Omg, what am I doing? Let me preface this by saying, I am almost entirely ignorant of the BDSM lifestyle(s). So this is my own, half-baked, mostly clean attempt to fill a request - I hope it doesn't offend anyone.
"Be then my slave, and know what it means to be delivered into the hands of a woman."
― Leopold von Sacher-Masoch
Dust coated everything - Jane's hair, her hands, her ratty old clothes. It tickled her nose as it danced in the slanted columns of sunlight that peered over her shoulder, sending her into random fits of sneezing. Apparently there was some point to cleaning one's house, after all - it kept your bookshelves from looking like an archaeologist's heyday at least.
She sighed and pushed away a lock of hair with one grimy hand, then shoved the flaps on one more cardboard box shut and sat back on her heels. A half-dozen more were stacked in a circle about her, each crammed full of her extensive collection of books, waiting to be loaded into the van and trundled to a storage unit. She had no problems leaving everything else in her lab behind, but her books and her equipment were off to a new safe home while she and Loki made their first extended trip to Asgard.
But one of her books was missing.
Jane prided herself on an almost encyclopedic knowledge of her collection, right down to the silliest of trade paperbacks she read herself to sleep with some nights. But as she looked around once more at the bare shelves she was sure her copy of Venus in Furs had wandered off somehow. Which was odd, because she distinctly remembered setting it aside to consider donating. It seemed silly to keep it, a relic of that human sexuality elective she'd been dared to take in college, but she rather liked the tiny hedonistic thrill she got whenever she saw it sandwiched between Carl Sagan and Brian Greene.
No matter. It would turn up or it wouldn't. Jane pushed herself to her feet and climbed into a well-earned bath.
She stepped out of the bathroom some time later, warm and cozy in her bathrobe with freshly dried hair, to find a large elaborately wrapped package sitting on her bed. Black paper, green ribbons - there was little question as to whom it was from. A smile tugged at her mouth as Jane sat on the end of the bed and pulled the box onto her lap, eager fingers tearing into the wrapping.
A smile that turned to a bemused frown as she hauled what seemed like yards upon yards of ebon fur from the depths of the box. Pelts slid like black water through her fingers, soft as a baby's sigh, and she couldn't entirely resist the urge to bring it up and rub it on her cheek before holding it up to view it in entirety. It was a coat, thick fur lined with emerald silk, the sort of garment that a Hollywood starlet might have worn decades ago. Sinfully luxurious, and so unlike anything she'd ever owned or would wear.
"Do you like it?"
Jane started at the sound of Loki's voice purring in her ear. He was standing beside her, having appeared without warning as was his habit, his height bent to bring his face close to hers. Jane smoothed wistful fingers over the warm fur.
"It's lovely," she answered, but her frown deepened. It seemed a waste of such beauty, giving her a gift such as this. Were they going somewhere cold? She'd never feel comfortable wearing something so incongruently luxurious on Earth.
"You are not pleased." Loki's voice was puzzled, and his hand joined hers in stroking the pelts as he sat beside her, the mattress sinking beneath his weight."The color does not suit you? The cut? Tell me, and I shall fix it."
Jane shook her head vehemently. "No, no, it's nothing like that. And I don't mean to seem ungrateful. It's just…" Jane trailed off, and hunched into her shoulders, feeling even sillier and plainer than usual. She would look so foolish in something this fine, like a little girl playing dress-up. "What am I going to do with something like this?" she finished miserably, eyes locked on the opulence spilled across her lap.
His hand stilled beside hers, strands of fur caught between his fingers, and when Jane glanced up his face had gone pale and hard like porcelain.
"Oh," Jane breathed, realization dawning bright and vehement, and that damned nervous giggle of hers slipped loose before she could rein it in. "You found the book."
He stood then, so fast she wasn't even aware he'd moved until he loomed above her. His spine was a harsh line and he kept his face angled away from her no matter how she craned her neck. He refused to meet her eyes. "It was lying out, and I thought…I see that I have misunderstood," he said, and the forced composure of his tone was like a slap of frigid air. "My apologies, Jane."
He stalked towards the door, and although his gait was stiff Jane could see it was a brittle sort of strength. She felt foolish and wretched, her fingers crushing the silk and sable to her chest as she shot up to her feet. She wasn't sure if she could give what he was asking for, but she couldn't let him simply walk out like that, as if the smallest nudge might fracture him.
Silly man and his stubborn pride. She supposed it wouldn't hurt to play along.
Before her nerve broke she untied the belt of her robe and let it puddle around her feet. The silk of the coat was cool as she slid it on over her bare skin, smooth and sleek and heavy. She shivered at the sensation, biting her lip as it caressed her curves. It was the most decadent thing she'd ever felt, and it practically demanded that she stand straight and not insult its magnificence by shrinking.
"Stop." She surprised herself with the steel lace of command that adorned her call. Loki jerked to a halt as if he'd hit the end of a leash, framed within the open doorway. He glanced back over his shoulder, and one trembling hand grasped the doorjamb as his mouth rounded in surprise.
She measured out a path across the room towards him, fur swishing about her calves. She let the front of the coat gape wide, cool air warring with the warmth trapped inside, brushing over her intimately in strokes that teased. The dazed look on his face was as heady and sweet as rich wine, and Jane drank it in greedily. She could almost believe herself a goddess when he looked at her like that - or a valkyrie perhaps, striding amongst the fallen and deeming which were worthy of her attentions.
She reached for his chin, held the firm square of it in her tiny hand as she pulled his face down towards her own none-too-gently. "I don't recall giving you permission to leave," she admonished icily, his skin paling where her fingers dug cruel dimples into his flesh.
He crashed to his knees before her, adoration bright in his eyes, his breath ragged and fast. "Forgive me," he panted, and Jane made no move to suppress the wicked smile that curved her lips, pleasure washing through her at having a being as powerful as Loki quivering at her small feet.
Oh yes, she could definitely get used to this.