A Night at the Emporium.
- July, 1997
Blood Red Rose, Drayven Azael, Tareth Thorn, Azrael Rai
Subject: A Night at the Emporium.
From: BldRdRoseV@aol.com (BldRdRoseV)
Date: Fri,11 Jul 97 21:05:29 EDT
::as the guard pushes through the heavy oak doors, to allow Drayven and his
newest acquisition inside, cool cavern air rushes at their faces, and dozens
of white candles, in candelabras and in niches carved into the earthen walls,
flicker to life, filling the air with the acrid scent of burning beeswax, and
casting the underground chamber with an eerie glow::
::the cavern stretches to nearly fifty feet long, and about thirty feet wide,
with a ceiling too high to see as it disappears into inky darkness… guttering
candlelight illuminates cast-iron hooks arranged in careful precision on all
four walls.. hanging on the hooks are a full assortment of objects of torture
and pleasure - whips, flails, cats, chains on pulleys, every type of
restraint known to man (and some not known to mortal man), and those little
red ball gags that look like clown noses - but the
real showpiece of the room is a giant mahogany "X" bolted to the far left
wall::
::at the back of the cavern is another set of oak doors, guarded by a pair of
Dobermans... hanging above the door is a portrait of sorts, a canvas covered
with streaks of blood, made by having been pressed against the back of a
former slave, following a severe punishment with a knotted cat-o-nine tails::
::tonight, the cavern’s end tables and divan have been pushed to the walls,
and in the center of the room are two chairs, their seats padded and covered
with crimson velvet… between the chairs is a throne, and beside the throne, a
basket of fragrant red roses, their thorns catching against each other, their
long waxy stems glistening::
::seated on an ebony throne of wrought-iron, it’s huge back rising above her
head in the shape of a black heart, its rounds leaving her face in shadows,
so that only the lower half of her PVC-clad figure can be seen, is the
Mistress of this chamber… the guttering candlelight in the cavern sends
little flashes of light glimmering over the slick surface of her legs,
stomach, and arms… poised casually on the armrests, her slender hands,
adorned in gauntlets of muted black leather… the ends of the gauntlets
flare out to a point at her forearms::
::as she leans forward, her face emerges from the shadows… her pale features
are bare, but for a slash of scarlet at her lips, and thick lines of kohl
painting cruel points at the edges of her eyelids, and carving her eyebrows
into wicked arches… her flame-red tresses hang in elegant curls over her
shoulders, but are swept away at her temples, revealing the round of her
face, and the cold madness of her emerald eyes::
::from somewhere in the cavern, the tiny echo of a water droplet hitting the
earth floor::
::giving the collar at Thorn's neck a yank, Drayven pulls him harshly through
the door… Thorn stumbles, and, barely keeping precarious balance, he emits a
low hiss::
::leaning forward slightly in her chair, Rose purrs with pleasure:: Bring him
before me, please, Drayven... ::her lips curling in a sneer as she leans out
of the shadows… one gleaming leg, then the other, slides forward, and she
plants both feet on the floor, rising in a languid, fluid serpentine::
::as Drayven pulls forward on Thorn’s shackled wrists and ankles, laying him
to rest before her, the captive glares, then suddenly halts the malice in his
gaze, a slow, evil smile taking it's place:: You have me. But I have
something of yours.
::Rose’s gloved hands rise to rest on the swell of her hips, and she glances
down at the prone figure before her, a little glimmer of amusement in her
eyes:: Well, well... does this newest pet have a name? ::her question
directed at Drayven, her eyes remaining on the one in the slave collar::
I know him only as Thorn.
::Rose exhales slowly:: Indeed.. How appropriate... he has been a thorn in
my side for some time now...
::the door swings wide again.. the arm of a guard is visible, holding it
open, and then Azrael strolls in, whistling to himself… Drayven nods to him…
upon entering the scene, Azrael gives a friendly nod to Drayven and Rose, but
his nod to Thorn is accompanied by a wicked grin::
::lowering herself to a crouch, Rose cups her gloved hand around Thorn's
chin, bringing her face to hover within inches of his… the slave blinks up at
her face, narrowing his eyes… growling low, she murmurs:: Where is she?
::one corner of her mouth curled in the sneer once more::
I know where. You'll have a wonderful time trying to find her.
::another eerie, hollow >DRIP< sound from somewhere in the cavern::
::Rose purrs:: Yes, I expect it will be a wonderful time… you do know, don’t
you?
Of course. I put her there.
::Azrael, a little puzzled by the exchange, turns to Drayven:: Um .. who?
The slave he kidnapped from House Locke, Az.
::a brief lift of her eyebrows, a flash of a grin, and Rose rises, her
leather-clad toe kicking out at his shin as she brushes past him…. the
muscles of his jaw clench, lips purse, and chains rustle as he tests their
lengths::
::Azrael chuckles:: It hurts to be hit in the shin. ::remembers being hit
by a bullet:: Ahh.. ::or four::
::Rose lifts her gloved hand to her lips, to blow a greeting kiss to Azrael
at last, and Az snatches the kiss out of the air, making the playful gesture
of shoving it into his pants::
::whirling around, Rose addresses Drayven, with a gracious smile:: Be a dear
and put him in the "X" restraint, if you would, please... ::lifting her arm
in an elegant arc to point to the harness at the far left wall::
::Drayven nods, again yanking on Thorn’s collar to pull him in that
direction… and chaos ensues::
:::Thorn grabs the chain, near his neck, and throws himself backwards from
Drayven, yanking the leash harshly… as she watches, Rose drifts to the side,
her hands wrapping around a set of thick chains dangling from the ceiling,
from some unseen point of origin::
::at the back of the room, the Dobermans rise from their slumber, padding
towards their mistress and sitting quietly on their haunches, at either side
of her::
::retrieving Thorn’s leash, Drayven gives it a hard yank, intended to jerk
the weight of his entire torso forward… another >DRIP< resounds… Thorn
growls, and digs in heels, creating a tug-o-war with the leash::
::Rose waits patiently, a brow lifted, a glance in Azrael's direction…
Drayven, meanwhile, sighs, before driving a boot up at his chin, taking
advantage of the lapse to jerk him over towards Blood's toy::
::Rose, purring once more:: Get him up there with his back to the wood. ::her
smile serene:: And get his arms up to the top...
::Drayven, with a little grimace of effort, turns:: Azrael, help me strap
him in.
Sure... ::Azrael replies:: It'd be a pleasure. ::as he walks towards
Thorn and Dray::
:::Thorn kicks out at the hand holding the chain as his back is pressed to
the frame::
First, I believe he needs the fight taken from him.. ::Drayven smirks, his
eyes glinting… Azrael grabs Thorn by the wrists and struggles, pushing his
arms slowly upwards the corners of the "X"… but with a display of supreme
effort, Thorn bucks up off the wood, headbutting Drayven::
::with a hollow, dark chuckle, Rose uncoils the bullwhip from her belt::
>DRIP<
::Drayven staggers a bit, before tossing a short punch at Thorn’s side… but
the punch is not hard enough to prevent Thorn from driving his knee into Az's
unprotected groin… Azrael doubles over, clutching at his post… the captive
grunts, turning his attention to Drayven, pushing away from the wall to spin
and backhand him::
::Rose holds the whip up, grinning:: Drayven? Azrael? Anyone?
Hand it to me, Blood.. ::from Drayven, just before he reels with the blow::
::at the sounds of all the commotion, the dogs at the back of the room rise
from their crouch in unison::
::Thorn continues his whirl into a sweep… Rose, waiting for Drayven to steady
himself, tosses the whip into his waiting hands… he catches it, rolling back
from Thorn, and the captive takes the moment to leap up, over to the
doorway::
::rising swiftly from his crouch, Drayven snaps viciously at the retreating
form with the bullwhip… the dogs begin to move forward in unison, between
Drayven and Azrael, to snap at the heels of the retreating figure… with his
wrists and ankles in chains, Thorn’s short steps to the door make the way
very difficult, and soon, one of the hounds is tugging at a pant leg, the
other hovering near an ankle::
::from Drayven:: Drop him, Az.
::Thorn elicts simply to jump to the door… the fabric of his breeches rips,
yanking away from the dogs teeth… darting after him, Drayven slips the whip
around his neck from behind::
::still in the center of the room, Azrael reaches into his cloak pocket::
Hey! Look what I bought! ::he holds up a .44 magnum, grinning::
::Drayven pulls back, the whip wrapped around Thorn’s Adam's apple… Azrael
points the gun from his vantage point, aiming it at Thorn… both dogs are
still snarling in perfect unison, as they continue their unrelenting attack
at his pant legs… through all this, the wily Thorn manages to make his way to
the door… hands clutch the doorknob as his head is yanked back..... locked!::
::Azrael chuckles:: I've been practicing with this bad boy all day. ::Rose responds with a wicked grin, and a low laugh, at Az's comment::
::Thorn gasps for air.. not relinquishing the pointless hold on the doorknob::
::a calm suggestion from Drayven:: His knee should do, Az.
::at that, Rose claps her hands:: Rudolf! Gregor! ::calling the dogs back for a moment… the dogs retreat a few paces, out of the line of fire::
>DRIP<
::Drayven jerks on the bullwhip again:: Az...
::Thorn finally, suddenly lets go... jumping backward.. into the line of
force and Drayven's chest.. a grunt leaves Drayven’s throat as he falls back…
shifting his aim quickly, Azrael fires a shell into Thorn's leg::
::with a loud:: Eeeeaarrrrrrgggghhhhhh....... ::Thorn falls to the uninjured
knee::
::rolling her eyes at the sound, Rose claps once more, and the dogs follow,
returning to hover at their mistress' side::
::Drayven slams the handle of the bullwhip into Thorn’s temple, on the side
of his good knee, sending his weight to the injured leg… apparently
unconcerned with the struggle, Rose lowers to pat the heads of her clearly
agitated pets… Thorn crumples to the ground, clutching his leg.. Drayven
hovers over his form, bringing the whip down in perhaps five hasty lashes…
Thorn grunts with each strike.. remaining in the curled position on the
floor…
::moving away from the chains for a moment, Rose slides around to stand
beside the "X", looking for all the world like a "Price is Right" model as
she displays the rack, smirking:: Drayven... don't kill him just yet... he
still has information...
::Thorn finally spares a glance to the bloody tears in his shirt along the ribs::
::a suggestion from Rose:: But for gods' sake, check his pockets...
::Drayven nods, leaning over to again attempt to drag Thorn's form to the 'X'' device… and Thorn hisses:: Come near me again... please... ::and Rose chuckles as Thorn's rump is dragged unceremoniously across the earthen floor::
::still moving, Drayven forces a hand crudely into his pocket:: Az, if he moves, shoot him.
::Azrael cocks his pistol with a click and grins:: No prob.
::Thorn clenches his fists, and Drayven stops, stops, staring… Thorn rolls
to the knee again... glaring with death intent, the stripes along his side
dripping::
::casually, from Drayven:: His shoulder, Az
>DRIP<
::without a word of warning, Azrael fires off a few shots at Thorn's
shoulder… Thorn rocks back with the first shot into his shoulder, falling
again to the cold floor::
::again, from Drayven:: Take his feet, Az.
Aye aye, captain.
::as Drayven bends over, clutching Thorn’s wrists, Azrael walks slowly
towards them, aiming his pistol at the captive’s right foot::
::BLAM::
::Drayven winces at the sound, and Azrael moves the pistol to the left::
::BLAMBLAM::
Hehehe...now he can't walk.
::Drayven, smirking:: I wanted you to pick them up!
I know. I had extra bullets.
::Thorn remains still.. only twitching, until Azrael grabs his feet::
::and Thorn screams as the shot feet are grabbed… Azrael lifts him from the
ground, staining his hands with Thorn's blood… Drayven yanks up on his
wrists, and together, they carry him to over to the 'X', Azrael staring at
Thorn's blood delightedly::
>DRIP<
::Thorn chokes off the angry bellow, lapsing into clenched silence… shifting
to the side, Drayven tosses his limp, bleeding body up against the device…
and once again, Thorn cries out:: Uhnngh…
::Rose, merely watching as she stands beside the dangling chains, purrs::
Get his arms up to the top..
::Azrael crouches, shoving the shredded feet wide against the base of the
rack… Drayven, meanwhile, pulls up on Thorn’s arms, gradually sliding his
body along the wood to the top panel::
::as Thorn’s wrists and feet settle back against the wood, silver cuffs
spring out, sliding from inside, clamping shut around each one in turn::
::as Azrael wanders behind Drayven and Rose, he sticks a crimson finger into
his mouth and slowly withdraws it, smiling at the taste of Thorn's blood…
Thorn’s head droops, his form gone limp in the hangings::
::Rose, grinning like a fiend as the air thickens with Thorn's agony, lowers
her gauntleted arms, and dusts her hands off, grinning, in a gesture of
satisfaction… her own eyes have begun reddening a little at the coppery scent
hitting the air::
::Drayven takes a step back to admire the form of Thorn for a moment, but the
captive raises only a blood-spattered gaze to those in the room::
::suddenly, as though seized by a notion from beyond, or an errand forgotten,
Azrael spins on his heel, tucking the gun inside his cloak once more, and
strides to the door... a jiggling of the handle, to signal the slave guard
outside, and the door is opened for him.. he steps out, without a word to
either of them::
::brow furrowing with puzzlement, Rose glances from Drayven, to the door, and
back to Drayven.. but he only shrugs.. and so she returns his shrug, and they
both turn back to Thorn, to continue::
::curling her lips up over her tiny fangs, Rose steps back, to wrap a hand
around the chains dangling from the ceiling once more::
>DRIP<
::glancing up towards the ceiling, peering into the apparent darkness, she
begins to tug on one of the chains… a creaking of protest is heard, and
slowly, out of the shadows of the ceiling, a bamboo cylinder can be seen,
emerging into the eerie light of the cavern::
>DRIP<
::releasing the first chain, her grin widens as she moves to the second, and
as she pulls, the cylinder drifts to the side, to rest directly above Thorn's
head, about three feet up::
>DRIP<
::and a splatter of water hits his drooping forehead::
::Drayven tilts his head curiously at the concoction.. Thorn forbids himself
to look up at the insulting thing, and Rose, licking her lips, she gives one
final yank at a third chain, to set the timing of the odd contraption in
motion::
>DRIP<
::the water hits his head again, and Thorn blinks with the spattering drop::
::leaving the chains and cylinder to their work, Rose saunters around to face
Thorn, her eyes dancing over him, with a little grin of satisfaction::
>DRIP<
::glancing over her shoulder, she offers an upturned palm to Drayven:: The
whip? ::grinning ever wider::
::Drayven hands the whip over, eyes still on the cylinder hovering over
Thorn's head, and Rose purrs:: Thank you, darling...
But of course.. ::A slight questioning tone is heard in Drayven’s voice::
>DRIP<
::a tiny frown mars Thorn’s face as the dual intentions become clear::
>DRIP<
>DRIP<
::Rose pauses a moment, then clears her throat:: Well, well.. ::her eyes
still locked on Thorn:: Don't suppose you'd like to tell me where my
Imoinda is, now, would you?
::Thorn’s response is a muttered expletive, referring to a visit to the
underworld:: <q> Go to hell.
::Rose lets the whip unfurl, the leather hanging loose at her side::
>DRIP<
::with a sly grin, she croons:: I expect you'll be joining me there... ::at
which Drayven chuckles::
::dangling the whip to rest over her shoulder for a moment, she steps
forward… Thorn blinks with each drop, tiny impacts making themselves felt at
the back of his hung head… once again, addressing Drayven as she watches
Thorn:: What do you think, Drayven? Shall we give him a taste of the usual
pleasure and agony.. or shall we simply leave this one in pain?
>DRIP<
Exclusive pain. ::from Drayven, with a smirk:: He's had his pleasure.
::one gloved hand slides down, a brief glide along the waistband of Thorn's
breeches::
Perhaps he would better appreciate lashes to his feet, eh? ::Drayven
suggests::
::but an idea strikes her then:: Drayven... ::turning to him:: Be a dear
and hand me that basket of roses beside the throne?
::while Thorn retains his silence, she glances down at the mangled feet,
grinning:: Ah.. perhaps towards the end...
>DRIP<
::Drayven nods and scurries off to the throne, glancing about for a brief
while before laying his gaze upon the roses in question… licking her lips
hungrily, Rose nudges one of the feet with the toe of her slick leather shoe…
with a swoop of his hand, Drayven snatches up the basket, hurrying over to
Rose and offering it.. and Thorn squeezes eyes shut as the pain from a
mangled foot races up the leg::
::her gaze traveling from Thorn's waistband to his chest, to his face, she
smiles the sweetest smile she can manage, then turns to the offered basket,
plucking out a single long-stemmed crimson rose, purring:: Thank you,
Drayven.
>DRIP<
::Drayven nods:: Anytime.
::Thorn finally bends his head to gaze into her eyes... defiance burning
there… but Rose does not see, merely glances down, as two of her fingers
wedge into the edge of his waistband, making room as she slides the stem of
the rose inside, lodging its thorny stem across his belly, so that the thorns
dig lightly into his flesh... releasing her grip on the breeches, the
waistband snaps down, holding the rose in place::
>DRIP<
Now... ::with another gracious purr:: ... where is Imoinda?
::Thorn’s stomach muscles tighten as the thorns puncture flesh, but no other
motion is given… expectantly, she lifts her eyes to meet his, her expression
placid::
::Thorn snarls low, the first word said with emphasis:: You........ will never find out.
::her grin only widens::
>DRIP<
::stepping back, she grabs the butt of the whip and curls it off of her
shoulder… raising her arm, she glances about, to judge the distance, then
takes another two steps back… Thorn watches from beneath a lowered brow… a
snap of her forearm, and the bull whip coils forward, the long leather strip
whistling through the air and wrapping around his thigh.. his whole body
winces away from the leather… a gentle tug, and it recoils, returning to its
mistress' hand::
>DRIP<
::with a little-girl smile, she croons:: Oooh.. you're a real tough guy...
::Thorn drops his gaze, lips moving silently, and Rose draws her arm high,
then shifts it across her chest, bringing the whip down in the other
direction, to wrap around his other thigh, with a sharp CRACK as it lands…
the apparent jump in his form goes just as silent as before, yet gaining a
few hard blinks this time… and another gentle tug to pull the whip back::
>DRIP<
::chuckling low, she begins to coil the bull whip:: You know, Drayven, this
really isn't my weapon of choice... ::her eyes drifting towards the wall, and
the veritable menagerie of torture devices hanging from hooks there::
>DRIP<
::Drayven smirks:: I do wonder what you prefer.
::a few swift steps carry Rose to the wall, and she drops the whip into a
chair on the way, one arm lifting to tug a heavy leather flogger from its
hook.. its handle about a foot long, the twenty leather straps hanging from
its end long and thin, with barbed ends, specifically designed to cut into
skin::
::through his haze, Thorn finds the lashes in each leg.. he tugs at his only
uninjured limb, again testing… Drayven frowns slightly, before dropping to a
knee… he lifts a leg of his pants up, hand going to the side of his boot…
Thorn takes the respite in time, again whispering to himself, eyes closed,
breathing deepening, finding calm… Drayven draws a small knife, it's shiny
blade emerging with a flick of a handle on it's side::
::Rose swings the flogger around, with a sharp SMACK as the straps land in
her upturned palm… turning back, she notes Drayven, and his knife, and the
first flickers of curiosity cross her eyes::
::Drayven stands, again dropping the pant leg to it's normal position:: May I?
::dangling the flogger, to untangle the straps, she shrugs:: Certainly.
>DRIP<
::Thorn’s eyes flicker open at the drop.. thread lost, he growls::
::Drayven approaches the 'X', eyes drawn to what appears to be Thorn’s only
remaining good arm:: You've made me far too paranoid, Thorn..Even in your
current position..
::Rose steps around behind Drayven, to watch, still swinging the flogger
gently against her gloved palm::
::as Thorn replies:: <w> Good. ::Drayven brings the knife up, cutting
deeply along the bicep muscle on his good arm, noting what little resistance
the muscle holds against the finely sharpened blade::
::glancing up at the cylinder above Thorn's head, Rose takes another step
back, tugging at one of the chains::
>DRIP<
::Thorn hisses through clenched teeth, still refusing to grace these with an
audible response, and Rose moistens her lips as the rich, pungent scent of
new blood hits the air once more::
>DRIP<
::Rose chuckles:: Drayven... now if you guys keep doing that, I may need to feed before we get through much more of this...
The next time I grow bored, I'm going to castrate you. I'd suggest speaking
soon. ::and then Drayven turns, smiling to Rose:: It's coming in *buckets*.
::with a gentle laugh and a roll of her eyes, Rose returns to Drayven's side::
::Thorn bends his neck forward, looking up and narrowing his eyes at Drayven:: <q> I once told you something....
>DRIP<
::Drayven takes an apprehensive step back:: Oh?
::Thorn grins ferally at his apprehension, even thus:: There are *always* alternatives.
::Rose twirls the butt of the flogger between gloved fingertips, playing with the straps and waiting patiently::
>DRIP<
::Drayven merely cocks a brow before again facing Blood Red:: Anytime you're ready.
::with a gracious nod and a sincere smile from Rose:: Thank you, dear… ::her lips twitching with hunger and amused anticipation::
::Drayven nods, again taking his place in the background, a witness to Thorn's little session::
>DRIP<
::shifting from one side to the other, Rose takes her time, finding her balance, then lifts her arm back, dangling the leather just over her shoulder::
>DRIP<
::Thorn again drops his gaze::
::with a wicked, elated hiss, she snaps her wrist, bringing the leather
forward, the twenty-plus razor-sharp straps cutting a blazing trail across
the top of Thorn's chest, rending what remains of the fabric of his shirt…
the shout gets caught in his throat, his head thrown back, teeth bared in an
almost animal grimace.. and Rose’s eyes are blazing red now, her pleasure and
hunger clear in the maddened expression forming on her alabaster features::
>DRIP<
::again, Thorn lets his head loll forward::
::Rose brings her arm across in the other direction, then snaps out, sending
the stinging leather skittering across his chest to cut a lattice of tiny
welts into the skin::
>DRIP<
>DRIP<
::this time the small moan does escape even tightly pursed lips, his body
shying away, back into the wood… pausing a moment, the flogger hanging at her
hip, she purrs:: Now, now, Thorn... Normally, there would be some kind of
... reward... involved in this... discipline...
But not for you. Not until I have my precious Imoinda back.
>DRIP<
::another snap of her wrist, and another glancing blow, the leather hitting
with slightly less impact this time, but cutting against the already tender
skin nonetheless… the effort remaining in Thorn’s writhe is weak at best...
already having lost too much blood::
::Drayven chuckles carelessly:: Thorn..
>DRIP<
This is not a no-win situation for you.
::again Thorn, ever so slowly, lifts his head... a bleary gaze lifted to those in the room::
You will not die if you give up the where-abouts of the girl.
So it is....
>DRIP<
::taking the opportunity to pause, Rose drops the whip to rest over her
shoulder, then steps forward, to examine the welts with a casual tracing of
one gloved fingertip, dragging across the skin::
::from Drayven:: You may remain a slave..but you will have, at the very least, your hope..
>DRIP<
:: the tiniest hint of a smile crosses Thorn’s face::
::and Drayven goes on:: Continue your stubbornness and we will continue until
your body gives up. Your choice.
::as Rose glances over her shoulder, giving Drayven a "look", the captive
finally speaks in reply:: <w> I think... perhaps.... it is time.. for..
the other.... alternative...
>DRIP<
:::with that, Thorn smashes his own head against the wall behind him, without
the sickening crunch he likely expected, as the walls of this chamber are of
earth, and impact against them is hardly likely to cause injury::
:: Drayven cocks a brow one more time at Thorn’s apparent attempt on his own
life… grimacing, Rose splays her fingertips over his chest, pushing hard,
attempting to rouse him with the sharp pain…
>DRIP<
::Thorn curses with what little breath remains, and Rose shakes a droplet of
water away from her gauntlet::
<q> Let..... death claim me then... along with.. your precious Imoinda. ::he
gasps::
::a slow grin appears on her features, the tiny buds of her fangs appearing
at the corners of her mouth… she purrs:: Let it then...
>DRIP<
::already leaning close, she lowers her head to his neck, one hand rising to
steady his chin… he jerks his head away, knowing exactly what she intends…
she fumbles a little, then retains her firm grasp on his chin, her hunger
already well advanced::
>DRIP<
::he feels a tiny pricking at the curve of his neck, as the skin begins to
break under the points of her fangs, and again he tries to struggle against
her grip, but he is weakened from his injuries, and she her undead strength
makes the claiming of his chin a simple task…with a low hiss, her eyes,
unseen by either of them, are glowing red and glittering with hunger and dark
desires::
>DRIP<
::Thorn does not whimper.. or cry.. only sighs... and hopes she gets it over
with quickly... and ends the hunt… another moment's pause, and she bites
down, her teeth sinking into the skin with a sickening sucking sound as flesh
is punctured… but she does not drink... simply hovers there, her fangs
embedded… reaching behind her, she hands Drayven the flogger from her
shoulder::
>DRIP<
::Drayven takes it, watching her with a bemused smile… Thorn hisses in a
breath.. holding it.. chest expanded to it's most painful extreme... ribbons
of blood and cloth streaming down::
::Rose’s free hand slides down, well past the rose embedded at his waist …
and Thorn’s eyes widen…::
>DRIP<
>DRIP<
::Thorn blinks... frozen in startlement and pain.. yet still a perverse
stirring at her deliberate touch… her grip tightens, but still she displays a
startling amount of control, as her fangs merely hover there, embedded in
flesh... as she feels his first stirrings, her fingertips dance open,
splaying wide over the front of his breeches::
:::all moisture drains from his mouth.. lips slip open in a silent shock..
yet as much as it should be forbidden.. even now.. he cannot suppress the
sensations... arousal.. at her caresses::
::the gloved hand rises, slowly, teasingly, halting at his waistband... and
she lifts her head gently away, tongue flickering out over the wound to heal
the puncture::
>DRIP<
::she glances up at the cylinder, silently cursing its awkward timing::
:::the color drains from his face.. a breech more surely of pride in that act
than any beating… as Rose loosens her grip on his chin, and draws slightly
away, both hands now rest at his waistband... digging in, she removes the
rose, and its thorny stem, ripping at the tender flesh of his belly as she
tosses it away::
>DRIP<
::Thorn shakes his head and buries the loss of pride in the pain created…
with a serene grin, her eyes locked on his sagging features, she grips the
fabric firmly, and, with a fervent strength, rips a "V" in the waist of his
breeches… slowly, ever so slowly, her knees begin to bend, and as she lowers
into a crouch before him, she tilts her smiling face up, to watch his::
::Drayven blinks a little in curiosity… and again, Thorn’s eyes fly wide,
then are squeezed shut... no... he will not allow this...:: This...
cannot be happening...
>DRIP<
::one gloved hand glides up from the torn fabric, fingers splayed over the
angry red welts on his chest… while the other hand reaches down…::
--------------
::for nearly an hour, the two wage a struggle… the one advancing, with
deceptive offers of pleasure, the other retreating into the pain of his
injuries to ignore the responses of his own body, to escape the crumbling of
his pride… and the water continues its incessant dripping…
::during that time, Rose questions him repeatedly, searching for answers
about her beloved Imoinda, but as the new slave quivers and groans under her
touch, she begins to enjoy the teasing torture, and her questions grow fewer
and farther between…
Devil... ::he whispers once::
::followed by her purring:: Oh, you say the sweetest things.. ::grinning her
amusement before diving back down once at him::
::and then, without warning, she freezes, leaving him hanging there, tense,
every nerve alighted, screaming::
::finally rising, her tone firm this time, no trace of the former
graciousness present:: Where is my property?
>DRIP<
::Thorn shudders wholly.. straining against the bonds even wounded so…in a
weak whisper:: I.... ::concentrating on breathing::
::a fingertip lifted to flick beneath the end of his chin:: Tell me, and
perhaps you'll receive your reward after all. ::her voice a dispassionate
monotone::
A reward of rape? ::yet still he shudders at the contact… :with a slowly
widening grin, her hands braced at his hips, she presses herself against his
body, her curves molded against his injured chest, the slick surface of her
suit sticking slightly to the blood and torn skin there::
::Thorn focuses on breathing... the only thing to concentrate on... yet each
time the dripping water brings…
>DRIP<
… him back from that peace.:::
::quirking a sculpted brow as she peers into that clearly uneasy expression,
she grins… his gaze is lifted once again.. misery riding in that place where
defiance had before::
Rape? But your body is certainly willing.. ::glancing down with a smirk… he
only drops head down again in answer, and in the background, Drayven finally
chuckles… lifting her hand, she places a few gloved fingertips at his chin,
forcing his head up gently… eyes glittering with a sort of lunatic passion,
she croons:: I think this little slave is holding out for another session..
what do you think Drayven? ::her voice lit with mirth::
>DRIP<
::she tilts her head to the side, her tongue flickering out to lap at the
congealing blood at his shoulder::
::Thorn again shudders, his gaze remaining down.. yet he spies her cleavage..
and simply shuts his eyes:::
::Drayven replies:: I do think so.
::her tongue dragging roughly over the wound, reopening it to draw fresh
blood, she purrs as the taste of the coppery liqueur rolls down her throat,
teasing at her hunger::
>DRIP<
::Thorn blinks his eyes open... desperately searching for any way.. any hope
of an end.. lifting her head, she turns to face the slave's ragged features
once more, her own lips curved upward in an amused grin, reddened with his
blood::
Well, then, Drayven.. perhaps we should leave him hanging here for the night,
to reconsider the error of his ways... ::she punctuates her words with a
flutter of her tongue, lapping away some of the blood::
no.....
>DRIP<
::Drayven nods:: I agree.
::the captive frowns miserably::
He'll have the water to keep him company. ::snickers Drayven::
::and Rose, glancing up with a carefree expression:: There's more than enough
up there to last for days...
>DRIP<
::with a pleasant smile:: Well, Thorn.. one last opportunity to answer..
::desperately hoping he doesn't, so that her fun can last a bit longer::
::she pauses a brief moment, waiting… as Thorn’s agitation finally subsides
enough to allow him to pay attention once again to the drops hammering on his
skull… he clings to the last ragged vestiges of slightly returning pride, and
remains silent::
::with a gentle shrug, and a tiny giggle, she draws back, with a slight
ripping sound as the PVC pulls away from his wounds… he gasps… she steps back
slowly, her eyes dancing over him.. glancing down at the front of her suit,
she wipes absently at a few splatters, then lifts her fingertips to her lips,
to taste::
>DRIP<
::Thorn glances down over his torn, bloody, half-naked body... that pride is
again rocked, his eyes slide closed, not wanting to see any more:::
::stepping back a pace more, Rose curls an arm around Drayven's waist, and
her head turns with a bright smile::
>DRIP<
::purring:: Drayven, my darling, I owe you quite a reward for bringing this
one in... ::and she lifts her eyebrows in a meaningful smile::
Do tell.
::leaning close, she lowers her head to his neck, her breath washing warm
over his skin as she whispers… he allows quick exit of breath before leaning
in to listen… then, his face expressionless, he nods:: Sure.
::with a slow grin, she lifts her head away::
>DRIP<
And perhaps we'll have to keep Thorn around a while longer.. he's turning out
to be quite entertaining... ::her eyes flashing amusement:: Maybe an even
trade for the lovely Imoinda...
::the injured slave slides ever so slightly about on the wood... drawing from
the feel what works and what does not.. still noting with horror his body’s
alertness::
::Drayven nods again:: Pride isn't getting him anywhere, I'm afraid.
>DRIP<
::Rose’s eyes drift back to Thorn, and they light once more with mild
amusement::
I do believe some SPs are in order as well? ::Drayven inquires::
::purring:: Oh, of course... ::with a low chuckle:: You don't think I'd
deny you that?
Of course not.
Well then... ::sliding her arm from around his waist, she steps towards the
sagging figure of the restrained would-be terrorist::
>DRIP<
>DRIP<
:::Thorn shakes his head.. he considers sleep on the cross.. but knows the
water will not allow it… Drayven eyes him with a rather serious expression::
The dogs will guard him... the water will continue.. ::Rose sighs, drifting
towards Thorn, one hand lifting for a final caress of the welts on his chest…
he gives one last look up, studiously avoiding the woman, glaring to the man…
unconcerned, she pivots on her heel, turning back to Drayven:: Can you think
of anything else?
>DRIP<
I think that covers all the bases… And, Thorn..Please hold the stares. You
got yourself where you are.
::the captive narrows his eyes:: <q> I will remember exactly how I got here.
::with extreme emphasis on exactly::
::Rose giggles playfully:: You do that, pet.. ::clapping a gloved hand hard
down on his welt-laced chest::
::and Drayven chimes in with:: Perhaps it will prove entertaining for at
least part of the night, hmm? ::as Thorn responds with a grunt::
Oh, if I don't get Imoinda back, I intend to exact my entertainment from our
little slave here.. I consider that payment in full.. ::with a gracious
smile to Drayven:: If that's all right with you, of course.
>DRIP<
Hear that, Thorn? You'll have plenty of time to ponder that. ::Drayven
continues, eyes still levelled on the slave… and Thorn’s eyes drop again::
Now, I'm afraid, I must be off.
::with a girlish pout:: Aww.. Drayven, and I thought you found my company
pleasant... ::giggles::
We can allow him his rest. He has a few things to dwell over.
::crouching, she claps her hands, to call the dogs to attention at her side::
I'm off as well... ::giving both her dogs a reassuring scratch under their
collars::
>DRIP<
::then, turning and collecting her whip from the chair, she looks up to
Drayven with a serene smile:: Mind if I join you on the way out?
>DRIP<
Shall we be off? ::Drayven offers an arm::
::looping her arm through his, she glances over her shoulder at Thorn.. then
lifts gloved fingertips to her lips and blows a taunting kiss… then turns
back, grinning like a fiend:: Let's.
::Drayven calls out over his shoulder as he begins gliding to the door::
Have a wonderful evening, Thorn.
::Thorn simply sighs… resigned to a night on the cross, he doesn't bother to
grace either with an answer::
::hips swaying from side to side with each step, Rose follows at Drayven's
side::
>DRIP<
::she digs a single chain, holding a single brass key, from the folds of her
cleavage, then leans forward to test the door, jiggling the key in the lock,
then swinging it wide with a gentle tug… as any gracious hostess would, waves
a hand forward in a sweeping gesture, ushering Drayven through first::
>DRIP<
::Drayven offers a smile and a nod to Blood Red before leading her off into
the night, the Consortium mansion their final destination… and she follows
behind, slamming the door... a clicking of the lock, and they are gone::
>DRIP<
::and still the water continues its relentless dripping::
Subject: Interim
From: TarethThrn@aol.com (TarethThrn)
Date: Sat,12 Jul 97 02:56:57 EDT
>DRIP<
:::as the door slides shut, the haggard figure on the "X" finally stirs once
again. All the emotions, denied those two out of spite, come flooding up
from the depths; choking shame, burning pain now realized, and most of all
anger. Searing anger. Fury at his helplessness, his body's own horrible
betrayal, his failure in allowing himself to be manipulated. A scream of
primal rage rips his throat, startling the dobermans as the echoes
reverberate along his ragged voice. Shattered bones in feet grind
against one another as he thrashes madly against the cuffs, fresh blood
wells up from the jagged holes in his skin. With near insane disregard, rage
maddened, muscles in his legs and torso strain in effort. The broken left
foot slides bloodily slowly through unforgiving silver, accompanied by more
sick crunches, bones and flesh compressing unnaturally to slip through the
cruelly tight band. It finally jerks free, and teeth clenched and bared in
animalistic sneer, he repeats the agonizing process with
the other.
>DRIP<
It is said that the flame that burns twice as hot burns half as long... his
had burned much hotter than twice. The chamber lapses once again into
silence, the body on the cross quivering silently with reprocussoins of
fury's acts. The steady dripping from above is echoed twice over from a
thicker, yet no less steady dripping from dangling, ruined feet.
>DRIP<
The sudden sound void becomes heavy, strangling. Harsh breathing punctuated
by splattering drops barely raising an echo.
>DRIP<
Again the tortured figure stirs, these weak movements hardly raising more
than a creak from the wood behind him. Moving as molasses, freed knees are
curled upward to the criss-crossed chest, occasioning a fresh weeping of
blood from new strain on the sliced bicep.
>DRIP<
A familiar whispered chant, and the tattered feet whistle down into a sharp,
wet flat against the mahogany. Bones crunch back into proper order
with a spattering of crimson pearls. The tsunami of pain slams up into his
head, knocking consciousness spiralling into sweet oblivion:::
>DRIP<
Subject: Re:A Night at the Emporium.
From: TarethThrn@aol.com (TarethThrn)
Date: Mon,14 Jul 97 22:14:52 EDT
::in the throes of conscious void, subconscious sets in, he dreams~
He kneels in circumscribed in light upon a familiar white practice mat, black
gi soaking up the brilliance to allowable levels. His lips already move in a
question spoken innumerable times long ago, head bowed, eyes downcast::
What chance has a simple mortal in a world of immortals and demihumans?
::and just as before, his voice is only swallowed up by the inky blackness
outside the circle. He can hear his own pulse and blood hissing through his
ears. The contrast of black limbs against stained white burns itself into
his eyes. He knows not what he waits for, the arena has been abandon for
years, yet still he waits. The voices of his mind hold what he hopes the
answer is, yet still he waits. Heart, cunning, forethought, and training
should be all the answer he needs, yet still.... he waits. ::
<q> None.
::he blinks, hard, glancing upward to see where the startling voice had come
from before even pondering the answer. A face pushes into the cone of light,
porcelain features painted in a cruel leer, ruby lips curled in in evil
smile.
Thorn. The name he had striven his entire life to earn. Never before had he
acted out of hate, anger, fear... always cool, level, calculating, for in
that lay his salvation. Yet at the appearace of that face, he withers to the
far side of the circle. The rest of the luscious figure sways into the
sphere, light pulling tight across PVC. He moves back away again, only to be
brought up short by something hard hitting against his back. Glancing
quickly back, nothing but the shadows greet him. Gaze
whips forward again, locking immediately on the glittering emerald not an
inch from his own old silver. He strains to move once more, yet his limbs
are held. A wash of cold breeze drifts through suddenly shredded clothing,
darkness falls as he shuts eyes to the scene... ~
>DRIP<
Eyes blink open again in the dark chamber, he returns to the world of pain.
None. The word echoes in his mind. None. No chance of winning. The
question of his existance answered. He had lost.
Yet his own lessons come to battle that answer. Nothing ever ends, or
begins. Things continue, he had not lost yet...... it was not over. He
glances over his body.. over the jagged wounds still there, no inn healer
this time. But even so, they weep no more. The holes closed, shoulder and
arm dried and already beginning to heal, stripes across chest more painful
than damaging. Feet left long enough had set, should heal back to
functionality, just given time. No permenant damage done.
Another glance down, and the carefully built confidence is once again
shattered. No... some wounds would never heal. Another favorite explaitive
rasps about the chamber:::
One does what they must.
::now, resignation as poor motivation, he looks up to the cuffs at his
wrists, peering at the locks fastening them::
Subject: Check-Up.
From: LrdDrayven@aol.com (LrdDrayven)
Date: Fri,18 Jul 97 00:14:32 EDT
He slowly removed the key from the folds of his jacket, inspecting it with an
evil smirk for a few seconds before forcing it into it's proper lock. It had
now been days since Tareth received punishment in full, and Blood Red's
request to pay a visit had been gladly accepted. He darted a steel toed boot
forward, ramming the bottom eschlon of the door in a motion jarring it losse
from it's hold. He took a few hesitant steps forward, swinging his auburn
gaze about the Emporium before finally shifting it
in the direction where he last knew Tareth to be. He blinked once, before
placing complete distrust in his eyes, his frame lowering itself into a
crouch. His hand dropped quickly to his calf, a finger tracing the dagger
held at his boot as he barked out into the darkened void...
"Thorn??!!"
Subject: Re:A Night at the Emporium.
From: TarethThrn@aol.com (TarethThrn)
Date: Fri,18 Jul 97 18:29:44 EDT
::from the darkness comes a low chuckle, followed by a menacing twin growl from double canine throats::
Still paranoid Drayven?
::a rustle against dirt walls and mahogany marks one standing in darkness.
The sounds are still chased closely by warning growls, sounding more than a
touch hungry, all too eager for the man to give them an excuse. Yet for the
past few days, it's been the same::
Like I've got better places to go?
::as eyes adjust to the light, he becomes visible. He stands gingerly on
roughly bandaged feet, his torn shirt obvoiusly stripped and shredded further
to make such. Arms crossed, blood washed away, frame still glistening with
droplets of water falling from above. Red welts on chest and shoulder are
all that mark those wounds, only a maroon line across his bicep left of that
one. Yet in his eyes rides resignation, a weak willingness to resist.... if
only because it is what one does. The ghost of a
grin passes across chapped lips at the further look he gains for being off
the "X" in the first place, as he had hoped it would::
::with a well placed sigh of mock boredom and a wary glace to the ever-vigilent dogs::
Surprised?
::a drop falls on his shoulder::
Subject: Re:A Night at the Emporium.
From: BldRedRose@aol.com (BldRedRose)
Date: Fri,25 Jul 97 09:10:01 EDT
::the instant her polished toe crosses the threshold, dischordant candlelight
finds life.. for a brief moment, the reflection from the leather implements
covering the walls, bright silver chains hanging at odd lengths from the
murky and undefinable heights of the ceiling, and a lustrous pool at the base
of the wall restraint, all combine in a blinding of white light that dazzles
the eye and swallows every sight in its embrace... and then the radiance ebbs
away, leaving every surface bathed in a shifting crystalline glow::
::the weary figure of the captive is clearly illuminated against a backdrop
of glistening mahogany... their throaty growls quieting as the Mistress
strides forth into the room, the dark beasts remain poised nonetheless, limbs
tense with predatory anticipation, as though awaiting only their Mistress'
word to begin feasting::
::Rose inspects the whole of the scene through slivered eyes, turning
ponderously slow to address Drayven... a golden cascade of honeyed words
spills forth from her lips::
My, my... what a clever pet we have here...
::and the roguish grin accompanying those words speaks of mystery and schemes not yet revealed::
Subject: Re:A Night at the Emporium.
From: TarethThrn@aol.com (TarethThrn)
Date: Sun,27 Jul 97 19:33:28 EDT
:::eyes squint in attempt to block out the brilliance, yet keep the entering
figure in view. A hand lifts up from it's precarious placement flat against
the wall to shield those eyes, yet thinks better of it when the questing
muzzles of snarling animals seem to protest such action. The hand drifts in
air, wavering in intent until the light levels lower enough for the desire
for eye shielding to fade, and it drops back against the wood.
The figure as she enters turns to be the mistress of the chamber.. with her
appearance the captive slumps down against his own feet, head slumped between
his knees, uncaring of the dogs' opinion this time.
Pet. The man's shoulders flinch together at their new name for him, and the
throughout the examination his eyes remain rooted, as if somehow fascinated
with the floor, fingers picking nervously at the new bandages::
<vqw> Just.. a moment more.. ::in a whisper aimed to the floor that only the dogs catch::
::as the mistress turns to Drayven, an explosion of action takes place. The
bloodsoaked bandages are torn off and flung away from his feet, the scent and
droplets enticing the starving dogs' attention for even the briefest of
moments. Yet it is enough.
All eyes turned from him, Tareth springs to life. A leap up and outward from
the wall to grab hold of one of the dangling chains, bringing his torn feet
swinging with incredible momentum across the chamber into Drayven's chest,
knocking the man back into the wall with a loud crack. One down.
He hisses as those feet slap hard ground right in front of the PVC clad one,
and as he recoils from the landing, his shoudlers curl upward to stand over
the woman, yet his eyes never reach hers. Before the startlement even fades
from her face, his tattered form has dissappeared through the still open
door::
Subject: Re:A Night at the Emporium.
From: vvvrosevvv@aol.com (VVvRosevVv)
Date: 27 Sep 1997 21:34:16 EDT
::while this cavern is normally given over to despairing drafts and the
phantasmagorical, eerie wails of wind howling over stone and earth, tonight
there is a different presence, familiar yet strangely disembodied, filtering
down from the ink-laden ceiling... as the air becomes steeped in the heady
perfume of roses, inciting the candles all about the chamber to flicker to
life, two aquiline heads, of sable and mottled brown, rise in
unison, their clipped ears perking to attention::
Rudolf... Gregor... ::comes the scarce whisper, like the last gasping plea of
a soul sinking into oblivion::
::one of the dogs issues an excited whimper, and the other follows suit with
a loud, snapping bark that echoes off of the earthen walls::
::while the voice is too weak to continue, the presence lingers, balefully
watching over the regal creatures, as though it will be for the last time::
::soon enough, the Dobermans' heads sink back to rest atop their outstretched
paws, and if dogs could pout, these two would be, so forlorn is the darkness
in their jet eyes::
::shortly thereafter, the scent of roses begins to fade, and the candles
slowly wink out, leaving the chamber in near-darkness but for the glow of a
few determined torches... as the presence recedes, a sudden clicking in the
lock at the front of the cavern catches the ever-faithful dogs' attention,
alerting them to bristling life::
::and as the door swings open, and Baghiira strides in, a cautious eye on the
two precious, deadly beasts, somewhere in a distant dimension, a woman raises
her last fitful shred of energy, and slaps open, gloved palms against a pane
of glass::
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