do that in the first place.
The marquis's fingers were strangely soft, passing the ointment with habit while drawing small circles. The red faded somewhat, and the skin was still mistreated, but after a few seconds, Arno realized that it was anesthetized by the substance, making friction much more bearable. More inclined to let it go, he stretched his other wrist, allowing himself to be treated without lowering his guard. Little by little, Sade's hands passed over the most abused areas, from her shoulders to the hollow of his kidneys, while his mouth began to languidly drag around his neck. Arno let himself go, closing his eyes and accepting the treatment without flinching; he shudders when he perceives the lips go up on his, instinctively placing his hands on the back of the other's neck after running them over his waist and back. He soaked up every detail: the flames that still licked his crackling skin, gradually choking, the heavy smell of sex and the musky scent of Sade floating in the room, the crackling in his ears and the cadence languid with sighs.
Arno frowned, annoyed, before scanning the room. Sade watched him do, the smile of the man who knew more than he proudly enthroned on his face, and he ended up launching casually studying his nails:
"Looks like you're stuck here for the moment. Unless you really want to walk back to the cafe-theater at night, supporting all the throbbing that your poor body might make you feel."
The assassin froze, suddenly struck by the realization:
Duh. Everything done to you was done on purpose, Arno. Don't act shocked now."You did it on purpose."
"If I'm not mistaken, you don't seem like a man who often goes to the confessional, like the rest of your little community. Who knows how many dark thoughts must clutter your head. In addition, this poor scowl that you wear has the gift of spoiling the harmony of your beautiful face."As if you didn't spoil him to begin with, asshole. The lack of self-awareness here.
He 'listens to you best', by refusing to let you have a say during your little sex session. He 'listens to you best' by invading your body. All those internal monologues about you being upset, powerless, and willing to be free utterly contradicts the thoughts you hold now. There is NO WAY someone thinks this way after talking about having their body invaded. My intelligence has been insulted enough.He watched his host without a word, searching for his own among the dozens of missions he could have told him - which he did even when he was still at the Court of Miracles; and he suddenly realized that the Marquis had always listened to him, even when he was only passing through, and that this was what he knew best.
And when he felt a possessive hand press on his thigh, he knew that Sade was signing the contract in turn.Key word: possession. de Sade saw Arno as his sex slave, never his equal.
The second chapter is an ending which leaves much to be desired. Arno goes off into the world thinking nothing about what happened to him. It would not surprise me if he decides to crawl right back into de Sade's arms; after all, the only chaste kiss on his temple 'chained him the most.'
The Author's Note stated historical accuracy should not be considered. de Sade's historic case of imprisoning a girl and forcing her to recant Catholicism is highlighted, but not him going through the streets looking for underage prostitutes (or kissing them in-game). It is also written how de Sade would be jealous of Arno's relationship with Napoleon, because how dare he have a consensual relationship.
As expected, Izzy Grinch and Marjolys both like this story, and both wrote fics where de Sade completely dominated Arno with the latter having no choice to refuse. Every time, they succeed in capturing the 'rapist' element.
Now, I'll tell you what insulted me the most about this fic. Kalincka, and people like her, think writing a brutal BDSM session with little preparation and unwanted sexual contact is hot, or can make people feel pleasure. When Arno described his penetration as an 'invasion', and gave up trying to fight back, that was a clear sign he never consented to this. However, the author reneges and has him appreciate everything done to him. Why? Because fuck you, that's why. He starts moaning and has a massive orgasm, because for whatever reason, authors think writing a brutal sexual assault - let alone sodomy - leads to someone moaning and having a massive orgasm. I get irritated when people do this with rape and prostate massages: they think the man being touched there will make him forget he is being ruthlessly sodomized. It does not work that way.
I've gotten shit for pointing out the obvious, and scores of people have told me 'it's just fiction!' or how they aren't offended because they've been a victim of sexual assault themselves. Sorry, but your head is screwed on so far backwards you could probably put an owl to shame. Under no circumstances does a person who feels they are being invaded, who doesn't want to be penetrated, who is upset and choked to near unconsciousness means they consented. Under no circumstances was this a 'light' BDSM story or 'rough sex', this was a rape. No way around it.
There were no negotiations or preparation. de Sade mocked Arno for being a virgin and laughed at any idea of being tender. Arno is left bleeding, sore, and bruised. Not to mention humiliated when the Marquis brings up Élise. There is no way you can sell this as rough sex, Kalincka. The minute you have a character describe the sex act as an 'invasion', and where they desperately want to be free changes it to rape in an instant.
There are kinks, and there's rough sex, but the key is that both parties want it. They trust each other. And even if it's a one-night stand, there's mutual agreement. There was none of that here. This was a nasty rape session with ropes and strangulation, and the author thinks she's going to sell me this shit. Well, maybe reviewers like this will give you praise. But I won't. I called you out and you deleted my review. You won't delete this one.
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