His throat squeezed and the breath, almost a cough, was deep but thin when she begged him to take her antlers. It had been very drawing to see her pull a piece off. Such perfect structures, ruined by her own whim. He noticed small signals from his center attending to the his most primal organ, and slowly fitting it with torrential blood. He tried not to think of it, and didn't know that her blood had already gossiped.<br/><br/>He was almost certain he'd convinced at least himself he had a better soul than one that would carelessly grip at wanton destruction for the novelty of ruining something pretty, before she displayed her tranquil desperation. What an unbearable voice she had, saying those alluring, forbidden things. He took her wrists and shook his head to make her stop. "Listen, Iris, I'll be your employer. I'll give you..." but his hands were already closing on her delectable bones. He looked at the small limbs as they allowed comfortable flex in the hard pipes inside.<br/><br/>His eyes grew as he held her forearms up, and he breathed with excitement, despite himself. His fingers closed tighter together, and there was an addictive crackling, like her marrow was porous and brittle underneath. The sound shook his touch and he swallowed as he let go of her. Bruises pulsed out like heartbeats before they disappeared. A promise that there were many more beautiful functions to his Doll. They had looked like perfect glyphs, living and then succumbing to leave her skin perfect. It dawned on him then, what she was trying to say.<br/><br/>"Tell me again then." he said, with a voice that was harder, because he was expectant now. He liked when she said those things, really. It was like listening to a particularly good, changing melody, being designed as it went. Bespoke, like her misery. "If I own you." He reached up. This had been all of the good in him, then, when present with so much mouthwatering mayhem. He touched the opened end of the horn she'd demonstrated with. It had to be raw. He pushed his thumb into it to see what her nerves would make her say.<br/><br/>A short laughter, at his own evil, and then just at the enjoyment her reaction would give him. As he moved his hand down the little protrusion, pressure of his thumb would break lengths off the antler, like he was counting beads on a rosary, and letting them fall to her feet once they were pinched off. Her black eyes were perfect screens for whatever she felt. He laughed again, madly, but just as short, and shook his head and licked his lips.<br/><br/>"Do you love this, Iris?" he asked, eyes sweeping her many times, considering her possibilities. Perhaps his voice was both condescending and awed. The other hand quickly followed its own will and slid between her legs roughly, to see about her truth before she could speak it. "Does it make feel valuable?"