There is no sound to her step; no sign to her coming or explanation as she undoes the wines, the plants shrivel back to the ground the rock table pulls back under the earth depositing Jules on the ground. She is standing behind him silent patient<br/><br/>She steps close to him sitting down on the lush grass next to him in the increasingly cool air of the coming night. She takes his head gently pulling him to her like some rag doll and placing his head in her lap.<br/><br/>A soft gentle hand brushes over his hair, head back a calm repeating motion it continues for a while the ball gag shrinks like a rotten fruit plopping out of his mouth and melting away into the shadows.<br/><br/>She must be leaning right over him as her whisper is faint, and there is the soft feeling of warm breath on his ear. Her breath smells like wild flowers honey and a summer wind. “Jules, my little pet” she strokes him with a soothing warm hand going over strained muscles “Wouldn’t it be much better like this, then if I have to be so rough to you.” There is a soft cooing property to her voice.<br/><br/>“The nights are cold, especially without clothing now come don’t be silly tell me your name and you will be fed healed and taken care of” she stroked over his bruised body working a finger over his shoulder muscles.<br/>