Moan
Fourteen: My muse ties up your muse
"You won’t move now, my dear," insisted Humbert. The thick ribbons themselves weren’t too harsh to the touch, but having them tight against her wrists was bound to cause some discomfort. "That will only make it more difficult for me, and neither of us want that." He grit his teeth with a light grunt, tightening a knot against the basement beam. "Trust me."
She was clothed, certainly. Don’t get the wrong idea here, reader. Humbert’s may be a confused, mixed up soul, but there is good in him. Some good, at any rate. Before we digress—
"Remember what I told you?" he asked her, looking down as he stood, the girl still sitting on the floor, hands bound behind her. He’d laid out a short and simple list of rules for her to follow. The first of which was that no one besides the two of them (and perhaps whatever powers that be who decided to sit back and watch the show) would know what happened here.
