Quentin's hand squeezed a moment, then stroked across her rump. His palm was pressed firmly on her skin and aggravated the soreness a little, but it was nothing like the pain that a spank might bring. His fingers followed this curve then that, admiring the persistent firmness of her backside. "Good answer... Very diplomatic. Like you I would see it back to it's normal self, and besides which I told you I would go easy on you today. I am a man of my word, even where my slave is concerned." His hand fell away and he took a step back, so that the only thing burning on her backside was the feel of his gaze; one that she could watch in the mirror, if she was so inclined.<br/><br/>A small nod indicated that she should finish dressing, which took scant moments more. When she stood up he pushed the base of her back to encourage her to adopt a more provocative pose. "The men working in the workshop we're going to are some of my finest steamsmiths and tinkers. They are working men, but greatly valuable ones... Give them a show while we're there, won't you? Nothing too much, of course, they are supposed to be working... But a hint of flesh and a wiggle of your hips could do wonders for morale."<br/><br/>His eyes ran up and down her via the mirror, and he nodded his approval before turning for the door. "Come." Was the final order, and he lead her out of the room, down the corridor and into the steam-powered lift that ran them down to the ground floor, to the tune of great thunking cogs whirring somewhere inside the building itself. On the way from the door Quentin took up a cane - black wood with a silver handle and tip - and a bowler had, which he planted atop his head before slipping into the streets.<br/><br/>The street on which Quentin lived was one of the finest - and busiest - in the city. All the buildings had been created in a uniform terraced manner; tall and large and affluent but each like it's neighbour. Over time, especially since the technology revolution, each house had changed. Some sported great clocks, many had pipes poking from their side to spurt excess steam into the air, while many of the facades had been adorned with clockwork or copper or brass ornate designs, as was the fashion. The bottom floor of many of the once-great houses had been converted to shops, mostly dealing in intricate designs or excessive jewellry. This was an affluent area and it was only the rarest and finest on offer in the bottom floor of some of the great men of the city's houses.<br/><br/>The Sun was high, and strong enough to more or less pierce the constant cloud of steam and smoke that acted as the city's roof. The air was fresh enough, though, and Quentin took a great inhalation of it before catching Zoey in one arm - which looped around her waist, to keep her close - and marched off down the city. They got to the end of the road and turned onto a wide market street, where people bustled back and forth and men shouted out advertisments for their wares; mostly fresh food and more practical items that the finer shops from before. Quentin had to speak up to make himself heard, but with his powerful way of speaking Zoey had little trouble picking out the words.<br/><br/>"Stick close by, it isn't so terribly far. Is this the first you've been out since I bought you? I suspect it might be... Is it not fine out here?"<div class="messageTextEndMarker"> </div>