<div class="floatleft">(https://68.media.tumblr.com/95fd6679e62e690437e65aca4b07a11f/tumblr_oogroqpARU1tppytvo1_540.jpg)</div><br/><strong>Name:  Psyche Makropoulos (https://elliquiy.com/forums/index.php?topic=266077.msg13127525#msg13127525)</strong><br/><br/><strong>STAFF</strong><br/><br/><strong>Situation:</strong>What the Mouth Cannot Speak<br/><br/><br/><strong>Tagging:</strong>Nicholas Carlton<br/><br/><strong>Content Warning:</strong><em>None</em><br/><br/><br/><br/><hr/><hr/><br/>=========> From The Great Room (https://elliquiy.com/forums/index.php?topic=266080.msg13163428#msg13163428)<br/><br/>It wasn't necessary to tell Snogflog that Psyche's client needed space and that the two of them would be there but briefly, neither intruding on nor taking recognition of the other's incipient scenes.  The curvy, decidedly exotic and intimidating looking orc had several times proven herself the equal of any of the other Brides in discretion and handling potentially awkward situations.  Psyche was even quite fond of the green-skinned woman and had contemplated what a tryst with her might be like - purely from the professional viewpoint of course, should that be a client's fantasy.  Psyche had been with women before, more than a few over the years, and while it was always nice it was something like eating<em>aliter dulcia</em>without honey; it lacked the finishing touch, the essential ingredient that completed the experience for her.  Fortunately it seemed as if her client, Stephen, could hardly wait to sample Snogflog's honey and perhaps drizzle her with some of his own.  It was going to be an enjoyable experience for both of them, she judged.<br/><br/>After the entered the room, Psyche gave Nicholas time to take it all in, noticing the way his nostrils flared unconsciously at the sensual scent of leather and oil both for the skin and for the supple, sometimes cruelly erotic implements that were neatly racked and displayed.  A man like him, a man of such power and control when he was in his realm and not hers, such a man would hardly be a stranger to any of the things present, was likely a master of their use and were the situation reversed Psyche would be trembling in terrible, aching anticipation of how he would show her that all other men before him had been mere apprentices of the art while he was the master.  Tonight though the tables were turned and she knew that his lips could not speak what the heart desired.  Only his eyes gave that away, not pleading but coming alive with bright interest as they gazed upon certain things.  Psyche watched him carefully, still hand in hand with him, and took her cues from Nicholas' eyes, his wonderful blue eyes the color of the ocean's depths off the coast.<br/><br/>"I know what you need," Psyche said, leaning up on her toes to whisper it at the bottom of his ear, an ear that she took between her lips and mumbled wordlessly at before tracing shivery kisses along the line of his jaw.  A squeeze with her slender fingers and she let go, leaving Nicholas rooted like the great oak of a man he was while his dryad roamed the forest.  Psyche flipped her head, tossing hair the color of raw copper over her back, and looked over her shoulder at him as she made her first selection for their enjoyment.  It was the most simple of things, a long length of black silk just wider than her palm, but so heavy in its weave that when it was drawn across the eyes and tied in the back the wearer would be denied the certainty and comfort of their sight, forced to submit to the loss of it that other senses might be heightened.  Returning to Nicholas, Psyche stroked the fabric across his cheek, letting him feel the slippery cool material, then rolled it like men did their ties at night and patted it into the pocket of his suit.  "Even Janus cannot always see everything, see every beginning and end, and must trust Juno from time to time."<br/><br/>Leaving him again, Psyche walked among the implements and picked a selection, not returning one by one as she had with the blindfold, but bringing back the rest in an almost jumbled collection of straps and rings and fastenings, like a wife at the market selecting a handful of soon to be delicious squid for the evening table.  Standing before Nicholas, she gave the rest of the room her back so he alone could see what she had chosen.  Strap tangled into strap, confusing the eye and requiring that it be unwoven backwards to understand the tapestry she planned for their time together.  Two gags, the first the traditional ball but done in a monkey's fist of dense black leather cord around a heavy concealed ball that afforded the teeth plenty to bite upon and a weight that constantly reminded the wearer of the drag upon their neck.  The second was much lighter, an open ring that would fit just behind the teeth and hold the mouth open and afforded the use of the wearer's tongue to whatever task its mistress saw fit.  Another, though hardly necessary for a man of Nicholas' virility and self control, was to be placed around his shaft and the heavy sac below it, binding both into a rigid erection that could split any flesh and bring it to shivering, wet completion and still stay strong far through the night without the final release for him until Psyche allowed.  It was cruel not in its feel or wearing, only in its denial of his shattering, throbbing orgasm unless she permitted.  All of these things Nicholas may have picked on his own, would have boldly chosen even, knowing that nothing in them implied he wasn't a strong man, a male who cowed others in the pack by his mere gaze, and so if he gave up a little control for the sake of some different flavor of play there would only be envy in the eyes of his not quite peers.<br/><br/>The last though, that he would never have chosen on his own even in the privacy of a bedroom.  It was a harness of slender straps, sized far too small for Nicholas' body and designed for a woman's curves and frame.  Clasped about her bottom and waist it offered a spiderweb of delight focused on the bottom of her mons with a shiny circle of metal through which jutted a modest but still undeniably erect and masculine penis done in flexible black rubber.  Psyche's cock, the cock she'd don when she wanted to and promised to use upon Nicholas' body, the cock she might have him worship before bestowing its dark promise of a release only the strongest of men deserved and could receive with submissive acknowledgment of the need for it, of the gift of it from a woman who understood and gave all of herself and the switching of their roles to truly satisfy the man who made her heart throb and swell with passionate, loving desire.<br/><br/>"Yes," she said, telling Nicholas that all of these things were her choice as much as his and that they would be used, that he had given himself over to her and Psyche would have it her way - for his pleasure.  For did not the one who chose to submit really have all the power?  Without their consent, without them allowing the other the use of and permission to their passion the entire exchange of power would never take place no matter how much force used or how much the dominant demanded it.  Only the strongest could surrender.<br/><br/>And Nicholas was so very, very strong.<br/><br/>Psyche let his eyes take everything in for a bit longer, then placed the toys into a crimson leather valise that already held a few other things she'd need for the evening.  "I am so proud of you," she told him, and gave Nicholas a kiss, her body barely pressing against his, and she claimed the entirety of his mouth before letting go, her own lips wet with the passion of it.  "You are the single most extraordinary man I have ever met and you honor me with the care and control of you."<br/><br/>Taking Nicholas' hand she walked with him to where a small display of precious stones were set into plinth missing the bust it would normally support.  "Pick one," she commanded, and let go to step back, allowing Nicholas to touch them if he wished or merely to gaze upon them.  Amethyst and Azurite, Ruby and Jade, Opal and Pearl, Sapphire and Lapis Lazuli, Diamond even among them.  It was as if someone spilled out their fortune and sunk them into the marble.  Even as Nicholas watched one of them, the azurite, sank deeper into the marble, drawn down into stone gone coldly liquid, until it vanished from sight and selection.