bakerstreet | The BDSM Lifestyle Meme

The BDSM Lifestyle Meme

The BDSM Lifestyle Meme

BDSM isn't all about the sex. Sure, handcuffs, whips and chains, toys, power and control-play can be fun, but sometimes it's about the other stuff too. The little stuff. The ways you and your partner give yourselves to each other every day.

So this is a meme to play out safe, sane, consensual and maybe even non-sexual BDSM.

If you want more information, check out:

The Ten Golden Rules of BDSM Negotiation
Sexuality.Org's BDSM Index
The Keys to A Relationship
Extreme Restraints

Be warned: Threads and prompts below may contain triggers, and will contain sexual content.

THE EVERYDAY:
1. feeding: using him as a plate? having her kneel and accept hand-feeding? maybe someone's been very good and should have a tasty reward.
2. bathing: after all, you have to take care of your partner. it's nice to have someone to get lotion in those hard-to-reach places.
3. talking/therapy: how are you going to work out this relationship? what obstacles do you have to overcome?
4. massage: some intimate relaxation.
5. dates: it's good to go out every once in a while.
6. negotiation: to work out what kinks are and are not okay.
7. nonsexual bondage: gags, bridles, chastity belts. some people just like the security of bondage in everyday life.
8. humiliation/in public: take your pet out to show her off; bend him over a bench and spank him for bad behavior.
9. animal play: pony play, pet play.
10. punishment/discipline: someone's been bad. maybe it's time for a time-out. or maybe someone has to clean the bathroom with a toothbrush.
11. other

THE SEXUAL:
1. the light stuff: some handcuffs, some ropes. nothing too extreme. maybe one partner or the other is afraid; maybe it's just time to take a break from the trappings and have some love-making.
2. bondage: chains, or elaborately knotted ropes, or full-body bindings. maybe even suspension in midair.
3. caning/whipping/spanking: for punishment and for enjoyment of the pain.
4. shaving: you like them with smooth skin. no beards, no lovetrail, no hairy legs.
5. piercing/tattooing: a permanent mark of devotion.
6. sensory deprivation: gags, blindfolds, earplugs, to shut out the rest of the world.
7. as therapy: exploring a past trauma or fear.
8. first time: one partner or another is experiencing the kink lifestyle for the first time.
9. kink parties: for casual play. mind the rules; drugs and alcohol are rarely tolerated, and all play must be consensual. or else the host or hostess might get angry.
10. orgasm denial/forced orgasm: until they beg for it, or beg you to stop.
11. ageplay: perhaps someone wants to be treated like a child. maybe a little daddy or mommy kink to go along with it.
12. role-play: taking on roles. master-slave, teacher-student, dragon prince and slave-dancer -- your imagination's the limit.
13. genital torture: pain where you're the most sensitive.
14. electricity: to give things a spark.
15. medical fetish: sounding, stirrups, speculums -- oh, doctor.
16. fucking machines: it'll keep in the same rhythm, no matter how much you beg.
17. other

Please do NOT leave your comment blank! (Blank comments will not be deleted, but we highly recommend that you post something.) Either write a note on desired kinks/undesired kinks or create a scenario or fill out the textarea below:

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[Hiya! Eric can certainly be a full-service dom for all Nora's sexual choices, so I guess it's just a decision of what trauma to use for the #7 aspect. Godric's death?]

[Sounds good to me, yes!]

The basement below Fangtasia was a concrete-walled space that had seen many uses over the years, very few of which were pleasant for most people to contemplate, including many vampires. But Eric Northman had never been like most vampires, and this space below his club had been where he'd explored all manner of the darkest corners of his own hungers. And though it had been host to many, there was one individual he had never thought to bring down there as a subject. But, sometimes fate had other things in mind.

He had been overjoyed being reunited with his vampire sister Nora, and ever since that time, they had been celebrating their reunion with a marathon of epic sex. But in between fucking, there had been talking, and one thing had gnawed at the corner of Eric's mind until he could not help himself. It was time for an intervention, his way.

How he had managed to temporarily subdue and anesthetize Nora wasn't important. That she now stood in the middle of a very specially configured space in his basement, naked, suspended and restrained was the point. Clad only in skintight leather jeans, Eric paced around Nora, waiting for her to come to. When she did, he stepped into the dim light before her. "You'll forgive the theatrics, but there's an important conversation we need to have, and I wanted your undivided attention. Do you know why you're here?"

Nora's first instinct upon waking was to startle, her eyes going wide and her head snapping up (well, as much as it comfortably could, given the odd angle), but that only lasted a second -- barely even that -- when she registered the ropes and how they were the only things adorning her body.

Eric's doing.

Eric, who'd managed to do this to her body without her even noticing but who never forgot her little quirks and rules, her complete trust in him to do anything for her and her willingness to do things that would make a human ache and her rather insistent preference for her wrists being more or less together rather than apart.

Eric had long been able to see what she needed better than she could, she thought.

Once he spoke, though, she became aware of how true that really was and how very little she wanted to be aware just now. It was a bit of a bold move, given her current position, but until she'd gone fully under it was her way to sass and snark like she always did, and the suggestion she offered -- "You've just got some new game you're itching to try" -- was glib as anything, but while she teased she wasn't bothering to pass it off as a feasible lie. She never did when they entered into this.

Eric gave her a half smile and a shake of his head as a reply. "Unfortunately not." He took a step back and nearly vanished into the shadows. While he spoke, he circled her, pausing at what in the partial light looked like a large, open armoire whose contents were completely obscured before moving on.

"No, beloved sister, you're here and in this particularly elaborate but effective predicament because there is something that you need to tell me, and we are not going to leave this basement until I am satisfied you are being honest with me and with yourself."

He moved into the light, allowing Nora to see he now carried a black rod, as thin as a pencil, that he was flexing slightly.

"I'm sure you can imagine, this is your encouragement. And to help you concentrate..."

He closed in and fitted a padded leather blindfold over Nora's eyes, securing it and stepping back. Eric twirled the cane in the air, letting it whistle near her ears before setting it gently to rest against her bare ass cheeks and speaking again.

"Tell me how you're feeling about Godric's death, Nora."

Elaborate but effective, indeed; like she was prone to doing, she was craning to see what he was getting up to and getting not a single satisfying clue. But she was still playing eager until, well.

Honesty with Eric was one thing, and she did try to tamp down her tendency to lie blissfully through her teeth with him. Honesty with herself was another matter entirely, and one decidedly more complicated.

She didn't yet speak -- it wasn't her turn, she knew that, she could always remember that -- but she did raise an eyebrow at the rod. (She'd sort of been expecting something such as, given the position he had her in, and she wouldn't hesitate to admit that it did start her getting a bit wet.)

And despite her mounting suspicion about the motivation behind this, she did so love to be good for her brother, so she moved her head as needed to ease his blindfolding her, that was just instinct. Dropping her into darkness, full-on proper darkness (she'd shut her eyes just as she felt the blindfold against her skin, it was a matter of will, too) was clever is what it was, and she knew he knew that, how it would work on her.

Instinct was what caused her to arch up just slightly against the cane, too, almost pleading for it, but at the request, the command, her jaw dropped. She wasn't surprised by it, but she didn't -- there wasn't an answer she knew how to articulate. Not really.

"I'm sad," she managed, her voice suddenly softer and absent of any of that attitude of a few moments ago. "Of course I'm sad."

Eric sighed. It was, of course, very much the answer he had been anticipating. For neither of them were emotions something to wear openly on one's sleeve, but over the centuries, Eric believed that he had come to grips with at the very least acknowledging and accepting the things he felt, even when they displeased or upset him. Naturally, he didn't always deal with those emotions in nearly as mature and responsible a manner, but it had only been a thousand years.

The switch whistled through the air again, but this time, a resounding crack followed its movement. Five times it flew, and five times it snapped against Nora's ass leaving, thanks to Eric's supernatural attentions, one single angry red line across her flesh.

The trouble with playing S&M games with a vampire was that their natural healing didn't dampen the pain, but did shorten its duration. Continually striking the same spot, Eric knew, would circumvent that.

"I asked for honesty, Nora. You are safe here. It's just me."

Five more lashes with the switch, this time leaving a random criss-cross of shallower, pinker lines.

The simple fact of it was that Nora wasn't used to being able to deal with feelings so clearly. She was used to pushing them down, ignoring them, forgoing them in favor of the endgame, and sure, there were exceptions, but there was also a very clear difference between the positive feelings that she could deal with and act on, love and pride and attraction and joy, and the more painful ones that Eric was asking her to explain just now.

She knew what was coming the moment she heard him sigh. The first strike could be withstood, the only effect it had on her was that she adopted a slightly more defensive posture, or as much as she could in any case, muscles tensing and back going straight as was possible; her neck straightened as well, her chin jutted forward almost defiantly. If it weren't for the fact she was blinded, it would have seemed like she was glaring. But that faded quick as it had appeared, each additional snap of the switch causing her to yield just a bit more. First her head drooped again, then her spine went loose, and by the last, her attempts to keep from crying out were failing dismally.

She was a practiced masochist, it would take more than this to get her really over the edge, but she knew what he was doing. Even these little spikes of pain meant she had something to focus on other than his question. Her divided attention, the potential to transfer this hurt she was nursing, all of it was intentional. The blindfold cut her off from anything but the moment, her body and whatever Eric would do to it, but she wasn't quite into her subspace yet (she'd need to be to be able to give him answers to his satisfaction, probably) and until then what that meant was she was hearing her own thoughts even louder than usual.

But -- but she was safe, she trusted that more completely than she could trust anything else in the world. His reminding her so just served to get her a little closer to breaking. Except, of course, that in this particular situation the fact that he was himself was also part of why she couldn't bring herself to say what she sort of knew she was thinking.

"I don't know," she murmured instead, her voice carefully measured even after the switch, "Why you would think I wasn't being honest about that."

Of course, that wasn't the issue at all, and she knew that, but deflecting had long been a strategy of hers.

Eric's eyes scanned over Nora constantly, watching her face and her posture for minute signs of how his techniques were affecting her. They'd played out scenes like this many times before, and he was all but an expert when it came to playing her top. Not that the role was difficult for his personality, but Nora was a very special kind of bottom, one who could only submit to him-- which made her the only person he would ever want to submit to him on any regular basis anyway.

The restraints and suspension, the blindfold and switch and especially the question had all set the scene for Nora. Even in darkness, Eric had shown her the path they were going to travel, and he was damned if they were going to stop before it was done.

"Because I know you better than you know yourself," he answered simply. "And your defense mechanisms are so strong, I know that you need my help to overcome them. So let's move on."

She would hear him moving away again, then returning. A different sound of something moving through the air towards her, and then the sensation of dozens of thin strips of rubber latex brushing across her breasts. Eric began to circle, swatting at Nora's body with the versatile flogger with varying amounts of strength. Sometimes it was a gentle swipe of the strips, sometimes a harsh lash that used every end to sting her skin. He used no pattern, chose targets at random, ensuring that as he increased Nora's sensitivity and bombarded her senses she would never be able to steel herself against the blow that came next.

"Tell me how that feels."

Once upon a time, a very long time ago, Nora had been an earnest little human girl with a few rather dark tendencies, and the problem with dark tendencies (especially ones found in someone otherwise bright and lovely), she soon learned, was that it was easy to exploit them. One of the first promises she'd made herself in her new life was that she wouldn't let that happen again, she wouldn't trust herself to just anyone, and in a lot of ways she could only trust herself to Eric. He could undo her a thousand times over, but he'd always put her back together.

She knew that, she knew it instinctively and absolutely, and usually she loved it more than anything. Usually her submission was a gift she could give him, and in return she'd be rewarded with hours spent outside of herself and so much in herself all at once.

Sometimes, like now, it wasn't quite that simple.

What he said was true, of course. He could see right through her sometimes, in a way that nobody else ever could, he knew her weaknesses right along with her strengths. He knew how to combat them, too.

When he stepped away, her first goal was to listen for what he might be getting up to, but before she could stop herself she realized she'd let out a little moan as much in anticipation for what was coming as in mourning the brief loss of even his harshest touches. Once he'd returned, then, it didn't take long for that to give way to a series of almost feral cries as the flogger hit her. In her case, the not knowing, the disequilibrium was almost worse than the pain.

The first time she tried to answer, the only thing that came out was a low, inarticulate whine, but finally she managed a very strained and slightly slurred "Unstable."

"Good," Eric replied. "Then we're making progress."

There were different reasons why individuals would choose to participate in this sort of activity, and a myriad of ways in which it satisfied their needs and hungers. Eric was not a typical dominant in that he needed to do this sort of thing in order to demonstrate and validate his dominance over another person-- he didn't need to. Not that he didn't enjoy it.

No, this was a special case. Tonight, he was part therapist, employing these somewhat unorthodox techniques in order to allow Nora's true feelings to be expressed before they ate her from the inside, and part surgeon, cutting away the things that stood between her and closure. And that if everything went as planned it would culminate in especially good sex, well, that was just a bonus.

Eric had used the flogger to turn Nora's entire body into a single raw nerve, ready to respond ten times as sensitively to stimulus. He walked away again, only to return with a foot-long plastic wand that ended with a bulbous knob. It was an inelegant-looking tool, but exceptionally effective. He'd taken her body low with pain, and now he would take it high with pleasure. Eric activated the wand, which buzzed angrily, then brought the knob end up between Nora's legs, sending thousands of powerful vibrations a second against her sex.

Nora actually managed a very, very weak laugh when he said that -- his words were clinical, almost, but then that suited in a way, didn't it. The voice of logic in the back of her mind, growing fainter by the second, seemed to think it did, but she didn't know whether or not to trust it, since it was also the thing that had been fucking up how she thought about all this, so maybe she just needed to ignore it, at least for now, it would be there when they were done.

As rather evidenced by the arrangement that they'd long ago come to, of her suggesting, Nora was far from a typical submissive, either. Anyone else who knew her intimately knew that "vanilla" was not a word in her vocabulary, period, and she might even let other partners boss her around or rough her up a bit from time to time, but when she wasn't in Eric's care, she tended to present as an archetypical domme, very much the one holding the whips and tying the knots and doing the almost-nurturing when it was all done.

Only Eric got to know this side of her. That, too, was purely intentional; the offer stood, it always had, for the tables to get turned some night, but she knew (they both knew) that she sometimes needed the release she got from being on the receiving end in their little games. She was an overthinker and just a bit of a control freak, even when the only reason he'd tied her up was to keep her from trying to direct things it did wonders to ramp up her body and calm her mind.

Such as now: she was fast approaching the stage where she couldn't stop herself letting out little moans and whimpers, not even because of any one thing but just from a simple gradual lessening command of herself, and the sounds went almost violent when she heard the buzzing begin, turning quickly into a halfway-mumbled chorus of "Oh, oh, fuck, oh, fuck" when the wand actually made contact.

Normally, if Eric wanted to deliver stimulation, he would have used his own hands. Depending on the context of what he wanted, doing so could be more intimate, more invasive or simply more dominating than using a device. But in order for Nora to feel the freedom to abandon control, she needed to believe that he had absolute control over her entire environment, her pleasure included. The wand delivered a massive amount of stimulation quickly and definitively, and thus was the tool for the job.

He watched as it did its work, Nora's body shuddering under its ministrations. Eric counted a long ten, and then drew the wand back suddenly. Now he used his hand, pressing it against Nora's sex. Warm and wet, but not to his satisfaction. He gave her the wand again, this time for twenty counts. The wand moved away again, replaced by his fingers. Nearly there.

Again he applied it, but this time from close enough that he could speak directly into Nora's ear. "Are you ready to come? Tell me if you're ready to come." The wand drew back. "I won't give you any more unless you promise to tell me when you're ready to come."

"Oh, fuck." Her hips jerked desperately against the wand, which tugged her wrists down, which set her arms and the bar suspending them to moving, which shifted her shoulders, which -- "oh, oh, oh" -- jostled her still-sensitive breasts, then --

"Eric." If he'd put his hand on her, finally, then -- then that ought to mean something, and though it wasn't easy given the position she was in, she spread her legs just a bit more for him, whimpering, then --

"Fu-uuu-ck!" It was impersonal but maybe that was part of the point, it was mechanical and unrelenting and it seemed like it had been only seconds against her and hours all at once. Her eyelids fluttered under the blindfold, her mouth hung open, her legs trembled, then --

"Bro-other, brother, please." She could beg. If he thought she ought to beg, she'd beg. Beg for his fingers to work at her more, beg for the wand back, she'd get it back anyway, and then, then --

"Oh, fuuu..." Suddenly he was right up beside her and she tipped her head in the direction of his voice, wailing loud at the wand and louder when it was taken away. He spoke to her, he offered and he promised and he asked, and it was so right and so even and so warm but not too warm and he had her and all she could say was, "I, I'll, I wanna, please, please."

"I'll consider that an agreement," Eric rasped. They'd reached a particularly critical stage in the process he'd planned for his sister, this forcible cracking and breaking down of her mental defenses, all for the sole purpose of exposing what he was sure was the rawest nerve in her entire psyche at the moment. Only once it was open, once it was acknowledged, then he would help her heal it as only he could.

Dropping the wand, which stayed close at hand thanks to a loop around his wrist, Eric's fingers returned to Nora's sex. He needed the finest of control now. He knew her body almost as well as he knew his own, and even in the half-light, he'd be able to read the most subtle sign of impending orgasm in the set of her jaw, the strain of her back, the slightest tension in her pussy.

He began quickly, not wanting to lose the momentum the wand had imparted. Eric's fingers brushed hard across her clitoris, and slid deep inside her center. They swiped and rubbed and teased at the tight entrance nearby. He worked hard and fast until he saw the signs, heard her warn him. And then his hand went still.

"No. Tell me how you feel about the death of Godric."

A few moments for her to fall back from the edge, and his hand returned, repeating the process over and over. To the edge... the denial... the question... the aching moments of inaction... and then again.

Nora smiled, though it was rather hazy; what she'd said was meant as promise, after all, and it was the best one she was currently able to force out, of course he knew it, he always knew it, he always knew her.

He knew just where to touch her, just how to. His fingers had explored her like this countless times, touching and stroking and fucking her. He knew what he was doing, how to make her come.

And how to draw it right out.

She wailed when he stopped and she was right there, right about to go over, her fangs dropped and she turned her head to at least threaten to nip at him, though she wasn't in much condition to menace and it wouldn't be menacing anyway and she knew it full well.

"N-no, no, no, no, I just... jus' wanna..."

But he kept going and kept going and her little pleas weren't doing anything (why would they when he was the one in control, he knew what he was doing with her and to her and for her) and anyway they were getting more and more incoherent, the words were melding together and getting fainter and fainter and somewhere in it her cries turned into her stammering, "I -- I feel piss... I feel fucking pissed off."

And it was out and there was no way to retract it, no way to even show embarrassment by hiding her face, it was out there.

"Now we get honesty!" Eric barked. "And honesty gets rewarded."

If Nora was expecting the wand again, or for his hand to reach down the front of her sex, the next few seconds would be grave disappointment. But then there was movement around her again, and at last, Eric's hand but this time, it curled over her hip from behind before his fingers found her clit. The shift in position became clear a moment later when his cock, hanging through the front of Eric's still-fastened leather jeans, slammed home inside of her.

His fingers rubbed, and his hips slammed hard and fast against her bare and still-reddened ass. If there was a way he knew to send Nora careening over that last edge into one of her most earth-shaking orgasms, it was like this.

"Why are you pissed off, Nora? Who are you pissed off at?"

Eric stopped cold, then switched to the jackhammer pace. "Tell me and I'll give you permission to come. Make me wait--" he stopped again-- "and I'll make you wait." Thrusting again.

Nora couldn't help it, she twitched when he said "honesty," that was more proof of her current vulnerability than anything else and she understood why, she did, but -- but she didn't want it, it hurt, he wasn't going to be satisfied with just that, was he, he wouldn't reward her just for that, not really.

She whimpered when he touched her clit again, sounding for all the world like she was terrified (Eric would know, the only things she was afraid of right now were more of that honesty and being outright denied) and displaying it, too, what with how her body shook, how her fangs were still extended, fight-or-flight and she couldn't very well choose flight just now and oh, that was the point, and, and, and --

"Fuck, fuck, oh, fffu-uck," and that was the only thing she could think of to say when he entered her, the leather of his trousers pressing against her sensitive skin and his length filling her so so completely, this was torture, there was no other word for it, and it only got worse, only stung more.

It was a desperate effort, and Nora knew it, but she still pushed back against him, part in an effort to get him to move again, part seeking something more than just her apparently elusive orgasm (comfort, maybe?) -- bound as they were, her hands couldn't do much more than unclasp and strain for nothing within reach, but they did, she barely even noticed -- and sure, maybe the tears were welling in her eyes, she was this far from losing it, but the only thing that fell from her lips was a halting, muddled, repeated "I can't, I don't, I can't."

Eric cursed silently. He'd hoped to have had her tumbling off the edge by now, but it seemed that his precious sister's fingertip grip on the edge was even stronger than anticipated. He needed to add one more dimension to everything else he was doing, one more weapon to the arsenal he'd been using to batter Nora's defenses with.

He continued to pound his body against hers, while his hands skipped around, rubbing her clit frantically or harshly pinching and twisting at her nipples. And now, Eric leaned forward and pulled Nora back slightly, using his great height to advantage, allowing him to speak nearly into her ear while not missing a beat with the rest of his ministrations.

"Yes you can, Nora," he told her, his voice low and almost soft but still commanding. "I know you don't want to, but you have to. You can say it. You have permission to say it. You need to say it, so say it!"

Really, that shouldn't have come as a complete surprise; between how stubborn Nora had always been and how desperately she'd been avoiding this particular subject even just with herself (though really, who but Eric would she have got into it with anyway?) it was almost inevitable. She'd pushed this into the part of her mind that she almost never went and where nobody was invited, because it was easier that way. What the hell would she be able to do with it?

Deal with it. Eric knew that.

Her body responded to his touches without her even thinking about it, hips grinding and back arching and tongue licking over her lips and fangs over and over. When he pulled her back like that, she outright shrieked, another of those sounds that would have seemed like a warning to anyone else.

Nora's voice was almost imperceptible, not just a bit tremulous, when the words finally slipped out. "Godric," she murmured, somewhere between drowsy and desperate and humiliated and heartsick. "M'angry at him. An' -- an' you."

That currently very intentionally faint voice in the back of her head was screaming at her for having admitted it, she'd had more than her share of reasons, but she couldn't be bothered to pay it any mind. All she could do was hang there and let whatever was going to, whatever needed to, happen to her happen.

"Yes," he said simply. "And now you can come."

Eric stepped back suddenly, pulling out of Nora and leaving her with no contact but the restraints for just a fraction of a second while he flipped the wand back into his hand, switched it on and brought it up between Nora's legs once more. If this didn't send her crashing into orgasm and through the very last of her emotional defenses, Eric wasn't sure what would. He prayed-- or at least, did the closest a man like him could pray-- that he was right.

"Why, Nora? Why are you angry?"

The answers weren't hard to guess, but Eric guessing was not the point. Nora admitting, Nora facing the truth-- that was.

"It's all right to be angry. You have the right to be angry. Just tell me why."

Somehow, Nora hadn't been expecting that, at least not entirely -- Eric had said it would mean she'd have permission, but dazed as she was she didn't think that meant right now. She hadn't wanted to say this because she'd thought it would hurt him, she was a big girl and she'd been dealing with it just fine on her own and she didn't need to drag him into it, but even if it did hurt him (did it, she couldn't tell just now) he had other things in mind, apparently, he always did.

As battered as she felt, as exhausted and quite honestly lost, her first instinct was to whimper out a rushed "nononono" when he pulled out, she wasn't truly thinking of anything but the immediate moment and what the immediate moment required was the feel of him, of something, against her, grounding her, keeping her here, but the vibrator whirring to life meant it was only a matter of seconds before --

"Oh oh oh oh oh, Eric, oh, oh fuck," she couldn't think about anything but the orgasm washing over her, her whole body shook and her moans went from pleasured to just slightly embarrassed, she could feel the burn of tears starting to spill from her eyes but she couldn't very well do anything about it and that was almost worse than the fact that she was crying at all.

She let her head fall (at least that could hide her expression a little bit more, even if Eric would know it anyway) as her body calmed, as the ropes took up more of the slack of holding her body upright, as she brought herself to whisper, "Didn't -- I, I didn't get t'say goodbye."

One of the many reasons, but it was someplace to start.

OOC: Sorry for the lateness of this reply. Not only was I out of town for several days, I just found out all my notifs since the code push have been going into my spam folder.

Eric moved away from her again, towards the cabinet where he set down the wand, but when he returned it wasn't with another implement. He raised a handkerchief to his sister's face and gently wiped away the blood tears. "I know," he told her softly, "I know you didn't, and I understand."

He stepped back, giving her a moment and regarding Nora carefully. Her body still trembled slightly from the orgasm, like aftershocks following an earthquake. Eric studied her for signs that she was past the point where he could help her, and whether or not he'd wrung from her all of the truth yet.

In his chest, there was an ache. Not because his beloved Nora had been angry with him and with Godric-- although that didn't please him, either-- but because he knew that anger had been eating at her even as she suppressed it with the ease of one with as much amazing self-control as her. He ached for her, which is why Eric refused to stop as long as he could help her.

"Is that all?" he asked, stepping closer again. "Tell me. I have patience and a lot more tools, and we're going to keep this up until I have all the truth, Nora. Is that all?"

Edited 2013-12-03 00:15 (UTC)

[No worry at all! I figured as much as the first, at least.]

It shouldn't have been a surprise that his words (an attempt at soothing her, perhaps, something to calm her) and the tenderness with which he tried to clean her up actually made Nora cry all the harder, sobbing and wailing and all but choking on her words as she tried to at least thank him for those little shows of caring attention like a good girl ought.

Of course he understood, he understood so much of her, he understood more of her than anyone, and this was something that only the two of them could share. She hadn't been able to let anyone else help her shoulder this burden -- how could they even begin to? Truly, who would she even consider? She didn't confess hardly anything to hardly anyone -- but of course Eric would help, of course Eric would have been sad and -- and possibly angry too? Wallowing in her own emotionalism would have been horribly self-indulgent, she didn't have time for that, but maybe this was better, getting it out.

She didn't quite feel the better part yet, but she would.

His question, though, undid any of the calming she'd managed. She could hear it in his voice, he knew that she was still keeping things to herself, but -- but she'd not even said this out loud to herself. "N-no," she managed to say, shaking her head slowly, "I -- I..." It took her a minute to force out an end to that sentence, though, and it wasn't so much an end as it was a whole separate thought. "I don' wanna hurt you."

The wall was creeping its way back up, but this time for a different reason. Now, Nora was using those defenses-- at least as far as she was concerned-- to protect him now, and not herself. True or not, Eric was going to have deal with that wall as mercilessly as he had the others.

She was holding on to things, hiding them. Eric knew that he couldn't coax or sweet-talk it out of Nora, and he couldn't simply beat it out of her instead. No, there was a fine line somewhere between that he had been walking since he brought her to the basement and he needed to continue balancing on.

Eric reached up and took a fistful of Nora's hair on the back of her head and pulled her up to look at him. He made sure the movement was sharp and sudden-- if there was more punishment needed, he couldn't lose the momentum built up from before.

"Look at me, Nora. Look at me." He held her eyes almost as though he were glamouring her. "You won't. You won't hurt me with the truth. You're only hurting yourself by holding it in, and I will not have that. And even if you could hurt me, I can take it. Do you hear me?" He slapped her across the cheek, just enough to make noise. "Do you hear me? I can take it!" Another slap in the other direction, marginally harder.

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