It was hard to determine whether Quentin's sly smirk was a result of pride in his new game, or because once he'd slipped under the covers of his bed he had only to look across to see her exposing herself most lewdly to him. Either way he was too careful to set her on such an impossible path without realising the result, but similarly he was proving incredibly capable of acting like he really expected it of her<br/><br/>From his seat in the centre of his vast bed he leaned over and gripped one of three copper handles; he spun the first until a thin stream of gas blew from a pipe above his head, which he lit using a match. A second handle cut off the supply to the main lights, making the room gloomy though not dark. Paying no heed to Zoey, he took his book from alongside his bed and started to read.<br/><br/>Until she stumbled.<br/><br/>The position would be unmaintainable by a seasoned athlete, nevermind the young girl who had effectively lived her whole life to date as a pampered noble. Quentin was barely halfway through his second page - a much better quantifier than trying to judge the time taken! - when her heels first fell and she instinctively yelled. All that earned her was a stern glance to see that she had righted herself, but when the second and third followed before he reached the bottom of the page he grew more responsive.<br/><br/>He spun his legs round, moving with the urgent, precise moves he reserved for when he was displeased. Just two steps saw him at her back, and it took just one further instant for him to spin her and push her bodily into the wall. One hand was at her throat, and the other fell to her snatch; fingering her selfishly, but not before slapping her sensitive lips rather hard.<br/><br/>"What the fuck are you doing? Squealing for attention at this hour?" That she'd tried didn't, apparently, count for much. "You're here because, one half-competent blowjob aside, you've been a troublesome cunt of a girl today, haven't you?" In case the first time he asked sounded rhetorical he slapped her cheek before reclaiming her throat and repeating the question in a more fierce tone.<br/><br/>He pushed off of her, took half a step back, and slapped her tits heavily, before stepping back in a little more pleased.<br/><br/>He had calmed a little, but he was still fuming softly, although he was smirking subtly, too, so maybe his anger wasn't so terribly genuine... One hand squeezed at her throat hard enough that she had to fight for air, but not so hard that she couldn't get it, while on his other hand his fingers ground against the insides of her pussy simply because it was soft and warm, and he liked to see her blush. He had no intention of really taking it anywhere.<br/><br/>"Fine, if you can't cope with that maybe we'll find another, more painful, game for you to play. Run - and I *mean* run - to the storeroom downstairs, and bring me one of the long white candles. You might not get to wake me up this way, but I'll punish you for that in the morning." He let go, and stepped neatly aside before glancing pointedly to the door.<div class="messageTextEndMarker"> </div>