Release

There's a sharp crack as the whip connects with his back. He can feel the skin welt from the impact, the sting quickly replaced by numbness. It feels as if hours have past. His knees are aching from kneeling for so long, his hands cuffed in front of him. He tenses slightly as he hears the whip whistle through the air again. There's blood drawn this time. The boy's not holding back tonight. Whatever got him so upset up today most of been pretty bad. He's never been like this before, never been this unrelenting.

Isshin can feel the boy's anger like a tangible presence in the room, lessening with each blow. Even though he can't see anything through the blindfold he can tell Ichigo's starting to relax. The pauses between strikes are lengthening, the tension in the air is no longer stifling.

He's the only one with any real idea of the darkness that hides within his son. Those other fools think they know him, think they understand what makes him tick, what drives him. They don't know about his need to hurt, to punish.

Isshin accepts the treatment without complaint, his own guilt making him incapable of denying Ichigo. He sometimes feels that this is all he has left to offer. This release. It's not as if Ichigo knows that he's a shinigami and it's not like Isshin knows what it's like to be half hollow, to have some freak living inside of you.

But none of that matters now as the final blow lands. His orgasm rips through him, pulling him deeper still into the darkness.