Agresti's legacy of elegance and craftsmanship spans seven decades. Customized luxury creations, eco-friendly materials, and precision watch winders define their timeless brand. Discover the enduring legacy of Agresti, a brand synonymous with timeless craftsmanship and luxury. Explore their customized creations, commitment to the environment, and dedication to exquisite watchwirders.
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Exclusive Furniture by Francesco Molon
5235 Winterberry Ave, Simi Valley, CA 93063
Phone: (805) 5174717
Website: GoLuxuryfurniture.com
Exclusive Furniture by Francesco Molon is providing best Furniture in Simi Valley, CA. We are Authorized and fully insured.
Visit us in 5235 Winterberry Ave, Simi Valley, CA 93063 or call us today to get fast and experienced service, (805) 5174717.
Get 24 HOUR SERVICE, 7 DAYS A WEEK. We support Ukraine.
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Fine Furniture in Jonesborough, TN
Since 1970, Mauk’s of Jonesborough has been delighting customers with fine furniture and gifts you won’t find anywhere else! Whether you’re in need of comfortable furniture for indoors or out, or want to pick up a quick gift for someone special, we always promise quality products, great prices and the amazing customer service you’ve come to expect from us.
Mauk's of Jonesborough
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Crafting History: The Timeless Art of Marquetry
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Marquetry, a time-honored art form that traces its roots back to ancient civilizations such as Egypt and Mesopotamia, has captivated artisans and admirers alike with its intricate beauty and meticulous craftsmanship. This technique involves the artful arrangement of various materials, including wood, ivory, and metal, to create stunning patterns and designs. The history of marquetry is a rich…
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maybe put a shock collar on Ashtray?
Lightning in His Veins
[masterlist]
CW: shock collar, pet whump, conditioned whumpee, dehumanisation
His Mistress has a new collar for him. Ashtray should be excited at the prospect of being decorated, but something about it makes his stomach churn. It is big, black and ugly. Nothing like the delicate accessories his Mistress usually dresses him in, and that almost feels like a sin.
Maybe it's because the collar is a gift from one of her friends, watching excitedly. Not for Ashtray, of course, nothing is ever for him, nothing belongs to him, that’s how it's supposed to be. But sometimes they gift her things to dress him in, though nothing comes close to her knowledge of style and grace. This collar must be one of those gifts then, and who is Ashtray to question that. A Good Boy never questions his superiors, a Good Boy never questions anything. A Good Boy does what he is told.
So Ashtray does. He bares his neck prettily, taking note of how his torso moves, twisting on fresh burns, knowing that the glitter the servants applied must shine like tiny diamonds. And maybe, silently, he hopes that his Mistress’ friends must be so jealous of her beautiful, perfect possessions, decked in gold and jewels, just what dreams are made of.
…At least he thinks that’s what dreams must be like. Objects don’t dream, naturally.
As his Mistress closes the clasps of the collar, as her pristine red nails scratch over a burn scrab, he can’t help but focus on the feelings of prongs digging into his throat in an uncomfortably familiar way. Ashtray doesn’t dwell on it though. He has already learned, there is nothing to fear. The blank rooms are far gone and instead have been blessedly replaced by the shining smiles his Mistress graces him with, her cold hands like glistening ice bringing warm burns, and the golden glamour she has allowed him to be a part of.
Satisfied, his Mistress steps back. She is saying something, talking with her guest, exchanging airy laughter and warbled pleasant tones, washing over Ashtray like pearly morning dew he can picture in his mind but has never seen before. He could get lost in her voice, riding on it like clouds carrying him through his purpose, and yet never being too distracted, always keeping an eye on the ground just low enough so he’ll never miss a clue he can’t understand, never missing the remote–
The remote being handed to his Mistress, equally as black as the collar, making him suddenly awake of the prongs against his throat and the pit forming in his stomach.
Ashtray stays still though, perfectly poised, and suppresses the flinch before it had even fully realised. Maybe he hopes, desperately, if he is Good enough she’ll decide against it. Maybe it was all a test, maybe, maybe… Maybe he can see it coming just enough to give her the reaction she wants.
Almost pleadingly in the silence of his own mind, Ashtray knows he isn’t trained for pain. He is supposed to be an Ashtray, an object with a specific use, it’s all he could ever hope to know. The thought of displeasing her with his reaction scares him more than any pain ever could. What if he reacts too much? What if he is not– Lightning burns down his veins, ripping out his throat, his skin and tissue and soul. Two punctures spread venom down his very being, and there is no escape no escape no escape no escape no escape
Suddenly, it’s gone and Ashtray finds himself curled up on the ground, his limbs still twitching. He can’t remember how but surely it wasn’t graceful and–
His mouth rips open in a breathless scream, a pathetic, garbled screech barely noticeable over the sound of mindless thrashing, limbs hitting the floor, head banging against polished stone. It’s fire and lightning and Punishment and he doesn’t know why, doesn’t know anything, only knows Pain and Punishment and Please Stop.
Pause.
Breath.
Notice saliva dripping from the mouth. Not elegant. Not trained.
Hell.
Like veins imploding, swallowing what is left of Ashtray, leaving no trace of his purpose. Like poison, destruction, ruin, Ødelæggelse.
Stop.
Gasp.
Look up at Mistress, hope for mercy, hope for anything.
Find glee. Find amused laughter. Please.
It never ends…
•
•
•
He is still here. Ashtray is still here. Twisted, on the ground, the venom still burning in every vessel, but here. His tongue feels thick and swollen in his mouth, dried and bloody at the same time. Somehow, it is all pain, every single cell in his body is pain and lightning and shocks still coursing through him.
Maybe she heard him think. Maybe she felt her Ashtray have stupid little thoughts about things he should be grateful for, like being adorned in a big, black, ugly painful it hurts burning agonising beautiful collar.
taglist: @whumpsday, @2in1whump, @sodacreampuff, @webbo0, @toyybox
let me know if you want to be added or removed :)
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