T/W and tags: BDSM, S&M, electrification, bondage, mild bloodshed, cunnilingus, mild knife play, cowgirl & reverse cowgirl, and blowjob.

"Ohayōgozaimasu!" (Good morning!)

Eren grunts, looking up at her through the bright morning sunlight shining through the room. His brain acclimates to the morning, reducing the intensity of the perceived light sufficient to allow the details of her face to wash into mind. He sees her grinning widely, a jubilant awareness about her.

Mikasa flicks the covers away from him, standing up straight and perky, "Your turn, man whore."

Still blinking out some of the morning shine, Eren retorts, "Eh, how about no?"

Mikasa raises a sharp brow at him. "Wasn't a question. You agreed to it, and moreover, it's my turn and I feel like it. So it's happening." She chirps happily.

Eren grins back at her, an arrogant grin beaming up at her, "Make me."

She smiles, happy to find him putting up a useless resistance. Her hand steals away his phone from the night stand, pressing hard on the power button with a continuing, joyful grimace until the screen flicks out. His brow furrows, but is quickly broken as her hand tightens around his ankle and drags him right off the bed, effortlessly. Eren yelps as he thumps against the ground, quickly trying to catch up to her walk on his hands while the carpet burns over his back. Mikasa continues forward with a solid determination and indifference, her arm stiff at her side as the other drags him behind her. He catches his hands on the frame of their bedroom doorway, resisting her kidnapping.

Her momentum snags as his arms tense, pulling on the wall in a futile effort to escape. She swings around, her upper body solid and imposing. A hand sweeps over his head and firmly grasps a clump of hair as she kicks his arms off the wall, immediately turning to resume her pace. An unpleasant groan rumbles from his throat as she drags him away unceremoniously, his hands reaching into his hair to relieve the burden.

"Tsk! Damn woman, easy!"

Mikasa rounds on him instantly, jamming some purplish article of clothing into his open mouth. "Shut. Up. No talking. Only answering." She is curt and firm. Her hand resumes dragging him to her lair. They pass through a doorway. Eren attempts to hook his feet on the edges of the frame, hopelessly. She barely notices the inconsequent bump in progress.

The room is dark along the periphery, a single ceiling light and fan in the center of the spare bedroom warmly lighting the center room with a yellow-orange light. A slow swirl of air curls around the room, the fan rotating on its lowest setting. Multiple cabinets litter the edges of the room, hiding their contents in the gloom and dark colors of semi-gloss stains and paints. Various outlines of exercise equipment and related tools break the even silhouettes of the four plain walls. One unusual seat rests off center near the middle of the room.

Mikasa tugs on his hair, dragging him to his feet as she stops beside the chair. "Clothing, off. All of it. Now." She yanks the cloth from his mouth, tossing it onto one of the surfaces along a wall beside the door. Walking toward one of the cabinets against the wall to the right of the door, she stops short and turns 90° until he is presented with a minimum profile of her body while still watching him.

Eren hesitates, but responds quickly enough. Whisking his shirt over the top of his head and unbuttoning his pants. He kicks them away a moment later, but leans against the odd chair looking at her with a small, rebellious grin with his underwear still on.

Their eyes catch. Her eyes narrow at him threateningly, but he does not move as he aimlessly opposes her from the start.

She spins around, her hidden arm procuring a matte black wand with a glossy midnight-purple band striped down the centerline from a drawer beside her. Pivoting off her inside foot, her wand hand swings in a wide arc around herself until the tip scrapes over Eren's chest. Just as her outside foot swerves around and plants solid to the ground in the center of the room. Her finger depresses a button on the wand.

Eren's shoulders and pecks contract suddenly as a quick burst of electricity courses through the skin of his chest. He lets out a shocked gasp but remains standing.

Mikasa leans into him, pressing the point into his sternum and locking eyes with him again. "I said, 'All of it. Now.'" Eren looks back at her blankly, washing out his rebellious instinct and instead remaining standing with his hands back against the chair to appear more submissive. She traces the wand down his centerline as he does nothing. Anxiety creeps in though his extremities as he feels the metal prod streak down his bare skin to his waistline.

His arms appear from behind his back, hooking under the sides of his underwear and dragging the elastic below his thighs wordlessly. The fabric falls past his knees to the floor. He stands quietly, waiting for her response. Or command.

She cocks a brow at him inquisitively. The pressure of the metal on his waist relaxes, the wand falling to her side. He eyes it carefully as she steps up in front of him. A finger traces over his right breast, down over the ruffles of his abs and across his waistline. Her eyes flick up to his, a light smile on one half of her face as her finger comes to a stop on his hip.

A perturbing silence purveys Eren's sense of the room.

Mikasa doesn't move. Her finger loitering on his right hip for a minute before anyone in the room breathes. "Eyes forward," she flicks at his waist as she commands him.

His face gradually relaxes as she begins moving again, eyes focusing on the doorway. She swings the door shut with a loud clang and begins walking the perimeter of the room in silence, barely so much as glancing in his direction. Unsure if it is a test or if she is searching for something, Eren chooses not to move for the time being. Taking it as an implicit order. Still, his posture relaxes a shade, his hands finding the lip of the chair behind him again and settling some of his weight through his arms.

She stops beside the original cabinet the wand came from. Her fingernails rasp the surface three times, the hollow sound filling the room. Eyes sweep around the room and rest on his face. Eren catches the movement from his periphery and hesitates, unsure if he can meet her gaze. The subtle but not invisible movement does not escape her notice.

But he keeps his eyes forward. Good.

Mikasa tiptoes up to him, standing barely more than breath away. The heat of her lungs rolls down his body, making him lean into her subconsciously. She forces herself to bite back the urge to nibble on her lip as she recognizes his instinctive response. A hand rises from her side, a single finger hooking and beckoning at him, "Look at me."

Eren's head tips down the few dozen degrees to look at her. He forces himself to look her in the eye, and not sweep up and down her body with his ticklish desire to check her out. Nothing happens for a moment. Her hand drops back to her side, parallel with the other arm as she stands straight.

"Take off my nightgown. No touchy-feely, just the cloth. No noise. Eyes on mine." She commands him poignantly.

He hesitates, unsure how to both remove her clothing and keep eye contact the whole time. Still, he is familiar enough with the raven cloth coating her body to carefully pinch the fabric straps from her shoulders, drawing them away until they fall loose around her arms. Eren leans forward slightly, his head dropping down nearly even with hers as their eyes blaze through the minute space between their faces. A firm tug down the cloth on either side of her hips drop the black mass to the floor. Standing upright, Eren forcefully wills himself against the insatiable desire to look below her nose.

More disciple follows as he recognizes a graceful smile below his focus. She steps aside, using her planted foot to shoo away the clothing from beneath herself before retaking her position. Eren follows the movement of her head diligently.

She can see him flexing. His arms bracing around his backside, chest tightening. A constraining pulse surges through her as she resists her own interest in relaxing her form. His subconscious leaning returns, his body even more noticeably tipping forward. But the wrinkle of an eyebrow belies his conscious push, even if he manages to restrain himself from looking her over.

Deciding to work with it, Mikasa pirouettes slow. Taunting. Her shoulders complete 180°, square with his. She buckles slightly, intentionally letting her butt brush against his waist with a calculated lightness. Eyes no longer bound to hers, they roll around immediately, trying to choke back an open groan.

The embracing touch disappears as she walks away. His eyes flicker forward again, glad to feel the conscious trickle of pleasure fade away. Though, of course that does little to slow the swell of blood commanded by the impulsive response.

Mikasa makes a show of backing off far enough for his peripheral vision gather in the rest of her body.

Thin black straps cross over her front in a tight double-x pattern. One centered directly on her waistline. Another stitched over the pleats of her upper abs. An intimate glow of skin in the space between her legs catches his eye.

Attention lingering in the gap for a time, Eren's eyes jitter back and forth over her nose: reengage, Eren. He manages to tear his focus back to intaking the points of her outfit.

Slow to resume, his gaze wanders to the tip of her chin, unwilling to look any lower after judging the plausible margin of error in his study. The lower x-band feeds into a pair of thick, heavy utility belts atop her thighs. Appearing to encircle the whole perimeter of her thighs, Eren guesses they hide tools on her flanks or back that he cannot make out from the distance and angle he is allowed.

Trying to soak in the details below her thighs yields nothing; she appears naked below her thighs. No ankle collars. No braces around her shins. Still, he strains to try and intake something, expecting a stray adornment that may come around to bite him later.

But nothing stands out at him. Maybe what he sees is what goes.

No. That can't be right. She has more tools tucked away somewhere.

He shoves the thought to the back of his mind as he centers his attention over her upper body. Her abs' x-band tagging backward into a bar parallel to the bottom of her breast cups, likely wrapping around her back in mirror to her front. Numerous threads of some dark, fabric-based cordage link the band with her bra in a wash of fibers. Feeding to a solid cover over the lower half of her breasts. Jagged edges adorn the top line of her bra straps, giving way to open semi circles around her nipples.

A thin, glossy band of a dark purple inline the contours of the substantial surfaces of her breasts' cups and down the centerlines of all the other bands wrapped around her body. Except for the bands on her thighs. Least, not so far as he can tell. Their bindings are too far from the sweet zone of his focus to be able to ascertain they do not have a similar trail of dark purple ingratiated within the material.

She waits a few more breaths, allowing him the luxury of drinking in her outfit for a few more seconds. A twist of her hips and raise of her arm reaches for a mass on top of one of the dressers aside the door. Eren can see the familiar thin, purplish cloth that was previously stuffed in his mouth as a silencer flash around her face and neck. Tying it snugly around the back of her neck. Adjusting the fibers so the minimal excess drapes down her back and not her front.

Mikasa paces back to him, standing a bit off center enough to let her free hand grope his swollen mass without twisting one way or another. His eyelids jitter, clearly nipping back at the desire to enjoy her touch. A quick stroke upward draws more blood flow, the sponge hardening far more readily.

Eren's eyes widen suddenly as he sees the blur of the wand returning to view. His lips purse tight, bracing for a zap that doesn't come.

The tip presses into his chest again, her hand continuing to ease up and down his shaft. Her finger prominently displayed on the button, she commands him, "On the rig." He frowns at her, but complies. Inching backward until he feels the edge of the chair with his fingers behind his back.

Easing himself down, he first sits on the hard surface. But her pressure and facial expressions clearly command him to lay back. A brief fall until his back touches the surface. She walks up beside his waist, hand still coaxing his sensitive skin. The wand leaves his chest, arm disappearing to her side.

He continues to keep eye contact with her as she bends her knees, wand arm turning under the chair. A few clicks sound from beneath him. The wand returns to his chest, pressing the tip hard into his skin. "Down."

His eyebrows ruffle again, at first unsure what she means. Then he understands to put his back into it, flexing against the backrest. An unexpected wash of vertigo swirls through his head and chest as the chair he reclined in sweeps downward into a flat bench. The whole rig stops suddenly as it reaches the set position, jostling him around erratically as its momentum crashes to a halt.

Mikasa's fingers trace around the edge of his head, furiously teasing the nerves in his skin. She watches his body rigidify. Greatly snipping back his response.

Her fingers persist, using the soft center of her finger tips to stimulate the smooth skin of his head. She leans forward slightly, looking down at him studiously. "No cumming. Whatsoever." Eren abruptly feels the cool metal of the wand jab into the side of his crotch, buried between his thigh and hip. A single, fast zap electrifies the area.

Eren slams his head back into rig, shouting in pain. "AH! What the hell was that for!" The metal withdraws from his skin before he can finish yelling.

"I don't need a reason."

He groans back at her irritably, waist aching from the pulse. His lip curling as his head raises from the plane in challenge.

She catches his resistance immediately; her hand drops his skin and she steps up beside his head and glares down at him with the imposing ferocity that disintegrates titans. Her hands tense against the sides of her body, whole body stiff as a board as she dictates the law to him.

Eren is completely unfazed. His previously pained face breaking into a defiant grin, upper body rising from the table toward her.

Mikasa's face lights up, graciously taking the challenge as a learning opportunity. She smiles, "But, now you have given me reason." Her free hand clamps over his mouth, smashing his head back into the table. The wand traces over the faint imprint of his waistband, shocking him through the whole stroke. His waist shutters back and forth as the electricity ripples through his skin and muscles. He groans heavily, eyes shut tight as he tries to drown out the pain. Her smile shrinks, but brightens as she watches his eyes reacting to the zapping.

She finishes off with two touches of the metal to his flank, each a few centimeters apart to spread out the feeling over more of his skin. Her hand leaves his mouth, but cups in front of his chin. "Spit."

His eyes open, sweeping down from her face to her arm, seeing her hand. He ruffles his brow, not liking the potentials she's expanding. Another shock zips through his thigh. Her tone becomes more forceful, "I said spit." Eyes narrow at her, but his head lifts from the table and spits into her hand.

Mikasa keeps her hand at his chin for a moment longer, then slowly drags her knuckles down his body. Until her fingers part and wrap around his engorged shaft again. Her head tips up a tad, studying his response as she works her fingers over his skin with his own saliva. Eren presses the back of his head into the bench, gritting his teeth together. His fingers squeeze together, hands turning white as he fights back against her delicate, electrifying touch.

Her lips purse as she is pleased with his reaction. Fingers continue, coating the rim of his head with saliva in a tender circle. A pair of fingers jimmy against the skin below his tip, washing a sea of stimulation around within him. His control deepens, body tensing wholly. She tips her head back a little farther, an expectant grin creeping up her lips when she feels his erection stiffen more.

And he relaxes. Her hand withdrawn from his skin. A rush of air streams from his lungs.

Mikasa turns to face the table, pulling a wide nylon strap from a slat beside his left ankle. The lock snaps together on the other side of his ankle, holding it to the rig. She walks around the table and repeats the process with his right wrist. Eren watches her quietly.

A crisp snap echoes through the room, her hand leaving a red mark on his chest. "Eyes up, focus on the dot above the fan." Eren squints for a moment while his eyes linger on her face. Then obediently seek out the mark she speaks of.

He notices the sound of some clanking and clicking near one of the dressers, assuming she is preparing something. But whatever she was doing is already complete, her hand wrapping over the top of his eyes. "I know you didn't just try to look at me."

Eren does nothing for a breath. Then smiles at her. She jabs the metal prong into his neck and gives him another jolt. His neck flexes into the shock, breaking the smile unconditionally and without the possibility of resistance. Still, it traces back up his lips after a chirpy grunt. The metal touches against his neck thrice, drawing a trail up his neck to the right notch of his jaw. A shock each bit.

That wipes it away, leaving him groaning quietly in a lasting ache. A loud crank vibrates through the table, ended by a heavy thud as the two bastions flanking his head withdraw from the plane of the resting surface.

Mikasa steps up behind his head, letting her hand drop from his eyes.

His pupils shrink, eyes adjusting to the light of the room again. He tries to focus on the dot above him, but finds it difficult as the familiar blur of Mikasa's figure stands above and behind him. She watches his lips purse tightly, debating on keeping composure.

Mikasa steps forward. Just enough for her body to cover the top half of his vision.

It gives him a brief moment to examine the details of her utility belt: black, as originally expected. Except for a thin trace of purple along the bottom edges on either side. Multiple loops of an elastic material skirt the side of her thighs, running behind her beyond his vision. From his perspective he only sees one black mass on her left hip, mostly obscured by the boundaries of his detailed vision.

In any case, he doesn't have time to make out further detail. She treads over top him, her shins wrapping around the buttresses now perpendicular to the table aside his head. The cool metal of the wand presses into his navel, his breath pausing. "Tongue only. No penetration."

Eren doesn't hesitate this time, tongue exiting his mouth and tracing through the smooth, wet skin of her valley. Up and down. Long, smooth strokes. But the wand's tip still prods into his belly button.

His hands clench up tightly. Tongue continuing to draw through her for several bated breaths. She gives no response; not a lick of outward indication of his appropriate behavior or its effectiveness. A flash of panic spreads from the tip of the wand as she steps away from him, leaving his tongue hanging in the air for an unanticipated moment.

Mikasa walks back to the tabletop she was at before commanding his tongue. Eren intently watches her with his peripheral vision. The wand slips into a loop on her right thigh, hands working with something on top of the dresser in front of her. Two breaths pass as a similar clicking sound and a dull thump sound from the wood in front of her.

She turns around, cradling a cloth with a smallish ceramic bowl in one hand. He tenses, unsure what to expect from her. Her finger nail taps his chest twice. A short breath of air rolls from her nose, humored at the responsive wave of his facial muscles.

Mikasa dips her index fingernail into the bowl, collecting a coat of hot wax on her finger. She jiggles her finger in the air over his chest, letting a drop of the wax fall to his chest. A short, snipped grunt rumbles through his throat. Her finger dips back into the wax and rejuvenates the liquid on her finger. She streaks her finger over his eyes, drawing a bead of a deep purple wax the length of his nose. He blinks harshly, hoping to avoid any wax flowing into his eyes. But she is precise – the thin film rapidly cools into a line down his nose without flowing any other way.

Eren breathes evenly as he feels her finger and nail scribbling something over his abs. Finger first, seemingly depositing large quantities of wax onto his skin as she stoops over close to his body. Then her nail, scraping the cooling fluid into sculpted lines. He pays attention to her movement, using the timing to guesstimate a moment he can steal a glance at her.

Her face is focused on its task, guiding her dexterous hand over his skin with whatever message or symbols she has decided upon. Lips together, natural and soft. But he can see her biting the inside of her lip as titillating joy swarms through her. Eren snaps his eyes back to the dot as he feels her finger slow its drawing, eager to avoid drawing ire to his stolen attention.

A dot of her finger concludes her scribing, a dollop of wax cooling on his skin.

Mikasa's hand clamps over his mouth. Burning wax splashes over his throat. He recoils, shoulders pressing back into the rig with a continuous groan as the liquid runs down the side of his neck and begins solidifying. She turns, the bowl hand moving behind her. A sharp arc flings the bowl through the air, holding the remaining drops of hot wax into the container via acceleration until it impacts his chest. The cloth withdraws after a moment, ensuring the bowl is steady.

She watches Eren's eyes flicker, dribbles of wax forming a neat circle on his chest under the perimeter of the bowl. Though, the wash of wax over his throat is likely far more sensitive and present in mind. Her hand throws away the cloth behind her indiscriminately. The warm fingers previously holding the bowl wrap around his steady shaft. A long, taunting streak upwards dragging his skin with her movement as the heat of her fingers soaks into his skin.

His eyes roll around in his head, struggling to stay focused between competing sensations and dialectics. A small smile draws up her lips, observing his struggle. Then her fingers withdraw. Hand pulling an even wider nylon band from a slat beside his neck and drawing it over his throat until a sharp snap sounds as the end locks into the twin slat on the other side of his neck. The band bites into the drying wax caked around his throat.

Her attention scopes over his body, head to waist.

He cannot see it, but she can. And it feeds her smile.

MIKA'S

MAN WHORE.

Scrawled over his abs.

A groan draws her attention back to his face as her fingers resume their taunting. Her fingers stroking him tediously, drawing up the mass of skin from the center of his shaft until her finger tips squirm around his head. She looks at him intensely, leaning into his vision close enough to make out the details of her face. He silences himself shortly thereafter.

Mikasa pivots and withdraws her hand in a single motion, stepping off to another cabinet. A brief rustle through the drawer acquires a black staff with a rubberized grip and a loop of blackened leather on the narrow end. She turns it over, inspecting the tool as she closes the drawer and walks back to Eren's head.

The verge streaks into his focus, Mikasa holding the leather loop between his eyes and the black dot on the ceiling. She turns it over several times, rotating it in her hand to let him inspect its two sides. One, plain colored leather. The other, studded with several tiny metal pyramids, sharp and pointed. He wants to gulp, but refuses to give her the power.

The verge disappears from his view.

Quickly replaced by the blur of skin and bindings of her body standing over his face again. She presses the leather loop into his navel. "Same deal. Tongue only. No penetration."

He hesitates. The pressure of the strap presses into him. Then remits, as he obeys.

Again, she gives no outward pleasure despite the gentle stir rounding in her head.

"Clit."

Eren cranes his head back, struggling against the strap around his neck to reach his tongue up to the bundle of nerves on his blind side. There is enough give that it is not the impedance, his tongue is. He can barely swipe the tip against the underside of her nerves. She leans forward, enough that the tip of his tongue can sweep over the broad end of her clit, sending a shiver through her legs.

She holds still for a few breaths, allowing her eyes to float around in her head while he cannot see. Except, her breathing betrays her camouflage. The shallow, tight breaths eminent of her sexual pleasure. His tongue staggers its sweeps, jabbing up and down then across her. Mikasa feels the shift in his jaws as he grins.

The verge flips around to the embedded spikes. A sharp whip impacts his left flank, just below the wax period dried on his ab. Minute driblets of blood coalesce into pinpoints of red from the punctures. Eren groans through her, his grin disappearing into a painful grimace.

The hum excites her.

She whacks the leather band against his sides several more times, flipping the tool with each hit to stitch an assortment of blood dimpled patterns up his flanks. His wincing and groaning continue, growing with each hit. The vibration reverberates through her legs. Only encouraging her even more.

Mikasa switches the handle around, thwacking the smooth leather against his wounds. His abs cringe and flex. The hum emanating from his throat ceaseless; tangy in her sensitivity. The whips persist, growing in intensity as she keeps him in-line without words.

Then, just as suddenly, she stops. Eren's tongue is left hanging in the air again.

No feedback. No clue if she enjoyed herself or if she got so much as a rise out of the forceful pain.

His head drops back to the rest, a weighty clunk sounding through the rig as he breathes. Chest rising. Falling.

She cranks a lever underneath him, the bastions returning to their even positions aside his head. He follows her gait, silently groaning to himself as he recognizes her swapping the whip for the wand. Her knee rises onto the table beside his hip, quickly throwing the other leg over his waist and straddling him with her back to his face.

Mikasa rests her weight on her shins, leaning back until her hair hangs into his face. He snorts, blowing away a few strands of hair tickling the inside of his nose. She shakes her head, showering her hair over his face again. The wand returns, point pressing into his right thigh, "No cumming. No noise. No touching." He can feel her glare, even while looking at the back of her head. His chest tightens.

Lightness flutters up through his chest, eyes shuttering as he feels her envelop him. Her walls grip him viscidly, the cells delighted to feel his erect skin grace by them. Sending quivers through her legs. The twitches do not escape Eren's notice, but he does nothing. Merely laying, bound to the rig.

Her hips rise straight upward, bending his shaft at its midpoint. His arms twist and brace against the surface, a great rise in mental fortitude accumulating at the front of his mind as he attempts to ignore the alluring stimulation thrilling through his pike. He feels her weight shift forward slightly, consuming more of his skin within her.

Two, three strokes of her hips. Side to side. Front to back. Eating him up. Excitations streaking through her taught legs and buzzing in her chest. Her pace takes off, quick gyrations of her waist throwing in lateral movements with the front-back motions rippling him through her. The gait pushes past his would-be rhythm, making him struggle to keep a straight mind and obedient body.

Mikasa's head rings. Her ears squinch backward, the ecstasy creeping through her skin into her head. Making her chest shrink and face recoil. Legs tingle, abundant over the top of her thighs.

Something brushes against her left thigh.

She rounds on him in a flash – sitting forward and reeling around on top of him with an impossible speed. Her shins plant into the table again, the wand hand streaming outward and presses the metal prod into his forehead with a piquancy. "The fuck you think you're doing?" Furious.

Eren's eyes grow wide, focusing first on the purple gloss lined down to his forehead, then on the riveting woman sitting atop him. His left hand raises from the table, palm forward in a sign of peace. Their jaws open in tandem slightly, Mikasa's hair falling over her face in clutches. Her stroking resumes, eyes still locked on him with her finger on the button.

He doesn't move, keeping his unrestrained hand where she can see him. Her pace builds, slowly resuming its initial cycles. Eren sees her slate eyes blaze, the dull color betrayed by the amorous storm blistering through her head in a baleful intensity. His eyes refocus on the glossy band stuck to his head.

Her pivots subsume her. The froth washing well beyond her waist, energizing the lines of communication up through her body. Eren lets his hand fold back to the table, satisfied he avoided punishment for delaying his climax.

Mikasa's eyes sink shut, overcome by a wave of euphoria chortling through her. Warmness envelops her – her extremities streaking off into an interdimensional distance as her brain tears them far off from her core. The free hand plasters over his chest, resting more weight on him as she yaws forward in a virulent haze. Her hips slow to a halt, sinking down his shaft but keeping considerable weight on his chest. Eren eyes her carefully, sure she is experiencing an orgasm but unsure of how much he can get away with.

A jump of electricity shivers through his forehead, his eyes twitching cross-eyed and brows scrunching inward together.

His lip twitches in anger together with a snarl, even as the wand retreats. Eyes relax and refocus on her face, still light and white from the rush in her head. Still aware of his plotting. A malevolent grin spreads over her face. "As if I wouldn't know…" she counters without lexical prompt. It is all over his face. And the tension in his legs is a dead giveaway, too.

The button depresses and she sporadically draws a line down his chest, then jumps over her legs and touches the metal to his thigh. She watches him cringe and jostle as the charge flows from the wand into his body. A full cycle, down and back up his body.

Eren's face is red by the time she finishes. Fuming.

She presses the button again and holds the wand into his navel for nearly a full minute. Her face lights up as she watches him squirm under her. The pain drawing enough of his subconscious away that his erection weakens within her.

A bulb on the button strobes red, out of battery. She checks the readout to ensure that the battery in the wand is, in fact, depleted. Yep… it is. Mikasa shrugs and tosses it away behind her.

The whip returns. Thirteen lashings over his pecks and biceps, swapping the strike head each time.

Eren's fever grows. His lips turning an odd purplish color from the combination of not breathing and an irate mood flushing his head with dark red blood. "Fuckin' Bitch!" Eren winces, blurting out as the last whip scrapes open a few itty-bitty holes in his left bicep.

Mikasa's face perks up, taking the challenge. The metal studs press against his cheek, lash bending under the pressure. "You're sorry, did you just address me?" She blinks innocently, her finger crooking back toward her lips. His eyes narrow at her with a dire glare. "One chance."

Eren seals his lips. Refusing to speak.

A flutter of black metal in her other hand produces a familiar pocket knife, blade extended. His narrow glare loosens, trying to mimic boredom. However, not before the tip of the blade touches his chin gingerly. Thoughtful weight punches the blade through the skin. A single, minute dewdrop of blood swelling through the opening.

Eren groans through his throat, as if protesting. She lifts the blade, enough to keep the tip in the pebble of blood, but not enough to remove the lucid threat. His chin drops, slow and careful to avoid the point. "Whe't em I evvn suhoostah' call youu?" He mumbles out, not moving his chin.

The blade withdraws, a sharp flick of her wrist and fingers retracting the blade into its holster after wiping the miniscule blood residue onto his shoulder. She holds the hilt to her chin for a moment in thought. "Mika-Master," she waves her hand in the air, immediately dismissing what she just said, "No no. Mik-aster."

Eren looks at her, trying to suppress a laugh. "What?"

"You heard me." The humor and lightness in her tone vanishes instantly, returning to her supereminent tone.

He shrinks, the imminent awareness of her threats trickling back into being. But he doesn't say it.

She leans forward as his impending silence weighs the room down. Her eyebrows perk up, lining evenly as her attention focuses on his face. Eren tries to act innocent, but Mikasa is clearly having none of it. The blade flicks out of its stowage again. He gives her the same bored look, albeit somewhat truer this time. Holding the tone successfully diminishes her adamance.

"Fine. I have a new toy to test out anyway." The blade folds back into itself and disappears from sight. Eren raises a brow after her, watching her rise and walk to a yet-unused dresser beside their exercise ball off to his left side. While rummaging around in the drawer, she challenges him again, "I still haven't heard you say it."

"Bite me."

She snorts humorously, but does not let him hear it. "That can be arranged." A curt shove closes the drawer with a snap, revealing a black donut shaped item about the size of her hand. Held to her face with a smile.

Eren eyes the object, all but asking what it is or what it contains.

She taps the plastic with a finger nail, "Oh this? This is piano wire."

His look narrows, suspicious of trusting her answer.

Mikasa paces up beside him, still holding up the spool. She tips her head to the side, admitting a white lie. "Okay maybe not piano wire. But wire nonetheless."

Which only makes Eren even more suspicious.

"Would you like a demonstration?" She asks, too cheerily.

Eren laughs, cutting it short and answering with a firm, "Nope."

She drops the spool onto his chest and scrapes a fingernail over one of his wounds, "Like you have a choice."

Eren lifts his left arm and right leg from the table, reminding her the bondage is not total. When she gives no response, he shoots out his left arm toward her neck.

Effortlessly sidestepped. She bows back, whisking her head around his outstretched arm and biting her teeth into his forearm. A hand grabs his wrist to steady him as he shouts back at her in pain. Her teeth recede. "You did ask for it."

He grumbles incoherently.

Mikasa's hand drops his arm, taking up the spool and leaping into the air. Her shins crash down on his lower body, knees crushing into his chest. Eren's eyes pop wide open, the blow knocking the wind out of him. She lets her legs skim to the sides, pinching at his skin as they fall to the table.

A thud rumbles through the rig as her shins bump into the surface simultaneously. She pinches at something in the spool, drawing out a length of wire a little longer than her forearm. A small, sturdy looking wire cutter appears from a housing somewhere in the spool. Snipping the wire, she dangles it over his chest. Slowly, his chest begins expanding again, drawing air into his paralyzed lungs.

The wire is pretty stiff, but malleable. Eren can't make out any appreciable details other than it being a very dark grey color, of an oddly diamond shape. Her hand blocks her face, but only lasts a moment longer as she shifts the wire away from their line of sight. He eyes her uncertainly.

She repeats the pinch, producing two more wires of similar length. Laying the first two on his left side. Her attention on snipping the last wire, she sees his fingers creep over the closest one within reach. "You sure you wanna do that?"

Eren's face sours. She shrugs, clipping the last wire.

"You're about to find out either way."

She scoots forward slightly, stringing the wire around his left bicep just below his armpit. It tightens around his arm. Oddly sharp…

Numbers two and three quickly follow, roughly three centimeters between each band. Eren finds the edges of the wire strange, but his mind only lingers on the awareness for as long as it takes her to finish knotting the three bands around his arm. Her feet rise over his hips, feet brushing against either side of his softened shaft.

His mind's eye breezes down to his waist, focusing on the feeling of her cool feet stroking him. Her head is tipped back, eying him with interest. Watching his response.

Mikasa settles herself on him, resting her waist and chest on his. Head on his shoulder. She hums pleasantly, feeling his warmth radiating through her. Eren breaths steadily, more force needed to rise the weight that happily attached itself to his chest.

Silence purveys the room. Mikasa does nothing but listen to his breathing. Merely stopping her stroking, but still shore up her feet around his spongey mass.

Eren bites his lip, free hand raising from the table. She feels his shoulder shift behind her, but lets him have his moment. It won't last long and it comes with consequences.

His hand palms her butt. Fingers cupping under her skin, palm resting on the polished leather of her dominatrix gear. Mikasa permits the grope, secretly enjoying the insurrectionary affection in the back of her mind. Judging her head and hair curled inward enough to keep him from seeing, she even allows herself a joyful smile. Despite her care, he can feel her jaw tighten.

Then the control descends again. She rises from his chest, arm planted into his sternum with firm pressure. "Had your fun?" keeping her tone neutral.

Eren beams at her, ignoring the implied menace.

She produces the wire cutters, brandishing them in front of him for a moment before synching the center pair of tied wire ends into a pair of special notches in the crux of the cutters. The tongs close around the wires, tightly trapping them in a pair of grips. Mikasa beams back at him, ready to watch the consequences flush into his mind. Painfully.

A square twist tightens the knot around his arm. The blades of the wires make their presence known, biting into his arm ruefully. The thin measure of skin adjacent turns white, then red as the infinitesimal teeth cut into his skin. Exposing his flesh.

Eren yelps, arm recoiling and his biceps flexing. Only serving to exacerbate their snell bite. His eyes flicker, first struggling to look down at his wounded arm. Then only after recognizing the futility, back up to hers.

She gives no remission, quickly gripping the lower band with the cutters and repeating the taut. He yelps again, managing to bite back the noise level a bit more this time. And then the last, closest to his shoulder. His eyes blaze at her, but otherwise gives no response to the final strain.

"Going to be more cooperative now?" she catechizes him eagerly.

A mild twist tightens the topmost band, exposing another layer of flesh to elicit a response.

"Hai…" (Yes…) his tone his thick, as if struggling to find the words.

She raises a brow at him, "'Yes…'… what?"

He would have to try to stifle a laugh as he thinks of it again, but the sting of the wires' blades cutting into him wash away that step. "Yes, Mik-aster."

The tool withdraws after unwinding the topmost band to the point it no longer cuts into him. "Good. Because your ear is next."

Eren scrunches his eyebrows at her, disputing the need for such filigree. She catches his look mid-turn. Her attention recenters to him. Staring him down, leaning forward and expanding her chest until she sees the flicker of obeisance reassert itself in his demeanor. Not satisfied, the clamps synch around the topmost wire again.

Forehead tight, he doesn't move. Watching her carefully. She leans forward a bit more, her weight transitioning to the fingernails nipping into his chest. Unsure of exactly what she is wanting, he contracts his head toward his abdomen a bit. The cool wax shell under the nylon neck strap crinkling and breaking up under the corrugating skin.

Apparently, it has the sought after attributes. Mikasa unhooks the tool from the wires, stowing them back into the spool. She places the plastic container on his right side.

Eren's eyes wander back to the dot on the ceiling, choppily obscured by the turning fan blades.

Her hand smushes into his face, turning his head to the right and squishing it into the tabletop. "No noise. No cumming. No touching." She commands him again. Her weight shifts backward, then surges forward again as she reminds him. "Ear."

The other hand whisks around behind her, quickly stroking the underside of his cock until he rises to attention. Keeping her weight on his face, she gradually recedes until she feels the skin of his head brush against her inner thigh. She uses her legs to guide him in, still stroking him a bit with her fingers to keep the blood flow growing. A solid drop of her hips presses his head into her.

Eren draws a sharp breath under her hand.

Her hips sink down his length, her weight redistributing backward as she rebalances to ride him. Hands walk backward, relieving the pressure from his face and blanketing over his abs. She rocks her hips side to side, rubbing his head through her to stimulate herself. It causes a twinge of her eyes as her mind is overcome by the trepidation.

Mikasa continues, weaving her waist around him in more intricate, lopsided circles. Sinking him deeper. Deeper into her abyssal confines. Streaking more and more nerves in her. Through her.

Her fingers ripple over his chest, no doubt a confused combination of conscious and unconscious signals sent from her chaotic head. But her writhing does not abate. No, it intensifies feverishly.

Wide arcs grate his head over her inner nerves, back against the inset endings sending furious signals through her spine. Causing visions of non-existent colors to coalesce in her mind, vision clouded inconsistently as her eyes close and focus on the feeling ebbing through her. Her waist tightens, inner muscles contracting in the early expectations of a euphoric climax.

Eren's chest quivers, a deep breath exhaling as he struggles to comply with her order: no cumming. His fingers pinch into his hand, nails drawing white lines in his skin.

Mikasa has no such trouble. Her mind floats free, lost in an ethereal cloud where her body is near-weightless. Hips still locking back and forth, but without friction or care or worry. Hips warm, radiant. Embracing internal eternal structures that coax her mind from her body, seeing herself from a third person as the colors combine into a familiar pair of figures in a familiar, intimate pose.

His neck cranes sideways, using the burn of the wax and nylon as a distraction. Flexing his bicep into the pair of edgy wires.

She still has no such qualms. As the opposite bender sweeps through her body in a flash of cold. Her arms shutter, goosebumps flowing over her skin from their extremities. Knees clench around his sides, uncommanded and delirious. Heat sweeps through to wash out the cold flush. Followed by more heat. Her temperature raising to a cold fusion inferno. The stiffness in her arms drains away, folding partially as her weight rests on her legs and his waist. A shutter ripples though her again, hips jimmying around his erection causing more cascades of titillating pleasures banding through her body.

Eren lifts his hips from the table, desperately trying to get her off before he cannot control himself. His mass plunges deeper into her, somehow just enough of a self-control to keep himself from exploding. But more than enough to propel her lack of control even further.

Too much to respond to his plea.

He shifts his hips, whimpering. Fearful of her wrath when she comes to again and discovers his complicit failure. Rotating his right hip into her to part their mated connection.

It works. His head drags back through her, exciting yet more nerves on its exit. Eren feels himself flop, gravity claiming its supremacy over her control with a soothing relief he never thought he would be so grateful for. He breathes heavily, a near pant as light films of sweat conjoin on his brow.

He drops his butt back to the table, letting her crash down on top of him. Fine. So long as he doesn't have to endure her emphatic stroking…

Mikasa drops out of her frenetic cognizance. Her body acting as if a deistic being levitated her body upward for a moment before restoring her soul and sentience to her body.

She blinks, distantly. Real photons pouring back into her pupils.

Her focus leisurely drops to his face. Eren winces, somehow expecting some retaliation or assault. But it doesn't come.

Mikasa's weight simply wags back and forth over his hips as her mind still appears more distant than her open eyes. She mutters something to herself that Eren cannot understand.

Breaths pass in silence. The only sounds in the room being their breathing and the quiet hum of the fan's motor.

Eren watches her with a restrained interest as she dismounts him to his left. She snaps the nylon band around his left wrist, then walks to his feet and pulls the strap on his unrestrained ankle into its adjacent lock. He groans to himself, hoping the cycle of anguish was nearly over.

She disappears from sight for a moment. A clunk echoes through the room as a pair of footrests jut out of the table below his feet. Her arm appears from under the table, pointing down at the bars below his feet. Eren takes a second to process her gesture, but figures she means him to rest his feet on them. He shakes his body a bit, shuffling downward until his feet touch the metal jutting from the rig.

Followed by some unseen mechanism tightening the bands around his extremities. Quite firm. The weave of black nylon burning into his skin. A light groan leaks from his throat. She stands immediately and glares at him with wrathful eyes. He shrinks, immediately choking off the noise.

Mikasa continues glowering at him for a moment longer, but returns to some work under the rig. A sharp clink, two clunks, and a series of gears sound from underneath him. She stands partially, her arms grasping something under his side. More gears sound as she pumps on some lever, the rig lifting several centimeters into the air then inclining forward a few degrees at a time.

A few quick, hard thrusts have the rig at a 45° angle to the floor, foot-bars nearly touching the deck. The spool slides off the table near his feet. Another three cranks have him at a 70° cant. Most of his weight still rests on the rig's surface, but he does need to wriggle his toes and feet a bit to keep them soundly rested on the supports beneath him.

Eren flexes his neck, trying to rub away some of the discomfort via control. His head shifts as she steps around in front of him. The whip draws out from her gear. She presses the metal studs into one of the wounds on his left flank, light, but firm enough to serve as reminder.

"No cumming," she repeats for the fourth time.

He does not like her tone… it isn't malevolent, or at least not overtly malevolent… but there is some edge to it that does not sound.. congenial. Vitalizing.

The lead flips around and drops from his skin. But only for a moment – the leather brushing against the hairs on his left leg as she takes a leaden step toward him. Leaving one foot behind the other in a deliberate tension.

Eren evades looking her in the eye as she approaches. Except, moreover, he does not dare not look her in the eye… She notes the look of unsettled agitation on his face as the leather creeps up his thigh a bit, dragging her other leg forward with the same golem-like cumbersomeness. Even drawing a seemingly neutral smile up her face in response. His jaw tightens slightly.

Mikasa's free hand wraps around him, a long, stout pull inducing his full attentions once again. More strokes. Slow. Provident. Until his face denies the obvious erection in her hand. She tips her head to the side like a curious, innocent dove. He doesn't buy the inculpable glow for a second, knowing full well she has some path forward.

But what that path is, exactly…

She whacks the flat leather against the minute wounds on his legs, hard and fast. Eren winces time and time again, but manages to suppress any yelling with strained facial muscles. Falling to her knees, eyes in contact with his until she is too far down to maintain any meaningful exchange, she begins her next phase. Her hair tickles his inner thighs, hot breath lolling through the air over his legs. A warm breath directs itself at his sensitivity. His legs tense.

Her tongue juts out, grazing along the underside of his shaft. His lip twitches without notice. Lips kiss against the flank of skin in front of her. Tongue streaking out, wrapping around the far side and dragging a trace of saliva back around under him. Eren's arms strain against their restraints.

The trails of her hair laggardly shift around him, swapping from one thigh to the other.

She repeats the tease; tongue wrapping under and up his erection, then dragging back into her mouth. A few light kisses. Her hair curtains over his staff, looking up at him while resting her temple on his waist. He can't see her, but that hardly diminishes the taunt. Mikasa groans at him, letting the rumble vibrate through him as her stroking decreases.

A few breaths of silence pass as her fingers come to a full stop and retract.

Broken by a yelp as she thwacks the metal studs into his chest a few times. One of the hits contacts a shallow bone and sends a tangible ripple through his body into her head. Eren yelps, in pain at the contact with bone. Her lips slip over his head. A gentle pressure vacuums him in. His groan of pain muddles with pleasure.

She deepthroats him, sinking right down his length until her lips seal around his waist. Her head tips back, bending him in her mouth and throat while mimicking a swallow. Eren's eyes shutter, the pleasureful sensations dancing over his thighs into mind. He tries to look down at her, but the restraint around his neck prevents him from tipping his head forward more than about 15 degrees. And so, he is left alone with his senses.

Mikasa withdraws, her tongue lagging behind as she drags her lips backward over his skin. She flicks the tip of her tongue through the crease in his head a few times, eyes up on his chin as she watches his reactions. Pleased with her progress, she repeats the motion. Sinking all the way down until his mass tickles the back of her throat, rippling her muscles around him, then dragging her tongue behind her lips as she retreats.

His hands clench tightly, evident of his growing desire. She looks at his hands, white under the pressure. Calculating more torture, she sinks right back down him. But holds herself down this time. Her throat rippling muscles and head gyrating side to side until she feels his lance stiffen to a nearly full embrace. A few drags of the tip of her tongue brings him right up to the limit of his resistance, his body shivering as the peak looms large below him.

Her mouth opens wide and she pulls away abruptly, giving as little contact as she can manage.

Mikasa stands and walks toward the door. Eren looks at her in surprise and irritable angst, precariously edged up to his climax then completely skimped. His lips twitch again, a second before releasing a torrent of expletives and complaints at her departure.

She paces up to the door nonchalantly, turning the knob and looking back at him wryly.

Ignoring his tirade, she flips the whip around, catching it by the tip folding into the leather end. Then tosses it at him, the dense rubberized grip bouncing off his nose and onto the floor. The impact shatters some of the dried wax on his nose, fragments falling onto his lip and ricocheting off his body.

It shuts him up for a moment as he scrunches up his face. In the moment it takes him to refocus, she's gone. Door shut behind her.

Eren fumes silently. His fingernails cut and tug at the nylon around his wrists. Futile. Locked.

Nothing but the dull thrum of the ceiling fan and his breathing fills the room. Seconds pass into minutes. Ten. Fifteen. Twenty? His waist feels heavy from the failure to release a pent up orgasm.

The door opens with a quick swirl of air curling through the room. Then shuts behind her sharply.

Mikasa stands resolute in front of the door, glaring at him intensely. He eyes her back, with an obfuscated fury. She waits patiently, observing him. Eren simply breathes, or tries to portray such focus.

She paces up to the rig and fumbles with something behind him. A terse turn and she walks back to her position by the door, a line trailing from her finger.

Squaring up facing him, she raises the eye loop hooked around her finger. Then gives a quick tug.

The nylon bands around his neck and extremities retract vigorously. Unlocked and reeled in. Eren rubs his wrists almost immediately. Then looks up at her and steps off the footrests, standing to his full height at the base of the rig in an attempt to appear imposing. A similar wry flash of a grin spreads over his face and he takes a full, confident step toward her.

Only to have his legs nearly buckle under him. His energy sapped and drained away far more than he expected from merely lying on the table… chi sapped away from the numerous cellular holes stitched through numerous points of his body and the still-present razor bands around his left arm. Eren draws a deep breath as he recollects himself and looks up at her, his posture weakened.

She grins back at him wickedly, "Oh? You want retribution?" Mikasa chuckles warmly, "I don't think so."

He groans defiantly, "Oh, yes. I will."

She shrugs slightly, "Maybe. But you'll have to wait for that one."

Eren gives no sign of submission, only attempting to regather his strength while standing there, facing her down. The awareness of his breathing begins to catch up with him, labored and retarded. She begins to turn back toward the door, "Clean up your mess." But she catches his movement, a lean towards her. And rounds on him just as quickly. The folded blade disengaged from its holster as she steps up to him, pointing the tip into his sternum. Mikasa gives him an expectant look, a gentle tilt to her head impressing upon him her desire.

His face mellows, disgruntled. "Fine."

She raises a brow at him.

"Fine, Mik-aster…"

As corny as it sounds… he can't help but feel a minor attachment to it. Eren suppresses another laugh, at himself.

Mikasa waits a moment, still holding the point to his chest to judge him.

Then the blade disappears as quickly as she had left. She swiftly walks right out the door, leaving it ajar behind her.

Eren takes three and a half minutes to cut the wires bound around his arm and clean the room. He eats another three minutes trying to figure how she worked the quick release. And another thirty seconds resetting the rig, after putting away the wire coil, setting the wand into its charger, and stashing the verge.

He limps out into the hallway, heading for their master bathroom. More time passes in near silence as he washes the mixes of dry and wet blood and cooled wax peppered around his body with a hot washcloth. He pauses to try and read her wax inscription, but her rampaging distorted the message or symbol well beyond recognition. Drying himself and steping into some light clothes, he leave the bedroom.

Eren walks out into the living room and finds her sitting on the couch, scrolling through Netflix on the Roku hooked up to the TV. She is out of her gear, wearing something akin to black yoga pants and a loose, lighter colored t-shirt. Her attention still mostly on the TV, she turns her head toward him as she hears him groan and walk around the corner of the couch.

He collapses onto the cushions, dragging himself forward until his arms wrap under her legs and behind her back. His face rests in her lap, buried between her legs and waist using her as a pillow as another long groan leaks from his aching body.

She smirks, her nose crinkling with a tickle to it. Her hand runs through his hair.

"Bitchh.." he groans into her.

Mikasa tugs on his hair, lifting his head from her lap and dragging it aside until she can look down at him with mutual eye contact. Wearing an enlightened expression, she reminds him she is still in control.

He rolls his eyes, saying nothing more beyond letting out a hum from his lungs. Her hand relaxes its grip and his face returns to its rest in her crux. His warm breath heats her core, making her chest buzz a little again.

"Enjoy yourself?" she asks him.

She can feel his eyebrows scrunch up, "NOoo."

Maybe. Yeah.. Slut…

Mikasa grunts, laughing at his feigned denial. Okay… maybe not complete denial. But nonetheless…

A few minutes pass as she continues scrolling through their watch options. Eren paying no attention to the screen whatsoever.

"So, how many times did you come?" Eren mumbles through her.

She muses out loud shortly. Then bypasses him, "Don't worry about it." Fingers run through his hair again. He groans back at her, unhappy with a non-answer.

"What did you write on me?"

Mikasa smiles brightly, thinking back to the scribbling. He feels her abs shift side to side, but she does not answer that either.

Something more grumbles, but she does not catch the details. Another moment passes by and he turns his head toward her waist, his mouth free to speak into their warm, ambient air. "Better have been worth it."

She snickers and digs her fingers into his hair again, "Oh, yes. Definitely." He catches her self-satisfied grin and takes it as enough of an answer to merit his pain. Eren closes his eyes and rests in her lap, falling back to sleep within a few minutes as she finally selects something to watch.