nepleutpas | ( musebox ) mamoru/aya-chan

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( musebox ) mamoru/aya-chan

It's finally beginning to look like Autumn outside. But it's also becoming chilly outside.

She's not dressed for this weather. Actually, she's not really dressed at all. The laced corset -- strung on way too tightly, allowing little room to move, let alone breathe -- leaves little to the imagination. And the stilettos add so many inches that even standing by the door is hard to do. She's at least thankful for the stockings, since even if her breasts are exposed, some part of her is covered. It'd be far too embarrassing otherwise; even after almost a year of this sort of treatment, there's still pride that has yet to be crushed, after all.

She stands stiffly by the open glass door, trying her best to ignore the cool breeze. A car approaches, and as the driver opens the passenger side door, Aya quickly dips her head into a bow as low as her body would allow. She takes care to avoid looking at the man approaching for today's meeting; it's easier when she doesn't have to know what they look like.

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It's hard to miss the young woman, especially with no forewarning it was best to approach with an averted gaze. The master expected the sight to be a pleasure, he was sure, but for Mamoru it was only embarrassing-- granted it couldn't be half as embarrassing for him as it was for her. He caught enough from his unwitting glance and from there did his best to keep her out of his direct line of vision.

And it wasn't that she wasn't good-looking. Dolled up in a way he didn't particularly care for, but she had a nice figure and long, pretty hair. He didn't see her face, but maybe that was for the best for both their sakes.

It was just. Well. It was rude to look was what it was. Mamoru wasn't an idiot. He knew what the girl was and that were she not that, she wouldn't be standing there on display. Slavery in and of itself wasn't necessarily wrong, but using it as a justification to abuse another human was. He doesn't care to be used as a tool in this man's pursuit of that end.

"Excuse me," he says on coming inside, hoping he might slip past and find his way to the man of the house without further fuss.

She's grateful that he doesn't stare. She's become almost complacent of leers and objective stares, but the simple act of not looking at her was something that Aya did not realize she'd appreciate so much.

She keeps her head down in a bow until he's fully entered the building. Aya wishes that were the end of it: just meet and greet and the master would take care of the rest. But life was not so easy, and the master was not so kind.

He won't come. At least, not for some time. Just enough time, she knows, to make her feel as uncomfortable as possible. And just enough time to show his guest how much power he has.

She closes the glass doors behind her, and then recites lines she's memorized from a script. "May I take your coat, sir?" It's best to sound enthusiastic. Cheerful, even. And she tries her best to do both, plastering a soft smile on her lips. But the smile doesn't reach her eyes, and there's a strange, almost mechanic residue in her voice.

She hopes he won't tell the master.

Yes. Yes, you can take it, and for heaven's sakes put it on. Although with her hands chained the way they were, that wouldn't be very feasible. At best, she might be able to wear it like a blanket.

At worst, it would get her into trouble. The sort of man who ordered a girl to stand exposed in front of glass doors was probably also the sort to look for excuses to further debase her.

He slid the coat off and offered it with an extended hand. "Yes. Thank you." That was probably better for her. There would be no question she had offered this way. He looked more in her direction, but kept his gaze just a bit to one side, so that he saw her only in peripheral.

"Which way should I go?"

She took the coat, neatly folded it in her arms, and made an attempt at holding it at an angle that would cover the most skin. It looked awkward, and after a moment's struggle, she promptly gave up.

Unwilling to run the risk of meeting his gaze, she allowed her eyes to point past him, hoping he wouldn't be offended.

Arms raised as far as they could go toward a hallway toward the right side of the room. At least the master wasn't making her climb the grand staircase, and had enough kindness to choose a room on the ground floor to meet with his guest. (Or perhaps he just hadn't thought of it; either way, Aya doesn't quite care.)

She slowly maneuvered her way past him, taking tiny steps and wobbling, but at the very least remaining upright. "This way, please."

"Thank you," he said, and quietly followed her lead. The wobble concerned him, though didn't surprise him in the least. He was close enough now to hear more than what could be seen; in spite of himself, his cheeks colored with embarrassment. Add to that the nail-like stilettos and the limited use of her hands for balancing herself, and it was a wonder to him she hadn't already fallen over. How practiced she must be to such obstacles, and how unpleasant a conclusion that was.

Her owner did not aspire to rise from his kingly leather chair on their entry-- as much a signal as any to Mamoru of his nature. He invited him to sit and ordered the girl to fetch fresh coffee and he meant hot and that meant HURRY and you stupid girl why do you still have his coat don't you know that's what the closet is for?

Mamoru closed his eyes in a bid for temperance. He said nothing. Yet.

She'd expected the commands as soon as she entered the room. She'd done this enough to know that had she checked the coat, there would be complaints of having kept the client waiting. There was no winning, and Aya was resigned to that by now.

A wordless bow, and she made her way carefully out into the adjoining room. The coat was lain rather carelessly across a chair -- she highly doubted the master would check... or rather, hoped he wouldn't -- and coffee began.

She took this moment to take a deep breath. To ready herself for what was to come.

While the girl was away, the master of the home started discussing business. Mamoru tried as best he could to take his mind off the girl and to place it on the meeting. It took a few moments, but as they began talking and the girl stayed out of sight it was easier to refocus.

At least until the man yelled for her with a question of what was taking so long-- in less polite words.

Walking in her constrictions was hard, and Aya had accidentally spilled the first pot. The cleanup had taken longer than expected, and by the time the second pot was finished, she could hear the master's voice from the other room.

She managed to rush into the next room without tripping or spilling any more coffee. A bow of apology. And another bow that followed; she didn't dare speak.

She wasn't reprimanded for not speaking, but there was a sharp yell for her to speed up. Stupid girl, we've been waiting for the coffee for forever. Taking a deep breath, she stumbled forward to fill the cups.

The master's filled without mistakes. But by the time she'd gotten to the guest, her hand was shaking. A minor slip, and suddenly there was coffee on the table, threatening to spill off. In a panic, Aya reached out with her bare hands to stem the flow, wincing just a little at how hot the liquid was.

Mamoru shot to his feet with the clatter of the pot. What came next happened without thinking. The girl's hands touched the steaming puddle and Mamoru yanked them out of it. It was too much to watch her hurt herself, to listen to the tirade from her owner and to see the poor girl shaking with what Mamoru could only assume was fear. Still holding her wrists, he shot a quick look at her owner.

"Excuse me."

With no more explanation than that, he marched her out of the room as quickly as she seemed able to walk in those too-high heels, acting as a brace for support as needed. He headed for the room she'd come from, correctly guessing that a room that was used to make coffee would also mean a sink.

He turned the water to cool and held her burned hands under the gentle stream.

It all happened so fast, Aya had barely had time to react. The cool water felt soothing, but she couldn't stop herself from shaking dangerously regardless. Not only had she made a mess, but the guest--

One of the first lessons she'd learned was to make herself invisible. Which was next to impossible to do, considering the fact that the Master dressed his girls to be noticed. Even still, for a guest to take notice of her like that... she couldn't look at him, but instead chose to avert her eyes.

Out of the corner of her eye, Aya caught sight of something that only fueled her fear and embarrassment. "Your clothes!" Truth be told, only minor speckles of coffee, not even enough to leave a stain, but she was still horrified at herself. "I-I'm so sorry."

"Don't worry about that," Mamoru said, his own focus still on the burns covering her hands. What a thing to do. And it spoke mountains of the sort of expectations her owner had of her. That it might be even desperately conceived as preferable to burn oneself trying to stem the coffee's flow when it was safer and far more effective to run for a towel...

Not that more demonstration was needed. He'd already seen how he abased and abused her, but now it was crossing into physical harm. And this was what he felt perfectly comfortable doing in front of another? How bad was he when there was no one else there?

"Unforgivable," he muttered under his breath as he looked over the blisters forming. Of course, practically speaking, there was nothing he could do. He couldn't change the fact there were people like him in the world: those with power over another who would not use that power responsibly. Even if he somehow were to remove this girl from his hands, her owner would most likely simply find another to replace her, and the cycle would continue. It wouldn't make a bit of difference in the world.

It would in hers though...

He looked over his shoulder at the sound of footsteps behind. He didn't like the dark satisfaction that seemed to be playing at the man's features as he approached and leered at the girl. Like this sort of miniature disaster was exactly what he he'd been waiting for from her.

"Mr. Takatori, I'm terribly sorry. Please don't trouble yourself any further. I'll see that she's properly taken care of..."

Unforgivable, he'd said. And she'd thought the comment directed toward her. But she didn't have time to think of an apology, because the Master had finally decided to join them in the room.

Panicked, she jerked her hands from his, away from the water, and took several small steps backwards. She didn't like the look on the Master's face. It gave her an idea of what horrors would come.

Words wouldn't help her then. Nothing she could say would make the situation better; in fact, talking might even risk making things worse. Instead, she just bowed her head, as low as she could. And remained that way.

She'd backed away from the sink before he could catch her. It didn't take a genius to see she was terrified, and understandably so. The man was an absolute bully.

"I'm curious," he started casually. "How does one properly 'take care of' a slave in a situation like this? I've not had one of my own before; I'm not familiar with the particulars on the best way to handle them."

"Would you like a lesson?" Her owner asked, turning that dark glee to Mamoru.

"...Who knows, I might. Seeing the one you have here has made me wonder about buying one myself. I think I might like to."

"So happy to have inspired a potential convert. I'll tell you all about it over our meeting."

"I'd be much obliged. But in the meantime... given the trouble she's caused me and the benefits of a chance for a hands-on lesson... might you allow me? The hand of discipline this time?"

Her owner stopped, eyebrows lifting in surprise. The happy look about his face vanished at the prospect of his long-awaited punishment excuse getting snatched out from him. Mamoru quickly backpedaled.

"It's fine if not, of course! I'm sorry if I imposed too much. She is yours, after all."

"No, no," he answered, smile coming back. "You're right. It would be a good experience for you. Tell me: what are you going to do?"

"Well... I'd hate to spoil the surprise for her."

He laughed. It wasn't a pleasant one. "Three rules: be back in fifteen minutes, add punishment for any resistance, and don't kill her. I'm not ready for that yet."

Mamoru's eyes flashed. He kept his voice pleasant and forced the smile. "Oh, of course. You break it, you buy it, right? And I want the one I buy to be breathing."

Another laugh, and he gave Mamoru the directions to the room where disciplinary equipment was kept. Mamoru nodded once, thanked him for the opportunity, beckoned the girl to come with him, and set off down the hall.

Aya followed the conversation with great intensity. The more she heard, the sicker she felt. Part of her was almost disappointed when the task of punishing was handed over to their guest. After all, she was already acquainted with the Master's form of punishment. She wasn't sure what to expect this time around.

Shaking from head to toe, she tried her best to follow. She knew the location of the room well -- was very well acquainted with it -- but remained several steps behind regardless. Her legs felt like lead, and she had to force herself to continue shuffling forward.

Mamoru came to a stop outside the door of the room with the 'equipment.' He spent a moment gazing at it, wondering if he dared peek inside just for morbid curiosity's sake.

No, he didn't need to know. He kept walking, taking a glance at his watch as well to make note of the time.

"I want to go somewhere with a comfortable place to sit. And someplace private, where we won't be disturbed. Where would that be?"

For the sake of avoiding another look at her exposed body, he didn't look back, and as a result, didn't see how badly she was shaking.

Aya flinched involuntarily when they stopped in front of the door. She opened her mouth to confirm that yes, that was indeed the right room, but paused at his question.

It confused her and left her momentarily disoriented. "T-there..." it took some trying for her to find her voice, but she couldn't erase the tremble in her tone. Eyes downcast and voice barely above a whisper, she pushed herself to continue talking. "There are... chairs in t-the D-disciplinary room, Sir."

And a bed too, if he was inclined. The Master kept the room well-furnished for himself, after all.

That was not the answer he wanted. That room would have way too many negative associations for her, and he could hear the stutter in her voice. She was petrified, wasn't she. Well, of course she was. He'd put on a good act. No choice but to do so if he wanted her owner to give him some time alone with her. He wouldn't be allowing such a thing on a mere whim, still less out of sympathy.

Now that they seemed out of earshot from her master, however, he could afford to drop a bit of the act. Mamoru lowered his voice and quietly said, "Hey... isn't there any other room that could work? I... don't have an interest in that one."

Sympathy isn't something Aya was familiar with, and so she has no idea how to interpret his question.

"Is this room unsatisfactory?" He hadn't even looked inside. How could he know he wouldn't have any interest? More to the point, she's almost afraid to know where exactly his interests lay.

"What is it the new Master wishes for? I will... try my best to accommodate."

"Yes. That room won't work at all."

Because what he wanted was for her to be able to relax, and she'd never do that in a room dedicated to causing her pain. Maybe it was overly optimistic to think she would anyway, but he wasn't going to fan the flames.

"What I want... is to have ten minutes to talk to you. There are a few things I want to ask. Is that all right?"

To talk...?

Aya had been asked to do many things, talking was never on of them. She'd caught on very quickly that talking would never be her friend and that the less she did of it, the better it would be.

And so this current situation was quite the conundrum. She'd been told to do everything this man wanted of her. But what if that went against everything the Master of the house had ever taught her?

"P-perhaps the Master of the house would have better recommendations." She readies herself to turn and run -- or as close to running as she could get in this outfit -- down the hall. "I can find him."

"No," Mamoru quickly interjected. "I think it would be better if he weren't involved again. Here, we'll use this one. Come on." And he held open the door to a study.

"It's okay," he coaxed. "I don't plan on punishing you."

Her time here had started out in a similar fashion: being coaxed into a false sense of security. She hesitated for a split second and immediately regretted it. The less she resisted, the easier it will be.

She quickly stepped into the room and stayed by the wall, waiting for further instructions.

Mamoru followed her in and closed the door. From there the first thing he did was shed his jacket and step over to her.

"Excuse me."

With her hands bound together she couldn't put it on properly, and would probably find it difficult to put on at all herself. Mamoru draped it over her shoulders and closed the buttons so that it provided her with some warmth and modesty. Already that was much better. Still a far cry from humane, but he could at least safely look at her upper half now.

"How are your hands?"

She stands perfectly still as he drapes the jacket over her. The weight feels strange and unusual, but the warmth is comforting. Aya nervously rubs her hands together under the jacket. "They're..." still a little raw, but she'd suffered much more.

"This one is fine. Though, your clothes... the stains will be easier to get out if it is not allowed to sit for too long."

"I can buy a new shirt," Mamoru assured her. Really, of all things to be focused on. The shirt was the absolute least of his concerns.

"Would you be more comfortable standing or sitting? I want you to do whichever of the two you want."

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( musebox ) mamoru/aya-chan

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oh, hello... what's this... orz...

/glomps

I'msorryiloveyou...

DON'TBESORRYILOVEYOUTOO

OH LOOK. MORE NUDITY.

Mamoru brings all the naked women to the yard

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