A/N: okay gorgeous people, here it is. The very last chapter of arc 1. The last really horrible bit. So I'll say sorry, and give you a content warning for violence

Gabriel settled into the unusually soft touch as Sawyer removed the blindfold and gag, and worked the knots loose around his wrists and thighs.

"You took your punishment well, though I wish you wouldn't force me to punish you that way."

"Thank you Master," he managed to murmur, his eyes closing as his cheek rested on the bench. He'd have to get up in a moment, and he wasn't sure his strained muscles were going to be able to lift him, so he was taking his rest where he could.

"You probably took it a little too well..."

Gabriel tensed at Sawyer's tone, which was considering, thoughtful, but with a dark edge.

"Please, no more," he whimpered, unable to hide the current of fear.

Sawyer didn't say anything for a moment, pulling Gabriel upright, the tenderness gone from his touch, depositing him on the bed.

"You were completely silent. I'm not sure they went hard enough."

Gabriel stared. That was so unfair. They'd gone plenty hard, and he winced at the rough burn inside him. Sawyer just didn't like it when Gabriel made too much noise, and he'd wanted to do good in taking his punishment. He'd wanted to prove he was trying. And now Sawyer was saying it was proof Gabriel hadn't done good? Gabriel wanted to cry, could feel it building, except that would only make Sawyer more angry. He hated it when Gabriel cried.

"Please Master. It hurt. I promise I know I was bad before. Please don't do anything else. Don't say I didn't take my punishment properly."

Gabriel gulped at the transformation on Sawyer's face as he listened to his plea. He shouldn't have said anything. He'd made him angrier. The tears threatened even harder now, at the almost certain knowledge that he would be getting another punishment for the backchat.

But he was so tired. He didn't want that. He didn't think he could take any more right now, in any format. He just wanted to go to sleep, to forget what had just happened and continue with their lives, with their little routines that didn't include being used like an inanimate sex doll for his Master's friends. He'd only...he didn't know.

He regretted saying anything, but he just needed Sawyer to not suddenly feel like sharing Gabriel with his friends was a good thing, and want to do it more. He didn't think he'd do it under normal circumstances – Sawyer was not a sharing kind of man – but even as a punishment...

Gabriel knew it wasn't as if he was meant to like it. He wasn't stupid, regardless of what he got told. He knew it was meant to punish him and make him to things he didn't want and to push him beyond things he was comfortable with – because what would be the point otherwise? Sawyer had told him that often enough, and he got it, he did. But, even so, he didn't want Master's friends to become a part of that.

But then he remembered what Jules had said to him in the club and clutched onto it in his desperation. "Master, what are safewords?"

"What?"

"It's just, Ju- um, I just heard someone say something. And I was wondering if that's something I'm meant to have."

"Oh?" Sawyer walked a little closer to the bed, his face a mask of intensity. "Why would you think you need safewords? What makes you think you deserve something like that?"

"It's not- I don't- I was just wondering."

Sawyer went to the tall chest of drawers, opening it and moving something unseen around, refusing to look at Gabriel.

"Safewords are for people who don't trust their Masters. For people who haven't given themselves up properly to knowing that their Master knows best for them. Is that you, Gabriel?"

"What? No, Master. Of course not. I just didn't know."

"Well you do now. Will you be asking again?"

He repeated, "No Master. Of course not," but he knew his voice wavered too much.

Sawyer still had a line of danger to his body that was making Gabriel's heart beat uncomfortably fast in his chest. He knew he hadn't properly placated him, and there was going to have to be another way to do it.

"I'm sorry, Master. I won't mention it again."

"And speaking out of turn, now."

Gabriel clamped his jaw. He'd pushed it too far. Sawyer was really angry now, in a way he didn't get often. The difficulty came in that it was hard to distinguish from the usual stoic exterior Sawyer presented, but Gabriel was learning to spot the small, hidden tells. He needed to, to circumvent them where possible: to pacify.

But there was always a point where it was too late. It didn't happen often, for which Gabriel was grateful. But when it did...Gabriel knew he'd be lucky to avoid scars. He already had two or three on his back. Light enough that there was still a chance they would eventually fade, although that wasn't going to happen if he didn't stop angering his Master like this.

Gabriel went without complaint as Sawyer directed him back to the bench, and re-tied him in position. Sawyer didn't say anything. The lack of any explanation was another sign – under usual scenes he liked to taunt Gabriel, to call him names and make sure he felt as humiliated as possible. When he didn't do that, Gabriel knew it was worse.

As Sawyer crossed in front of him, he saw him take the knout down from its place on the wall. Gabriel couldn't help the shudder. It only got used in punishment, never for pleasure, because it was instantly too much, even for Gabriel. It had several knotted tails and Sawyer had taken great pleasure in describing how they originally often had metal or spikes knotted into them, and how they were sometimes used to kill.

As it was, it was painful enough. Marking enough. Guaranteed to open sharp, stinging wounds on his back, to make him light-headed and emotional; desperate to escape. But there was no escape from the cruel bonds, tighter than they'd been before.

"Count."

That was the only instruction before Gabriel felt the pinpricks of fire across his upper back.

"One, thank you Master," he managed to gasp out, already overwhelmed, the punishment, the reminder of how bad he was, coming too soon on the tail of the previous one.

Sawyer kept the strikes evenly paced, regular for the ten that Gabriel expected, and he sank against the bench as he sobbed, "Ten, thank you Master."

That should be all. Gabriel had done it, although he could feel the horrible tickling of a pearl of blood sliding down his ribs. He wanted to be loose, to be free so he could clean himself up as best he could – just well enough to not be getting blood all over Sawyer's clean sheets on his bed. He waited, thinking Sawyer would start on the ties. It's why he couldn't help the scream when another slash of the whip landed across his torn back.

"Master?"

"Count, whore!"

Gabriel whimpered, forcing out, "Eleven, Master, thank you."

He couldn't ask how many. Even though ten was the usual number for such a harsh implement, Sawyer never told him. Had reminded him before, when he'd asked, that it was up to his Dom to decide how many strikes were suitable. And now, for why he thought he was being punished, it was not the time to beg to know something like that. So he took them instead, his voice increasingly low and hoarse as he screamed out his numbers, his thanks for the correction.

They were at twenty-five when Gabriel really started to feel dizzy. He was unable to slip away in his mind, with the brutal burning pain bringing him back at each hit. He felt sick, thankful that the gag was no longer blocking his mouth, but he knew the pained noises he was making at each strike would be annoying Sawyer. They were probably adding to his number, though he couldn't ask, even if he could get his thick tongue to force out any other words than the litany he was forcing his way through. He could feel more thick, slick globules on his back, unsure whether they were sweat or blood.

He didn't know how many more he could take, and when the dim veil came over him, allowing him to be sucked under, away from the agony, the pain at having disappointed his Master so badly, he felt nothing but relief as he heard the soft, warm whisper close to his ear.

"Why, darling? Why make me do that. I only want to hurt you in ways you like. I love you too much for anything else."