The Drow Queen of Glaley [Very NSFW]

[Zevran]

Zevran clears his throat. "Do you require a healer?" he asks, looking at Odette with mild concern. 

"What are you blathering about, male?"

"Only moderate bruising. No breaking the skin, no breaking bones, no deep bruises," Zevran recites. "Those were the terms you agreed to, just this afternoon. This is the third time you've," he coughs delicately, "forgotten details of the negotiation. Hence my concern that something is amiss with-"

"Oh fuck your fake respect," Odette snaps, then visibly takes a moment to gather her composure. "Fine. Turn her back a proper black, nice and even. I'll say when it's done."

"Very well, Mistress." Zevran inclines his head, then bends so his lips are near Coquette's ear. "Ready, love?" he breathes, tongue flicking out to just barely swipe the dull point of it.

[Coquette Blacquin]

Sweetheart steels herself, taking a moment to ensure Little B is locked up good and tight. "Ready," she whispers. 

[Zevran]

"That's my good girl," he purrs, volume raised to a loud whisper. Still bending over, he runs his empty hand down her back. Up and down, he strokes her skin with his strong, warm hand. "So very soft, my love. Smooth, warm... perfect." He presses a kiss to the soft spot under her ear, sucking just a little before straightening up. 

"Let us begin then," he announces. "Oh, yes, I almost forgot; Sweetheart? You have permission to be as vocal as you like. We are putting on something of a performance, no?" He gives her time to reply, to finish as well, then swings the cane for the first strike. 

[Coquette Blacquin]

Sweetheart's only reply is a nod, but when the cane hits her flesh she yelps, gasping for air after. It doesn't hurt as bad as she was expecting; Zevran's nowhere near as vicious as Varisia was. But she suspects the more she yelps and cries, the more Odette will be satisfied. And, truly, it's not too hard to dredge up. 

[Zevran]

A second blow never comes however-- well, not never, surely, but first comes a soft, pleased, laugh. "Ah, that first cry," Zevran says with satisfaction, his face coming around to peer at Coquette's own. His lips are curved up, his voice almost smugly pleased, but his eyes are filled with concern. 

[Coquette Blacquin]

Sweetheart meets his eyes, giving a small nod, a hint of a smile. 

[Zevran]

Shaking not his head but his eyes, Zevran laughs huskily. "Mmh, a bit harder, I think, if you can hold back any lingering whimpers." Stepping back, he trails the fingers of his free hand across the width of Coquette's back, careful to leave a scant millimeter on each side of that first strike. Without warning, the cane lashes out once more. Then again. And again. Each strike lands with a meaty crack, a visceral, attention grabbing noise. 

And yet... Sweetheart is no stranger to being hurt. She's been whipped, canned, paddled, slapped and outright struck. Zevran is hitting with significant force, her skin singing with each blow. Despite this, despite the speed and power of each strike, it doesn't hurt nearly as much as it should. Or rather, it's all sharp, stinging pain on her skin. Somehow he's managing to do almost no harm to her deeper body, as if... as if he were able to pull each blow precisely enough that he's not allowing even a hint of follow-through. It still hurts, yes, and her back is swiftly turning darker, the purple and red of bruises mingling with her dusky skin to turn a twilight darkness. He's also being very methodical about it; he's moving his strikes around, mixing up what part of her back is hit, but even a score of blows in, he never once crosses strike marks. It's doubtful he could pull this off on a moving target, an unwilling target, but the display of skill is still amazing.

And Sweetheart is probably the only one in the room able to notice it. 

[Coquette Blacquin]

The tears that form in her eyes are tears of profound relief, though there's not a little fear that Odette will notice, will claim foul as she has several times already. She cries out loud for each strike, and eventually, she is whimpering little sobs between cries, seemingly thoroughly humiliated -- or possibly, thoroughly aroused, desperate for his touch. It's hard to say when she doesn't speak, when she holds perfectly still and does not fight. 

[Zevran]

"Nothing to say, Sweetheart?" Zevran asks after a good three minutes or so. He's covered about two-thirds of her back with mild welts and bruising, turning her skin into a red hued, hazy shadow. As he pauses, he runs his fingers through her hair, then trails down her bare arm to her hand. He pauses there, covering her hand with his own, an intimate gesture made even more so given that she's resting them on her upper thighs. He completely ignores Odette, who is staring at them both without a word. Her expression is conflicted and shifting as her mask slips and reforms. Still, it's easy to see the fury that's simmering in her. It's also not that difficult, at least for Coquette, to see the disgusted lust and arousal.

[Coquette Blacquin]

"Please, master, may I have more?" She begs, looking up at him with pleadong eyes.

[Zevran]

Leaning in so that is appears to all but Coquette that Zevran is leaning against her abused back, Zevran presses kisses along her jawline. "Beg more," he murmurs with a purr in his voice. 

[Coquette Blacquin]

"Please," she whimpers, letting a little pain seep into her voice. "Please, don't stop, please, I need it, please!"

[Zevran]

Giving her one more kiss, he pulls back so he can continue giving her what she needs.

Needs to be done with this, that is.

Blow after blow lands, the sharp pains building into a widespread, lingering throb. Finally, the blows stop and Sweetheart realizes that Odette is saying something. "-not real black- -still need- -suppose. But I demand my apology now that she's been humbled."

[Coquette Blacquin]

"'ready 'pologized," she slurs, trying to catch her breath. 

[NPCs]

"Our deal was that you'd apologize after your caning." She sneers down at Coquette, her eyes intent and filled with fire. "I appreciate the first one, of course, but, as you keep saying, that's not what we negotiated for." I want to see you beg now, beaten and meek. I want you on your knees, wracked with pain, when you cast aside your pride with those prim and proud lips of yours.