PSL - NSFW, approach with caution

[primordialice]

- If you're looking to make an appointment to speak with the Administrator, please speak with Ms. Marette at the front desk.
- If you're looking to schedule a boxing match with the Administrator, please speak with Mr. Roussimoff in the Pankration Ring.
- If you have a really, really urgent matter that desperately needs the Administrator's attention right now, please find a senior guard and relay your information to them.
- If you have a new tea variety you'd like the Administrator to try, please leave it with Ms. Marette at the front desk or knock to the rhythm of the first movement of Furina's Benevolence and he will be with you shortly.

All other matters are first come, first served.

Comments

The next day, cafeteria

[theblacklamb]

Scar wants to know what extra credit means. So he watches for bullies, and it isn’t long before he finds one, a sad little man laughing while he steals the meal of a young inmate who looks gaunt and near tears.

It’s only a moment to be behind him, the tray out of his hands and back on the table, and then Scar is shoving him in the chest, a challenge and a redirection. “Pathetic. Can you only feel big kicking around people smaller than you? Afraid of anything that can fight back?”

The man’s face goes dark and ugly with rage, and he forgets his original target entirely, stepping up into Scar’s space. “You think you can fight back, odd-eyed freak?”

“Marcus, stop,” someone hisses from the sidelines. “He’s fucking Fatui, don’t provoke him.”

The man apparently named Marcus scoffs. “Like the Fatui hang out in Meropide protecting weaklings? He’s just a man.”

“Doesn’t Lord Mezzetino have eyes like that?” Someone else whispers too loudly. “I think that’s a fucking Lord Harbinger?”

“Mezzetino can fucking teleport, he wouldn’t be in prison,” Marcus snaps.

“Not quite teleport,” Scar says, a smoldering card appearing between his fingers. “But you’re right, I could portal out of here any time I pleased.” He flicks the card, and it grows rapidly into a portal, which he lunges through, coming out behind Marcus to shove him hard, sending him to the ground on his knees. “Why, are you scared when someone is stronger than you?”

Marcus scrambles backwards, fear leaking onto his face. How very boring. “What do you want?!”

Scar leers at him anyway. “Warden said bullies were free game. And guess what I found?” He kicks the man in the ribs just to punctuate it, even if all the fun went out of the potential fight when the man’s bravado did.

[primordialice]

Given that the cafeteria is very nearly outside Wriothesley's office, it doesn't take long for someone to scramble over and fetch him when the confrontation between Marcus and Scar begins. The guards arrive slightly faster than he does, but hang back, obviously hesitant to interrupt a fight involving a Fatui Harbinger. Wriothesley, however, has no such concerns, strolling between the tables with a casual look at the situation.

"Mr. Marcus, Mr. Mezzetino, please stand down. I believe the rules are quite clear about fighting, but especially not in the cafeteria. You'll disturb the other diners." He looks around at everyone watching, narrowing his eyes at someone quickly tucking away a book behind their back. "They're also quite clear about betting on fights outside the Pankration Ring, Mr. Baudelaire. Would you be so kind as to explain what's going on?"

Baudelaire chuckles nervously, tugging at his collar. "I - I wasn't running book, Your Grace, I just thought - hypothetically -" He pauses as Wriothesley's eyes narrow again. "I mean, Marcus was, uh, hassling Thomas there, pretending he was gonna take his dinner, and Lord Mezzetino stepped in to set him straight. No harm done, right, Your Grace? Everyone off with a warning?"

"Thank you, Mr. Baudelaire." He eyes Marcus with disfavour. "I believe the guards have spoken with you about "hassling" other inmates, Mr. Marcus. Unfortunately, it seems like you're a little slow to learn your lessons. I'd allow Mr. Mezzetino to continue teaching you, but I'd hate to waste his time. One night in solitary for interfering with a Welfare Meal, and one month doing additional shifts in the laundry. That should get rid of all that energy you seem to need to work off." He motions to one of the guards, who quickly steps forward to haul Marcus up.

With that disposed of, he turns to Scar. "Mr. Mezzetino, I'm sorry you felt the need to step in like that. Why don't you come to my office so we can discuss the restrictions on fighting again?" There's a glint in his eyes, though his face stays straight. "This way, if you please."

Before Scar can leave, the young man he stepped in to help, Thomas, plucks at his sleeve nervously. "Um, Lord Mezzetino - thank you! Thank you so much." He sat back down quickly, staring at his meal but taking shy glances at Scar.

[theblacklamb]

"Of course, Your Grace." Scar watches the glint in Brighella's eyes. He's being good. And reinforcing Wriothesley's authority over the prison, over even a Harbinger, is good, right? It's even good for the Harbingers, probably. For Brighella's cover.

He's taken aback by the victim he'd nearly forgotten about thanking him. People don't thank him. What do you even do if someone thanks you? "You're welcome," he hazards, ruffling the young man's hair vaguely. It's probably good for Fatui recruitment or something.

He follows Brighella back to his office with bated breath and without a backward glance. Extra credit for bullies. He can't wait to find out what that means.

[primordialice]

"I think you've made a fan," Wriothesley notes with amusement as they head across the walkway to the administrative office. He drops the bar behind him, making sure nobody will be able to enter without his permission. He definitely doesn't want to be interrupted.

"Now, what was all that about? Were you just looking for some action, or were you trying to earn some extra credit with me?" He hooks his fingers in Scar's collar, pulling him in close.

[theblacklamb]

Scar lets himself be pulled in, grinning crookedly at Brighella, eyes alight. "You told me it was extra credit for bullies, Your Grace. I found one." The emphasis isn't mocking, this time--more like he's tasting the words. "What does extra credit get me?"

[primordialice]

"I suppose my appreciation isn't enough?" He grins teasingly. "Come on upstairs, I have something you'll like." He leans in and gives his lip a bite rather than a kiss before pulling away to head up the spiral staircase to the large room that houses his desk and files.

Wriothesley nods towards the box on the desk. "Take a look." Inside there's a set of chains, collar, and cuffs, similar to the primordial ice chains he'd put Scar in last night except made out of polished black metal and including chains, cuffs, and a spreader bar for the ankles.

[theblacklamb]

"You didn't say appreciation." Scar runs his tongue over his bitten lip and follows. He looks into the box and his breath catches, his eyes darkening. Those would be... much harder for him to melt his way out of. He would be more genuinely helpless, not just choosing to let Brighella keep him chained.

He looks back up at Brighella, his eyes dark, and licks his lips. "Going to chain me up again, Lord Brighella?" His voice is lower, rougher.

[primordialice]

"When you look so pretty in a collar it seems like a shame to pass up the chance." He slides his hand around Scar's throat, giving it a squeeze and a shake, halfway between rough and affectionate. "Clothes off first. I don't want you making a mess."

He doesn't want Scar walking out of his office looking like he came in his pants, that's for sure. He has explanations for increased dealing with the Harbinger, but that would be a little beyond explanation.

[theblacklamb]

Scar's eyelids flutter for a moment at the grip on his neck, breath hitching at the pressure. "Like me trussed up, my lord?" he asks teasingly.

He strips efficiently, dropping his clothes on the desk next to the box. There would be little point in pretending not to be obedient right now. He's half-hard already, from anticipation alone. He looks back at Brighella expectantly. "And now?"

[primordialice]

"Oh, I certainly do." Brighella's voice has a bit of a growl in it. He can't wait to have Mezzetino chained up and on his knees for him, so he doesn't waist time, bringing out the collar to fasten it around his neck.

It's a snug fit, possibly a little too snug - it wasn't custom made for Scar, it's not like he's had time. But he's not that much larger than Wriothesley's natural form, so it should do well enough. Maybe he'll buy him some new restraints if he's very good as a treat.

[theblacklamb]

Scar swallows, savoring the difficulty of it, the way his breath comes shorter. He reaches up a hand to touch it, the chill metal steadily warming to his flesh, unlike the eternally frigid ice restraints of the day before. His eyes bleed yellow, pupils elongating.

"Like what you see?"

[primordialice]

Brighella draws his thumb under one of his eyes, admiring the pretty yellow. Wondering if he sees any different through his monstrous eyes compared to his regular ones. "You look gorgeous in that, just like I thought you would. Don't hesitate to tell me if it's uncomfortable - not that I'll do anything about it, but I do like to know." He's planning on shoving his cock down Mezzo's throat in a few minutes, so it probably won't be particularly comfortable anyway.

"Fold your arms behind your back." He attaches the chain - quite heavy - to the collar, giving it a tug. "Perfect."

[theblacklamb]

"Tight," Scar says, and grins. "And you like that." And so does he.

Scar sways a little with the tug on the heavy chain and obediently folds his arms behind his back. They're straight and solid again, enough energy regenerated for his bones to fix themselves, barely a ghost of yellow on his cheek and around his forearm to remember the injuries by.

[primordialice]

"Good." He attaches the cuffs around Scar's arms and wrists, making sure they're secured and fairly tight. The metal isn't lined, but it is smooth - though the edges haven't been filed down, so they dig in when he moves more than a little.

"Now... kneel for me." He doesn't think Scar will need help, even with his arms locked behind his back. If he's wrong and it looks like he's about to fall on his face he'll catch him, though.

[theblacklamb]

Scar leans to counterbalance as he drops to one knee, the weight of the metal pulling at him and throwing him off. He hits the ground hard, with a crack of flesh on stone, and barks out a laugh before shifting to kneel properly. He cocks his head to the side and looks up at Brighella, running his tongue over his lips. "And now, Lord Brighella?"

[primordialice]

"Sounds like it stung." Brighella's voice doesn't have any sympathy in it as he circles around behind Scar. "Very good. Spread your legs. Ankles apart." If they're not far enough for the spreader bar he'll pull them further, cuffing them in place before attaching the second chain from his wrists to the bar.

And then he's all done, restrained by chains and cuffs - there's a little slack in the chains, but not much. Scar is facing Wriothesley's comfortable desk chair, which is perfect - when Wriothesley comes back around to his front and sits, he's at just the right height to reach his cock. "Come forward, up between my legs." He'll pull his hair to guide him, making a thoughtful noise. "Can you show me your horns, my beautiful beast?"

[theblacklamb]

"A little." He might actually have fractured his kneecap. He doesn't care, though. He spreads his legs further, balance uncertain, though the bar actually helps keep him from tipping over.

He shuffles forward on his knees with a harsh exhale as the injured one grinds on the floor, moving with the tug on his hair.

Horns... he can do that. He's very happy to do that. They spiral out from his head, and his eye sockets stretch to accommodate his second set of eyes, blinking slot-eyed and balefully yellow. "Like this, my lord?"

[primordialice]

"Fuck..." There's an intrusive thought in the back of his head that says pluck one out of those pretty eyes out, keep it for yourself, he's got four, he doesn't need them all, but he ignores it. "Just like that, that's lovely." He's hard enough that it's a relief to undo his pants, just from chaining Scar up and seeing him change.

He wraps his hand around one of Mezzetino's horns, using it as a handle to pull his head down toward his cock. "I'm not going to be in the mood to do anything but leave you like this if you bite my cock off, so please keep that in mind."

[theblacklamb]

Scar laughs, low and breathless. "As you say." He doesn't particularly fancy sitting around chained up and bored without Brighella touching him, and this is supposed to be a reward, isn't it? So he'll keep being good.

He opens his mouth, shifting to take the head of Brighella's cock between his lips, swiping his tongue over the head. All Brighella's flesh tastes like salt.

[primordialice]

Just as he'd thought - boredom is a far more significant punishment to Scar than pain. Someday he'll have to teach him how to tolerate it better, but they can do that later. Right now, Scar has earned a reward, and he's going to get one.

He groans, rubbing his thumb along that sensitive part of the scalp he'd found the day before, pulling him forward to take more of his cock in his mouth. "Ahhh, good, you know how to use your mouth... that feels wonderful, Mezzo."

[theblacklamb]

Scar tilts his head into the touch, leaning forward to take Brighella deeper. The angle of his head presses the hard edges of the collar into his throat, and he chokes a little, throat spasming, but continues undeterred. The temptation to devour the salt-sweet flesh in his mouth is strong, but he's being good. If he bites it off, Brighella won't touch him.

[primordialice]

Scar's mouth is so hot around Wriothesley's cool flesh that the pleasure is already intense even from this, but he continues to press deeper, using Mezzo's horns like handles. "Choking already? This is just going to get worse then," he says cheerfully. Making Scar choke on his cock is definitely on his list of things to do right now, so everything is going according to plan.

[theblacklamb]

Scar laughs breathlessly around his mouthful. If he minded choking, he would have objected when the collar first went on, or not let Brighella put it on him in the first place. His cock is cool and salt-sweet and Scar hungers. Letting Brighella guide his head by the horns is as easy as letting him grind his face into the floor and fuck him.

[primordialice]

"Oh, if you can laugh, you've definitely got too much breath in your lungs." He pulls down hard on his horns, thrusting up into his mouth to push past his gag reflex and down his throat. He remembers how much Scar loved being used the night before and today he's going to do the same - take him exactly how he likes and let him feel the consequences.

[theblacklamb]

Scar chokes, throat spasming around Brighella's cock and against the confines of the collar, and he swipes ineffectually at what he can reach with his tongue. He can't breathe, but he doesn't struggle. He holds back his teeth. He lets Brighella use his throat.