His single chuckle is a rusty hinge grate of sound. He allows the woman more control of herself, her struggles intensifying to no avail against the iron pin of his arm around her waist and his grip of her hair. "You're only hurting yourself," he murmurs to her, voice caressing. "And frightening him. Your bold protector." Some mocking makes it into the latter. All the while, he focuses his gaze on the man, hard and unblinking.
"I can't fault you if you don't recognize me. The lighting in here is regrettably low, and you were far more focused on my Submissive at the time, my Submissive and the Dominant behind you. You forced her to torture him beyond his ability to endure it. You showed no mercy to either of them and forced me to intervene." He watches his eyes widen. "Oh, yes. Yes, good. You do recall."
"I was doing my job," he protests, twisting his head to try to include Amelia in his excuse. "We all were."
He silently sends the memories of what he witnessed and felt that day to his wife, as clear as the day it happened. She stops struggling, eyes widening and more tears spilling as she looks at her husband with a different sort of expression than fear. Disbelief. Bewilderment. "I know," he murmurs to her, just loud enough to carry to the man and Amelia, too. "It's hard to see the truth about someone you love. To see that not only are they cruel, they take pleasure in it."
"What? What are you doing?" he demands, trying to start forward on hands and knees.
"I'm showing your wife what a sadistic piece of shit you are. When I'm not depowered, I can do that. More than that." He sets the feeling of an ember directly behind her sternum. Her scream echoes from the walls, body arching at nearly an unnatural angle and thrashing to try to escape it. He sustains it for close to twenty seconds before suddenly dropping the magic. Her sobs and breaths are ragged, desperate. She's shaking violently when she brings her hands to cover her face.
"I'm a sadistic piece of shit, too. I suspect worse than you. The only difference is I don't need to be told to do it as an excuse to indulge."
no subject
"I can't fault you if you don't recognize me. The lighting in here is regrettably low, and you were far more focused on my Submissive at the time, my Submissive and the Dominant behind you. You forced her to torture him beyond his ability to endure it. You showed no mercy to either of them and forced me to intervene." He watches his eyes widen. "Oh, yes. Yes, good. You do recall."
"I was doing my job," he protests, twisting his head to try to include Amelia in his excuse. "We all were."
He silently sends the memories of what he witnessed and felt that day to his wife, as clear as the day it happened. She stops struggling, eyes widening and more tears spilling as she looks at her husband with a different sort of expression than fear. Disbelief. Bewilderment. "I know," he murmurs to her, just loud enough to carry to the man and Amelia, too. "It's hard to see the truth about someone you love. To see that not only are they cruel, they take pleasure in it."
"What? What are you doing?" he demands, trying to start forward on hands and knees.
"I'm showing your wife what a sadistic piece of shit you are. When I'm not depowered, I can do that. More than that." He sets the feeling of an ember directly behind her sternum. Her scream echoes from the walls, body arching at nearly an unnatural angle and thrashing to try to escape it. He sustains it for close to twenty seconds before suddenly dropping the magic. Her sobs and breaths are ragged, desperate. She's shaking violently when she brings her hands to cover her face.
"I'm a sadistic piece of shit, too. I suspect worse than you. The only difference is I don't need to be told to do it as an excuse to indulge."