-Sginales- (Echoes & Lips and Thorns) (closed)
<h1 id="title">Elliquiy Role Playing Forums</h1>
		<h2 id="linktree">Play-By-Post: Bondage, D/s, S&amp;M =&gt; Bondage: Human Small Groups =&gt; Topic started by: echoes on 08-09-2010, 05:56:45</h2>
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			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>-Sginales- (Echoes &amp; Lips and Thorns) (closed)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>echoes</strong> on <strong>08-09-2010, 05:56:45</strong>
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				It was the longest night, the triumphant and pinnacle celebration in Terre D'Ange. The ushering of the new year to chase away the old, the heralding of the Sun King and the future of the Spring announced in revelry and festivity throughout the country. In the City of Elua the Galas were numerous and each one sought to outdo the other. Of course there was the festival at the palace, but many others hand arranged their own gatherings as well. It was the one night that the members of the night court were free to pick and they will, to take assignments or to take their own pleasures as they saw fit.<br><br>A fine powdered snow covered the streets and buildings throughout the city. The Cassiline monks kept their vigil on frost numbed knees as nobles and commoners alike celebrated the holiday. Adepts of all the houses of the Night Court indulged themselves free of fetters and patrons, unless they had chosen otherwise. Gravon was one of the few Adepts who had decided to take an assignment on the festival of the longest night. He was soon to finish his marque, and his patron for the evening had paid handsomely for his services.<br><br>He was dressed as a conjurer, a magician from myth and lore, when he arrived at his destination. Black boots of soft leather rose to his knees and folded in a cavalier's fashion. His breeches were of a soft gray velvet and clung to his legs and lower body, providing a tempting, if not somewhat vulgar display of his body. he wore a loose bone white shirt, open from collar to naval, and between it and his toned skin rested the amulets and trinkets supposedly of a magician. An ebony cloak completed the attire and was gathered about him as he walked, giving him the appear of floating across the floor. His mask for the evening left his mouth and chin bare, the rest of his face was hidden under the leering visage of an Imp or familiar.<br><br>His exact assignment was unknown, only that he would be required to call upon his experience as an Adept to perform it. He knew what this meant, and already he began to gauge and watch those around him. It was blessed Elua who commanded "love as thou wilt," But Gravon was an Adept of Mandrake house, and their motto was "Yield All." It would be his art and experience of freeing the passion and love another with torment and pain that was required tonight.<br><br>Gravon's patron escorted him into a small ballroom, several people milled about, drinking joie and conversing in hushed tones. The lights had been dimmed, and he heard the sounds of dalliance and meeting coming from some of the shadows. He looked to his patron, a woman maybe ten years his senior with lush curves that remained just beneath voluptuous. For a moment he entertained the though of tasting her skin with both his body and his talent. The thoughts caused him to still just a bit beneath his breeches, it was the longest night, and it had just begun.
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			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: -Sginales- (Echoes &amp; Lips and Thorns)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>lips and thorns</strong> on <strong>08-09-2010, 20:44:53</strong>
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			<dd class="postbody">
				The long night was one of Genevieve's favorite times of the year, regardless of all the celebration it involved.&nbsp; She adored the night, with its starlit silence, and always had.&nbsp; She had heard tales of lands far from here where night lasted for days at a time, and sometimes shivered thinking of inhabiting such a land.&nbsp; She supposed it was inconvenient, but had a romantic stir all the same.&nbsp; Still, here in Elua the Longest Night was quite stirring itself, with all the city did to mark it.&nbsp; <br><br>Among the Adepts, the freedom to choose as you would was the most remarked on feature of the celebration.&nbsp; And so it was considered a bit odd, she knew, among her peers that Genevieve had chosen to take a Patron on this night.&nbsp; Perhaps it was simply that she took the motto of House Valerian so deeply to heart.&nbsp; But somehow the right to choose paled against the chance to yield to another's choice.&nbsp; Her Patron had offered such a large sum she knew that whatever was intended for her would be remarkable.&nbsp; She didn't know that she could create any event of her own thinking that would rival what might come.<br><br>It was also likely to mean quite an addition to mer marque.&nbsp; Her peers would suppose that was why she did it, they spoke enviously of how much she had completed.&nbsp; But that was of no concern to her.&nbsp; Especiall not tonight, not tonight in the revels.&nbsp; <br><br>Genevieve mingled through the crowd of the ballroom, a glass of joie in her hand.&nbsp; Her Patron had said he would find her, and she knew many enjoyed the hunt.&nbsp; So she kept moving, her movements as graceful and light as she had been long trained.&nbsp; As all Valerian, she was tonight costumed as a fae creature.&nbsp; Graceful wings of stretched silver and near translucent silk rode her back, obscuring her marque as was fit.&nbsp; Her costume was a black tight dress, worn on one shoulder almost as a tunic.&nbsp; But it was covered all over with decorations of autumn colors, leaves and jewels and chains jingling with each of her steps.&nbsp; Her hair hang long in many braids, decorated as well, and her eyes covered with a mask of many colored jewels.&nbsp; Her lower face was left bared, her full plump lips inviting to all who glanced her way.&nbsp; <br><br>As she enjoyed the revelry, Genevieve could not draw her mind away from the wonder of what would happen next.&nbsp; With a secret smile she congratulated herself on her choice for the evening, this delicious mystery heightened her moments as no other plan could have.<br>(http://www.123people.net/c/casta-laetitia/casta-laetitia1.jpg)<br>
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			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: -Sginales- (Echoes &amp; Lips and Thorns)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>echoes</strong> on <strong>09-09-2010, 06:49:17</strong>
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			<dd class="postbody">
				Gravon looked through the eyelets of the mask, his gaze pushing over the crowd with a mix of idle curiosity and barely harnessed restraint. His assignation for the night was to call on several of his unique skills, the curriculum vitae of the Mandrake house, but also some of his unique talents. Hidden under the cloak was one of his tools, a heavy buffalo leather flogger with tines that reached to the just above the floor. The straps were thick, several of core reaching two inches in width. It provided more than just the contact, but the sound of torment when it struck flesh. The handle was eighteen inches, leather bound in midnight blue to break the monotony of the black. it felt good to have this token, this icon of his status and his house with him.<br><br>For a moment a movement caught his eye, and then it was lost. The grace, the simple glimpse of action made Gravon found. It was the movement of a servant, and one of at least adept level. Was his want so great that it was playing tricks on him. He had served at Mandrake since he was a boy, he knew how to master his emotions, so the slight annoyance never made it to his face. Instead he made it into a game, a memory game that he had often used in the be times when he was not called upon.<br><br>He began to look to the costumes and colours of the many different people around the room. The guess of a particular person's desires by the way they wore their clothes. The difference between skin showing, a tease, skin displayed, seeking attention, skin reserved , potential. It was always the reserved one who tended to appear in secrecy upon night's doorstep and the Night court's services. He finished his joie and procured another glass, staying close to his patron for the evening. <br><br>She made small talk with those who asked of him, never once alluding to his purpose for the evening. He began to undress his patron, it was his calling, his position in the world to extract the extent of pleasure from another person by the use of torment, pain, and a physicality that some would find disturbing. It was the blessing of the Mandrake, the gift that Gravon's house offered to the night court and those who found solace and release in suffering. In some ways, he knew nothing else.<br><br>For a moment he moved away from his patron, moving about the others guests in a slow and stately gait. He was a blight amongst a sea of colour. His dark costume and form often time causing other to recoil and clear his way. Even in their fear he could taste the excitement, and that only fueled his own growing needs.<br>&nbsp;
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			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: -Sginales- (Echoes &amp; Lips and Thorns)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>lips and thorns</strong> on <strong>11-09-2010, 01:59:28</strong>
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			<dd class="postbody">
				Those Genevieve passed gave way for another reason.&nbsp; The fragility of her costume, the wings fluttering behind her, only accented the seeming fragility of the girl herself.&nbsp; Each step was taken with exquisite grace, and people folded away in front of her as if she would shatter with a touch.&nbsp; Of course inside she was quite amused.&nbsp; She was aware that in fact her body was hardier, in its way, than anyone else in this ball.&nbsp; But it suited her role tonight and she simply smiled sweetly at those she passed.<br><br>She never knew when one might be her patron.&nbsp; She found herself checking behind herself, the sensation of being pursued tickling at the back of her neck.&nbsp; She thought she had caught sight of him, her patron closing in slowly, circling through the ballroom.&nbsp; And then for a moment she thought there was another, that unmistakable feeling of eyes on her.&nbsp; She caught a glimpse of him, not long enough to mark his costume or face, but enough to send a shiver down her spine.&nbsp; There was something ... formidable about him.&nbsp; She wondered if indeed HE was the one who sought her, but he swirled away in the crowd, and yet the other pursued.<br><br>Genevieve felt her heart begin to race as the pursuer closed in.&nbsp; She smiled, knowing it only a game, and yet ... yet it was all too real, as well.&nbsp; Now the crowd seemed always in her way, the slow parting of those in front of her a trap, as if they too wished her to be caught.&nbsp; Her costume, an ephemeral fae creature seemed more a curse, making her feel even more vulnerable and fragile.&nbsp; She couldn't move fast enough and felt the rush of heat in her body that the prey must feel.&nbsp; She knew of all people here tonight, she could expect true pain if caught.&nbsp; Though conditioned to it, it never lost the thrill of fear - she would have failed as an adept if she had.&nbsp; Her patron had paid for this, among other things she was sure, for this spike of fear in her heart as he closed in, not knowing what he might intend.
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			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: -Sginales- (Echoes &amp; Lips and Thorns)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>echoes</strong> on <strong>15-09-2010, 05:07:17</strong>
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			<dd class="postbody">
				The sound of a small brass gone brought the revelry and the dim of conversation down low. A masked crier stepped forward, his costume bearing the detail and the marks of a sage of ancient Hellas.<br><br>“It is one hours time until the Sun shall renew the vows of life within the walls of the palace, and guests all, you have decided to join us here. For whatever reason, plot or plan, you are with us, and tonight we have prepared for you something of a treat. For the next hour you will be entertained…”<br><br>The man’s voice was a rich bass that rolled through the room, demanding attention. Even Gravon had trouble resisting its call as he searched for the costume that had eluded him moments before.&nbsp; Little did he know his opposite in house and skill waited on the far side of the room. As Gravon searched the crier continued.<br><br>“It is the commandment of blessed Elua that we love as we will. For some, this is a beautiful act full of passion and pleasure. But many of us are aware, that without pain, we do not know pleasure’s worth. Without sacrifice and suffering we can never truly understand the grace and blessing of our pleasure. To this end we have Mandrake among us…”<br><br>At those words Gravon’ head spun towards the speaker and several of the guest paused and looked amongst themselves. More than a few eyes turned towards his darkened figure but he made no move. There was no mention of such a display in his speaking with his patron earlier. Gravon stood there, doing his best to act like everyone else, waiting for the crier to continue with his announcement, knowing somehow that he was not finished with his speech.<br>
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			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: -Sginales- (Echoes &amp; Lips and Thorns)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>lips and thorns</strong> on <strong>15-09-2010, 19:13:56</strong>
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				The sound of the gong hushed and froze the crowd, and Genevieve as well.&nbsp; For a moment she was caught up in the announcement of the crier and forgot the chase.&nbsp; Her patron did not, however.&nbsp; The crier had only just announced the presence of House Mandrake when a hand closed on her upper arm.&nbsp; Genevieve went stiff and carefully turned her head, careful not to move quickly and crush her fae wings.<br><br>Her patron stood behind her, or so she guessed from the description the other Adepts had given her.&nbsp; He was dressed in a dark coat of soft wonderful material, his disguise a simple black velvet mask like that of a harlequin.&nbsp; He was barely taller than Genevieve herself, and a bit portly.&nbsp; All she could see of his face was his mouth, curved into a smile.&nbsp; He had hired her from House Valerian and so it was not too much of a leap of intuition to see the mark of cruelty in the line of his mouth.<br><br>He said nothing, holding her firmly by the hand and turning his gaze back to the crier.&nbsp; Genevieve did the same, returning her attention in time to hear the announcement continued.<br><br>"But the light of the new sun is that much more dazzling coming out of the darkness of winter.&nbsp; Having our friend from House Mandrake perform for us would be a simple sunny summer day.&nbsp; Tonight you have the pleasure of witnessing two houses demonstrate their unique talents, perfectly complementing each other and taking us some place none of us have ever been.&nbsp; Tonight among us is one of House Valerian."&nbsp; The crowd broke out into whispers in anticipation of what they knew was coming.&nbsp; Genevieve felt her patron grip her tighter.&nbsp; She did not move or react, but he knew the flush that went through her body at the sudden touch of pain on her skin.<br><br>"You will see tonight how pain and pleasure work together, one of the many blessings of Elua given unto us.&nbsp; When the sun arrives it will be to dazzle us with light out of the darkest night."&nbsp; Genevieve trembled, her eyes sliding around the crowd.&nbsp; She knew her Patron was here, but where was this Mandrake who had also taken a patron tonight?
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				Title: <strong>Re: -Sginales- (Echoes &amp; Lips and Thorns)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>echoes</strong> on <strong>20-09-2010, 20:31:55</strong>
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			<dd class="postbody">
				A Valerian… here, Gravon did not move, refusing to let his body betray his thoughts. His eyes however, his eyes cut through the crowd, focusing quick and moving on, looking for the other member of the night court. His inspection was interrupted with a hand on his shoulder. A woman’s grip that seemed to burn through the cloak that he wore.<br><br>“Let them see you for what you are,” came the hushed voice of his patron. He simply nodded before gliding forward, at the edge of the peers his let his cloak drop and then he all much stalked to the middle of the room. The shirt hung loose from a muscled upper body, the flogger swung behind him like some animal’s anxious tail. The gold and silver baubles and trinkets made a tinkling chime sound as he looked about the room. He dared anyone to approach him, dared anyone to question his skill and dedicate to his art, his God.<br><br>He turned about slowly, The black leather of the boot rising from the floor like to pillars to frame the soft gray velvet of the breeches. There was nothing hidden from view, and he had no modest as he fixed more than one patron with a look as they watched his display. More than one set of eyes could not have told you what mask he wore, never having made it about his waist. <br><br>He forced his gloved hands up and then out, turning slowly, a pinwheel exhibition that was as much theatrical as it was real. They had wanted a display, his patron had consigned him, He would complete his marque with this last assignment, he would be accorded the rites and the ability as an adept.<br>
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			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: -Sginales- (Echoes &amp; Lips and Thorns)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>lips and thorns</strong> on <strong>22-09-2010, 20:43:45</strong>
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			<dd class="postbody">
				That was him.&nbsp; His garb had changed somehow since she had glimpsed him in the crowd, but the eyes were the same.&nbsp; And now she understood what she had seen in those eyes.&nbsp; House Mandrake.&nbsp; Genevieve watched him present himself to the crowd and she trembled.&nbsp; Unlike the rest, her eyes did not rest on his body, as artfully displayed as it was.&nbsp; Her eyes watched only his, and she felt like she was the only one there who knew what was among them.&nbsp; Not only because she knew he was meant for her, but because only she, only an adept of Valerian, could truly understand what he was.<br><br>Her patron felt him tremble, his hand on her arm.&nbsp; He urged her forward, and she expertly complied, needing only the slightest nudge to begin moving.&nbsp; That was her art, to know how to bend to the will of her patron.&nbsp; That of the man he guided her towards, his was the opposite.&nbsp; <br><br>Genevieve stopped her trembling as she moved, as eyes turned away from the one sight to a new one.&nbsp; She cast her chin up, her mask framing the pout of her lips as she was moved to the center of the room.&nbsp; The wings of her costume fluttered behind her, the delicate wisps of her costume meant to highlight the vulnerability of her frame.&nbsp; The crowd parted again, as if they would break her, and she knew that it was this they had been brought here for, the two of them, to demonstrate the exquisite combination of something seeming so fragile with something so hard.<br><br>Genevieve met his eyes as she neared, looking at nothing else, before she was turned by her patron to face the crowd.&nbsp; Her patron was eager to display her, to have her marked as his before he released her arm, the thrill of the hunt still in him.&nbsp; Genevieve had not yet seen the flogger that Gravon carried, did not yet have any idea what their work would entail.&nbsp; But she stood, perfectly poised as Namaah would will it, looking out at the crowd and letting them enjoy the beauty of the tableau.
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			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: -Sginales- (Echoes &amp; Lips and Thorns)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>echoes</strong> on <strong>24-09-2010, 03:44:56</strong>
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			<dd class="postbody">
				Gravon saw her near, saw her as Genevieve moved through the crowd. The most delicate flower of the room, a stark contrast to his stem of thorns, she was the yielding grace to his aggressive stance.&nbsp; Moving to meet him in the cleared space of the floor he could see her delicacy from where he stood. In that moment his want and need spiked in his body. He had never had an assignment with a woman or a man who knew the fullness of tormented pleasure. He had never had a patron who knew the complete and utter surrender of suffering. Gravon’s eyes locked with hers, and in that moment they spoke.<br><br>He knew, in that conversation, that there was something more, that neither of them had been told of their true assignment. That they were to bear the lust of the crowd, that they would enact a ritualistic release so that the peers and voyeurs could incite their own passions in safe reflection. There was something more, something that itched at the back of his mind. The crier broken the hushed silence that had existed in the room.<br><br>“Bare the Mandrake for the flower of Valerian.” The man announced in a commanding tone. Gravon did not move, his patron had not commanded him to do so, and he felt something hold him to his spot. From the crowd two people approached, a man and a woman bearing shears that glinted in the lamplight. Without fear he turned to face them, to almost challenge them to their task. For a moment they faltered and a thin lipped smile appeared on Gravon’s lips. He would not aid them in their duty save to offer his arms to them. <br><br>They did not remove his gloves, instead using the shears to rend his shirt sleeves, cutting through the fabric with a tearing sound. Up his arms and over his shoulders closer to his neck. The sharp points of the shears growing closer until the garment was split. The woman removed his shirt, passing her hands across his torso in appreciation. His eyes, which had been on Genevieve moved to the woman for a moment and a cruel smile formed. “This is not for you tonight, for you would surely wilt before me,” he said softly, a challenge and a dare in the words. Beneath the mask the woman blossomed into a rose hued blush. She removed her hands after one last longing touch.<br><br>She and the man stood to Gravon’s side, looking to the crier for instructions and the man regarded them for a moment. “He is not yet bare for us,” the man intoned. At that the two bowed slightly and the woman began to undo Gravon’s belt. He stopped her, taking her hands from the buckle and placing them on his hips. He undid the buckle, and retrieved the heavy flogger before the leather belt felt to the ground. With deft fingers she unlaced his breaches and let them hang. Then both she and the man resumed their work with the shears. Straight down the sides of his legs and to the boot tops. <br><br>Gravon felt the bite of the shears in his right hip, the nick and drag of the point from the side of the man. He had been marked, and in that moment his anger grew. He however, did not respond with even a hiss. He turned to the man, taking stock of his features. He would not let this pass unmentioned. The shears, having completed their assignments let his breaches fall to the hands of his attendants. With two great tugs and the sounds of tearing fabric the pants were torn from him. A collective sigh ran through the crowd, and it fed his lust.<br><br>He stood there, leather knee boots, gloves and mask, exposed for the patrons of the fete. He stood there, crimson scar sending a trail of blood down one of his legs, heaviness between his legs as the exposure heightened his arousal. He held the flogger to his side, the tines almost reaching the floor. He took a moment, stepping away from those who had attended him. He turned, giving all who were there a moment to look, to gaze upon a member of the Night Court. <br><br>His eyes stayed steady, challenging others to meet his gaze. Few did, the affect of his baring evident on their faces. He turned a full circuit before coming back to rest his gaze on Genevieve. He bared his almost finished marque for all to see, the stylized tree made of chain and leather. The motes of blood as the leaves of the tree, all but the top branches complete. His marque announced his knowledge of pain, the strength which he drew from it. He brought his eyes back to Genevieve, he looked at her, letting his face convey what his words would not. They would perform, that would sate needs that no others would truly understand, and in this one night, they would be free.<br>
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			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: -Sginales- (Echoes &amp; Lips and Thorns)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>lips and thorns</strong> on <strong>07-10-2010, 20:17:25</strong>
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			<dd class="postbody">
				Genevieve knew better than to move during the baring of Gravon, to draw attention away from what was being done before the crowd.&nbsp; She stood as still as a willow tree as the clothing was stripped away from him, revealing him to be harder, more real than he had even seemed dressed.&nbsp; Servants of Naamah, they learned the art of clothing, how to hide or highlight the human form.&nbsp; But here Gravon demonstrated another art, and his bared body standing there was a monument greater than any tailor's construction there that night.<br><br>They all watched, but only Genevieve truly knew.&nbsp; She saw the strength in his stance and in his eyes.&nbsp; She watched, observing all as she was taught, and saw the way he looked at the woman, and then at the man.&nbsp; Her heart pounded low and hard, and for a moment her vision spun, turned red, and she feared she would collapse there on the floor.&nbsp; Gravon had not yet even touched her, never mind wielded that flogger.&nbsp; And yet she already felt the force of him.<br><br>Men, men always thought themselves fierce.&nbsp; They might treat a woman roughly with their hands, spear her fiercely with their loins, bend or twist her with their muscles.&nbsp; But only Mandrake, and Valerian, knew what fierceness was.&nbsp; It was hard, yes, and strong.&nbsp; But it was unrelenting, and it began in the mind and in the eyes, not in the hands or the loins.&nbsp; Genevieve knew a fear she had not felt since first beginning this path.&nbsp; It closed around her throat as if his hands did, and yet now with it came the delirium she had been taught, joining with it.&nbsp; She knew she would be made to yield as she never had, but she knew more than any other in the room what pleasure there could be in that.<br><br>But soon they would all know a bit better than they did.&nbsp; This was the gift on the Longest Night, to let these people understand Namaah's teachings more deeply than when they had entered the room.&nbsp; It was the task she had this man had been tasked with, and looking into his eyes, she knew they could accomplish it.<br><br>"Bare the flower of Valerian for the Mandrake," the voice intoned, seeming to Genevieve as if it came from another world.&nbsp; She stood still, never wavering as the two closed on her.&nbsp; Her eyes were on Gravon instead.&nbsp; The woman plucked the flowers and leaves from her, as the man slit the shoulder of her dress with his shears.&nbsp; Genevieve did not shy from the cold metal on her skin, and let Gravon see this.&nbsp; Instead she stood tall and proud and graceful as the clothing was stripped from her.&nbsp; She was left, barefoot, with the fae wings still bound to her back, covering her marque, her mask covering her features.&nbsp; Her body was lush and soft, her breasts full and pendulous, tipped in dark nipples.&nbsp; She stood with her hands clasped before her shadowed mound, chin tipped up and waiting for him.<br>(http://forum.photo.fr/mesimages/10/laetitia_casta_2.jpg1..jpg)<br>
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			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: -Sginales- (Echoes &amp; Lips and Thorns)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>echoes</strong> on <strong>11-10-2010, 19:10:21</strong>
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			<dd class="postbody">
				Something was amiss and Gravon could feel that in the air. the normal sense and scent of arousal tempered by an anticipation. A cruel and malicious taste that he could not shake. He was looking when he had turned, his eyes searching crowd as he challenged them. None had met him directly, but there was one, a man by his height and stature, who was looking past Gravon, looking at the Valerian behind him before she was undressed. When Gravon turned, stood before her and waited, he began to know why.<br><br>At Genevieve's baring Gravon felt his blood burn. He knew he would not be able to hide his full reaction, not even the Dowayne of Mandrake could have seen what he now witness and not felt something. His girth began to fill, growing heavier, dangling more full as arousal competed with his mind, wanting so very much to present itself to the Flower before him. A Valerian, the night to his day, the willow to his thorns. Just the sight of her drew his teeth together, made his hands ache to close on her flesh, pin her roughly and show to world the beauty of release. More than just an act, it was sacred, and no two would know it better than Mandrake and Valerian.<br><br>Like a cat he took two steps toward her, first towards the man who was undressing her. Stalking at him as if fight him for the prize now bared. The man man fled even as Gravon released the Flogger, turning to see the woman who had assisted them as well. She was easy to read, the lust that poured from the woman could be felt, it was hard to tell if she wanted the place of the Valerian, or to take them both. Gravon simply stared, his legs flexing, eyes focused, the trail of blood from the earlier cut still trickling down the muscled thigh. The woman swallowed, and began to back away.<br>'<br>As the woman back away Gravon acted, acted in a way that was both in his nature and not. He stalked forward, walked into the Valerian with an auidble smack. His chest pushing her, making her take a step and then another backwards as he forced himself to her body, tightening their forms, for a moment making them one. His hand launched up taking her by the hair and tightening at the base. However... there was no pain, the grip was false, looking painful but conveying no pull.<br><br>"There is someone here who is delighting in your display, but not in a good way, do you have an enemy here." His voice was as silent as death,&nbsp; whispered with lips unmoving. A talent some of the adepts had learned to convey secrets when open Salons were held. He turned her head to his, then closed his mouth about the skin under her ear. To the crowd he would look as if he were biting her, it succeeded in hiding her mouth right under his ear. He turned her, again finding the man whose joy and merriment did not come from the sanctity of the Night court meeting, no, Gravon knew the look of the man, had seen it more than once. He was dangerous. "Speak quickly, for he is looking excited in the idea of your suffering, but not under the auspice of your sacred art."
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			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: -Sginales- (Echoes &amp; Lips and Thorns)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>lips and thorns</strong> on <strong>27-10-2010, 17:24:58</strong>
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				[ooc: I'm sorry, real life concerns have swamped me.&nbsp; I haven't been able to check in here at all.&nbsp; If possible, and if you're still interested, I will try to tag as I can, but I understand if you have lost interest.]
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			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: -Sginales- (Echoes &amp; Lips and Thorns)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>lips and thorns</strong> on <strong>21-11-2010, 02:22:37</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				This was her profession and her calling, and Genevieve stood calm, submissive and prepared as she was stripped.&nbsp; Even so, she reacted to the way that the Mandrake moved towards her suddenly, charging forward in a display which caused the attendants to flee and the crowd to make an audible step back.&nbsp; Genevieve too felt the power that moved with him but she did not back away, standing her ground even as he barged into her, letting her feel the collision of their bodies.&nbsp; It was a visual for the crowd, but it was something else for the two of them, the striking of their bodies for the first time an erotic thing boiled down to its essence.&nbsp; She felt how her body rebounded from his mass and strength.&nbsp; He would feel how he moved her and yet she stayed with him, their bodies united.<br><br>Genevieve was ready to be taken away in this moment, this perfect union.&nbsp; The crowd was disappearing for her, nothing but the dance of two perfect partners.&nbsp; His words took that away from her though, turning her thoughts once more to those gathered, those who watched.&nbsp; Thoughts of why she was here, who her patron was and what were his intentions, they all formed and Genevieve frowned at the loss of the moment.&nbsp; No one would notice, his mouth closing on her neck in what many would think a bit at her perfect rich skin.<br><br>"I, I know of no enemy," she whispered back, her thick lips not moving as she arched her neck, reacting to his movements.&nbsp; She was not naive and she knew the machinations of society here, but what involvement could she have in them?&nbsp; She had not yet earned her marque, and though she had many patrons she could think of no reason why one would despise her.&nbsp; <br><br>Genevieve's hands moved up to press at him, to press away his immovable bulk.&nbsp; Her resistance was part of the play, at this point.&nbsp; She knew if he was truly Mandrake he would do all that he could to make her resistance real.&nbsp; He would have quite a challenge in her, one who was trained to submit.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: -Sginales- (Echoes &amp; Lips and Thorns)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>echoes</strong> on <strong>22-11-2010, 19:04:11</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Even as her hand came up to push against him he moved, knowing full and well that remaining in place too long was to give them away. He moved his right leg behind her left, leveraging his weight to hers, twisting her and removing the balance she carefully held. His right hand remained entwined within her hair, but hidden under her locks his hand held her with a care that Mandrake was not known to possess. Had this been a normal assignation, he would not worry about her safety, he would have delivered the full and unrequited skill of a born tormentor upon a patron. But something about this scenario was wrong, it chilled him, and he felt her to be in danger. That someone would threaten a member of the Court of the Night, and abuse the gifts they so provided, infuriated him. It worried him as well. <br><br>Gravon knew he could betray nothing, not one moment of his thoughts to those assembled. To do so would leave them undone, and so another dance was created in this moment. As Genevieve fell the hand holding flogger reversed its grip, taking it closer to the tongs, and placed it across her waist like a corded leather belt. To the unwise, it looked painful, the rough treatment of the woman he had just meant. But they would know differently. He had broken her fall, removing the pain of landing atop the tiles with the placement of the flogger. All flash, no report, something had indeed worried the young man, and in his mind his art was in peril as much as the young woman in front of him.<br><br>The patrons and guest would see him forcing her to the floor, sending her to her knees, his body following, his knees splayed outside of hers, controlling her position. They would see the arch of her spine, the jutting of her breasts as his hand and tool poised her for display, the sylphlike body before that of the beast. His masked face lowered, and like a creature from myth his white teeth emerged to sink into the flesh at her shoulder. He bent forward, again hiding his mouth as he spoke so very silently.<br><br>"I do not Jest, we must be careful," he Paused and in a formal tone he spoke again," Eclipse is my word, it is sacred, I will use it should you loose yourself to your calling." To the patrons delight he began the slow rise of the handle of the flogger, drawing it level across her skin. The wrapped and oiled leather a dark contrast to the flawless beauty beneath it. He paused it under her breasts, lifting them with light force as if presenting them to the audience. There was a murmur of approval at the sight, their bodies so close, his atop hers in a prelude to the action that would soon commence. <br><br>From behind other patrons lost the display of the flogger, instead they saw a man nearing the dominance of the woman in front of him. They saw stretched flesh atop toned muscle, the hint of the arousal that even now grew between his legs. The dark sheath of the boots compared to the snow white of her flesh. it was meant to be visual, it was meant to be decadent, and neither Gravon or Genevieve disappointed. 
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: -Sginales- (Echoes &amp; Lips and Thorns)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>lips and thorns</strong> on <strong>30-12-2010, 19:58:27</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				The sudden movement of the Mandrake man elicited just the shock and panic it was meant to, sending Genieveve from a close embrace to a sudden fall.&nbsp; Unfortunately, as much as she understood the nature of their arts, it would do her little good here, for their very skill was to remain in control.&nbsp; In control her at this point.&nbsp; Her skill was not to evade it, but to move with it.&nbsp; Namaah did not want her to resist, but to enhance, to make this something more even than it would be with an untrained woman.<br><br>That untrained woman might have missed the subtle clues that there was something wrong.&nbsp; Gravon's moves softened her fall, and though Genevieve was well trained enough to show no indication of it, to pantomime the pain and fear she would have felt at impact, she wondered at it.&nbsp; One glance in the man's eyes indicated to her that he was concerned.&nbsp; <br><br>His words followed.&nbsp; Her body bent to his wishes expertly, with the right amount of resistance to bring the play to life.&nbsp; Many did not understand the intricacies; to submit required that one resist, for submission was different than permission.&nbsp; She felt the strain in her back as he bent her back, her breasts bared for him and the audience, the wings of her costume brushing the ground.<br><br>He was whispering a warning, but it was difficult to concentrate on his words.&nbsp; She could feel the stroke of the leather flogger as it moved along her flawless skin, gasped as it cradled her breasts.&nbsp; Genevieve could feel the strength in even such a light touch, and her body hummed in anticipation of what might come.&nbsp; Her chestnut hair spilled back to the floor, her dark nipples pointing to the ceiling as he encased them, their flesh becoming engorged at the touch of the leather.&nbsp; Her full lips did not move as she whispered back to him, while her body trembled in unfeigned fear of what was to come.&nbsp; <br><br>"I will take care.&nbsp; My word is 'splinter', but I will not need it."&nbsp; Genevieve could not see the crowd, couldn't yet feel what set Gravon on edge.&nbsp; She was captured by him and could see and feel little else but his self.<br><br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: -Sginales- (Echoes &amp; Lips and Thorns)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>echoes</strong> on <strong>06-01-2011, 23:12:53</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				There was that sound, that slow rasp of leather drawn across skin as the flogger was pulled over Genevieve's chest. That moment where the rose pink of excited flesh atop her breasts, hardened by arousal and the chill of the room, became visible through the dark colour of the flogger's tongs. Even the steady rise and fall of her torso as she drew her breath seemed accentuated in some way.<br><br>Gravon's flesh was darker, more sun kissed that the alabaster flawlessness that was Genevieve's body. His tone was well defined, chiseled in some places, and was a contrast to the subtle smoothness of her flesh. This was not to say she was weak, only that her strength was contained within the perfect form of submission. She appeared feminine and delicate in so many ways, yet she was Valerian, she could sustain more torments than many a trailed solider and emerge intact in body and mind.<br><br>Gravon used his body as an object for attention as much as he used the flogger. Leaning to Genevieve's back he pushed forward, sending his long torso to hers, pushing her forward, slowly guiding her to the floor. His phallus, growing in warm and heaviness , pushed between them until their pose no longer hid it. From behind the salacious display was of her pristine curves divided by his slowly hardening flesh. He brought his right leg up, planting the foot on the floor beside her ribcage, looking caught between the desire to sprint, or to mount her like some animal and take her as he may. Already sweat had begun to appear, soft motes that gave his tanned skin a shine.<br><br>Gravon could sense the anticipation in the room, he had performed before observers before, but never so many. Nor so many that seemed to hunger for the anticipated torment of the beautiful woman before him. He gathered her left hand in his&nbsp; and slowly brought it behind her back. In a display of bravado he placed the flogger in her hand, letting the tongs dangle down along her outstretched arm. Her gathered her right hand in his hand and brought it to meet its twin, holding them both behind her back. He stood quickly, ratcheting her arms, forcing the shoulders to roll forward and her forehead to meet the tiles of the floor. The implement of her torment trapped between her hands. He stood astride her, one leg planted on either side of her ribs, as if her were driving her forward upon her knees.<br><br>The position looked painful, and it would cause the dull acidic ache to build in her arms and shoulders, but it was by no means the extent of what it could be. Gravon was being careful , very careful, until he knew what game was afoot. He held Genevieve before him, his body atop hers, his naked form on blatant display as he once again challenged the crowd with his gaze. His voice whispered from beneath his mask, the dry sound of crushed petals to hide his own natural sound. He spoke to the crowd, his words an enticement, a dare, a chance to become part and parcel of the event.<br><br>"Does this entertain you?"<br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: -Sginales- (Echoes &amp; Lips and Thorns)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>lips and thorns</strong> on <strong>08-01-2011, 20:23:58</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Genevieve could feel his strength, not just in the extent that his muscles pushed her forward, bending her inexorably to the floor.&nbsp; But also in the expert way he applied the pressure, arranged his body to produce the greatest force with the smallest effort, arranged himself to limit her body's options, to remove the possibility of existence.&nbsp; His masterful techniques made her submission inevitable.&nbsp; Her own enviable skills were hardly needed yet, for she was sure the Mandrake could corral any woman with such skill.&nbsp; It would be later that she would prove her worth.<br><br>It was small touches, like the way that he granted her his flogger, which showed the touch of Namaah in his work.&nbsp; Her hand gripped the handle of the device tightly, not out of any thought that she might, or would, keep it from him, but as a grip on something solid.&nbsp; She knew she would need it as he bent her to his will.&nbsp; And indeed instantly, it seemed, he used his leverage to fold her body.&nbsp; Where an amateur would shove her to the ground, he used the leverage of her own body to force her to bend herself, placing her own forehead on the stone tiles.&nbsp; <br><br>Genevieve let out a gasp, more of surprise but also laced with pain as she was bent, her shoulders twisting back, the audience getting a glimpse of the anguish on her face before it was hidden from their view.&nbsp; Gravon could see her patron, a portly man not much taller than Genevieve herself, smile wickedly as he witnessed her pain.&nbsp; Like many who frequented House Valerian, it made his blood race and he stepped forward unconsciously, marking himself from the crowd.&nbsp; <br><br>Gravon could feel Genevieve quickly adapt her body to this new position.&nbsp; Her joints were supple, her muscles not hard, but indeed well trained in endurance.&nbsp; An adept would keep a position like this for hours, training their body to bend, to endure.&nbsp; By the smallest adjustments she found a way to take it.&nbsp; She breathed deeply, her ribs spreading in clear view of the audience as she let the pain flow.&nbsp; She could feel the tongs of the flogger brushing her back, dangling above her like the sword of Damocles.&nbsp; She held her pose, motionless, as he spoke to the crowd.&nbsp; She was his toy, his ornament right now, a piece for display.<br><br>The faces of the audience showed that Gravon had many of them in grasp jsut as he did Genevieve. They were intimidated or aroused.&nbsp; A few, including Genevieve's patron, simply looked back coldly, or hot with arousal at the scene.&nbsp; No one spoke in the silent room, as if the dark of the long night was creeping inside.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: -Sginales- (Echoes &amp; Lips and Thorns)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>echoes</strong> on <strong>13-01-2011, 03:05:28</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Torment is not always pain. It is not always the deep ache of contact, the sharp sting of a tool. Torment, like anything else, is an art. It is the subtle differences of a glance, of a promise of further contact. It is the hundred soft touches before the first taste of pain.<br><br>Gravon knew this, knew the every kiss of the tongs of the Flogger before him. His hand wrapped around Genevieve's wrists, lifting slightly, drawing her arms behind and above her body until he felt that resistance caused by muscle. He locked her hands in this position, keeping her lithe form in the kneel before him. He straddled her, looking about, challenging anyone to disturb him in his work. Without looking down he moved, bringing a boot shod foot up and balancing on the other foot. He used her arms as another column of support.<br><br>Standing like a dancer he pointed his toe down, and in one movement, thrust the toe to the floor,like a wedge between her knees, turning the foot and placing it firmly on the ground with a slap. It was a show,but only to the initiated.&nbsp; Instead of punishing her it gave her more stability spreading her base, but to the crowd gathered it served to expose the cleft of her body even more.&nbsp; He pushed her legs apart with a casual seeming negligence before removing his foot to stand beside her. <br><br>He looked down, the practiced visage of indifference hammered upon his face. His free hand came up, taking the flogger from her grasp, pulling up, dragging the long tongs against her arms before flicking his wrist. The tongs swung in a practiced arc, slowly whirling above her prone form.&nbsp; The tongs completed the arc, coming to strike against her pinned arms with the sounds of heavy rain. From there he let the flogger droop in his hand. the black leather pooling on the untouched flesh of her back. He felt a stirring within his body, a heaviness flooding to display arousal. He was not erect, instead a fullness shown to the onlookers. <br><br>He knelt down, one hand keeping her arms locked above her body. the other moved the flogger and the pooled tines of leather. The flogger moved dragging down between the curves of her upturned rear. He brought the device between her legs, letting the tongs press to aroused flesh, drag across sensitive skin before being pulled away so as not to puddle on the floor. In a whisper he spoke.<br><br>"There is a man, portly and slight in height. He is watching this with the countenance of a Viper, is he your patron this evening." His voice would not carry, meant for her ears alone. It bore no signs of arousal, but his body spoke of a different story. He continued to apply the flogger to her skin, dragging it up this time, heavy sheets slowly drawn over her flesh before exposing her to the assembled crowd.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: -Sginales- (Echoes &amp; Lips and Thorns)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>lips and thorns</strong> on <strong>17-01-2011, 19:57:41</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Genevieve too knew her art.&nbsp; And while the burning anguish of her position was real, the anguish she exhibited as he slammed his foot down was not.&nbsp; Her back arched, her rear thrust up as she reacted to the sudden move, a performance for the crowd just as his was.&nbsp; She knew she could maintain the position longer with her knees spread.&nbsp; She also knew that the thrust of her rear into the air was a signal to the deep brains of the viewers, a sign of submission, a sign of eroticism.&nbsp; She knew too that her inner self was bared for them, a glimpse of her feminity available to them now.&nbsp; She was a piece of art, better displayed for them all.<br><br>The butterfly wings of her costumed fluttered slowly with the move of their bodies, his lock on her wrists, her stiff strained arms pinning her to the floor as one might pin the butterfly to the board.&nbsp; The crowd murmured in tense, quiet approval.<br><br>When he took the flogger from her hands Genevieve drew in a sharp breath.&nbsp; Those close could hear it, those who could not could see the way her rib cage swelled with air.&nbsp; She held it, awaiting the long eternity to see what would come of it.&nbsp; And though she could not see, she could feel the way Gravon's body tensed as he swung it.&nbsp; She could hear the slight whistle of the leather in the air.&nbsp; And so though she did not know where it would strike she was ready for it when it hit.<br><br>As ready as one could be.&nbsp; &nbsp;A true artist, like Gravon, knew that the blind flogging amplified the sensations a hundred fold, for every inch of Genevieve's skin readied itself for the touch of the leather.&nbsp; When it struck her arms, already strained, her body quivered and that held breath of air exploded from her mouth in a grunt which she knew would greatly please the audience.&nbsp; For those who enjoyed House Valerian each sense was important.&nbsp; <br><br>She was too expert at this to jerk or scream, at this, only the first kiss of the leather.&nbsp; She could feel the burning strips on her arms though, even as the flogger began a delicate journey along her flesh.&nbsp; It crept between her upraised cheeks and teased against her delicate flower, promising the possibility of pain even in her arousal.&nbsp; Her body tensed at this innermost touch even as it flowed away.<br><br>"He is," she whispered back, knowing no one could see her lips, nearly pressed to the floor.&nbsp; She remembered her patron's greedy look.&nbsp; Cruel, yes, but so were many of her patrons.&nbsp; "He perhaps revels in seeing what you could do to me, that he could not."&nbsp; Many of those who used House Valerian did not wield the whip themselves.&nbsp; Often time the lust for it came separate from the skill.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: -Sginales- (Echoes &amp; Lips and Thorns)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>echoes</strong> on <strong>17-01-2011, 20:28:05</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				It was a show, for now, that Gravon gave the crowd. Slow moving and without a perceptible effort he stretched his arm out, turning the handle of the flogger to be inverted, letting the tips of the leather strips dangle atop the flesh of Genevieve's feet. The flogger was a tool of torment, and not all torment was the heavy impact play of deep aching contact. He let the tines kiss the underside of her foot, drape over the ankle, begin a slow methodical ascent up the outside of her leg. Yes, it was contact, and torment in its own way. In a consigned session he would have done this if he knew his patron was ready for the flogger, use it to break their concentration, to use delicate torment instead of pain to awaken their senses.&nbsp; This time is was a delay.<br><br>"No, I know the look of a Sadist, his pleasure is not that of our nature, he wants you to suffer for something other than our calling and his delight. This is, " There was a pause as Gravon cast his glance about the crowd once, he held a sneer of disdain upon his features, as if he were to punish the lot of them. His eyes moved before he turned his head, giving him more time on the portly man who was her patron. The flogger made it the the back of her right leg, he let the handle rock like a pendulum, the sounds of the tongs could be heard as a soft "whaping" sound against first the outside of her thigh, then the back, slowly moving to her rear, dancing dangerously closer to her exposed sex, her lips, and the soft skin nestled between the curves of her rear. he whispered once more " this is personal."<br><br>He kept her hands locked above her back as he laid the handle of the flogger along her curved spine. The tongs covering her in a false display of modesty. he stood slowly, raising his right hand, snapping the thumb and middle finger of the hand in a slow tempo. he looked about, encouraging the crowd of assembled patrons to do the same. Slowly the rythmn was taken up.<br><br>Snap... two...three.<br><br>Snap...two... three.<br><br>A slow tempo, a building of the sound, still soft, but now more pronounced as others joined in. Soon the crowd was snapping in time, setting the tempo of a slow walk. He reached down, running his fingertips along Genvieve's spine until he wrapped his hand around the flogger. He drew it from her body and denied her its comfort before the next stage in the dance began.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: -Sginales- (Echoes &amp; Lips and Thorns)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>lips and thorns</strong> on <strong>25-02-2011, 17:55:20</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Genevieve listened to his words.&nbsp; She would remember them later.&nbsp; But for now her understanding of them showed the contrast between them, between their two houses, and between their situations.&nbsp; She crouched on the floor, seeing nothing but the marble beneath her.&nbsp; Her body burned in a dozen places, in weariness, in anticipation, in pain.&nbsp; The soft touch of the flogger brushed her here, there, back and forth, always teasing, whispering promises of things to come, like a lover who strokes his lover's skin while he threatens worse.&nbsp; All of this while Gravon himself commanded the room, and her, from above.&nbsp; She heard his whispers of danger, but there was nothing she could do now.&nbsp; His house's call was to command, hers to submit.&nbsp; She did not know what it was like to stand in his place.&nbsp; But in her place it was an immersion, like slipping into dark water, burning hot or stabbing cold, it became your life at that moment, the world condensed to your body and the inch of space surrounding it.<br><br>So it was for her now.&nbsp; She was barely aware of the crowd and their snapping.&nbsp; She felt no shame or awkwardness in being bared for them, and compared to the man who commanded her body, they were nothing.&nbsp; Foolish even in their beliefs, their feigned understanding of what they watched.&nbsp; It was only the two of them who knew.<br><br>The kiss of the flogger was gone and now her whole body burned in chill emptiness, the skin untouched now by anything but air.&nbsp; She did not move, her body poised just as he had arranged it, though her arms burnt behind her.&nbsp; Inside she clenched, ready for whatever was next, her whole body bent into the pose of submission.&nbsp; She had given herself to him, her body's most vulnerable spots exposed for him, her sight gone, no view of what would come.&nbsp; The goddess flowed through her as she perfectly embodied House Valerian in her submission, her forceful yielding.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: -Sginales- (Echoes &amp; Lips and Thorns)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>echoes</strong> on <strong>26-02-2011, 02:20:25</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				The grip of the flogger was warm, a solid strength in the wrapped leather grip that fit firmly in his hand. He took possession of the device with the right, the left still holding Genevieve’s arm up, baring the flesh of her rear and spine to view. The tongs were draw over the supple curves of her flesh, slowly baring her body to the onlookers behind him.<br><br>And there they were placed, his standing form behind her kneeling one. His carriage proud, upright and hers in supplication. A distinct contrast between their houses and their arts. The tongs swung lightly in the space beside his leg, his exposed body, the base signs arousal present and displayed, the difference between the device and the man. He waited, knowing that Genevieve’s arms would be burning slowly with the pose she was forced to hold. He waited still, for that moment as the crowd continued the waltz-like temp of their snapping.<br><br>At the next snap he extended his arm, the tongs of the flogger swaying slightly as he held it outstretched from his body. He counted with the host, and at two his wrist flicked back the mass of leather before&nbsp; the silent count of three made him bring the device forward with a serpent’s strike. <br><br>The solid sound of connection, the leather landing and stroking the pristine white flesh even as the host snapped in unison. The leather stroked Genevieve from the side, catching the rounded curve of her rear and then dragged across while splaying out. The result was the reddened mark of contact, the intake of breath from the crowd. More than one patron giving into their own desires by the sounds the group made. The tempo almost faltered before Gravon looked up, about, daring the assembled patrons to stop in their accompaniment of his display.<br><br>A full three counts as his arm remained across his torso before the flogger was in motion again. Once more the stroke of leather to flesh met at the snap of the patron’s, marking Genevieve’s flesh with matching wounds. It was like this he began. The strokes measured, timed to the tempo of the snapping, first right and then left, slowly changing the hue of her skin from the repeated impacts of the leather tongs.<br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: -Sginales- (Echoes &amp; Lips and Thorns)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>lips and thorns</strong> on <strong>30-04-2011, 03:39:56</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Indeed, Genevieve's arms burned.&nbsp; She was as trained as any athlete, and her muscles could perform far longer than most.&nbsp; But in the end it was not her place to be the athlete, to outlast.&nbsp; It was her place to submit, and to endure.&nbsp; Gravon simply waited until she was undone, until her arms gave the slight tremble that gave her away.&nbsp; On the one hand they were here to perform, but on the other they were here for a sacred rite.&nbsp; And to be sacred it must be true, and so he must truly make her submit.&nbsp; Genevieve knew that to do so he would have to go much further than he would with one of his patrons.&nbsp; <br><br>It began though with the burning, the submission.&nbsp; And then next came the pain.&nbsp; She couldn't feel him move, his expertise so great, and by the time the whistle of the leather in the air came to her ears the tongs were already biting her flesh.&nbsp; She did not jerk.&nbsp; She was expert in her own way, and she held firm and let the leather bite into her soft curve.&nbsp; The noise made the audience jerk, she could hear that even with her face pressed to the floor.&nbsp; For a moment all was scattered and then he reined them in, turning the lone crack of violence instead into a rhythm, one side and then the other.&nbsp; He did not pause or change his tempo, marking her until her flesh rose up an angry red, in a spidery pattern as random as the lay of the tongs with each stroke.&nbsp; <br><br>He knew and she knew that the steady crack was in some ways easier than the unexpected violent stroke.&nbsp; The skin numbed and for a time knew no pain.&nbsp; But soon he broke past that numbness and instead left her skin raw and tender.&nbsp; Genevieve began to moan, too low at first for those assembled to hear, but then rising in volume each time leather met red flesh.&nbsp; Those close enough could see her hands clenched, muscles tightening as she did her best to resist the body's impulse to avoid the expected strike.&nbsp; Her body, trained as it was, flushed with the signs of arousal to go with the pain, blood rushing not just to the reddened flanks but to her center and nipples as well.&nbsp; Those who knew the pleasure of the flogger, or the flogging, saw the signs of Namaah's touch.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: -Sginales- (Echoes &amp; Lips and Thorns)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>echoes</strong> on <strong>11-05-2011, 02:31:04</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Between the counts, the strokes of the Flogger, Gravon began to display his mastery of his art. Like a great leather brush he worked the tongs of flogger across Genevieve’s skin. He swirled the tongs across her back, as if drawing the red of her flesh to the surface like paint. The torment was not just in the solid and heavy thud of the flogger, but in all contact, all motion. The tongs were let to drag across skin, to puddle in a leathery pool across the beauty canvas of skin. He at times would use only the tips, letting them dance atop her wounds like little feet. Other times they would spill over her sides, teasing that curve of her hanging breasts, the soft skin under her arm, even over her hips.<br><br>Gravon let the flogger land mostly upon the upturned curve of her rear, blossoming flesh in a rose hue. He removed his foot, letting those assembled see that hidden cleft of Genevieve’s body, the lips made full of puffy from arousal.&nbsp; Every so often he would swing an underhanded stroke, instead of the heavy contact the tongs of the flogger would drag upon those open lips, pulling at her flesh as if to encourage the wetness her body would produce.<br><br>Contact and drag, puddle and swing again, the strokes were rhythmic but never the same, not allowing her to count on any specific contact, specific touch. All she had was the cadence, that constant tempo to drive her. <br><br>Her flesh, their art.<br><br>He worked her rear, her lower back, between her legs, even the legs and the soles of her feet. Each stroke a dedication to who they were, what they did, who they served. It was a ritual, it was their dedication. And as her arms began to tremble he moved to position her differently for the crowds pleasure. <br><br>He lowered her hands to her back and then stepped around her. Taking first the right, then the left, he drew her hands before her stretching her anew, pulling her body taut once again. He knelt down before her, his body and her arms now blocking the one patron from being able to see Genevieve’s face. However, this pose gave Genevieve a sight she may not have counted on, a new torment as the lashes began anew.<br><br>Gravon was before her, the black leather of the boots curled under his body as he knelt before her. His body was flushed like hers. The warmth of the room and his own arousal, causing the barest hint of sweat to coat him in a glowing sheen. Between his legs he was almost full, heavy, aroused, and with each stroke his flesh swung as if connected to the flogger. She could see the slight curve of his flesh, the girth as he fought himself to not display his full arousal even to her. <br><br>For the patrons it was a sight to behold. An Adept of Mandrake kneeling in front of the Stretched Adept of Valerian. His body aroused and bared before her, the flogger arcing above her in what was perceived as a painful lashing, though Gravon&nbsp; pulled the strikes to provide more torment than pure pain.&nbsp; Genevieve was there as was he, their oblation being performed for their deities. Nothing was hidden from the crowd, save Genevieve’s face from her tormentor in the crowd.<br><br>The count continued, steady in pace as Gravon did not seek the quick and easy victory, but instead applied his art to the remarkable woman before him. The strokes now were different, overhand and lapping at her flesh with the sting of a barbed tongue.<br>
			</dd>
		</dl>
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