The Drow Queen of Glaley [Very NSFW]

[Varisia Primfana]

"Never?" she spits, clearly not believing her. "Why would you risk yourself for him then? Why him?"

[Coquette Blacquin]

"This was my fault. I brought him here without asking you. I hired him without asking you. Let me make it right."

[Varisia Primfana]

Let me make it right? Without looking away, Varisia's empty hand dips down to her hip, out of sight. When it returns, it's to jab a three inch long need into Bull's throat, right into the vein there. Bull instantly starts trashing again despite being nearly unconcious from blood loss, pain-filled whimpers and growls weakly voiced. But the enchanted blade is moved away from Bull's leg and Varisia straightens up a little. "Get on the bed, on your back."

[Coquette Blacquin]

Heart pounding, Cindy complies, moving to lay on her back, overly conscious that she wears only her breastband and her ever-present collar. 

[Varisia Primfana]

Tossing aside her trousers-- making sure they land away from Bull, even though the imisy minotaur seems to be entirely out of it by this point-- Varisia straddles Coquette's hips. Disturbingly, Coquette is made excessively aware that her wife is so aroused as to be dripping. Rocking slowly, Varisia glares down at her wife. "Stoke me," she orders brusquely. "If you want to buy his life, the price will be very, very steep my Little Bitch. And you do not want to know what the cost of trying to cheat me will be. Do you understand?"

[Coquette Blacquin]

"Yes, ma'am," she whispers, and reaches up to gently stroke Varisia's clit with her fingers. This is for Bull. Do this for him.

When all's said and done, Bull is removed, and Coquette left to spend the night locked in her chambers, praying fervently that Varisia keeps her promises, lives up to her end of the bargain. She doesn't expect to see him again. She didn't bargain for his service explicitly, only his life, and she's well aware Varisia can be a duplicitous snake at times, willing to trade on any ambiguity in the rules to get what she wants. Please be alive. Please be well. And if it's not too much to ask, please don't hate me too badly.

When the door opens and her lunch dishes are removed the next day, she expects to be left in isolation again -- or worse, to have her husbands brought to her. Instead, to find Bull wearing a house servant uniform, clearly entering to begin his duties, brings tears of relief to her eyes. "Iron Bull," she says, nodding her head forward a little. She chews her lower lip, suddenly keenly aware how much more clothing Bull is wearing than her -- she wears her collar, but not in its more elegant guise as a necklace, instead showing the actual leather appearance complete with padlock, and not a stitch else to cover her body. And she is sitting on the couch in the sitting area of her open floor plan bedroom, despite the pain in her rear end.

[The Iron Bull]

Bull turns around, having backed into the door to open it; his hands are full of crate evidently. A good sized one, and heavy based on the way Bull's shoulders are bunched. "Lady Coquette," he replies as he slowly walks into the room. Or, at least, she's fairly certain that's what he said. His voice is raspy and broken, likely due to the red marks and scabs around his neck that make him look like he was improperly hung. Or perhaps that he struggled too hard against a leash. His right cheek is sunken in, hinting at a sudden absence of teeth there. A couple of steps allow Cedric to determine the slow pace is only partially due to the weight of the crate; Bull is limping, or, rather, he's drag/shuffling his left leg as if the knee won't bend.

"Where..." He coughs, grimances at the pain of that, then forces more words out, "do ya want this?" No new wounds. She kept her word. That's... something, Bull thinks, struggling to keep the rage, loathing and hatred chained down in the darkest shadow of his heart. He refuses to dwell on Coquette's nudity, his gaze fixed ruthlessly on her forehead after a single, rapid scan of her condition. 

[Coquette Blacquin]

She doesn't answer aloud, reaching to take the crate from him. "Are you alright?" she asks, in a low, urgent voice. "She promised me you'd be alright. You didn't have to stay, I could have... you can leave, if you don't want..."

[The Iron Bull]

Bull offers a smile, and maintains it despite a hiss of pain when the expression pulls on the scabs around his mouth. He also doesn't let her take the crate. "Weighs three'uh you," he explains. "Battered. Fine 'nuff. Couldn't leave'yah." He has to stop there, carefully swallowing a few times. As he does so, he taps the crate with a finger, silently asking again where he can set it down.

And he still won't look at her, not even meeting her eyes.

[Coquette Blacquin]

"Anywhere is fine," she says, pulling back. "What is it?"

[The Iron Bull]

"Umm." He looks perplexed at her question-- and a little wary now. "Told it was yer stuff?" He thinks a moment, then corrects himself. "Told 'crate holds things fer your new--" a slight hesitation, "--boss's use.'" He decides against including the insults that had been in the original order.

[Coquette Blacquin]

Things for my use. Bracing herself -- Cedric at the ready -- she gestures for him to put it on the floor and tries to pry open the top. 

[The Iron Bull]

Bull does so, then gives her a hand prying the nailed lid off. He gives her a considering, almost impressed look at how much she's able to contribute, though his eyes quickly snap away from her. Once the lid is off, the first thing they see is a metal frame; or rather, as they quickly determine, three parts of a metal frame that they'll have to assemble to form a bedframe. It's long and wide but only an inch or so off the ground, and the padding underneath the frame is more durable than comfortable. Underneath the mattress are three sets of house uniform.

"Yer use? 's my size?" Bull frowns, trying to figure out how he'd misunderstood so badly. I'm exhausted and sore and-- His mind neatly punches that thought until it shatters. But I didn't think anything had gone bad with my ears. He glances into the crate, which is still half filled, the last of the three uniforms still on top.

[Coquette Blacquin]

"...she thinks we're fucking," says Cindy dully. Not as bad as I feared. Still. "I'm forbidden from wearing clothing anyway, now."

[The Iron Bull]

Bull shudders outright, eyes closing. But only for a second, then they pop open and fill with shocked outrage. Then confusion. "Wait, what the fuck?" He winces from the pain of blurting that out, but ignores it.