aldersprig: a woman's wrists in handcuffs (cuffs)
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And the end of this thread of the Black House, for Rix





Bridge
“People, mmm?” He set a hand on her chin, looking her deeply in the eyes. “I’d doubt seducing them.”

She winced at his assessment, accurate as it was. “People thought I was pretty,” she offered uncertainly.

“You are. I didn’t name you Pretty to be sarcastic, Pretty girl. But you don’t strike me as the seduction sort.”

“Not really,” she admitted uncertainly. “I’ve never had a lot of interest…” she blushed as she thought about her unknown length of time in the trunk, playing wanton slut to the tentacle.

“That can be taught,” he answered, smirking. “I can teach it.”

She gulped. “Yes, sir,” which only made his smirk broader.

“But, if not seduction…?”

“Managing people,” she managed. “Convincing them of things. Getting them to work together. If Addergoole had had student body presidents…”

“The things Regine never thinks of,” he tsk’d. “So you’re good with people. I can use this – and I can use you to help run my business.” His leer brought even more heat to her cheeks. “When I’m not using you for other things.”

He stood, offering her his hands. “I think the drug has mostly mellowed out. Welcome to my house, and to my life.”

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aldersprig

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