Red & Leyli: Heated Negotiations #2

"I'm surprised at you. Your first priority here is politics, unless I'm mistaken. Walking me about the city proclaiming that Leyli Shiman-Sekh is spreading her legs for you would make your dick and your ego very pleased I'm sure, but what would you gain in the long-term? Are you certain I am still speaking to Redouane Nicetas Isidorus, Mandator of the Imperial Basilikon, representative of his One True Lawful Roman Emperor, Tractatius the Third, or has this taken over your mind?" A deft hand gropes firmly against his crotch as she says the last part. Her words are spoken with air of friendliness, and she walks at his side clinging to him like a lover.

Leyli's groping hand is met with a soft grunt from Red, followed by a playful smile and his hand on her hip letting go for a moment. Instead, it goes around to her rear and briskly swats the gaudy thong from behind. This, of course, results in him striking against that plug well-buried in her ass - which, judging by the look in his eyes, was his intent all along. He immediately flows back into their earlier embrace as if nothing had happened, his words just as light and pleasantly-toned as hers. "Mmh, my dear Leyli Shiman of the venerable House of Sekh, you are lacking in understanding of Byzantine diplomacy. Let me explain. The essential thing is propriety - dignitas and auctoritas. And in Roman eyes, true propriety is Roman domination over their client states. The reality may be very much different, but it is key that there is least the appearance of abject submission before Byzantine power. As I said before," he murmurs while leaning in to nip one of her ears, "This is but practice for what you ask."

A weight bears down on the mans shoulder when he slaps the toy, weakening Leyli's knees and causing her to lean on him for support. "Ah!.. What a crude policy. And you call us barbarians?" She moves to regain her posture, straightening out her embroidered half-dress and continues walking at a brisk pace.

If nothing else, the Greek seems entirely willing to lean into Leyli slightly as she props her weight against his in an attempt to regain her footing. For the moment, his hand seems content to faintly drum against her bare hip, tracing paths over her smooth, dark skin. "Indeed we do," he says with a smug smile. "For Divine mandate has proclaimed that Rome - or, in this case, Byzantium, as the true successor to the original Empire - shall rule over all the peoples of the world with munificence and true justice." Red's pace settles into a matched stride with hers fairly quickly, seemingly uninterested in either speeding up or slowing her down. If she thinks she can maintain this, well, he'll not gainsay her. "In less flowery terms...if you've got the advantage, leverage it."

"I'm sure you are admired as a paragon of your homeland's philosophy." She playfully mocks him, adding a smile and a sly blink, though neither her dark skin or her veil can hide the hint of red appearing on her cheeks at this close distance. She maintains her pace stalwartly, though occasionally she closes her eyes with a wince, pausing to 'adjust' herself.

A faint grin crosses Red's face as he recognizes Leyli's flush, and it only grows more acute as she periodically pauses to shift and jostle uncomfortably. He dips his head in again, brushing his lips against her cheek as he speaks. "If it wasn't for all the cum in in you, milady, you'd be rubbing yourself quite raw at this rate. Ah, but I don't dislike your stubbornness, hmm?" How warmly - almost affectionately, albeit of a mocking sort - he phrases those crude words! But then he pulls his head back again, keeping his closeness to the way he pulls her body against his. "And I was born and raised into it, Leyli Shiman. As far back as I can remember - practically since I could string words together, I would imagine - I was taught what it means to be patrician-born. I'm sure this is something you are not unfamiliar with, hmm? The lessons may have varied, but the all-consuming upbringing should not be."

There is a flutter in her breath and her speech, a base excitement stirring in her body as they walk on, and a twitch of her fingers marks her arousal at the reminder of all the cum locked up inside her. There is a certain air of distraction as she speaks, finding difficult to maintain conversation. "Yes, I-I suppose we have that in common. Are we much further?" She looks away from him as she speaks, hoping to disguise her arousal.

A quiet laugh runs through the diplomat, one of his eyebrows cocked, and he brings his free hand across to slip underneath the scanty ring of cloth covering the top of her bust. With those deft fingers of his he pinches one of her nipples between his thumb and middle finger, the rest of that hand tapping lightly against her soft, pliant breast-flesh. He uses her turning-away to dip in and drag his teeth against the lines of her neck, his tongue flicking briskly as he does. Red pulls back only slightly to speak, and each carefully-enunciated word can be felt in his breath against her. "Quite a ways, milady. We're just entering Larnaca proper now, hmm?" And indeed, just ahead is the beginning of the port town's ungainly, ill-judged sprawl. "And the mission is right on the harbour. Are you...distracted, hmm?" His hand on her hip playfully palm-smacks her rump, this time avoiding her plug. "And I'm sure we have a fair bit more in common.”

Leyli squirms and gasps heatedly as he gropes her, though she doesn't pull away or block his efforts. She turns her head forward but tilts her chin down in a shy stance. "I've never done something so... so bold.. before. They.. They must not see my face." She turns to look directly at Red with a pleading expression, biting down lightly on a quivering lower lip. A flush of arousal is all over her face as she glances around, nervously searching for people recognizing her.

"And yet, if I put my fingers between your legs, they'd find you drenched like an aqueduct, wouldn't they?" His voice is heated, but, perhaps oddly, not accusatory. He rolls that nipple of hers between his fingers a little bit more, then gives it a quick, sharp tug before letting go - and he delivers a snappy little finger-slap against it on the withdrawal. Another bite on her neck and he withdraws, so that their eyes are level and straight - he simply smiles at her, a little wickedly, as his hand at her side begins rubbing in slow, circular motions. "Mm, and indeed, milady. They may see your lush tits, your lewd ass, or your greedy little cunt...but, mm, they can't see your face, now can they? You'd best do a good job of hiding that." And if to tease her, he tugs at the corner of her ad-hoc veil with his teeth.

She brushes against his side roughly, leaning into him to conceal some of his efforts from view. She rubs her neck tenderly where his teeth departed, then rubs her legs together as if to test his theory about her wetness, finding he is not far off the mark. Her face shuffles into the groove of his shoulder and neck in response to the nipping of her veil, burying her identity close to his pale skin. For a moment she grins mischievously at the thought of rubbing her cum-covered face against his neck, but decides against it for now. "I must be mad to enjoy this so. You are wicked." The way she speaks marks those things as a positive, rather than giving the impression of regret.

His free hand comes around to lightly pat at the top of her cloak's hood, as if to confirm the wisdom of her choice. "Mad indeed," he agrees with a conspiratorial curl of the lips, his own voice quiet but not utterly inaudible as they walk through those streets. Passerbys are starting to pay attention to them - him in his obviously-dishevelled Byzantine clothes, her in her scanty courtesan's outfit. Silence seems to follow them as they move along, the soft murmur of random dialogue petering out into awkward, uncertain quiet. And still he leads the two of them on, avoiding the back streets and hidden paths in favour of the major thoroughfares. Red's hand at her slide slips down for a moment to wriggle underneath the band of her thong, "shhh"ing softly as he does. And then he grasps the nub of her plug softly, rotating and lightly thrusting it inside her. His expression is utterly pacific as he does this, but his voice certainly is not. "Perhaps I shall lead you into the town square, bend you over the podiums of the town criers, and fuck you there for everybody to see," he muses.

She wraps one arm around his lower back, and twists toward him with the other on his shoulder, bending her back slightly to push her ass closer to the fabric of her cloak to hide his activities. "Don't..Nhgg! Don't joke like that. Humor ill suits you." She continues to mock despite her apparent submission to him playing with her body, a simple way of striking back at his ego. Her voice lowers to a whisper as they move through the crowd, and her body can be felt shaking against his own with a shameful excitement.

"You think I jest?" he purrs, that secretive little smile turning into something more challenging. "Do you really wish to call me on that bluff, Leyli Shiman-Sekh?" His voice drops as he utters her name, and he moves his head down a bit - a small nod towards her desire for privacy, but still, it's not as if he was completely whispering... His hand down at her backside continues its almost lazy toying with the wooden implement buried in her rear hole, the only thing between her and two frenetic orgasms' worth of his seed spilling down her legs. Here a little twist, there a few pumping motions; he seems fond of twirling it around within her taut sphincter, as if it was a spinning toy for a child's amusement. He presses his body back against hers a little bit more as she quivers tangibly, and a soft "hmm..." escapes him. Somewhere, somebody amidst the growing crowds lets out a wolf-whistle. It doesn't seem to faze Redouane though, who simply continues speaking in his quiet tones. "Are you even going to be able to continue walking at this rate, you lusty little wench? Or do I need to drag you into an alley and slut-fuck you sloppy to take your mind off the greed between your legs?"

She bats his hand with a scolding gesture, straightens her posture and eyes him with a lusty, venomous glare as she snakes her long tongue out to lick at a tiny dab of cum sticking to her cheek. Her breath and speech remains hot and flustered, but she manages to alter her stride into a sultry but dignified sway. "Patience, my insatiable whore-master. I still have my priorities, after all. Let's continue." She seems to quickly be growing used to the attention, and seeming secure that she isn't being recognized, even starts to enjoy it more openly, swaying her hips out in response to the whistle.

An open laugh at her little show of resistance escapes Red, and he responds by bringing his batted-away hand down hard on her fleshy backside - the smack rings out through the uncanny quiet, and, of course, he lined up his palm to come down forcefully against the plug in the process. Cat-calls ensue, mingled with a spattering of mocking applause and a few shocked gasps. But the man gives it all no care as his hand resumes its place on her hip, tugging her firmly aside him as they head into the outskirts of the main market. "Mm, very good, milady," purrs Red, completely unfazed. "You think I can't feel the way you're trembling? The look in your eyes? You want my cock inside you again, don't you?" He's all wanton whispers now, although anybody looking closely at the two of them - and that is no insignificant number of people by this point, some seemingly having decided to follow along in a straggling pack - may be able to discern his intention simply by the sharply salacious expression on his face. "Are you wondering whether your cum-stuffed ass could take a third load, milady? Or are you imagining what it would be like to have my bastard-born Greek seed flood your pure-blooded womb?" His fingers sink into the flesh of her hips with each word, and he growls once he is done.

She responds with an almost melancholy regret, rubbing her hand up and down his chest affectionately, and keeping her voice to a whisper. "In another world, without ancient blood and duty, I may have taken up your offer to bend me over and fuck me in the town square, moaning without a care as you fill my cunt with your fertile seed." She tugs sharply against his tunic to emphasize her sincerity, but reigns back and fixes up the misaligned fabric as she continues. "But there is more at play here than even you with all your cunning understands. Should we do such a thing. Neither of us would survive the week." In a gesture to mimic his own teasing, she moves her mouth and gently presses her teeth against his neck and shoulder, pointy canines nearly bruising the flesh as a grin pushes them down harder.

His eyes flicker wantonly at her admission, and then he murmurs approvingly at the feel of her teeth against him - even when she presses them down harder. If anything, that actually seems to squeeze a ghost of a pleased sigh out of him, and he brings his free hand up to trace fingertips along the undersides of her breasts, teasing where her healthy bust meet her lithe midriff. "Mmh, it's almost - almost - enough for a man to say that the risks are worth it, but we both know better than that, don't we?" He's hotly playful as he speaks, his other hand scraping his nails over her hip while he speaks. "So we'll have to wait until we're in private before I 'fill your cunt with my fertile seed,' Leyli." A sharp pinch against the luscious curve of her breast-flesh. "Against the door as soon as it closes, perhaps." The docks are not too far from here, and yet...

With a quick and dextrous twist of her hips, the hand scraping against her leg suddenly finds itself shunted underneath her dress to her inner thigh, greeted by a familiar warmth underneath the silky skin. His words provoke an unexpectedly honest giggle, then, just before she starts a sentence, another hushed burst of laughter - not menacing or mocking, but of fun and child-like joy, greatly juxtaposing the reality of the entire situation. She fends off the hand fondling her breasts with a playful swat, then folder her arm around him again and pushes forward.

Although Red's initial response to Leyli's twisting was to clamp his grip down her all the harder, one he realized what she was up to, he proved all-too-willing to go along with her motions. And so that hand of his, exiled from the happy place it had spent nearly the entire trip occupying, busies itself by scraping up her thigh and nestling against her cloth-covered crotch, his fingers sliding up and down the outlines of her lips with slow firmness. "Like that idea, do you?" He grins playfully there, the sound of her joyous laughter both surprising and...soothing, almost. Ah, but a man can't let his guard down too much, especially with such a woman, now can he? Meanwhile, Leyli's deft hipwork - visible through the sway of her cloak, if nothing else - seems to have drawn a new round of jeering whistles and shouts from bystanders, including a rough call of "How much for a night, honey?" Red simply chuckles at that one, and slips his fingers up and down the fabric of her thong all the more.

Leyli purrs at all the attention but remains silent and avoids looking at any of the people around her directly, keeping her attentions directed at the man at her side for the duration. She maintains a teasing sway of her hips, though there is an incredibly subtle gesture in the way she moves, seeming always to ensure the slightly thicker than normal seam at the waist of her dress is never touched. "Perhaps I do.. But business always must come first."

"Perhaps I shall not give you a choice, then," he says with teasingly narrowed eyes. That hand between her legs slips back up behind her for a moment to press at the wooden plug through her thong, but they soon resume their position between the apex of her thighs, stroking and rubbing with gradually-increasing force. The harbour is plainly visible now, its long piers and busy crowds just a stone's throw away. The salty smell of the sea is overwhelming, and the humming of human activity drowns out most other things. Even some of the vocal appreciations from Leyli's 'admirers.' "Mm, it's right over there," Red gestures, pointing at what appears to be a modestly-sized shipping warehouse nearly overlooking the water itself. And indeed, on the door, an etched Byzantine cross can be seen. "Not far now, Leyli Shiman-Sekh," he whispers, taking the opportunity to slightly nudge her thong aside so that he can scrape fingertips over her bare flesh.

A jeer from the crowd erupts behind them as Leyli pushes her skirt and cloak, momentarily exposing a full third of her round ass before the clock covers her again. With lusty, though very hushed moan she unfastens her thong from her waist, the pressure of the dress the only thing holding it in place. The embroidered fabric covering her sex droops slightly, just enough for a finger to slip underneath. Her gaze is locked onto Redouane as she does this, licking her lips. Then with a sudden movement she rolls against him, her back now to his chest and one knee climbing upward to rest at his hip. Her hands move to his shoulders, putting her in a position allowing him to easily pick up and carry her. "Aah! Would you force yourself on me again before we've concluded our negotiations? If that's how things are, then I shall not take another step." She carries a less-than-serious demeanor as she speaks, more of a sarcastic dare than a challenge.

Leyli's shameless movements - the way she teases the crowd, her unfastening of her thong so that his fingers have easier access, her heated moan and her lusty gaze - draw a growl out of the Greek, who is moving in to kiss her fiercely just as she spins around. When she makes her mocking declaration, he simply laughs shortly and sharply before he takes advantage of her positioning to pick her up. Ah, but he does not stop with simply scooping her up like that - he carries through on the motion, slinging her over his shoulder outright, leaving her to face the crowd as he walks those last few steps towards the mission. A series of raps on the door is followed by the sound of keys fumbling in locks, and Red takes this opportunity to turn toward their followers. He says nothing at this moment; he simply grins. And then he flips her cloak up over her back before wrenching her skirt up, leaving her barely-held thong to flop down. He reaches down to snatch it before it can fall away utterly, and for long moments he holds her like that - her lower body completely exposed before the crowd, the plug and her wetness alike fully exposed. And in case anybody could not see, he grabs one of her luscious rear cheeks and pulls it aside, completely revealing her holes to a mix of sharp inhalations, wild cheers, and fierce whistling. A hard slap against her cheeks, aimed squarely at the plug, follows, and then he turns around to duck inside the door. He is laughing as he does this, shifting his head to sink his teeth into her flank.

Leyli lets out a playful scream as she's flung over the mans shoulder, and dips her head down close to his back to conceal her face as she claws at his tunic, pulling it up to scratch at the bare skin of his back. When he spins her around she brings her sandalled feet up to her rear, kicking in mock distress as her most private places are exposed to the crowd. Her sex glistens with a radiant twinkle as the sunlight hits it, positively dripping with her wetness by this point. The slap provokes a startled yelp and a tightened grip of his shirt as she's brought indoors.

As he reaches around to close the door behind them, he's still laughing against her hip, his teeth pressed assertively into its soft flesh. And then his hand moves from the doorknob to her sex, one finger and then the other slipping up and down the length of her exposed slit before being pressed inside with a wriggling, writhing motion. Of course, what Leyli cannot see from her position slung over her shoulder is the room full of Byzantine soldiers, clad in full mail panoply staring intently at the new arrival in the room - however, she can most likely hear their raucous laughter and lusty growling, or the way armoured fists are pounding against wooden tables.

"Who's the cunt?" shouts out one man in heavily accented Greek, to which Red stops biting her long enough so that he may laughingly respond "Just some whore I picked up on the way back!" in the midst of giving her folds a rough finger-pump. Redouane then follows up with a shout of "Silas! Wine, food, some warm towels, and anything that needs to be brought to my attention to my personal quarters! Half-an-hour!" as he leads her through that antechamber of plain wooden tables, hastily-assembled partition panelling veering off into side-rooms, and by hungry-eyed, fully-clad soldiery to an inlaid hardwood door at the back. Unlike the rest of the lobby, which appears to have been cobbled together quickly and cheaply, this was obviously imported. And so Red pushes the door open.

The encroaching fingers are met with a gripping tightness of her walls, just barely able to squeeze into her naughty hole despite the thorough coating of horny lubrication. Keeping to her business-first attitude, she cranes her back and slaps at the hand penetrating her cunt. "Patience, patience!" The pumping in and out quickly causes her to lose balance, slumping against his back with a giggle. She gives the soldiers a shy wave with her fingers as she's carried into the next room.

Leyli's demure wave - so utterly at odds with the finger-fucking she is receiving on Red's shoulder - draws a new round of laughter and table-thumping from the soldiery, with another one of them shouting "Let us have her when you're done!" - a sentiment that draws a rousing roar of approval from the rest of the mission's security detail, which turns into a chorus of scabbards banging against the floor. Red shouts "Only if she's bad!" back over his shoulder before he closes that second door behind them as well, laughter still rippling through him. This next room is surprisingly lush in its appointments: dark hardwood panelling and damasked silk carpets, dominated by a large, heavily-inlaid desk. Various tapestries replete with Byzantine iconography cover the walls, and everything seems to be in shades of crimson or purple - expensive dyes at the best of times. But this room, too, he seems to have little interest in - there is a small staircase leading up from one of the back corners, which Red proceeds towards. Red's fingers do not seem dissuaded at all by her slap, and they continue their brisk movements; right now, his attention seems to be focused on little corkscrewing motions that rub hard against the front wall of her womanhood. His grip is surprisingly firm given his slender build, and he's humming jauntily with each step.

No longer a reason to hold back, Leyli voices her feelings with more of her melodic moans, though now they almost sound complaining. She kicks her legs up and down and wiggles her feet, nearly losing a sandal just hanging on a pinkie toe. She balls her fists and gently taps against his back in mock blows. "Nngg..! Enough, enough!”

"Enough? Are you not enjoying this, o Leyli Shiman? Or do you not wish to come from my fingers alone?" Red, for his part, does not seem to consider the fact that they are now in private any reason to conduct himself differently - he simply chuckles throatily, his fingers in her sex pumping harder. In fact, he shifts his hand around a bit so that he can bring her thumb to bear, and uses it to brush over her clit. First a rough rub, and then tight circles; his fingers are smooth and soft, but he is hardly gentle with them as he slides his fingers within her folds down harder, as if he was pinning her nub between thumb and those internal fingers. He takes his time going up that small flight of stairs, seemingly one step for each barrage of thrusting, curling, scraping, stroking fingers; the small, far-less-imposing door at the top seeming infinitely far away. Still, eventually they do reach it...and, if anything, his fingerwork only intensifies further, practically grinding her clit with the press of his thumb.

Leyli doesn't manage a reply. Rather, she responds with a series of squeaks and impassioned calls that make it difficult to discern whether she is wracked with pleasure or about to cry, though the clenching of her inner walls and the fierce clawing at his back indicate the former. By the time they reach the top of the stairs she is wiggling and squirming hard, bumping into the railing and losing one of her sandals somewhere along the way. "Mmm! Mhmm..g-gonna...cum. Aah!"

"Do it," he practically purrs. Of course, he gives her more than verbal encouragement; he rolls his fingers around in her broadly, thrusting and sliding them back and forth in broad, circular motions, stretching out her tight, soaking sex as he does. The thumb on her clit works all the more intently, matching his internal work with another round of close-in, ring-patterned grinding. Here and there he applies just the faintest hint of nail to that swollen nub of hers, but it is more for contrast than anything. His internal fingers switch over to hard, rough pumps against her g-spot, synching with hard back-and-forth motions against her bud, and his hand around her waist shuffles so that he can reach and give the plug in her ass a sudden, wrenching twist. "Do it," he says again - but this time he is practically growling, his eyes keenly intent.

Sliding and grinding against him like a constrictor, Leyli clings against his waist as if fearing to fall. She bends the knee farthest from him and opens it outward slightly, allowing a bit more space for his fingers to move as they fuck her. The relentless working of her clit and that final twist of the plug in her ass easily sends her writhing and spasming against him, making her difficult to hold on to. Her delicate little cunt contracts violently in a toe-curling orgasm. A blissful squeal is muffled as she sinks her teeth into the fabric of his tunic, with a pair of her pearly teeth unintentionally catching skin beneath in a painful pinch.

Red's growl sharpens as she bites into him, and then he slips his fingers out of her, giving her a wet slap ring against her drenched, quivering as a parting gift. And then he is opening the door before them, stepping through it, all-but-slamming it behind them, and slinging her off his shoulder - it is a dizzying sequence of events, and he is hardly handling her gently as he does it. The room is of middling size, with a fair portion of it taken up by a large bed. The rest seems to be a fireplace, a small table, several chairs, a work desk, and what appears to be some sort of armoire or cabinet set. There is another door towards the back, and there are no carpets, not even an area one - but all of these are details that may be difficult to discern, with the way that Red is all-but-throwing her off from him and against the door, whereupon he pins her against it with his own body. He is staring intently at her now, eyes keen and predatory; his breathing is deep and heavy. And, it would seem, his hands are already going to his pants...

With blurred vision and a dizzied head from being upside down, Leyli barely takes in any of her surroundings. She simply finds herself slammed against a door as she comes out of her haze, a sudden rush of awareness coming with a deep breath and a worried expression as she sees those predatory eyes. "Wait no.. Stop, I was serious!" She squirms and twists away from the door, pushing back against him with her hands. Somewhere on the floor lies her cloak, fallen off some time while she was being tossed about, exposing her dirtied and used face.

It takes practically no time at all for the Byzantine to have unlaced his breeches enough to pull his hard, swollen cock out - in fact, it practically springs out, if anything, and slaps up against her lithe stomach, completely engorged and already glistening at the tip with pre-come. If he's in any mood to listen to her lamentations, he makes no show of it; instead he brings a hand up to her still-stained face and drags his thumb over her lips. And then he forces his mouth on hers, teeth bumping against hers in his intensity, his lips pressing down against hers with a fierce pressure that matches the way he is pinning the rest of hers. If he cares at all for any traces of his own release that may remain, he shows absolutely no signs of doing it. And now one of his hands is between her legs again, grabbing one of her lush, slick thighs, pressing it aside as he shifts his hips and drags his turgid prick down her stomach and over her wet lips, rubbing it back and forth in anticipation for what is to come.

She tries to pull back away from the kiss, but the back of her head finds only the door. Her slim arms are no match for the mans strength, making her attempts at pushing him off wasted effort. A futile whimper of protest escapes her trapped lips as she feels the cock slicking her belly with its precum. Her chest heaves against him with heavy breaths, firm, dusky nipples rubbing against the fabric of his tunic. With an abrupt twist of her neck she breaks the kiss, though makes no further sound of protest, instead she lifts her thigh even higher and makes a hushed request. "Just.. Don't cum inside."

A single bone-jarring thrust - that's all it takes for Red to completely bury himself inside Leyli, his straining shaft completely hilting within her sodden vaginal depths. The smack of his crotch colliding into hers rings out through that small room, and the force with which he penetrates her slams her back against the door, driving the plug in her backside hard against her in the process. His hand on her thigh slides and scrapes along to underneath her knee, holding her leg up just that much more to ease his movement, and he almost completely withdraws himself from her sex before driving forward again, every bit as hard as the first. If there's any initial resistance in her, he seems keen on smashing through it utterly in these first paces. He simply grunts at the feel of her clenching around him, but a slight grin comes to his face at her request. "And if I do?" he hungrily smirks, just before fiercely spearing her with his prick again.

Each thrust provokes a painful cry, the tight little hole stretching against thick cock so roughly pumped into her. She stands on the tips of her toes on the leg still on the floor, bending slightly at the knee and shivering, begging to be picked up. The threat seems to stir something within Leyli, the measure of resistance he's so eager to crush rears up, clearing her mind of the influences of lust and desperate need to be fucked. Her hands slide down her belly to her entrance, dainty fingers brushing the edges of his cock as is pounds into her, not obstructing but giving her a small measure of control. "You mustn't! Please.."

He makes a slightly annoyed sound at her rather lopsided stance, and so he reaches over and grabs under the knee of her other leg, pulling that up as well - now holding the soft, dusky-skinned woman completely up off the ground, pinning her against the door with his body and, of course, his hard, assertive thrusts. He bites her bottom lip and tugs at it slightly, giving it a little suckle, before he lets go of that and simply presses his forward to hers, his sky-hued eyes bright in the modestly-lit room. "You want it," he growls, just after completely sinking every inch of his swollen manhood into her, a faint shiver running through him at the wispy brushing of her fingertips. He begins grinding his crotch against hers in a circular motion, doing short little stabbing thrusts as he does, stretching out her slick but under-used sex. "You wanted me to cum in your ass and you wanted my cum in your mouth and on your face, Leyli; don't even try to deny it!" Another fierce pounding, the door creaking precariously behind them as he drives her back against it with a bruising slam, his lower back really arching into it. "I heard your moans and the look on your face. And you want it in your slut cunt as well, don't you?"

"Don't be a fool! After all I've done you believe it's modesty that grips me now? This is about more than mere desire. You must not impregnate me!" Her fingertips move to her stretched opening, the tight walls clinging around the thick member as it moves out of her. She clutches and stretches her folds to ease the passing of this punishing cock, though also threatens to dislodge it should he try to release inside of her. Despite her serious demeanor her toes still remained curled and her breath continues in staggered puffs of pleasure.

"I-inngh-it wouldn't do to have my illeg-guh!-gitmate Byzantine seed spill in your p-pah-hah-hahhh-perfect little womb, now would it?" Her additional stretching and the improved position both ease his thrusting, and he seems to be moving into a more controlled pattern of penetration - although he does not give her a steady rhythm, he begins shifting away from those brutal, hip-shuddering thrusts and into a more controlled pattern of carefully-angled thrusts, using her copious wetness and the natural elasticity of her inner folds to allow this less demanding approach. He picks her up a little bit more with his arms so that he is bucking up into her from below, his cockhead dragging and rubbing hard against the upper areas of her slick passage as he works in broad, rocking thrusts to stretch and part her a little bit more with each hilting. "Hot and thick, gushing into you, filling every l-lahhh-last inch of you...nnngh..."

She grits her teeth to fight back against her urge to moan and howl as he fills her womb with hot seed. Her ambitions and a growing sense of annoyance by his smug refusal keeps her head together however, and a flush of nervousness with a hint of anger ignites in her face as one of her hands cautiously moves to the seam in the waistline of her dress. She carries the voice of a scared and hesitant first timer as she pleads. "Redouane please, spill your seed on my belly, my thighs, make me drink every drop, anywhere else! Don't toy with me about this!" Her free hand presses against his pelvis, coiled and ready to push with all her might should he refuse to listen.

A particularly ferocious thrust, crashing her entire body against that shuddering door, interrupts his more measured pacing. There is visible tension on his face and a clear attempt at some semblance of self-control lurking behind his eyes. But at the same time, there is so much lust, so much hunger, so much unchecked appetite; it practically pours off him with the sweat. "C-convince me," he growls as he thrusts up and into her, practically dragging her up along that straining plank of wood with the furious hip motion. "Tell-t-nngh-tell me how much you want my seed in all these other places." His hands under her knees slide along to her thighs and squeeze fiercely in a way that is sure to leave marks in the 'morrow, but at the moment he seems much more concerned with how he is pushing her legs up between them a bit more as he gives her another ferociously driving buck of the hips, this one slamming the small grip of her plug right into the door. "Ma-ahhhh-aake a good sales pitch," he growls out through gritted teeth, his eyes gleaming with predatory lust.

Her hands remain ready at their places, though her expression softens, allowing herself to settle into the moment with a blissful purr. "Cover the outside of my slutty cunt and belly... so that it's clear to any who observe how you've fucked every part of me, then make me drink the rest to the last drop like the -A-nn!- filthy whore I am! Faaa- Finally you can punish my arrogance like you did before, until I'm red, ..nnnhgg..bruised, and obedient!"

"Th-hnnnn!-The 'obedient' part was a bit far," he manages to grin, his pace once again slackening from its raw brutality into something more measured, better-managed. "B-but very well, you little slut, you'll ha-hah-hahhh-have your way," Red finally concedes, and then goes back to focusing all his attention on her. His lips seek hers out again, hungry and warm, desirous to impose themselves upon her with sweet authority; his tongue rakes over her mouth, trying to coax her open. And with his hips...at this point he's using his grip on her thighs to pull her up and down into his thrusts, maximizing friction through the way he scrapes against her innards in an attempt to offset the absolute ease with which he's penetrating her cunt by this point. Each wet slap of their crotches rings out through the room, and he is taking to twisting his hips sharply at the apex of each pistoning motion, grinding his pubic mound against her clit. Soft sighs escape him, and his entire body is becoming increasingly rigid against her; it feels as if every muscle in his chest, let alone his hips, is tightening. And still he drives into her, hungrily and without abandon.

Her tensed muscles relax with a silent sigh when he gives his word of compliance. Her hands move to his waist, giving him a rewarding caress as she pulls him up into her abused but welcoming slit. She eagerly accepts the kiss, throwing her tongue into his with appreciative affection. The attentions of her tongue are messy and lewd, doing her best to show him how ready her dirty mouth his to drink down his thick cum.

The eagerness with which Leyli accepts Red's kiss seems to spur him on all the more; his tongue seeks and strives to entwine hers, coiling and writhing that supple oral muscle of his against its counterpart. And although it is certainly hungry and assertive, it is not as brutally dominating as in the past. Instead he almost seems to be coaxing her on, encouraging her continued engagement and enjoyment rather than roughly enforcing whatever his tongue demands upon her. It is similar as he enjoys the attentions of her hard-fucked folds: with her being well broken-in now and his mood softening somewhat, Red seems somewhat more attentive to her pleasure. Oh yes, there is no denying that he continues to take her hard or deep - each one of his thrusts can be felt throughout her entire hips, and no matter how shallow the motions, he always is trying to thrust and slide and piston deeper into her, making her take as much of his rigid, twitching cock as he can. But he shifts positions here and there; he maximizes contact with her clit and her g-spot, as well as wet friction and stretching sensations within her. His pace is demanding, not savage, but it wears heavily all the same, if the way his eyes are glazing over slightly is any indication. He groans into her mouth as he rolls his hips against her, subjecting her sex to another round of slippery corkscrewing motions as his shaft greedily douses itself in more of her sweetness.

That long, slithering tongue of hers responds eagerly to his coaxing, stretching out of her mouth when he pulls back to lap at his lips, dropping lines of saliva down onto belly and some onto her slit, providing renewed lubrication to her well-fucked tunnel. The rest of her body follows suit, flowing steadily into a circular grind with her hips as she starts to enjoy herself more and more, until she finally starts bucking her ass against the door with reckless abandon, smashing the cum-soaked plug against tight rim and breaking the kiss with a musical moan, easily loud enough for everyone downstairs to hear. "Ahhnn, yes! Fuck me with that wonderful cock! Stretch my little cunt! Cum on me!"

Nips, nibbles, and downright bites follow Leyli's tongue as it stretches out, with Red seemingly attempting to pin it in place so that he can subject the tip of it to a round of frenetic rubbing, suckling, and flicking. And as her body begins undulating and rolling against his, he responds in kind - lithe musculature writhing against her luscious softness; hips grinding against each other in opposite circles. And all the while he bucks and thrusts into her sodden, sultry sex, the wet squelching sounds of their coupling plainly audible. With the Egyptian now becoming a more active partner in their excess, he focuses on matching her actions; slamming hard against her when she rocks towards him, or withdrawing at sloppy, roughly-rubbing angles whenever she tries to withdrawal. He is panting heavily by now, and his entire body is shivering and shuddering palpably against her, but still he is insistent: he wants more of this Leyli, all wanton desire and fluid motion, desperate for pleasure and utterly seductive in every way. Another round of biting kisses against her lips, and he is moaning into her mouth, fighting against all his basest urges to simply release where he is.

Leyli draws his tongue to the tip of her lips then thrusts hers out into his mouth, nudging against the full length of his wet muscle and resting there, encouraging his attentions. Her hands rub up and down his chest and her hips continue her motions, sex soaked skin slapping against his continue to fill the room with the obscene music of copulation. Before long she's lost herself completely, throwing her head back against the hard wooden door and mauling her breasts in the throws of climax. If she even remembers her desperate plea to avoid impregnation she shows no sign of it, and her contracting pussy actively works against her will as it milks his cock instinctively.

For long heartbeats - agonizingly long heartbeats in which every inch of his body is alive with riotous sensation - Red has to very actively beat down the urge to simply hilt himself in that delicious nest of coiling, clenching wetness and spill himself inside her cunt. His nerves are screaming for release, and his hardness is throbbing perilously, and she is right there around him, screaming and writhing and drenching him with her wetness, practically begging to be flooded with his seed...but no, some tiny sliver of sanity inside him still thinks; he did give her his word. And while he has certainly been no saint to her so far, he has not spoken an actual lie to her. Yet. And so, with a frantic snarl, he gives her several more full-body thrusts, every inch of him straining and tensing as he arches everything he can into those truly desperate pumps. The door beyind Leyli audibly cracks, and then - and then he practically wrenches his rigid length out of Leyli, a loud, wet slurp terminating in a lewd pop, as he almost immediately begins spasming in his own orgasm against her hard-fucked folds. His glans is only barely outside her when the first spurting burst rips out of him and gushes against her parted, well-used slit; his clinging, translucent heat is warm even against her overheated flesh. Red groans louder as he pulls back yet more, and this time his cum arcs and splatters first against her bare loins and over her stomach as well, copious whiteness on tawny flesh. With each gout his balls and shaft pulse violently, and it is only with desperation that he manages to clamp a violent fist around the base of his cock - practically dropping her to the floor in the process. He practically shoves his cum-slick cockhead against her lips as he does, insistently demanding entry with a needy moan.

Her cushiony butt hits the hard floor with her legs remaining spread, sliding down the door in a blissful daze and thinking only of how good the warm, slippery fluid feels against her skin. Feeling the spurting cock-head against her lips, she tilts her head up and takes it into her mouth almost instinctively, reaching up to grab the base and encouraging him to hilt his shaft into her willing throat. She writes around on the floor in a circular motions, shifting her weight on her ass and fondling her breast, eagerly accepting the seed being bumped directly into her belly.

With her hand grasping his base, his own hands are freed up to roughly grasp the sides of her head - which they do as he drives his hips against her soft lips like they were one of her other holes, showing absolutely no delicacy in the process. He gasps shamelessly as his throbbing, pulsing manhood pushes past and over her lips, his release already spilling out into her mouth, painting over her long, limber tongue as he shoves his cock right into her gullet without further ado. What remains of his climax - every last strangled groan and long sigh and spasming length - he spends in her throat, pumping the last of his semen against the lining of her esophagus in a slowly-thinning trickle. Even when he is reduced to his last little spitting bursts, thin and practically clear, he is holding her head against his hips, the base of his shaft utterly hilted to her lips. Only once he is completely done does he exhale heavily and slide back slightly. "Clean," he murmurs, hands releasing their death-grip to instead stroke the contours of her ears.

The rough thrust nearly chokes her, though she brings her hands to her throat and relaxes the confused muscle enough to accept the bulging intrusion. She swallows all that he gives her in several obscene gulps with a lazy, satisfied look on her face. She drinks from his cock as if it were a spout pouring sweet nectar, and when he finally pulls back and eases her throat she hums against it, continuing to suck at his command until his cock is nice and dry, and she is weary and desperate for air. With the cock dry she takes a desperate gasp with it still resting on her tongue, exhaling warm breath dominated by the salty smell of his seed. Her hands travel down to her quivering sex, feeling the slickness of her cum-soaked folds and rubbing the delicious stuff into her skin.

Leyli's attentive cleaning leaves the man purring quietly and thoroughly-spent. Although he is content to enjoy the feel of her tongue against his sensitive shaft for a little bit, he soon withdraws even that, leaving her writing and wriggling on the floor. He kneels down before her so that he is just above eye-level with her, his eyes dulled slightly and his wicked smile just a little less sharp than usual, but the grip with which he gently tugs her hair to bring her face up to his seems to suggest that his wild release hasn't dulled all of his senses. "Don't think I didn't feel the way your cunt clenched at me, Leyli," he rumbles in a slightly-weary voice that retains a certain matter-of-factness. "I could have pumped every drop of that into your hungry pussy and you would've moaned for more." And then Red's eyes flit down to her crotch, which warrants a slight cocking of his eyebrow. "Speaking of more, it seems a certain little slut is being greedy right now, hmm? Do I need to smack that out of you? Or perhaps I shall call one of the guards up to fuck your cum-stuffed ass until you're done," he muses.

Leyli responds to the threats with a stifled giggle, catching it in her throat and nose and stopping it with a hand. She pushes herself upward with the intention to stand, but finds her legs lacking in strength, and simply remains there on the floor, covered in cum with her legs spread and relaxed. "You did promise to punish me for my arrogance." She offers a dutiful reminder, seeming all-to-pleased to accept it. "Ah, but this is exactly why it's so dangerous to fuck me that way. Can you blame me and my little pussy for craving what I was born for?"

"Yes, you did offer yourself up to appropriate chastisement for your temerity, didn't you?" Red is rolling his shoulders slowly at this point, striving to loosen them after spending the last fair stretch of time carrying or holding her in some capacity or another. "And what is it they say about dogs? You must punish them promptly for their misdeeds, lest they forget what they are being punished for?" He laughs quietly then, his entire body language still speaking of languor and weariness, but his eyes, at least, seem to have wasted no time in shrugging off the haziness of post-orgasmic sloth. The way he looks down at her is keenly attentive and not-a-little predatory, akin if anything to a bird of prey circling a hare below. "Mmh, but you little slut, what you're really lining up for is another fucking, isn't it? 'What you were born for,' indeed." A soft hmph from him as he rocks back and forth on his feet lightly, not raising from his half-kneeling position. "I may not be nearly so accepting of your pithy entreaties the next time I slake my appetites with your wanton slit, you know."

"Next time hmm... Planning for the future are we? How exciting! But let us not forget priorities; after all there is far more to life and desire than carnal pleasure." The insults thrown seem to wash over her like water, hardly even seeming to notice. She slides her legs closed and extends a hand upwards in a deliberate request to be helped up, meant to gauge his commitment to this degradation. Her demeanor quickly reverts to a business mindset, though the humor of a cum-drenched stateswoman isn't lost on her, evidence by a cheeky smirk.

The Greek laughs at Leyli's resolute propriety despite her circumstances, and then takes her hand in a firm grasp. "Indeed. And although you may enjoy being taken like a bitch in heat, that alone does not make you a dog, now does it? I'm sure you're clever enough to remember promises made and oaths upheld, never mind associating cause and effect over time." That hawkish cast to his features softens to a certain wicked playfulness, and without further delay, Red pushes himself upright before helping her up as well. His other arm slips around the Egyptian's roughly-treated hips to help steady her once she is on both feet, and he gives her a faint nod, his silver-woven braids swaying and bobbing as he does. Slowly he guides the two of them away from the door and closer to the centre of the room, where that small table awaits. "And although I am sure some part of you may even enjoy the thought of my aide walking in on us in the middle of your 'chastisement,' it'd be a complete waste of the warm towels I requested, wouldn't it?"

As if summoned by those very words, there is a rap on the battered door at that point. Red simply says "Come in," and through it comes a slight, brownhaired man. He is softly-featured and even slimmer than Redouane, but his dark green eyes seem to flit around the room scrutinizingly as soon as he enters. When they rest on Leyli in her current state, he merely cocks a single eyebrow before giving her a half-bow, and then he turns to the Byzantine diplomat. "Master Nicetas, the food and drink will be along shortly. In the meanwhile, the towels you requested. Also, a..." The aide stops then, casting a meaningful gaze at Leyli. Red simply waves his hand dismissively, and then the green-eyed servant shrugs and continues. "A letter from Byzantium arrived on a transport ship shortly after you left this morning. At your leisure," the assistant says in his sing-song voice, holding out the sealed scroll in one hand and the small bundle of dampened cloths in the other. Red takes both, setting the two down on his desk. With a "Very good, Silas," the servant heads back down the stairs, presumably to fetch refreshments.

She staggers to her feet and a places a hand appreciatively atop the supporting arm he offers. The plug shifts inside her rear that causes her to wince and reach down to adjust the thing, though makes no attempt to pull it free just yet. Her response is quiet but dignified; an amiable expression and brief nod accompanying it. "I'm glad we could reach such an understanding."

When the assistant arrives she turns away, regarding him over her shoulder with a cursory glance, hardly acknowledging his presence as if he were some insect, until he mentions the letter, which prompts her full attention.

Once Silas is out of sight, Red chuckles softly as he gives the soft, supple skin of her well-rounded hip a gentle squeeze. "Too transparent, milady," he chides teasingly. "And you should not be so reflexively dismissive of serviles. Who has better access to an aristocrat's secrets than their personal servant, hmm? It costs nothing to face them with at least a veneer of civility." He waggles one slender finger in front of her as he does this, then he takes up one of the towels. The diplomat looks at Leyli intently for a moment, seemingly weighing something in his mind, before he lets out a soft, slightly wistful sigh. And then he brings the towel to her face, carefully wiping any remaining traces of his earlier releases off. So too goes most of her runny makeup as well, scrubbed clean by that soft, warm cloth directed by his surprisingly gentle touch.

A warm smile graces her lips as he cleans her, enjoying the attention. "Which is why in Egypt we view those who are too friendly with others servants with suspicion, my dear Greek. Though if your people are so trusting, perhaps I shall have to adapt." She lets out a soft chuckle at the thought, then shuffles out of her wrinkled dress - the tattered garment mostly ruined and proving uncomfortable.

"Nowhere near as trusting," he confides with a grin, wiping the towel over her lips lightly before he moves it down to her neck, wiping off whatever traces of him may have dripped down there. "But, well, it's such an incestuous little den of vipers, you know? Everybody's already suspicious of everybody else. If you're going to be looked at askance, you may as well be getting something out of it, hmm?" His cleansing attentions on the curve of her throat are every bit as softly considerate as on her face: careful application of pressure, slow movements, and a certain deftness of touch that is almost enough to be teasingly suggestive, but stops just short. Finally he pulls back from her neck as well, raising one eyebrow slightly at her disrobing. "Oh? Are you suggesting that you would like me to clean the rest of you as well, Leyli Shiman-Sekh? I believe you are confusing consideration with servility," he teases with a light nip of an earlobe.

She retreats and brings her hand to her lips in a flourish, looking abashed. "Oh I wouldn't dream of it! Though perhaps I am confused. Do your considerations end at the neck? And besides, a man should take responsibility for the mess he makes, no?" With a flick of her foot she slides her tattered dress away toward the table. She then looks down at herself, briefly regarding her equally stained and tattered top, before slipping it over her head and dangling it on a finger. "And it would be undignified to treat with you wearing such inappropriate attire."

"This, too, is consideration, Leyli." Red's voice is playful now, and he fetches a new towel. However, rather than continue his cleaning of the Egyptian woman that he has so thoroughly stained over the last several hours, he briskly wipes his own face clean, shaking out his hair with a quick flick once he is done. The sound of his jewelery rebounding off each other creates a faint tinkling noise, he holds up his other hand, lightly pressing an outstretched index finger over her lips. "If I began towelling down every last area that you begged me to fill or coat with my cum, oh Lady Shiman-Sekh, I believe we both know that such would inevitably be a prelude to...the arrangement of suitable replacements, yes?" The Greek grins at her then, part teasing, part unabashedly hungry. "Plus, a bath would serve much better for that. So-" - Red is interrupted at that point by the return of Silas, who is carrying a platter of what appear to be a selection of small finger-foods as well as a bottle of wine accompanied by two cups. He sets them down on the table, half-bows to Redouane, then walks out without a further word. For his own part, Red makes a pleased sound, then briskly uses the towel he is holding to brush over one of Leyli's pert nipples, the motion rougher than those he lavished her face with. "-So, unless you really are that insatiably hungry to slake your base urges, my good lady, perhaps I could interest you in a drink? Should be Macedonian, if Silas did his job." The two coups are quickly poured with fluid motions, and Red takes the first sip of his own cup, tilting his head as he does. "So he did. Slightly bitter, but cleans the palate."

"How thoughtful of you, I would love a drink!" She drops her garments and gracefully snatches up the offered cup before it hits the ground, nodding in cheer and taking a sip of her own. "Mmm..bitter yes." She regards it with a squeeze of her cheeks and a squeak of delight as he rubs the fabric over her nipple. "No my lord, I believe a bath will do nicely. You may have the stamina of the gods but I have my limits. Go any further and you just might break me." She adds a wry grin to that last part, sarcastically hinting a dual meaning with a venomous tease.

"A tempting proposition in and of itself," Red smirks at her double-bladed statement. as he pulls out a chair by the small, well-crafted table. He then slinks down into his own seat, plucking up what appears to be some sort of battered meatball off the platter and taking a bite out of it. A happy sigh follows. "I imagine you must be hungry as well, given our...exertions. And no, Leyli, I must confess that this respite is well-timed; I too need some respite before availing myself of your delights again. So let us eat, drink, and discuss, hmm? Do try the keftedes, they're rather good. At least, given the limitations of Cyprus," the Byzantine adds with a shrug. "Decent veal is difficult to find on this island, even when one starts throwing around some Imperial influence. The dolmathes are also excellent," he suggests while gesturing at a selection of small bundles wrapped in what appears to be brined grape leaves. He takes another sip of his wine and sloshes the cup around slightly between his fingers, then 'hmm's. "Ah, but perhaps you're hungry for certitude instead? Thirsty for guarantees? Craving confirmation that everything you subjected yourself to in these last few hours was not in vain?" And then a wicked little smile: "Provided lust alone is not enough of a reason, that is."

Leyli samples each with small nibbles, occupying her mouth for long stretches of silence, instead listening and responding with her eyes, softening with the first bite of each new snack in approval, swelling with hunger with the mention of business and guarantees, and narrowing in rebuke to the assertion that sex alone will satisfy her. She washes down a bite of veal with wine with a slow sip, deliberating carefully before giving her retort. "I will admit you've shown me an...exciting... evening to say the least. But no, my mind is still on our earlier conversation, and I humbly await your thoughts on the matter."

A slight curl of the lips and an approving glance is all Red's expression betrays as she gives her answer, and he remains quiet as he enjoys another quaff of wine. Finally, he breaks out into a small smile as he leans back in his chair, the well-shaped but unpadded furniture creaking slightly as it is forced to shift and slide against the floor. "A good response, o Leyli Shiman. Well-judged and careful, with just enough truth on all sides that it is eminently believable." And then he rocks forward, the chair's legs thudding against the floorboards. "Will you put your requests into writing for me to pass along to the Consular-Superior in Byzantium? They are appreciative of...forthrightness in these things, seeing as it is my job to provide the context and initial analysis."

The chair creeks with a shuffle as Leyli sits herself down on it like side-saddling a horse, completely comfortable in her nudity though obviously unadapted to sitting with the toy still inside her. "Oh? Your word is not good enough for your superiors? I would prefer to delay such things until I am in a more... secure.. position. After all, it would be very dangerous should such papers fall into the wrong hands during your journey home." She clasps her hands and sets them on her knee with a jingle of her bracelets, looking to the Greek negotiator searchingly, showing neither refusal nor acquiescence to his request just yet.

"For such a...difficult set of demands, milady, my superiors will want things as unvarnished as possible." There is a slight shrug of Red's slender shoulders as he rests his elbows on the table, allowing him to fold his hands atop each other. His expression carries a hint of resignation to it as he continues, although his eyes appear quite content to warmly appraise the Egyptian noblewoman's naked, luscious form as she mounts the chair. "I will submit my report, of course, but when...well, when what you are asking for is little short of revolution or coup, everything will have to be checked, cross-checked, and verified several times over. Unless you're looking for excuses for me to pay you continued visits over the months and years while my superiors attempt to suss out that your requests are, indeed, contiguous and not merely the product of my misunderstandings?" A faint grin there, playful and teasing, before he nods. "I understand your reservations, of course. Such papers would never leave the immediate vicinity of my person. Should anything happen to them...well, that is basically saying that something has happened to me, and, well, I'd very much prefer to avoid that, yes?"

She closes her eyes with a deep, contemplating inhale through her nose, then shoots him a piercing gaze as she exhales, examining every speck of his face searching for falsehood and trustworthiness, and by the way her face contorts afterword, it's obvious she disapproves with the results. "Your continued visits to my prison here would certainly brighten my days if it comes to that." She adds a deliberate blink, waving her eyelashes with a smile. "And I would impress upon you again that it can be done without soldiers. The laws of succession in Egypt may seem a strange thing to foreigners, but they are respected by all citizens there. The assistance I request need not be overt until the final days. The endorsement alone will be enough to ensure stability if all goes well. And if not, it will be of my own mistakes, and the Emperor need not commit unless he sees promise." She pauses with a sip of wine and another glance in his eyes, then reaches for her satchel, emptying her family seals and marks onto the table. "But you've made your point. Let it be put to paper if it must be done."

A small nod meets her acquiescence, and Red pops one of those dolmathes into his mouth. "If - if - the Emperor and his most august advisors decide this is a good idea, your concession here will expedite matters considerably, Leyli. Although I will miss all those lost opportunities for visits." He rocks back and forth slightly in that chair of his again, then slips out of it gracefully at the end of the motion, movements unhurried and languid. Soft steps take him over to that cabinet against one of the walls in the room, which he spends some amount of time fidgeting with - he rather intentionally puts himself between Leyli and the armoire, only the shifting of his shoulders and the occasional bobbing of his head indicative of whatever it is he may be doing. Finally there is a loud click, and he opens the doors of those shelves: it appears to be a small...archive?, packed tight with numerous scrolls and sheaves of paper. There also appears to be a selection of vials and bottles, and several articles of clothing in deep crimsons and violets, the traditional colours of Byzantium.

Soft clicking from his tongue is heard as he fetches several things from that esoteric collection, which he shortly brings back to the table - some parchment, an inkwell with quill, a small oil lamp with a top-mounted dish, and what appears to be a block of seal wax. He nudges the inkwell and paper towards Leyli as he begins fiddling with the oil lamp, coaxing it to life. The wax is thrown into the dish, and then he goes over to his desk to grab that recently-delivered scroll. "I trust you won't mind if I keep myself occupied in the meanwhile," he says while tapping his forehead with the edge of the scroll as he takes his seat at the table once more.

"Of course. Do as you wish. This will be but a moment." She takes up the quill and sets to work, practically painting the paper sheets with exquisite handwriting, denoting a practiced skill and obviously difficult to forge. She writes out her requests with poise and clarity, throwing her cards to the table and going on all in. She admirably maintains good posture throughout the process, even seeming to enjoy the challenge of doing so in her situation. [20:58 PM]Gwendolyn A23-V2 connected.

While Leyli writes, Red unfolds his scroll and unfurls it, his eyes flicking across and down the lines as he hums faintly to himself - a catchy but unfamiliar tune; something that sounds like it perhaps came from a piece of Greek or Roman theatre. To Our most loyal servant in foreign lands, eyes and tongue of this august Empire, sure bulwark in the eternal prosperity of Rome Reborn...so on, so forth. His sharp blue eyes roll at the lengthy preamble, cursing under his breath the mania for such in the halls of Byzantine power. Ah, but here we are, onto the meat. Regarding your Cypriot endeavour, new details have come forth to Our attention that We will you take into due consideration in the discharge of your duties...a reflexive double-take, a quick blink; only somebody who was paying very close attention indeed to Redouane at that moment would catch them. He begins reading faster, his face remaining carefully ambivalent the entire time, all his craft and guile going into the maintenance of that disinterested facade. And when, after several minutes, he reaches the end of it, he quietly rolls the entire thing up and sets it down on the table, folding his hands behind his head as he looks over at the attractive woman sitting across from him.

Leyli pays him several subtle, studying glances as she writes, disguised by a scratch of her nose or a stretch of her neck, though never committing enough to notice such a small hint. She finishes her letter with a flourished signature, then stamps it once with her family seal, and once again with a personal one. Then with a cautious sigh she slides the damning documents to the other end of the table and shuffles her things back into their pouch as she speaks. "I'm confident this should satisfy the doubts of any skeptic, and I can only hope your own doubts have been quelled as well." The last line is delivered with a questioning stare.

The diplomat takes her small stack of paper and flips through it, reading over it languorously. "Impressive penmanship," he murmurs, taking in every word she has written here. And it is indeed all there: in black and white, Leyli's power-hungry ambitions and dreams of lineage, as clear as crystal. A nod from Red, as if to say that everything appears to be in order, and then he stands up to go fetch his own seal from his small collection against the wall. Back to the table, bundle everything up, pour a little wax, press down: the documents he requested from Leyli are officially sealed, ready for transit. And then he exhales softly, making one of those clicking sounds he periodically does. "Leyli, how's your classical Latin?" An...odd question, to be sure, but Redouane's face is utterly nonchalant as he asks it.

A chill passes through her as she watches him read over the letter, prompting her to rub her arms in a self-hug. "My Latin is adequate. Why do you ask?" A shifting in her chair marks some interest, and if there is any suspicion in her it fails to show through her eyes, looking quizzical and curious.

Saying nothing, he simply takes the document that Silas had delivered to him shortly before their food and wine and hands it over to her. "Read," he says, tone neutral. "All of it." Classical Latin written in the Greek alphabet - something of an eclectic mix, and the bloviating style of the prose does not help any. Meandering preamble, laboured exhortations to the eternal glory of the New Rome; it makes for terrible going. But there it is, bundled within that mind-numbing wreck of the written word: Official channels within the Pharaoh's court have made it clear that they have concerns regarding the ongoing compliance and neutrality of your Cypriot endeavour. It is the wish of the one true lawful Emperor, blessed forever be His reign, that good relations between our two nations be maintained inasmuch as possible. To this end, it is your task, loyal servant, to discover absolute proof of the endeavour's intended malfeasance, which you will, in turn, hand over to the lawful Egyptian authorities in exchange for continuing recognition and acknowledgement of legitimate Byzantine claims... Redouane simply sits at his side of the table, his eyes intent but expressionless on her, his manicured hands holding Leyli's bound documents. "Interesting reading, isn't it?" he offers, voice betraying nothing.

She looks to him a moment in confusion as he hands her the document, failing to imagine why he would let her in on official orders, though she eventually decides to let the letter explain and begins reading. She skims through the initial bravado much in the same way he did, struggling on a word here and there, though not willing to ask for assistance. The scrolling of her eyes slow to a halt when she gets to the heart of the content though, a rush of understanding filling her face and chilling her bones. She gives no response to his question, struggling with all her will to maintain her composure as she neatly sets the parchment down on the table. She hides a brief look of despair with a turn of her head and a blocking hand covering her eyes as she berates herself with a whisper. "Stupid..." Anger fills her body with warmth and she lifts her head and glances at Redouane with a cold expression, devoid of any hints of her intentions, as if wearing a mask. She marks the incriminating papers with peripheral vision and awaits a reaction as if in a deadly standoff, muscles coiled tightly and stressed as if ready to pounce.

The woman's cool glare does not rattle Redouane in the slightest - or if it does, he shows no signs of it. His eyes flit briefly from hers to the rest of her body, noting the tension within, easily reading her intentions - but he does nothing to avoid that; no moving away or reaching for any implement of self-defense. He simply stays where he is, holding Leyli's scroll with a steady grip. "The Pharaoh's on to your game, Leyli Shiman-Sekh. I wonder how long he has harboured such suspicions? Since your exile, I would assume, but what pushed matters to a head now? Somebody knew that you were seeking Roman aid, Leyli. And the Pharaoh decided to let us know in such a polite little way that we could do him a favour and that, in exchange, he would owe us several right back. A dissident threat to Egyptian stability is removed without unduly infringing upon past promises of security or safe passage, and Byzantium proves itself a friend of the ruling dynasty - it's win-win for both parties, milady. The only loser is...you. Tell me, what is the punishment for treachery and attempted usurpation under the law of the Twin Crowns?"

All this is said in the most conversational of tones, despite the deathly gravity of the situation. And then the Byzantine man leans back in his chair again, tapping her scroll against the edge of the table. "I would probably be rewarded quite generously for my role in the entire affair. Perhaps a posting to the Alexandrian embassy, or a plot of land in the Fayyum from the hand of the Pharaoh himself. So even I have every reason to go along with this." Another tap; a slow blinking of the eyes. "You understand your position, don't you?"

A rush of calculation flows through the cornered woman's mind as he speaks, recalling the number of guards downstairs, the position of the blade hidden in the dress at her feet, the difference in physical strength between her and her adversary shown by his dominance against the door, the distance of the evidence - that damnable paper he holds tauntingly in front of her. A dozen scenarios run through her head, most desperately desiring the ones involving slitting his throat at the moment, only stalled by the knowledge of the lion's den she is currently standing in. The helplessness of her situation sparks a rage, her words are envenomed and just barely below raised volume, and she stands abruptly, pushing the chair back with a loud screech of wood against wood. "And now what, you mock me before sending me off to have my head severed?!" With a rough grasp she snatches up her dress from the floor, for now simply using it to cover her exposed breasts in the small protective comfort it offers.

"Not quite," Redouane responds simply. He is still all carefully-controlled neutrality, every bit of his body language quite inscrutable - except his eyes, which have narrowed slightly, as if in contemplation. "Although decapitation is the punishment? I was expecting something more interesting. But no, Leyli, it is not my intent to mock you. Sit down. Calm down." A pause, a beat, a slight tilting of the head. "I'm giving you the opportunity to make a counter-offer."

She does respond to the first request, pulling the chair back roughly and sitting back down gracelessly, showing no signs of heeding the second request. "What could I possibly offer you. My wealth? It is meagre compared to what the Pharoah would offer. My body? I have already offered it. What do you want from me?" There is a look of desperation on her face, completely abandoning the game.

"You." It's a simple statement, delivered sharply as soon as she declares her lack of bartering position. His own carefully-maintained nonchalance is gone, and now he is looking straight at her, eyes boring into her. "Oh yes, you're a very fun fuck and all that, but I could get a reasonably acceptable shadow of that from any well-trained whore - and with far less complication to boot. No, Leyli Shiman-Sekh, what I want is you in your entirety. You're promising. You're unpolished, impetuous, too prone to making sloppy mistakes, but you could be useful. With refinement. I want that at my disposal. I want you at my disposal." The words are firm and forceful; the delivery unhesitating.

Leyli clenches her teeth and curls her nose in frustration, the choice between her ambitions or her life made clear to her. With a violent motion and audible dismay, she throws her hands against the table and her head follows to rest on her arms. Much of her anger seems to dissipate with the motion. She flatly states. "I knew I should have courted the Persians instead."

An honest laugh at that statement - the amusement is perhaps entirely out of place in the situation, but he could not deny that, at that precise moment in time, there was something terribly funny about that miserable declaration to him. "The Sassanids are too heavily pressed by the steppes. They'd never make a move, and if they did, it is unlikely that they would have much use for a female leader. Who else would you turn to? The Franks?" He snorts at his own suggestion there, shaking his head. "Like inviting a pack of raging aurochs into the most delicate of lily-ponds. They understand nothing but the mailed fist. No, Leyli, you made the most sensible choice. You just weren't discreet enough about it." He reaches out across the table and puts a hand on top of her head, patting softly, almost as one would a child. "But you can learn. That's my offer, Shiman-Sekh. I want you at my absolute disposal in whatever capacity I deem fit. In exchange, I will find a way to stall my honourable masters long enough to slip the noose drawing 'round your neck. Yes or no?"

With a turn of her neck she looks up at him with a wounded face, and another, hidden emotion; a certain loneliness or longing for something, though it disappears quickly. "Yes." She utters the word as truthfully as she can manage, but the word carries a strange aura about it, coming from the dishonest mouth of a naturally treacherous woman - a testament to the amount of work required for the success of this arrangement, and the danger involved.

Her acquiescence - grudging, he knows - merits a small smile from Redouane, the man who currently holds her life and death in his hands. Quite literally, as the case may be. But that smile is...well, at least it seems dangerously sincere; perhaps even honest? For long moments he says nothing, simply petting her head softly, as one may praise a particularly well-behaved pet. "I'm glad," he finally says, a tone of faint relief in his voice. "I doubt you will believe me when I say it, but it would have been a terrible waste to simply have you raped, beaten, raped, raped, maimed, raped, and then executed. You are...potentially of far more use than that, Leyli Shiman-Sekh. I know you resent this, and I know you are agreeing only because you feel there is no other way out. And, indeed, right now? There is not." He then takes a turn for the serious, leaning in close to her, his eyes intense. "But you will be sharpened, honed, and polished until you are the perfect subtle blade. Perhaps, one day, you may even find some satisfaction in that task." And then Red kisses her cheek very softly, so very gently, his lips warm and oddly welcoming.

There is a hint of fear in her eyes at the mention of her alternative fate, enough to form a choking sensation in her throat, compelling her to swallow. She accepts the kiss neutrally, her cheek cold to the touch with so much blood rushed out of it. "What happens now?" The only words she's willing to speak, a grim silence stifling her tongue. With a defeated look she reaches for the cup of wine and begins drinking it down gulp by gulp, not stopping until she's emptied it.

"First, you should finish drinking your fill, Leyli. And you should get some more food in your stomach, provided you think you can keep it down." Red rubs her head again, playing languidly with her soft brown hair, an oddly comforting gesture from the Greek man, and rather out of place with the fact that he has just finished completely demolishing her cherished hopes for the future. "Then I will, hmm, how can I put this? I will...confirm your consent to our contract. A mark as an indelible reminder of what you have agreed to, as it were. Then we'll get you cleaned up, then you're going to get some rest. Tomorrow...we'll see about tomorrow," he finishes with a faint shrug.

To that command she responds obediently at least, her practiced throat having no trouble devouring the intoxicating liquid, setting it down with a dizzying buzz and a hiccup, indicating the wine has produced the desired effect. Refusing the food, she moves to stand with the balance of a drunk clinging to the table for support. She speaks casually and in a belligerent monotone. "As you wish. And when are you going to take this thing out of my ass?"

A soft shake of the head meets the Egyptian's inebriated state, but Redouane supposes that it is a...not-incomprehensible response to her circumstances. Less-than-ideal, yes, but hardly unsurprising. He rises with her, naturally slipping an arm around her waist to help stabilize her slightly, and then he gently taps her forehead with a single chiding finger. "How are you supposed to keep your senses about you like this, Leyli? Well, I suppose it may make what follows easier," he adds with a slight shrug. And then that supportive arm dips down a bit to gently toy with the still-present plug, rotating it with a faint pumping motion. "Hmm. Good question. When I decide I feel like having your ass again, I suppose. Or maybe in the bath while we're getting you cleaned up. Maybe both." That last statement is made with a playful nonchalance as he guides her toward the bed, his pace carefully-measured to keep her upright and reasonably steady.

Halfway toward the bed, Redouane looks over at his new 'property' and frowns slightly, faint irritation flickering across his features. "No good," he grumbles. "It's no good to do this while you're in this...state." He punctuates 'state' by gesticulating at her: too deep in her cups, veering between belligerency and sullen pouts, unable even to stand upright without help. "I need you to remember your marking for the rest of your days, not...passing it off as a mistake made after too much indulgence in the Macedonian vice. Well, one of the Macedonian vices, anyway." That evocative gesture turns into a light, two-fingered swatting tap of her forehead, as if the Greek man was gently chiding a puppy, and then he squeezes her waist a little bit more tightly with his supporting embrace. "Let's get you cleaned up, Leyli." And with that, he begins leading her to the sole door at the back of the room, stepping with measured paces so that she can keep up.

"What state? I'm not in any state. I'm... angry." A brief scowl covers her face at the last word but quickly fades, as if maintaining a state of anger requires more energy than she has. The swat to her forehead is met with another angry glare, which she struggles to maintain the rest of the way towards the door. Her steps are woozy but not as wobbly as a complete drunk, and there are subtle hints in her mannerisms that betray a certain exaggeration of her level of inebriation, though the flush of her cheeks and clumsiness of her speech marks at least some truth.

"That, too, is a state that needs amending, Leyli. Ah, but I do not expect that to be resolved overnight; I will consider it an...ongoing project, if you would." In comparison to Leyli's agitated state, Red is almost cooly poisoned: that infuriating mix of calm confidence and slightly mocking 'consideration' that he seems to always radiate. The fact that he is so pointed in referring to her solely by her first name now, especially after a day of constantly pointing out her proud lineage as he debased and denigrated her, is just another barb that he seems to enjoy flinging about. "And Leyli, you've overplayed your hand. Again. It's good to have a kernel of truth at the heart of every lie, but one should be economical with those truths, yes? And I'm sure that, even in your current state, you'll not say no to an opportunity to clean yourself up."

He pushes through the door with his mostly-free hand, revealing what must obviously be the most expensive room in the entire mission: a passable facsimile of a proper Byzantine bath, albeit only with a single, modestly-appointed pool rather than the lavish, multi-chambered affairs that are the mark of any true affair. The white marble alone, even if it is nothing more than a thin veneer, must have cost a fortune. Red sits her down on the edge of the tub - large enough to hold at least a half-dozen, and with a small outcropping within to provide comfortable seating - before he kneels down to begin fiddling with what appears to be some sort of integral furnace at the base of the basin.

Leyli begins lazily unhooking and slipping off her jewelry, all but for a pair of gold wrist bands and anklets with intricate hieroglyphics carved around them, which appear to have no method of removal. She looks over her body, taking in the lingering sights and smells of sex still covering her and relents. "I'll not say no to a bath."

The Greek glances up from his current labours at Leyli and raises an eyebrow slightly. "Is there a story behind those bangles that you aren't taking off? I'm curious." Soon enough the small furnace flares to life, the soft crackling of its flames audible in the otherwise-quiet room. Red stands up and rolls his shoulders, then begins unbraiding his hair slowly so that he can slip out his various pieces of silver decoration. Some are of square-lined iconic design, others fluid and freeform; it is a motley melange of styles that seems to come from far and wide, with the only common points being their bright argent lustres and the obviously high quality of workmanship. Still, Leyli's stubborn conduct is impossible to not notice, and finally he sighs softly, folding his arms across his chest. "Well, I suppose I can't blame you for being displeased about this, but it'll only end poorly for you should you be so belligerent, you know? Perhaps you doubt my intentions or my good faith."

"I doubt your intentions and your good faith. And why shouldn't I?" She glares at the Greek a moment in challenge, but quickly folds and tilts her head down. Lifting an arm to present her wrist, she motions to the band and relents an explanation. "They are..of religious significance. Should I wear them until death, they will guide me from my mastaba to eternity.

"Ah, I see. I must confess to a certain degree of ignorance regarding the religious practices of your country," he says with a slight shrug. Still, he does not sound altogether uninterested; his tone is genuine enough when he admits his lack of familiarity on the topic. "Things are...relatively straightforward in the faith of the Great City, and frankly it's more an implement of policy and diplomacy than anything in the ruling circles." A soft chuckle melds with a quick shake of the head, and then Redouane reaches out to gently stroke the top of Leyli's head - an oddly affectionate gesture, if it was not so similar to the way one may treat a particularly well-regarded pet. If he seems disturbed by her brisk show of bellicosity, he makes no sign of it as he speaks candidly. "You probably will not believe me when I say it, Leyli, but your long-term interests and my own are very much intertwined. As for my good faith...ah, you are in a difficult position, it is true. Very well then, allow me to make a small gesture. Do stay put." How that bastard can smile with such gracious sincerity as he discusses the way he has just finished demolishing the underpinnings of her entire life to date is nothing short of darkly miraculous. He slips out of the bathroom, and moments later returns holding...what appears to be the diplomat's orders from Byzantium ordering Leyli's implication and subsequent betrayal, judging by the cracked seal on them. Without saying a word, he takes them over to the small furnace and tosses them in, then closes the small iron door. "Never received them," he says simply.

She raises a dark eyebrow at the gesture, though her expression remains suspicious, some of the drunken fog clears from her mind now that she's had a moment to sit and sweat. "Burning such letters after reading them could be standard practice for your people for all I know. You are merely giving me your word." There is a longing in her eyes as she says this, doubting but desiring it to be true.

"Indeed, it all hinges on my word. But was that not your lot beforehand?" Red cocks one elegant eyebrow, and then begins working a water pump beside the tub to fill it. "I'd kill for the Zeuxippus right now," he grumbles while fighting with the stiff lever, each vigorous cranking of the mechanism spitting out more water into the now-warmed basin. "But yes, you - hngh - were already wholly reliant on - hah - what I claimed I was going to do, so! How's this any different?" He pauses then for a moment, shrugging out of his tunic in the process as he looks over at the Egyptian aristocrat sitting on the edge of the tub. "I know what you want, Leyli. Your letters burned. Ah, but that shall wait until I have proof of your good faith and conduct in this matter. Otherwise it'd be far too easy for you to simply have me removed, wouldn't it?" His grin is knowing, as if that is exactly what he would do under the circumstances. "But if you're good, then perhaps some more papers could meet the pyre, yes?"

With as much caution as she can manage, she gives the man a restrained beam of interest at the mention or her letters. She twirls around on her rear to dangle her legs on the inside of the bath, watching the water pump as she speaks. "You would do this? Will you tell me about this proof of good faith you have in mind?"

"Compliance," he says simply, wrenching the pump down once again as the water reaches just beneath the sitting steps. "I have uses for you, Leyli. But for - ghh! - them to be realized, I need some confidence that you won't simply - tsch! - have me floating face down in the Nile once my usefulness it outlived. I'm sure you understand," he adds with a slight smile while still filling that tub up. The water is tepid at this point; not cold, but a far cry from the heat that one would desire in a bath. Each new twist of the long, brassy handle pours another bucket's worth of water into the cavernous basin, and once again Redouane stops for a moment, shaking his head and running a hand across his brow. He takes the opportunity to unlace his breeches and wriggle them off, leaving him only in his loincloth. It, too, is removed shortly, leaving his lean lines and slender, supple form clad only in the jewelery that he has yet to remove. "So first I need your compliance, Leyli. Then I need you to learn. Maybe one day I may even have your loyalty, but I'll not stretch the realms of the practicable too far there." Oh yes, he's certainly gently mocking as he says that, but at the same time, nothing about his demeanour suggests any untruth beyond that. Of course, with such a man, what his demeanour suggests does not mean too much...

Leyli waits patiently for the water to warm, dipping a toe in to test it. She hugs her shoulders for warmth and modesty and listens calmly as he speaks, admirably resisting the urge to start throwing nearby objects at his confident face. "You are quite presumptuous, Redouane. And perhaps more ambitious than I took you for."

"Which is why you never play your entire hand at once unless you are certain of the results." Finally, the bath seems to be adequately full; all that remains is waiting for the rapidly-warming water to reach an adequate temperature. Red sits down right next to Leyli on the edge of the tub, humming some tune to himself as he finishes removing the rest of his copious silver decorations. "What kind of fool would you have took me for if I had simply played right into your hand right from the get-go, hmm? Just another implement to be used and discarded. And indeed, was I so foolish to agree to all your terms without any conditions or insurance of my own, I would deserve no less." He then leans in closer to the tawny-skinned woman, cerulean eyes narrowed faintly and his lips so very, very close to hers in a teasing mirror of earlier in the day. "Oh yes, Leyli, I have good uses for a daughter of Shiman-Sekh, but I also need a measure of reliability. Which is where my terms come in."

"Well you have me where you want me, I'm all ears to hear those terms." She slides backward with a slippery sound of flesh against stone, putting a few inches of distance between her and the Greek, her tone completely non-flirtatious, just the opposite of her warm attitude earlier in the day.

A faint shrug from Red's slim shoulders meets Leyli's cool response, as if he is disappointed but entirely understanding. "I've already told you, Leyli. And you've already conceded, or were you lying to me after you read that letter I just burned? You in exchange for not being raped and lynched by the Pharaoh's men." A slight upturn of the eyebrow, and he reaches down to test the water. Ah, good enough, he thinks to himself, then stands up to walk over to the reluctant Egyptian. "In you go," he grins, pushing her into the bath with a loud splash whether she likes it or not. He slips into the water right afterward, settling down beside where he shoved her into the pleasantly warm water, letting out a happy sigh as he does. "So much better," he murmurs.

The muscles in her body tighten and she squirms like a cat as she's shoved in the water, losing her footing on the slippery surface, ending up fully submerged for a brief moment before flailing upward with an angry look on her face. "You! The terms you forced on me did not include the conduct of this relationship. But I see you intend to continue treating me like a common slut, and while it was a fun diversion, this is not how I wish to be treated any longer!" She glides through the water to the opposite end of the bath and glares across, chest heaving as she fumes with wine-enhanced anger.

Leyli's furious, sputtering response to being pushed in the water - the flailing, the utter indignance, the huffy response - simply bring a long, sharp laugh out of Redouane, who rests his arms along the edge of the tub as he looks on at her self-imposed exodus. "Ah, so being shown off to half the town is fine, but pushed into a much-needed bath is not? Strange priorities, Leyli!" His eyes are playful as his mirth calms down to a point where he can talk rather than simply snicker. "So how do you wish to be treated, then? Like the princess you imagine you are?" He shakes his head, chuckling wryly. "That's one of your bad habits that I must correct, Leyli. You belong to me now, and I will treat you accordingly. In the 'morrow I will mark you as my own, and then there is no going back, is there? If you'd prefer to back out, well, the situation is not inescapable yet, is it? Perhaps you could even get ahead of the authorities if you threw yourself in the bunk of the nearest cog captain and begged for clemency." Whatever smile he had on his face has taken on a certain sharp edge to it, slicing through whatever playful tone he may be speaking in. "You will belong to me, Leyli, but I have every interest in keeping you, hmm, shall we say...relatively satiatied, once we pass beyond corrective and educational matters?"