The man passed her casually and found his way to a heavy leather armchair. It was the only item in the room that didn't look brand new, and had been first his fathers, and now his old, beaten chair for as long as could be remembered. It was so damned comfortable, and there was a certain antiquitive charm to the aged piece that appealed to the small part of Quentin not obsessed with technology or the money that technology bought. He folded his legs over one another and places one elbow on the chair, leaning his head toward his hand.<br/><br/>The driver had left - undoubtedly to park the car more thoroughly, and likely clean it, too - but Jack remained stood in the corner, acting like he was pinned to the wall. Quentin neither needed nor wanted an audience just yet, though, she he waved the man away with a casual sweep of his hand. "You can go. If you hear the girl scream for help you're to come back and give her something to really scream about, but other than that take some time to yourself." The brutish man nodded obligingly and stepped from the room to find a way to occupy himself...<br/><br/>Leaving her and him, settled opposite each other. He looked comfortable, and was happy; she was bound and stood awkwardly on the carpetted floor, and was moments from tears. He was in control and she was as far from it as she'd ever been before.<br/><br/>"Are we going to do this the easy way or the hard way? The easy way is for me to tell you my rules, and for you to sink to your knees and pledge every fibre of your being to me. The hard way - and I do tend to enjoy this one rather more - is that you kick, scream and beg me to stop while I do all manner of things to you. It tends to end with a little more wear on your body, but bruises fade and you'll be beautiful for me again in no time." He smiled confidently, a flash of teeth that summed up his cocky, arrogant flavor of dominance in a moment.<br/><br/>He didn't need her answer, and after she was done with the inevitable 'you'll never break me!' speech, he simply flicked across his nose then rubbed at it's tip in a very proud display of utter boredom at her refusal. The motion was followed by a curious little hum. "Fine, fine, have it your way." He rose to his feet and stretched, rolling his shoulders back and jostling them to clear some kink in his back. He leant forward, collected a long, black something from the bag - it was made of leather and looked like it would hurt a whole lot more than the gloves did - before walking casually toward her.<br/><br/>"Let's start simply." He strutted around her til he was at her back, before dragging a small knife from his belt and using it to slice her bindings easily. The belt fell away and finally her cramped arms were loose; though the binding at her feet ensured she'd be on the back foot if she tried anything, even ignoring his greater physical power. She wasn't so stupid as to think she'd win in a straight fight with the man, with or without the manacles at her ankles.<br/><br/>"Remove your dress, and bra." There was no way she'd go for it, yet. But that didn't matter... He had days.<div class="messageTextEndMarker"> </div>