Two Eyes Cenote wheel & sling

The stained-glass eyes locked onto the vicious coil, a twisted semblance of satisfaction spreading across Machiavelli's features. Is this your pleasure? the fellahin asked, his gaze flicking up to meet the icy blue. A smirk unfurled across his muzzle, dripping with sardonic amusement. This place is not so different from Herod's dungeon after all.

He was grasped, falling into perfect submission as only a dog could—well-trained, knowing. His tail beat a frantic rhythm against his stomach, heart pounding so heavily against his ribcage that at any moment it might have burst free.

The porcine head was dragged forward, ears pulled back expectantly to make room for the loop to be placed around his pretty throat. But it did not find its place there. Instead, the halo adorned his divine mouth, a sensation so wholly unfamiliar it left him momentarily stunned. The face was not to be marred. The face was not so easily hidden. This was not the way this game was played.

Fear flashed through the dog's gemstone eyes, fleeting but unmistakable, replaced by a clockwork mind that ticked, ticked ticked, buzzing against his skull like the wings of a fly.