To Do With as I Please

She whimpered again, tears falling as she swung; carefully keeping herself limp, gaze following him obediently.

As her body folded onto the slathered plastic, David sighed lightly. Thankfully she didn't seem to have hit her head on the cement too harshly. Even if she had, nothing would have changed except perhaps her observance of the situation. Concussions had a way of altering perception.

The words made her freeze. That was her master’s voice. He used her new name, Nova. She tried to think what direction the voice had come from, so she knew which way to look, but could not. Well, perhaps it didn’t matter anyway, as she was hooded. She considered his question, nodding slowly. Yes, she supposed she had slept well. No nightmares that she could recall, and the rest had been sorely needed.

Very centered in reality. Good girl. She was paying attention, likely looking for him before he'd even spoken. Seemingly, she already understood what was the most important thing in her life now: Master.

Jim nodded and began trotting the way he was supposed to eat. It was definitely not something comfortable but he was starving and even that kind of food felt like heaven in Jim’s mouth.

Though the room was dim, David remained by the main door to watch his newest pony acclimate. It would be difficult to place him. He was certainly a pony, that much was obvious, but work or play? Carriage, fields, trick, show, breeding or nonbreeding, et cetera. So many possibilities. For now, he'd wait and see how he handled his training and first feeding.

Holding his breath, the teen couldn’t fully steel himself against a soft smirk and a squirm as those fingers ran down his side. The promise of finding all of his ticklish spots lit an unusual warmth through him, and he knew it was likely coloring his face. 

Once David was certain the candles were held, he gently pulled on each and wiggled his pet's jaw to ensure he wasn't using his teeth. It wouldn't do to have him bite off and choke on some wax. Plus it would give him less of a challenge. The far corners were pushed, then, into the recesses of Ribbon's jaw between cheeks and teeth. He couldn't quite help the murmur of amusement which met the stretched grin the younger was left with.

Attempting to calm herself the mercenary had started imagining all the things she would do to her captor once she was free. It had helped her when she was a prisoner of war and it was helping now. Oh such pretty things she could do. It almost enough to take her mind off of the horrible burning and joking sensation in his lungs and throat.

Forty seconds previously on her full first lungful. This one would hold less effect for her deprived body, deplete faster. Panic would be her worst enemy. The harder she attempted to breathe, the more energy she would expend, not to mention the more strain she'd place on her constricted form.

"Shh, c’mere…" (( *throws this in and hides* ))

*sits on dash*

Carolina smirked and nodded. “Of course. Circumstances such as yours are my speciality, Mr. Remier. I’d reckon I can have the client put down in a weeks time.” She looked him over once more with interest. Yes, she certainly was interested in keeping up a good working relationship with this man- he seemed as though he had a lot to offer. “Do you have a preference as to the circumstances of this person’s demise? I have several people in mind for the job, all with different skills and interests..” 

Oh, he certainly liked this woman. Remier's gaze remained firmly on her, fresh respect swimming through his reserved malice. "A week's time is certainly impressive, Miss Jones," he mused. "However, I happen to be returning to Scotland in three days. I'll be home in four." The businessman leaned forward, elbows settling gently on his knees. "Should I have a confirmed report of his or her death waiting for me, I'd be inclined to meet you or a representative of yours at my estate for a second task. Should it suit your fancy, of course. If not, I'll still be inclined to pay you for your time. As for circumstances..." A steady smirk rolled over his face. "They found it apt to try to smear mud on my name. I don't think anything painless or impersonal would do."

Asche could hardly see as he was being dragged across the floor. He scampered as quickly as he could, but he still struggled to keep up.

Ribbon’s obvious intent to remain still brought a faint smile to Remier’s lips. “That’s a better boy. Keep this up and I’ll forgive your incident.” A fond set of fingertips trailed down the boy’s side, light and teasing, before he moved away and out of sight. Only for a minute or two to retrieve something to keep his child busy.

Forgiveness was something the boy craved, the reason why he’d worked so hard to keep Papa happy after he screwed up time and time again. If he could be good—

So he was ticklish. Fantastic. A smile tickled at Remier's lips as he leaned over the boy and trailed his fingers down the younger's side again. A wonderful bonus. This was his luckiest find in a long while. "I'll have to find everywhere I can do this, Ribbon," he laughed warmly.

A lot could be accomplished physically while a pet was unconscious. The possibility for mental alteration was high if done properly, but often wasn’t quite as effective as continuous interference. While out cold (as Remier was unable to revive Nova), the girl was cleaned more thoroughly, her wounds slathered in antiseptic, temporary fillers where necessary, and bandaged up far more tightly than was truly required. Her brands were left visible, of course. In fact, a thin chain was wrapped just over each with a few bells trailing onto the marked flesh. The sensation, both auditory and tangible, should serve as the main draw of the girl’s focus. At the very least the intention was such.

It was a very confusing situation to wake up in. First, Morgan had to remember what had happened. What had been done to her, where she was. It occurred to her that she should be looking at her master, but when she turned her head, he wasn’t there. Her eyes were open, she was sure. Had she been blinded? Panicking, her breath came short and fast, aided (or impaired) by the corset, and she slipped into unconsciousness again.

The first signs of motion and panting breath brought Remier's eyes up to the girl in the glass. He kept the paper up for now. No telling if she'd remain interesting to observe just yet. Sure enough she passed out in a couple of moments. A breathy laugh came from the Master, a shake of the head. She would grow to be more resilient in time.