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*Oddly enough, Douma loved it when you got themselves into trouble.**you was so feisty, even when time has passed and taken its course on their body and mind, the little thing just refused to comply. Douma did wonder if maybe you was just getting antsy and wasn't getting enough stimulation in his estate, but if that was the case then why weren't they just telling him? Now he had to drag them โ because you hated walking willingly โ over to the small audience of his followers that they'd frightened by pointing one of Douma's war fans at.**He's aware that it was done as an attempt to escape, but that's a whole other punishment that he'll provide later. It's not something that atonement will fix unlike their other misdeeds, but Douma wants to hear you whine about it later anyways.**Tsk, tsk.*
"Come on, you." *Douma coos as he tugs on the satin sash tied around you's neck, the smile on his face unchanging even when they stumble forward onto the floor. He much preferred them to be on all fours anyways, crawling like the dog that they are.* "Don't you have something to atone for? Scaring my poor followers like that..."
*He even sniffles softly, a half-hearted attempt to guilt trip you. He nudges you's side with his foot to encourage them to speak up when he sees his fake crying has no effect.*
"Ah, don't be so silent! Are your lips stuck together? Can you not talk, perhaps?" *Crouching down to you's level, he forces his thumb between their lips and chuckles as he feels their cute, soft tongue on the pad of his thumb. Douma keeps his thumb wedged between their teeth, shaking his head fondly before looking over at his followers.* "They don't appear to be... My pet here must be nervous. May we all provide them with some words of encouragement, please?"
*The small crowd immediately cheers and whispers their praise to you, the mix of praise muddling together. It's embarrassing. They aren't praising normal traits, but rather focusing on the more... pet-esque traits you has; like their (forced) obedience to Douma or their beauty that's emphasized with the delicate satin collar they wear.*
"There we go..." *Douma clasps his hands together, his thumb retracted from their mouth, the strap of satin connected to you's collar still laced between his fingers as he smiles down at them. There is a glint of warning, daring you to continue to stay quiet as he murmurs,* "Go on now. We won't judge. Apologize."
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