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Laying his tools out has always been a ritual of some power - now it has a new meaning, though it's one he isn't giving much space to here, because what he does in the basement of the asylum and what he's doing here have only the most tenuous connection. But the ritual is the same, a little outline without much in the way of hard planning, a set of possibilities.
It's important to keep things flexible. And this time he has a few things he didn't have before.
He picks up one of the lengths of rope - cotton, soft but reasonably strong - and turns to her. The light in the little room is warmly dim but more than enough to see her clearly by, and while he's never doubted her strength and capability... She looks almost delicate.
Pleasantly so.
He starts to uncoil the rope. "Tell me again what you absolutely don't want."
It's important to keep things flexible. And this time he has a few things he didn't have before.
He picks up one of the lengths of rope - cotton, soft but reasonably strong - and turns to her. The light in the little room is warmly dim but more than enough to see her clearly by, and while he's never doubted her strength and capability... She looks almost delicate.
Pleasantly so.
He starts to uncoil the rope. "Tell me again what you absolutely don't want."
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"I don't want to be cut or hit in the face," she replies, her eyes on the rope and the possibilities opening up as he uncoils it.
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He extends a length of the rope between his hands, moving around behind her. "Tell me your safeword."
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Rope is still something he's learning, and he still doesn't have much more than the basics, but for his purposes the basics are plenty. He slides one end of the rope through the loop at the center of her back and pulls it up over her shoulder, between her breasts, binding them up and apart.
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Then he returns to the bed and grabs a shorter length of rope, sliding back behind her and binding her forearms together where they sit at the small of her back. Like this, her chest thrusts out even further, the strain probably just enough to be a little uncomfortable.
Just like he wants.
"So." He grips her by the harness and spins her roughly around. "What should I do with you?"
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This is something new for them, and Saffron can already tell how very good Mike is at it. Her breath quickens as he spins her around, and she can't move enough to get her arms settled comfortably, which she suspects is the point.
"Whatever you like," she murmurs in response, not sure if his question was rhetorical or not. She may get punished for answering if it was, but she doesn't exactly mind that possibility.
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He moves back to the bed, picks up the crop, turns to her, swinging it lightly through the air. "On your knees."
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There's a focus in it, a concentration. It's almost soothing. But when he sees the evidence of it on her skin, his pulse races a little faster.
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Her eyes fall shut as the crop snaps against each nipple and she lets out another moan, her breathing heavy.
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He presses the tongue of the crop under her chin, pushing her head up. "You're beautiful," he murmurs, then lets her go.
This is another step, he thinks, as he moves around the side of her body to stand behind her. A slow push in a single direction. To match it, he places the toe of his boot in the center of her back and gives her a gentle shove. "Bend down. Get that pretty ass in the air."
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Spreading her knees wide apart for balance, she does as she's told, bending forward so that her ass is pushed back and up. She doesn't know what he's got in mind next, but Saffron's looking forward to finding out what it is.
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He moves back over to the bed and rummages in the bag - he's kept this hidden for no other reason than he wanted to produce it only at the right moment. Which this seems to be. He moves back to her again with it cradled in the fingers of one hand - heavy and smooth and metallic - and a small tube of lube in his other. Crouching, he slides a finger into the crack of her ass, finding the tight little ring of muscle and pressing gently.
"Anyone ever fuck you in the ass?" He grins. "Something tells me yes."
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She imagines she'll find out soon enough what it is.
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It's a very pretty little thing, a present from Neil, the flared base faceted and reflective like a large gemstone, a thrift store rhinestone on a gaudy ring. But in the dimness it looks almost real.
"Relax," he murmurs, and slowly pushes it into her, past the tightest point of resistance and easily inside.
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It's always about sensation.
His hand moves down, presses against the gem base and slips lower, exploring the folds between her thighs. She's hot and slick, and he hesitates for a moment, barely brushing her clit with the tip of his finger, before pushing two fingers firmly into her.
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Might leave a mark. He hopes so.
"You slut, you love every goddamn second of this."
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"Ai ya, yes, yes I do," she gasps in confirmation. She loves it so much that if he keeps this up, she's going to come soon, no doubt about it.
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He curls his fingers around the rope over her shoulders and pulls, not too hard but hard enough to be, at the very least, uncomfortable. "Up. You wanna come, you have to earn it."
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