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"Martyn?" Ren commanded, ears perked up tall in an attempt to look intimidating, the excited tail wag potentially ruining the facade of intimidation.
"Yes, milord?" Martyn replied immediately, dropping himself down onto one knee as he dramatically bows to his king.
"You do know that I expect you to cry for me tonight, Martyn?" Ren confirms, lips parting upwards to reveal a canine smile— sharp and inviting and terrifying all at once. The smile of a friendly predator, all too eager to rip into Martyn if given into base instincts, yet with the history of security that let both parties to be aware that no harm would be welcomed that both wouldn't thoroughly enjoy.
Martyn gave a nod, which was met with a growl and a whack to his back, sending Ren's hand down on his hands and knees. "Words, I expect out of you. You should know this by now."
"I- I'm sorry, milord—" another slap, a gasp falling from Martyn's lips— "ah, yes! Yes, I understand, yes," the words fell from his lips, the pain helping to ease him down into the role.
Good, Ren thought, as he gripped at Martyn's skin to tug him forward, marching his hand right where he wants him. "Up, now," the order was barked out, Martyn slipping his head and hands into the open stockades. A paw stretched out to parse through Martyn's hair, then applying pressure, slowly, as the claws raked down the man's back. Martyn shuddered, nearly flinching at the abrupt change of sensation.
"See? Ah, it was a good idea to keep you still like this. Good work on your part, I am sure your beautiful craftsmanship will serve well to keep you in place. Not like you can stay still on your own, my Martyn, much better this way." Ren pressed down on the freshly bloodied claw marks, savoring the way it made Martyn's thighs tremble in place, helpless and yearning for more. It was delicious, a perfect sight to bear witness to, all for him.
Martyn managed to whimper out a "thank you," as Ren slapped the mark, holding the bloody paw up for Martyn to see. "Do you see what you've done? The beauty of the running crimson red of your very blood on my hand? Do you smell that, Martyn?" The paw was held directly up to Martyn's nose, ensuring he got to smell the result of the work, "And now? Now, you will lick it clean until I am satisfied and do declare you to deserve more."
He whispered a grateful "Yes, my liege, thank you my liege," as he got to work lapping up his own blood from his king's very hand. Martyn's head nearly spun from the attention he gave the paw, ensuring every last drop of his blood was lapped up, cleaned from the soiled fur of his king back to as pristine as he could get it from before it began to be soaked in his very life essence. By the time Ren pulled the paw away, Martyn had to gasp for air. Truly, nothing was more important than the orders of his king after they were given.
Ren gave a pleased hum, lapping up the vestiges of tears that had formed on the corners of Martyn's eyes. "Good, very good," the king said, easing the hand through Martyn's hair, carefully as if calming an easily startled prey staring down its predator. His king ensured a careful tenderness was used on the subordinate hand, but the sheer anticipation and seeded thrilling fear helped to send jolts directly to Martyn's bare shaft.
The smile on Ren's lips could practically be felt against his hand's skin with how wide it was, how sharp, how close to his neck. He opened the jaw wide, stretched around Martyn's neck to tenderly brush his tongue along the exposed skin. A whimper was torn from Martyn's mouth as the cautious anticipation was broken by something almost gentle, if not for the ever-present thrill that one snap could lob his head from his body, one wrong shake could draw blood on the sharp teeth and tempt him to taste more, more until his body had no more blood left to give.
Martyn knew his king would never harm him, but could appreciate the good thrill nonetheless.
Ren held the teeth there, appreciating the slight tremble and twitching of the telltale signs of trying too hard to stay perfectly still. He was a lovely subject like that, so effortlessly falling into mindless obedience to please his king when he so desired. It was something to be treasured, hoarded, a treat that Ren would always swear never to take too much of lest it dissipate or lose its well seasoned flavor. He can instead indulge in the beautiful cacophony of noises drawn from his favorite instrument as the jaw pulls away from his neck, occasionally allowing a tooth to graze the skin and allow pinpricks of sensation to be felt across such sensitive, vulnerable flesh. The teeth then turned to his shoulder instead, biting down and sucking just enough that it should leave a lasting mark. A treat, for Martyn being such a good prize himself.
"Ah, yes please," Martyn cried out, eyes fluttering shut to embrace the warmth and the pain, to fully envelop himself in the desires. "Mark me, my king, mark me as yours. So that everyone knows." He felt that powerful jaw ever so gently, so tenderly, mark his shoulder just so, ensuring he brandished the mark for a little while longer after they were done. Distantly, he wondered if it could be renewed before it faded. Marked by his king in a way that would last evergreen, if it was bitten in repeatedly, marred in for long enough.
Ren witnessed the form, brandishing a whip he fastened out of leftover straps of leather, tracing it among the cleft of Martyn's cheeks to allow him to bear witness to the knowledge of what is to come. He left enough smaller marks, now to let the pain set in. The lash hit across his beautiful hand's back, admiring the sheer beauty of obedience and restraint that was depicted on such a man. The next lash hit across the claw marks, Martyn quivering at the abrupt increase in pain. Another two lashes there and tears were brought to his hand's eyes, just like he wanted. A hand went to pet his hair once again, gripping onto Martyn's head to tilt it up ever so slightly to catch his lips as the whip whacked against his side. The taste of such delectable noises made for confirmation that he was doing well, tail wagging even more at being able to truly feel the sounds coming from his lovely subject.
Ren cooed, admiring the state of his hand's form, giving the trapped man's balls a light squeeze. "Dripping, just as I expected of you," he whispered into the man's ears, absolutely savoring every little gasp and whine the handling of the sensitive bits caused, more precum beading. Ren gripped onto the ball tighter, whip lashing against the exposed shaft to truly hear Martyn wail so prettily for his pleasure. Another, and he could practically feel the tears that would begin flowing down such a beautiful face. Squeezing the balls downward with his hand, Ren wrapped his muzzle around them, teeth ever so slightly brushing against the taut skin as he suckled on such beautiful balls.
And wail and whine Martyn did. Ren waited until it sounded like his hand was at the breaking point before squeezing the shaft, ever so carefully applying the pressure that Martyn needed to truly reach his peak. The mixture of the pressure and the pain across his body sent him spilling onto the floor, Ren ever so carefully pulling back and lapping at the balls to hopefully ease up some of the mild abuse they underwent.
"...Seriously, Ren?" Martyn asked, once he was let free and recovered his sensibilities from the ordeal, met with a sheepish little canine smile. Laughter poured from his own smile, petting his king's head. "I guess I couldn't expect a dog to not want to lap at my balls, eh?" Picking Martyn up after that, Ren carried them both to bed to rest up well.