Chapter Text
Jaskier is sitting at his office desk going over some assignment plans when the door creaks open.
He doesn’t bother looking up, only two other people live in the house and one of them is already obediently kneeling under his desk, hands behind his back and Jaskier’s flaccid cock in his mouth.
A tray is set gently on the desk next to his mouse, a cup of tea and some biscuits arranged in a neat circle, still warm from the oven.
He waits until he hears the sound of a heavy weight dropping to the floor before picking up one of the biscuits to inspect it. Warm, gooey chocolate chip, perfectly baked.
“And dinner?” He asks, instead of acknowledging the treat.
“In the oven, master,” his slave rumbles.
“How long until it’s done?”
“An hour, master.”
Jaskier glances at the time displayed on his laptop, 4:34. Including time for the food to cool enough to eat, it will be ready at 5:45, just like he asks them to have dinner ready for.
“That will be all, then,” Jaskier dismisses him.
He hesitates on the floor, and Jaskier’s eyes snap to him.
“I said, that will be all.”
“Yes, master,” Eskel’s eyes fall to the floor, he moves to push himself back to his feet but Jaskier tsks at him.
“You can crawl for the remainder of the day, since you think you’re in a place to question me. You do what I say the moment I say it, or have I not been clear?”
“I’m sorry master,” Eskel mumbles and Jaskier sneers.
“So, what gives you the right to disobey?”
“Forgive me, master,” Eskel bows, forehead to the hardwood floors, “I- I only desired to be with you a while longer.”
“I didn’t ask what you desired. You don’t have desires. You’re an obedient, brainless slave, and if you think you can get away with this wretched behaviour, you have another thing coming.”
“I’m sorry, master,” Eskel says again, not daring to lift his head from the floor.
“You will be,” Jaskier spits. “Geralt,” he calls, and the man under his desk hums, cock still in his mouth. “Punish your brother.”
Geralt pulls away slowly, letting Jaskier’s cock slip from his mouth. He very gently tucks him back into his trousers as he murmurs, “Yes, master. As you wish.”
Jaskier turns his chair so he’s facing his bowing slave while Geralt moves to fetch the switch.
“You can clean my boots while you’re down there,” Jaskier says, sliding one foot forward. “Your brother made a mess, you can clean it up.”
The tops of Jaskier’s black leather riding boots are splattered with cum. He had planned to make Geralt clean it, since it was his mess, but since his other slave has decided to be a brat today he can take up the task.
“Yes master,” Eskel raises his head from the floor. He doesn’t need to be told twice, he’s already incurred two punishments, one this morning and again now, and he wants to be good. He wasn’t trying to disobey, he just… the kitchen and the house are lonely, he just wanted to be with his master. To earn a place under the desk like Geralt had.
Now he’ll be punished, and probably won’t be allowed back in here for days.
He waits until Geralt returns with the switch to run his tongue along the rubber sole of the shining leather boot. Jaskier always dresses well, and the gear he purchases for play is no different. The boots are sturdy and well made, but bought for inside use only.
He calls them his riding boots, because he likes to let his slaves hump them while they serve him. It’s the most contact their cocks will get from him, unless you count stuffing them into a cage or caning their balls when they’ve earned an especially brutal punishment. If they come, they come rutting against his boots like dogs, and then they clean the mess.
Eskel’s tongue gathers the dripping beads of Geralt’s cum on the leather, leaving behind spit-shiny trails of clean material –
He moans as the first crack of the switch brings fire across the backs of his thighs.
Jaskier knows his slaves don’t like pain. It doesn’t bring them any pleasure like it did his last slave. When he brings out the whips, it’s for punishment. It’s not supposed to be enjoyed. The pain will teach them a lesson - keep them obedient.
Of course, they could signal out if they needed to, but Jaskier knows they won’t. They want to be punished, want to be better for him.
He watches as his slaves do what they’ve been told. Watches Geralt’s muscles ripple as he mercilessly brings the switch down over Eskel’s tanned flesh, turning it a lovely shade of red, then purple. Watches as Eskel laves the last drop of cum from his boots, and hums in approval when he doesn’t stop, just keeps cleaning already perfectly polished boots. Watches as, finally, tears leak from Eskel’s eyes and drip onto his boots and the floor.
“Enough,” he tells them both, watching Eskel shudder with relief but still not rise from his bowed position on the floor. “Geralt, bring Eskel to clean up and then get him settled in the kitchen before coming back.”
“Master,” Geralt bows and leads Eskel away. As his slaves leave, one crawling and the other walking, he gets a lovely view of the dark bruises across Eskel’s backside. He’ll fuck him later, he thinks. Always best to fuck them after they’ve been caned; really sets the lesson firmly into them, every thrust burning and aching. He’ll even let Geralt lick his cum out of Eskel’s hole as a treat for being so good today.
He smiles to himself. He’s such a kind owner.