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Twenty Four Hours

Chapter Text

It’s the creak of the door that awakes Yoshiki that day. It’s not the alarm like it usually is, but it’s Sir at his door. Smiling. Happy to see him like no other time before. He doesn’t really know if it means if today will be a good day or a bad day. But he returns the smile back to Sir.

“Yo-chan, aren’t you excited? It’s your birthday today.” Sir takes a few steps further into Yoshiki’s room, till he’s sitting on the foot of the bed. There’s a hand that rests on his calf, and it takes a twinge of self control to not yank back the extremity. Yoshiki just sits up, which effect’s how much he’s able to be touched.

“Is it really?” Yoshiki doesn’t ask to cast doubt, he knows better than that, it just feels a bit unusual to celebrate such a thing. There’s a nod.

“I got you a gift and a cake and everything. You’re getting a real birthday party, baby. Get dressed so we can start.” Sir leaves after that, and Yoshiki knows better than to take his time. He doesn’t look forward to putting on his clothes on non streaming days. They’re all stupidly small and in pastel colors, too feminine and young for someone his age. The shirts all barely cover his chest, shorts that look like they were picked from the children's section of a store. The skirts are the worst, too short to really cover anything. His proper adult clothing meant for streaming are kept in another part of the place, so he can’t even attempt to dress himself in something that fits. Yoshiki doesn’t put much care into what he pick that day, but he picks a pair of blue shorts that are made of a fuzzy material, for no reason that they feel nice. He chooses a blue shirt next, that has stars on it. The outfit makes no sense from a fashion standpoint, but it doesn’t really matter when only two people are going to see him in it.

After he’s dressed, Yoshiki exits his room. The door opens right to the main area, and now he sees what Sir was talking about. There’s a banner hanging from one part of the ceiling spelling out “HAPPY BIRTHDAY” in bright letters, and a cake on the table. It’s big, almost the size that they bring out on stage during concerts, which is meant to feed both the band and the crew. His name is written in neat cursive on top and there’s two candles in the middle in the shape of the numbers ‘5’ and ‘4’. It’s a real party, just for himself and Sir.

He doesn’t wait for directions, and just takes his seat at the table, “Are you doing to light the candles?” Yoshiki knows he forgot his manners, but doesn’t bother correcting his mistake.

“No. I don’t think it’s necessary.” The candles are plucked out after that question, “I want you to open your present first, then we can get started on your pretty cake.” There’s a nicely wrapped box that is put in front of Yoshiki next, in the small space between himself and the cake.

He doesn’t waste time unwrapping it, to reveal cardboard box under it. He keeps going, until he reaches the item inside. There’s fluffy white fur on whatever it is, and once Yoshiki pulls out the item from the box entirely, he realizes what it is. It’s a stuffed dog, white just like his Melody back home. It’s bittersweet seeing something so similar to her, but he forces a smile anyway, “Thank you, sir.”

“What are you going to name her?”

“Harmony.”

“That’s pretty.” Sir moves from where he stood previously, to Yoshiki’s side of the table. He has a spoon in one hand, and he slides a chair that the musician hadn’t seen before over as well. They’re sitting so close together that their knees touch, “After you eat your cake, we can welcome Harmony properly.”

Yoshiki knows what that means, but he just accepts it.

“Open up birthday boy, it’s time for your cake.” Sir is feeding him today. They’ve never done that before in the some months he’s been there, but he doesn’t resist.

~

Yoshiki isn’t even 1/4th of the way through the cake- the entire thing- until his throat begins to hurt. His mouth is covered in sugary remnants of colored icing and the cake hurts to swallow at that point. He doesn’t want to eat anymore.

“Sir..” It’s a weak call at first, just to get his attention first. It doesn’t work. Sir is too busy collecting the next torturous bite, this one full of cake and barely any icing, onto the spoon. “Sir. Can I have something to drink?” It hurts a bit to speak, too.

“Sure.” He perks up at the response, “After you finish your pretty cake.”

Yoshiki’s hope for just a bit of his pain to be alleviated is dashed away within seconds, and he just accept the bite when it comes to him. His stomach starts to hurt. He’s tiny, not meant to eat for this many people, but Sir is like a robot. He has barely any time to swallow before he must take another bite again. Again and again, for what feels like forever. There’s a silence for awhile between the two of them, before Sir begins to speak.

“I’m so happy to celebrate your birthday with you. You look so cute today, so appreciative.” Sir showers him in compliments that Yoshiki isn’t quite sure he deserves, nor wants. But he smiles and continues to play along, “I can’t wait to take your picture today.”

Yoshiki can’t wait either- till the party is over, the photoshoot is over, till enough time has passed that it’s time to sleep. Time ticks by slowly as slowly more of the cake disappears into his stomach.

He’s halfway through until he stops being fed. Sir just gets up and leaves. He doesn’t know what he’s done to be left suddenly, but he’s there. Sir disappears around a corner, down the hallway to a storage closet, and reappears within his DSLR camera in one hand, bright red ball gag in another. Party’s over, photo time now.

“Can I get something to drink now?”

“No, afterwards, baby. I just can’t resist taking your photo now.” Yoshiki knows what that means, and he just starts preparing himself. His shorts go first, then his shirt. He’s nude, now, there only one thing left until he’s read for his photoshoot. The ball gag is set between his teeth, and secured on the back of his head. It’s bigger than the usual one he uses, and it starts to hurt Yoshiki’s jaw within moments. Sir is careful to pull his hair out from under the straps so it rests semi naturally. He stands for a second longer in front of Yoshiki, thumb on his chin.

“Let’s do pigtails today, baby. I think it will look better.” Yoshiki can’t do anything but humm with approval. Sir disappears again, fetching elastics and a comb from the bathroom. Sir reappears again, and gets to work on his hair. Yoshiki can feel the left side of his hair swept up in one pigtail, and the right side is swept up too. Sir takes his time, combing it out nicely so there’s no bumps. He can tell from the time being taken in preparing him for his photoshoot that he’ll be seeing these photos soon.

Soon Sir is back in front of him, picking up his camera, “Are you ready? Pick up Harmony baby, I want her in this. Show off your gift.”

Yoshiki does as he’s told. Harmony is held simply in his hands at first, until Sir begins to instruct him on how to pose. There poses all feign innocence, despite his nudity and the tent he can see growing within Sir’s pants. Yoshiki’s good at taking directions, especially in front of a camera. Lift his arm this way, open his legs wider, it’s so easy. Just doing as he’s told. The ballgag isn’t very comfortable though, and after a while Yoshiki gives up on attempting to swallow his spit anymore. It begins to drip down his chin and to his chest, sticky. There’s nothing to wipe it with, so he just lets it happen as he continues his shoot.

“Oh baby, you’re such a mess. We’ve got to get you cleaned up before you stream later.” Sir is fake concerned, but won’t switch him so something smaller. Yoshiki just nods, and continues with the next pose he has to pull.

Shooting while nude isn’t unfamiliar to him, having done it so many times when he was younger. But that was a different time, when he knew what those photos were used for. Aside from the few photos Sir has shown him, out of the hundreds of perfectly posed photos they shot, he doesn’t know where they go off to. For all he knows, they could be sold off to some tabaloid for cash, but he’ll never be told.

The shoot lasts for a long time, until the spit on his chest has dried and made it awkward to move and Sir has set him all over the place. The floor, the couch, the chair, close-ups and far away. Harmony hugged to his chest as he made puppy dog eyes at the camera, his legs spread wide, so many demeaning poses that he’s lost count of. He doesn’t have the energy to feel ashamed anymore, just acceptance.

This is who he is, this is his life, and the man in front of him- is his God.

Chapter Text

Contrary to what Sir says, there is no stream that day. Yoshiki bides by waiting for the time where he can finally get away from the man, but it never comes. He spends that day wrapped up in Sir’s arms. The cake sits on the table getting warm as periodically throughout the day he has to sit down again and eat again. Nothing to drink until he finishes it, Sir is sure of that fact. When Yoshiki begs and pleads, promising to do whatever Sir wants, just to get nothing.

Yoshiki can tell it’s been hours when the icing starts to just turn to sugar and butter in his mouth. It tastes terrible but he accepts it with the hope of relief at the end. It’s a waiting game as his throat gets drier and he’s more needy, but there’s a satisfaction as the cake slowly disappears until crumbs and remnants of icing remain. He’s almost excited, proud.

“Okay baby, I’ll give you what you’ve been asking for.” It’s the first time Yoshiki’s allowed to do something himself that day, when there’s a cup placed in front of him, filled to the brim with water. There’s no condensation on the sides, and it’s warm when Yoshiki finally drinks it, but it tastes amazing.

And so does the next.

And the one after that.

And the many, many more that are continually given to him by Sir until his stomach hurts and Yoshiki’s desperate to relieve himself. But his cup is still being refilled and Sir is expectantly waiting for it to be finished, there’s a water pitcher in his hand. Yoshiki takes that one, not without having to make a lot of effort to do so. That would be his last. Sir fills up his empty glass, and Yoshiki’s heart beats twice before he says anything.

“I can’t.” There’s an instant retort from Sir saying that he can, he will. Yoshiki’s stomach already hurts so much, the volume of his stomach so clearly past his limit that another glass would just be too much. He knows it, “I can’t.”

Sir pushes one more time, trying to get him too, but he just refuses again.

There’s a sigh of exasperation when Sir begins clearing off the table, the used utensils put somewhere inside the small kitchenette as Yoshiki just sits there, by himself. His birthday does not feel very nice. He feels sick and upset, not happy like he usually did. Having the event forgotten altogether would’ve been nicer. He gets to sit, free from Sir’s embrace for only a few moments before Sir turns to him with the look on his face.

“Go get ready for bed.”
~

The fullness of his bladder keeps Yoshiki up that night, because he has to be cognizant not to relax too much. He knows if he relaxes too much, he’ll make a mess. So that night, he is careful to lie still, tensing his thighs and curling in on himself. So careful to keep himself from messing his bed, despite the fact this level of control means sacrificing his sleep.

Awake like that, all he can do is wonder what tomorrow will hold. If Sir lets him stream, maybe he can nap then? He’s technically not supposed to, but if he poses right and pretends to be asleep, maybe he can. Just maybe.

His door opens just then, like it did that morning. Sir is there, not smiling this time, but he peeks his head through the door. Yoshiki just looks at him, and their eyes catch each other. The musician diverts his gaze first, but Sir moves further into his room after than.

“Can I got to the bathroom?” His voice is stronger than it was before.

“No baby, you know the rules.” Oh- Those rules. Stupid inane rules opposed on him to keep his behavior in check. He’s 53- no, 54- years old and he can do that himself without having to follow a subset of rules in addition to the others he already has.

“I really need to go.” As the words leave his lips, his one blanket is being gathered up at the foot of the bed where Sir is, then promptly dropped into the ground.

“Then go here.”

“What? No!” He doesn’t mean to yell, but he won’t do that. Why can’t he just use the toilet like a normal person?

“Right now is when you want to argue with me?” Yoshiki doesn’t have a chance to respond because Sir just walks out of his bedroom door, and he’s back in less than a minute with something in his hand. It’s obscured from Yoshiki’s view for the most part until Sir flicks on the light, and then he knows what they are, “Are you going to fight me when I put these on you, or am I going to have to stick you too?”

Yoshiki just shakes his head. The last time he got stuck, Sir wouldn’t tell him exactly what was done between the time he was put asleep to when he woke up. Whatever it was, wasn’t anything he’d like a repeat of. So he’s pliant and calm when sir restrains him. Spread eagle on his bed, only his boxers- the pair specifically meant for him to sleep in, another rule- to protect his dignity.

“You can go here with me watching, or, you just won’t go. But I know you will eventually.” Sir finished up with his left hand, and now he moved so his body was fully on the bed. Yoshiki didn’t know what he was doing until he felt enormous pressure on his stomach and bladder.

Sir fucking sat on him.

And he was by no means trim, so it took barely a minute before Yoshiki was forced to relieve himself like that. Sir was just barely pinching his nipples at that time, just letting his hands roam the free expanse of his captive’s chest. It’s so easy to be groped and taken advantage of when he doesn’t resist, but resistance is hard. His resistance never leads to anything besides beatings and writing out passages of cult literature, so it’s easiest to play along. It’s easiest to let Sir take what he wants, do what he wants, with a smile on his face. It’s easier to obey, than be forced to do what Sir wants later anyway.

And what Sir wants now is to fuck his little mouth, because he’s made him hard with being so obedient and respectful just now.

Yoshiki lets him.

He opens his mouth and allows it to be violated with the older man’s cock, for the hem of his shirt and his pubic hair to become buried in his face over and over again. Allows himself to choke and gag and look up prettily with tears in his eyes, like some kind of porn star. He allows Sir to thrust into his throat wildly until he pulls out to splatter streaks of cum across his face.

He allows Sir to take a marker and draw on his chest, christening him a piss slut.

He allows Sir to take his photo. To zoom in on his soaked through boxers and the mess underneath. The writing on his chest and finally his dirtied face.

He doesn’t even beg to be cleaned up afterwards, and Sir doesn’t bother doing it himself, so he’s left alone afterwards. Thinking of all the things he’s allowed Sir to do to him, the humiliating, disgusting things he’s allowed to happen. His resistance means nothing. What he wanted, never matter. It’s so much easier to allow things to happen, to embrace who he is, to stop thinking he has a say anything.

Sir doesn’t need his consent anymore, never really wanted it, and it’s taken so long to accept that truth.