at my feet you'll bow to me
Risque did not miss every slight infraction, every glare, every avoided question. She rarely missed a thing and even less than prone to forgetting. No, they all merged to create the crippling, metaphorical noose around his neck. How she was aware of it all and how oblivious he seemed to be to it. How the Feline Queen knew he would pay for every last transgression before the night was through. It perhaps was the very balm to the slight irritation of his rebelliousness. It was almost attention-seeking, the way he went out of his way to try. How easy it was to simply cause him to obey and yet, how easily he paved his own road to ruin. He never learned. It made her alpha all the more predictable and reliable in his defiance as he marched right off the cliff of his own making. How differently this night could have played out if he broke from routine and yet, did she expect any different from the likes of her pet? All that he could have been were seen as squandered potential and yet only amounted to be a weapon. Mindless, if that was all he was capable of, then that was all he would become. But how certain she was that apathy did not last forever. He would break one day. They all did. And she had all the time in the world.

Risque collected the desired tools she wished, the rope, the blade and the charm. She didn't need much. Most of the time she needed nothing at all. She did not say a word as her feline was forced to obey and suffer the anticipation of what he most likely knew was coming. She moved effortlessly, felinesque as the creatures she controlled. Every movement was deliberate even as she placed the chosen tools just out of sight before she invaded his space. She did not need to touch to know the way his body reacted to her, even though it was not lust but something that made his blood taste all the sweeter. His heart would forever be his greatest tell. A mortal being's eternal flaw.

She knew the effect her voice had upon him as she uttered those taunting words, curious to see what she could dredge up to the surface from him. Forever, sadistic as a cat that toyed with her mouse, rather than merely eating it. At least this time. Inevitably was there, always like a judging god, even as she prolonged that suffering. He said nothing. He didn't have to. It would have been impressive how impassive he was to her every word.... If she didn't know better. If she wasn't used to his disposition. If she hadn't heard the beating of his heart, hadn't heard that scream of pain she had already earned from him tonight. Maybe then. Just how many screams she could provoke from him she wondered. Enough to make his voice hoarse?

She began to work, not wasting any more of her precious time as she pulled out the silky rope, until his arms were bound and stretched to the limit behind his back. It was an intricate design, one that was visibly appealing to her. Of course, she could have simply contained him with her affinity. It was another thing to see the fruits of her labour and the pleasing way that rope bit into his flesh, for him to feel the countless ways she could render him so utterly defenseless. The act of tying a knot could be a beautiful artform. It was a skill, not of power, but of unhurried practice. How she knew just how much pain she inflicted, forcing his body to physically obey from those restraints even though his mind refused. His forged apathy and defiance had been useful in some regard, if only for a way to keep pushing and pushing and still take more. It made it all the more satisfying.

Just as satisfying as using a deceptively soft material over silver. A constant reminder that even beautiful, lovely things could be mercilessly harsh. Much like herself. How silver would have taken away from the moment. A moment where she wanted him only to feel every minute detail of what she was doing, not compete over the feel of that distracting burning of his flesh. The silver would have been a distraction. One that had no place here. She abruptly ordered her pet to turn, the she-devil appearing nothing but calm even despite her eagerness gnawing at her but she refused to rush. She could not see much of the ropes beyond the noose that tightened around his throat, noticing how it strained against it as he swallowed.

She inquired how it felt. Although he did not offer her a reply. No, he tried to spoil even this. But not even his lack of speech was enough to ruin it. Those words were truly unnecessary anyways. But the only thing he chose to reply to was the simple word 'no'. He couldn't move. But how she already knew this. She just wanted to hear him admit it.

"Magnifique." She uttered her accented voice that was more of a musing of her own warped mind. "There is an ottoman by the door, sit on it, mon chat." It was often where she ordered the feeders to be left, if not just outside the door. But there were still binds to attach to them, installed and hanging should he need more to keep him in his place. She reached for a blade that almost looked ceremonial in its design but one that she had hand crafted to be just as useful.

How she always enjoyed the intimacy of using knives, if only for the simple reason they were effective in getting through to someone. In more ways than one. How there was so much that could be done with a mere blade. She eyed it before she stepped calmly stepped before him, raising her hand to show off the blade. "Do not move." She used a hint of her powers behind that order, allowing that commend to settle upon him as a singular cool hand pressed into his bare chest to lean him back, using the wall for support. It was the perfect angle for this and yet how it put more strain on him. She realized that she had him in such a compromising position and yet the seductive lure of violence was all she could feel.

What looked like thoughtful consideration flickered across her beautiful porcelain features as she paused with those endless depths of her hypnotic pale blue eyes. "I have never been close to your heart..." It was impossible what she meant by those all too cryptic words. It held none of the fondness, nothing but an ominous hint to the torture he was about to endure.

The she-devil pulled her hand away only to replace it with a blade she plucked from the side of her. She knew enough about anatomy in every regard, enough to know how to prolong life as well as to end it. She did not need to hear the thud of his heart within his chest to know where the vital organ lay beneath the protective cage that surrounded it. Like that was enough to keep her out. The human body was designed to protect its greatest assets. She looked into those striking emerald eyes of her feline pet, the time for talking was through. She ran her blade smoothly across his caramel skin, across the plains of his defined chest. That blade slowly pressed into his perfect warm skin as she sliced down with a fluid stroke until just below his heart. It was a smooth superficial wound, to awaken the skin that drew more blood to the surface. The scent of it calling to her. His alpha blood potent as it was freshly brought to the surface. She eyed those wounds before she ran her blade again over his skin again, deeper this time, seeking to provoke more of a reaction from him, before she drew to that desired, calculated spot so close to his heart before plunging that blade deeper inside of him. How she knew she could have ended him with that blade, so easily.

She was careful as she found the perfect place right between the ribs, slicing a hole that was much more than superficial. The act was almost gentle, well practiced, like she could have been a surgeon in another life. One wrong move could have pierced the vital organ that pumped precious blood through his body, that so easily began to weep from the incision she made. How she began to turn that blade as if liking the look of it, widening that wound even more, but so very in tune to every sound that he made. Every ragged breath, every whimper that betrayed his stoic mask. "But I found that there is always more than one way to achieve any desired result.." She nearly whispered and yet her voice was no less saccharine. Even though that blood lust was calling to her, her will was stronger.

Unceremoniously, she pulled the blade out, eying that wound and its pretty shade that bloomed from his chest. How fragile he was and yet how durable too. It was easy to forget that his very life was within her cruel hands. If she were to get carried away too soon, there was no doubt that he could meet his end. Offering him but a moment of space, she placed the blade to the side before plucking that charm off the table, sliding it free from the broken chain, eying that hole she had made with a certain delight. How she could have enjoyed dissecting him further, to see that heart rather than just to hear it. She drew the charm to her lips in a chaste kiss as if to draw his gaze before she moved with impressive swiftness, a blur of speed and power sent her hand within that gaping hold she had made with her knife. She could hear the satisfying crack of his ribs breaking and yielding to her like she knew they would. Only to shove her hand inside, to make room for it. The sharp pain of her own hand was nothing to what he felt and yet it was worth it.

How swiftly her own hand healed, the hand that was buried inside of him, further forcing his body back against the wall with such momentum that he looked so broken and awkward from the force of that surprising blow. Her fingers brushed against his heart, feeling that muscle pound, beating frantically! How she wished to hold it in her hands. A mortal heart was such a beautiful thing. The most exotic fruit to pluck. It was a tight fit and yet it was like her hand was meant to be there. Her free hand pressed against the wall to keep her propped up. Their bodies not touching when she had her hand inside of him. She thought of all the things she could do. Enjoying the feel of his heart against her flesh before releasing that enchanted charm of a phoenix inside.

That bird was caged and so was he, a prisoner of her own. That symbolism not lost on her. She was almost slow to pull her bloody hand out of his chest cavity, as if wanting him to feel the steady slide of her hand leaving his body.

She looked at the hole in his chest, bloodied hand traced the mutilated flesh with her bloodied hand. When at last she wondered if perhaps she had gone too far. Perhaps she had pushed him beyond his physical limits and yet if died it only prove that he was not as strong as he appeared. He was not the worthy pet she made him into. She straightened as she watched his every reaction, drawing her hand to her lips as she watched, letting the hot blood run slick across her lips like her favoured lipstick. She withdrew, but not too far as she watched, quietly, pensive as his body chose to heal or die. either way, she waited, a lick of curiousity mingled with her impassive resolve. Curious to see if her new plan took or if he would finally sink. But how she knew the alpha, knew the fight he possessed.

So, she waits.

I like you damaged, but I need something left
Something for me, something for me to wreck