screwloose | [FML another RL ^_~ Between Stein and Vanessa]

Stein looked down at her, smoking, watching every flicker of fear, every reaction, hearing that little cough and seeing her start to try to free herself and then put her arms behind her back like a good slave.

He stared into her soul. Literally. It felt like he was undressing her with his eyes in the most sickening and privacy-invading manner.

"How much am I paying for this?" he asked. The words were barely above a whisper.

"..."

No one had asked her that before. She didn't really know how to answer. She swallowed, crinkling her nose up at the smoke in her face, before opening her eyes and looking right back. If he wanted to undress her with his eyes--no matter HOW creepy it may have been--that was perfectly fine with her. What could he do that hadn't been done to her before? What could he say that could top Birkie as Creepster of the Year?

"That's not how it works, Doctor," she replied in a steady, almost challenging voice. "This is me on my own time; I require no payment. I leave work at work, Doctor."

His eyes widened behind the glasses in surprise at her response. He'd thought... well, it had seemed to make sense. She had Birkin to fuck for free, so why come here to do it if it weren't for work?

He knew she wasn't weak - that wasn't a factor in the equation. He could tell, from the shape and character of her soul that she was strong, wilful, independent... and that she enjoyed submission as well. He could tell that, but he couldn't tell why him, and why now.

Releasing her hair, he smoothed it back down with gentle strokes of his fingers. He opened his mouth to ask the question, but for once his curiosity failed him. He wasn't sure he wanted to know.

Instead, he shrugged out of his lab coat and let it fall onto the couch. Underneath he wore a sleeveless sweater. His arms were scarred, just like his face, but they were also hard with muscle. Without the lab coat concealing his figure, Vanessa could see that his entire body was utterly fit and toned. Unlike Birkin, Stein was a fighter as well as a scientist. He was very strong, and if he wanted to force her to do anything, it wouldn't be difficult.

He drew a scalpel from his pocket, and the blade flashed as the light caught it. "I'm going to use this on you," he said calmly, letting her see. "You won't die. I probably won't even scar your body, but it will hurt. This is your last chance. Follow me, or run away."

And he turned to head for one of the doors leading off of the room. There was a straight shot back to the front door. And he fully expected to hear it slam as she fled.

Strong? Willful? Independent? Why yes, she was all those things. All those things and more. She wasn't just sex on legs; she was a reporter, God damn it...among other things.

And she was definitely not a whore.

She left her scarf on the coffee table before wiping her hands together and moving down on all fours, bemoaning the fact that she hadn't brought her mittens, knee pads, or feet pads. With her ballet flats still on, she followed him--not unlike a dog--and caught up to him quite quickly, rubbing up against his leg as she crawled.

"Not too deep, now," she said, shutting her eyes and nuzzling his calf. "Or my Mistress will have to have words with you."

She caught up to him quicker than he expected, and he paused with his hand on the open door as she rubbed up against him. He looked down, frowning still but beginning to believe.

"You don't have the sense of self-preservation god gave a guinea pig, do you," he murmured softly. "Even Senpai ran, sometimes, and he trusts me with his life."

He bent down and curled strong fingers around her upper arm. "Get up. You'll tear your skin on the concrete if you crawl."

Vanessa stood immediately, letting his strong grip aid her, though she didn't need any help jumping to a stand from something as basic as a crawl. She looked at the door and then back at him, smiling.

"It's simple, Doctor, really," she replied, tilting her head to the side. "You go too far, William finds out, your ass is in a hell of a lot of trouble. I dare say Albert might even find it appalling. He thinks I'm touched in the head anyway, just for being with William. And, since everything we spoke of on the community was public, well...if I don't come back tomorrow morning, well, everyone's going to know who I was with, now aren't they, Doctor?"

Stein shook his head, still holding her arm in a firm grip. He didn't want her to leave now. She'd had her chance. "You say all that like it'll matter to me at the time," he said.

His lips quirked. "Not to mention that probably the last person I'm afraid of is William Birkin."

He finally stepped through the doorway, pulling her along into another dimly-lit corridor. The heavy steel door closed with a clang that echoed on the bare concrete walls.

"Are you trying to scare me, Doctor Stein?" she asked, stepping through the door. Ten minutes ago she would have jumped at the sound of heavy steel door's clang, but she didn't this time. She wasn't even turned on yet, but the promise of some form of medical roleplay she hadn't even gotten her boyfriend to go through with kept her there. She had a sense of self-preservation, but if William trusted this man, what was the point of getting all riled up, even if he was a little creepy?

Then again, after the Masters and Mistresses and the others she'd seen at work, very little creeped her out anymore.

"It's not working," she replied, relaxing in his grip and allowing him to move her around like his puppet.

Edited 2009-06-15 15:15 (UTC)

"Yes," he admitted in answer to her question, then frowned faintly. He was trying to find her limits. She'd been scared before, but now she wasn't. Why did the moon scare her, but not the prospect of being sliced to ribbons by someone who was almost certainly certifiable?

He couldn't understand it. And that meant he was intrigued.

Spirit would have known that was both a good and a bad thing.

He pushed open another door. Beyond was an austere bedroom, just a double bed and a closet, lit by a bare bulb overhead. He locked the door with a practiced flick as it closed, then released her.

The scalpel flashed so fast it was almost invisible, slicing open her shirt from navel to right shoulder. A little blood welled up from a shallow cut. The scalpel was so sharp she hadn't even felt it until after.

She stood there, staring at him with incredulity until looking down at the remnant of her tee and the flap that showed off the cut he'd made. She looked back up at him before she went to take it off completely, starting with the hem.

"Orders work just as well with my sisters and I," she replied, smiling. "You could have just told me to take it off and I would. Should I leave my bra on, Doctor?"

"Stop being so calm," he replied, the scalpel flicking out a second time. The bra strap parted neatly right in the middle and fell to either side, baring her breasts.

Her calm was making him agitated, making him feel not quite in control. He was so fragile, and he looked away for a moment, taking a drag on his cigarette before dropping it and crushing it under his heel.

"Take off your clothes," he said, still looking away.

Can do, Doctor, came to her mind, but she figured he didn't want her to say anything. She didn't even turn, instead choosing to take off the remnants of her shirt and bra and let them drop to the floor. After a moment, she reached down and undid her jeans, wriggling out of the tight denim and letting it pool around her ankles. She kicked them to the side after a moment, flipping her hair over her shoulder as she stepped out of her ballet flats.

She stepped forward, closer to him, and smiled up at him. Had she been in her heels, she would have been able to stare right into those crazy eyes, but she wasn't and so she had to look up. After a moment, she brought her fingers--so small and fragile!--up to the scratch on her torso and let it smear the bits of blood across her breasts. Hopefully that would be pleasing to him, just that sight.

The movement caught his eyes again and he looked at her once more, drawn by the little wiggle, the way her breasts swayed when she moved. The scalpel scarcely had any blood on it at all yet, but there was enough welling up from the shallow cut on her chest that it smeared under her fingers.

Everything about her confused him.

"Is this real?" he asked, reaching out towards her. He caught her by the back of the neck, curling his fingers in her hair. It wasn't a violent movement at all, and his fingers trembled. "Are you real?"

He bent to kiss her, almost tentative. Frightened she'd blow away like smoke if he committed.

"In the fl--" she began, but was completely muffled by his kiss.

Kisses weren't something she did with Masters or Mistresses, not at all. She kissed her sisters, definitely, but never Zara or the Director. Not at all. Her mouth was too busy on Zara's or Jude's cunt when she went over. The Director had never let Vanessa pleasure her, something she didn't understand, but she wasn't one to ask why.

It was confusing, as was this kiss.

After a moment, her arms came up around his neck, fingers gripping his shoulders like a lifeline. She opened her mouth to him, tongue flicking against his upper lip, teasing him, willing him to explore her.

With a groan of pure need, he surrendered. He slipped his other hand around her, pressed it flat against the small of her back. The scalpel lay cold against her spine there, trapped between her skin and his palm.

That little flick of her tongue was what undid him. He opened his mouth and thrust his own tongue forward, tangling with hers, exploring her deeply and thoroughly as he backed her against the wall.

A knee slid between her legs, the fabric of his pants rough between her inner thighs, and his erection was obvious, pressed against her thigh. And she was caught between him and solid concrete as he plundered her mouth.

The scalpel cut into her when he'd backed her into the wall, creating a deeper cut than the first time around. She broke away with a gasp, which quickly turned into a moan. She'd never been cut into before, but she had a feeling she already liked it. There was nothing too awful about it, other than that it couldn't go too deep otherwise she'd get questions at work. A scarred slave wasn't something that anyone wanted to pay for.

"Doctor..." she moaned, head hitting the concrete wall as she reveled in the sensation of both the scalpel and his erection. He had been so quick! She hadn't even had to do much of anything, really, and here he was, up and ready and she was just so willing to serve. She didn't even care in this moment that he was William's friend. None of that shit seemed to matter, not here, not now.

Her fingers gripped his bare shoulders much more tightly, and she brought both of her legs up to wrap around his waist, pushing herself up further on the wall, at the perfect angle for him to take her as he saw fit. She felt the blood trickling down at the split of her rear, and the warmth made her moan again. "I'm real," she said softly, one of her hands coming up to maneuver around the bolt on his head and bury itself in his hair. "As real as they come, right here, right now, with you."

Edited 2009-06-15 16:20 (UTC)

He moaned again, deep in his throat. He wanted to believe her words so much. "Okay, okay," he murmured, kissing her throat hungrily and then lifting his head to flick his tongue around her ear. "I can pretend that."

She certainly felt real. So real that it was blowing his mind, overwhelming his senses.

He dropped his hand from her hair to the small of her back and lifted her, carried her to the bed with scarcely any effort at all. The scalpel bit just a tiny bit deeper as her weight settled against it, and the blood dripped faster. And yet he laid her down gently, leaning over her to kiss her hungrily again as her hair spread out across the pillow.

"Not...pretending..." she gasped as he paid special attention to her neck and ear. Her neck seemed to have always been a rather sensitive spot on her, which was why she loved it when William bit her there. It just felt so deliciously right, and she didn't have any other words for it than that.

She could feel the warmth of the blood pulling on the sheet under her, but if he didn't mind it, well, neither did she. She whimpered like a lost puppy back into his mouth, legs still around his waist as her hands made their way to the start of his pants confidently. She began to unbuckle and unzip without any shame or hesitation, her hands gripping his freed erection and stroking it as she broke away to flatter with a, "Oh my, big boy!"

He gasped and jerked once as she touched sensitive skin. If this really was a hallucination, it was certainly one of his most vivid. And strangely, Vanessa had yet to turn into Medusa, which would have been par for the course for one of these.

He lifted up to take off his sweater and looked a little stupidly at the scalpel in his hand for a moment. It was red with blood from blade to handle, and his hand was red, too. He hadn't even realized he'd cut her.

She was far too distracting, with her clever hands and flattering words, though. He tossed the scalpel onto the bed, tossed aside his glasses with even less care, and then pulled off his shirt in a smooth motion. More scars, and washboard abs.

"You..." he whispered as he dropped down to all fours again. "Incredible." He bent and bit her neck harder, his hands running hungrily over her smooth skin, thumbs flicking nipples and fingers massaging full breasts. He left smears of blood behind on her perfect skin, and didn't notice.

She stopped moving at that, completely limp and pliant beneath him. Incredible? Vanessa could dole out flattery and compliments all day long, definitely, but when it came to taking them? She stunk at it, and very much so. She sighed a little, moaning at his bites and looking up at the bare bulb hanging, the only thing illuminating the room.

"You're...just saying that," she managed quietly, hands finding their way back to his hair and scratching his scalp gently. "I'm trained in the art of sex. Of course I'm incredible. But you don't have to tell me that."

He shook his head, frowning a little against her skin. His fingers played over the shallow cut he'd given her before and he lifted his head to look at it, reaching for the scalpel. He was calm again now and his fingers scarcely trembled at all. The hand holding the scalpel was steady as a rock and he placed the blade against her left shoulder, next to the collarbone.

"I mean it," he said. "If I accept this as real - which it can't be, but if - then you're incredible. You're not afraid of me. Everyone is afraid of me, except Medusa and she wants me only for one side of me. Everyone wants to change me. You don't seem to. And if you just have a fetish for creepy scientists, then you have Birkin. You don't need me, but you're here."

The blade bit lightly, cutting in a steady line from shoulder to meet the other cut at the sternum, right between her perfect breasts.

Her first reaction to the cut was to yelp and pull away, but then she felt the burn of it and she then actually arched in to it. "I-I'm real," she managed through a pained gasp, her hands leaving to grip at his shoulders instead. "Really real. I'm...not afraid. I-If you want me to prove it, I'm pretty sure I could."

She arched into him again, this time rubbing her wet entrance up against the tip of his cock, urging him to go inside. "This could prove I'm real," she said after a moment, tilting her head and smiling up at him, fingers moving to gently scratch his cheek. "I mean, when was the last time you had an imaginary orgasm that was the best of your life? Because if you take me like the pain-slut I am, that's what you're about to have. Isn't that enticing?"

Edited 2009-06-15 20:12 (UTC)

He was careful not to go too deep as she arched into the scalpel, watching the blood well up with a clinical eye. He closed his eyes for a moment as she rubbed her entrance against him, gasping and shuddering at the sensation and rocking up against her.

"I don't know..." he said, opening his eyes again. Now he sliced downwards from the place where the two cuts met, a perfect 'Y' as in an autopsy, though just barely breaking the skin. They wouldn't scar, he was sure.

"I've never...it feels so real," he admitted. He tossed the scalpel away, pleased with his handiwork, and slipped his fingers around her neck, bending to kiss her again as he rocked against her with growing eagerness.

Vanessa couldn't stand it anymore, a cock being so close without actually being in her. She couldn't stand it so much that she used those leg muscles of hers and forced him down, practically impaling herself on his length. She bucked beneath him, hands going to his hair and again forcing him closer. She kissed him like she kissed Kashika or William, with as much need and want and hunger as she felt when she went through pleasure denial at work and finally, finally! got one of the girls to relieve her pain.

"Can...you feel me?" she asked through kisses, breathless. "You can, right? Inside...of me. You can feel me. Feel how real I am...nngh..."

He groaned loudly and bucked his hips against her, shifting and thrusting hard into her body as she pulled him against her. He buried his face in her soft hair and tightened his fingers around the back of her neck, holding her tight as he thrust mindlessly.

"Yes...yes I feel you," he gasped, scarcely hearing his own words. He could scarcely believe it, but it was real. He accepted it now, and he could feel the fog beginning to lift from his mind. He could feel that weight lifting, even as he pounded into her.

"I feel you. God, Vanessa..." His fingers tightened, bruising. "Stay with me. Please."

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