"I just can't seem to get a handle on this one," his companion mused in a candid drawl. Crowley glanced at the other man, who was a bit older and far more harsh than he. "No matter what I do, she won't break. And it's a pity, because she is quite a looker."

"How bad could she be, Alastair?" Crowley questioned with a grin, rather amused that his old friend was having problems with a submissive. Alastair was a very violent, bloodthirsty dominant who beat his submissives into obedience. "I doubt you've had her for very long."

"Try two months," Alastair replied airily with a sigh. Crowley arched an eyebrow at the older man.

"Two months and she hasn't cracked yet?" Crowley asked, eyebrow arched in curiosity.

Alastair finished his glass of scotch, the reason that they were even sitting together, and looked at Crowley. The dark man was still nursing his to prolong the pleasure of a good liquor. "Not yet. I feel like I'm going to kill her before I break her, though…which wouldn't do. I paid a little too much to kill her."

"Tell you what, darling. I'll take a look over her, and if I think I want to work with her, I'll pay you back what you paid, and you can work with your others."

"Who said I wanted to sell?"

"You wouldn't tell me about a challenge without being tired of it and wanting it gone," Crowley pointed out knowingly, finally finishing his scotch and setting the empty glass next to him on the small end table that sat between their two armchairs. They'd had a variation of this conversation many times now, and Crowley never tired of it. In fact, he rather enjoyed more difficult submissives that Alastair couldn't handle. He'd gotten quite a bit of amusement in the past from them.

The two men rose to their feet, Crowley straightening his jacket lightly. A glance at Alastair showed that the older man was waiting for him to get settled. Crowley shrugged at him with a lascivious grin. "Appearances are everything, darling. I need to make sure I look as good as I feel."

"That may be a tall order," Alastair replied snarkily, though he was very candid about it. He was always ready for a smart remark, one of Crowley's more sarcastic acquaintances.

"Oh, darling, you lack faith in me."

The floor spun beneath her, a disorienting circle that drifted under her back and forth. She had a bad habit of fighting the suspension, but this was her least favorite form of bondage. She hated being above the ground, always afraid of falling. She was slowly maneuvering herself free to get away from the suspension ropes at least. She had freed her wrists, but the restraints were also around her upper arms and elbows, so that was the next step in this struggle. She bent her elbows further behind her back, groaning softly as the pain shot through her tired muscles, feeling cramps running down her arms and wincing as she tried to grab hold of the knot to work it out.

Footsteps echoed in the room, and she tried to work faster. Those footsteps were coming from the hallway, as well as muted voices. More than one? It wasn't just Alastair. That wasn't a good sign. What would today's punishment be, then? Straining herself further, she freed her elbows, bending forward as quickly as she could and managing to free her ankles just as the door opened. She wrenched her shoulders into a shrug, freeing them painfully from the belt strapped around her upper arms and twisting so she could land on the floor. Unfortunately, on the way down, her head smacked into the wall since she was closer to it than she thought. She usually had more recovery time, but she found herself bolting toward the door. She was hoping to pass Alastair, which she did, but didn't know that the other was right behind him.

Her arms were pulled behind her back, her feet flying out from under her just as her arms were released. She crashed into the stone floor on her back, the air leaving her lungs. A long, uncomfortable moment of not being able to draw in breath passed, and she finally managed to gasp air in. Her eyes opened, and she found a man looking down at her with interest. It wasn't Alastair. This man was a bit younger, his hair short and black with a very short beard - hardly longer than stubble - across his cheeks and chin. His eyes were dark and features handsome. In a mature way. He was leaning over her. Then Alastair entered the picture with an airy sigh. She felt herself getting yanked up, but fought it.

"Hello, pet," the new man offered as she was forced onto her feet, two strong, painful hands on her shoulders to keep her in place. Her eyes were on the floor, looking at his black shoes versus her feet. She hadn't washed in a short while, not having access to a bath or shower unless Alastair wanted her to bathe. Her feet were covered with cuts and dirt right now, as well as bruises. "Tell me your name." Her eyes lifted to meet his, and she found that what he'd said was an order. He was a dominant as well. His voice was almost like velvet to her, a purr with a gorgeous accent.

"He asked for your name," Alastair warned, voice candid and airy as always, but she could hear the ice under his tone. She felt her body tremble against her wishes. She would be punished whether she answered him or not.

"She's still trying to regain her breath, looks like," the man offered in that velvet purr. He looked at Alastair. "That was a daring attempt, darling." She felt as though he was talking to her despite looking at Alastair. "I'll take her."

"She was two hundred for me," Alastair informed. "Someone tried outbidding me. She cost a pretty penny, but she just isn't for me."

"That's fine, darling. I'll have the banks transfer to you. Come along, pet." She noticed that he motioned her to follow him just as Alastair's hands lifted from her shoulders. She tried to take a step after the new man - the many escape attempts outside would present themselves to her - but her body was too weak to stay upright. Without the adrenaline, she felt herself collapse in a shaky mess.

The man's shoes reentered her vision, and she hazily felt herself being picked up. His body was so warm. That was the only thought that entered her mind. She felt like she was rocking, seeing lights change around her but her eyes not focusing enough to know where she was. "You must be tired, pet," his voice cooed, sweet, soft velvet in her ear.

"M-Myra," she whispered back.

"Crowley."

A/N: Thanks for your interest, everyone! I've been hooked on a dominant Crowley idea for a while, but no one has written it yet! (You're welcome~!) I look forward to seeing what everyone thinks! Drop a review if you want! Hope to hear what you're all thinking.

Cheers!