Re: Fill: Road to New Roissy 1/?
anonymous
December 5 2011, 20:54:19 UTC
Holy hell, I'm already in love with this fill! We going to have M/L/S and a loving Mystrade with a Mycroft in desperately need to submit and lose control, I can't wait for more. :)
Re: Fill: Road to New Roissy 2a/?voyeurineDecember 6 2011, 10:34:54 UTC
Staring into the distance, Mycroft detected a three-storied stone house with a full-length porch. Each window had deep red curtains, beyond which lights glowed warmly
( ... )
Re: Fill: Road to New Roissy 2b/?voyeurineDecember 6 2011, 10:36:43 UTC
The car stopped. Mycroft sat up straight and listened carefully as the driver exited the vehicle and opened the rear passenger door. Wet night air whooshed in, along with the sound of three people approaching
( ... )
Fill: Road to New Roissy 3a/?voyeurineDecember 7 2011, 12:06:19 UTC
The two men unbuttoned his suit jacket and waistcoat and slid both expensive garments off before tackling his silk shirt and fine wool trousers with the same impersonal efficiency. Gregory had once joked that undressing Mycroft was akin to a Victorian seduction. There were so many layers of clothing to remove, along with their fastenings
( ... )
Fill: Road to New Roissy 3b/?voyeurineDecember 7 2011, 12:08:48 UTC
“You’re not to do anything for yourself, even wash,” the man running the bath explained. “The restraints help you remember that.”
The faucets creaked again, and the water stopped. Mycroft felt a blanket of sandalwood-scented humidity waft up and caress his face.
Not do anything for himself? Impossible! He was used to running his own affairs AND those of the country. He bit his lip to refrain from protesting. His escorts noticed, for one said, “Mr. Lestrade thought you might need this, and it seems like he’s right.”
He would have asked what ‘this’ was, but his jaw was lowered and a leather bit pressed into his mouth. Mycroft let out a surprised yelp and recoiled as the gag was buckled in place.
Tangiers, 1999. Buried alive by White Cell terrorists while U.S. forces swept the surface, looking for him, the sole survivor of the mass slaughter… Leather in his mouth, absorbing the moisture he hadn’t yet sweated away….“Mr. Lestrade advised what your safety signal was, and it will be respected if used. But you really should trust your
( ... )
Re: Fill: Road to New Roissy 3b/?voyeurineDecember 7 2011, 16:37:40 UTC
Thanks for your feedback :)
I've known control freaks (for want of a better word) made that way by a traumatic past, and D/s play actually helped them to relax and let go if they were initiated into it by someone they trusted. If anyone but Lestrade had been behind it, I think Mycroft would have gone pitbull on them...
Fill: Road to New Roissy 4a/?voyeurineDecember 8 2011, 14:31:02 UTC
The hand stayed in place until departing footsteps signaled that the two of them were now alone. Then she said in dulcet tones, “Please step into the water.”
Her voice was unfamiliar, but that touch- he knew he’d felt it before. Not under adverse circumstances, or he’d remember. Intrigued and anticipating the moment when the blindfold would come off, Mycroft placed one foot into the warm depths. When he wobbled a bit, firm and familiar hands steadied him.
“You’re all right,” she said. “My assistant has got you. Sit down.”
Assistant? Someone else was in the room? When had they come in- or had they been present the entire time, silently watching? Mycroft hesitated, disoriented by the abrupt switch in perception. It wasn’t the woman he had faintly recognized: it was an unknown party who had yet to speak
( ... )
Fill: Road to New Roissy 4b/?voyeurineDecember 8 2011, 21:05:01 UTC
He tried to speak, but Irene pushed the leather bit past his lips. As she buckled the gag in place, she added, “I spoke to Mr. Lestrade before coming downstairs. He sends his love.”
Those words instantly derailed Mycroft’s curiousity about her helper’s identity. Gregory was sending his love. Heart swelling, he imagined Lestrade lounging in an ornate study or library upstairs, sipping his trademark scotch and soda and cutting a commanding figure in his black turtleneck jumper and leather trousers. I love him so much. What did I have before I met him? Shadow romances. One-night stands. Before Gregory, there was nothing.Tears pricked his eyes. He suddenly wanted Gregory to hold him right now. What was happening to his normal stoicism? One minute he was rebellious, the next aroused and submissive, and now he felt as vulnerable and anxious as a lost child. Where was that imposing persona that could scare terrorists and enemy agents into pissing themselves and giving up their secrets
( ... )
They have time off and intend to make good use of it.
Bonus for awkward explanations to John or someone.
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The faucets creaked again, and the water stopped. Mycroft felt a blanket of sandalwood-scented humidity waft up and caress his face.
Not do anything for himself? Impossible! He was used to running his own affairs AND those of the country. He bit his lip to refrain from protesting. His escorts noticed, for one said, “Mr. Lestrade thought you might need this, and it seems like he’s right.”
He would have asked what ‘this’ was, but his jaw was lowered and a leather bit pressed into his mouth. Mycroft let out a surprised yelp and recoiled as the gag was buckled in place.
Tangiers, 1999. Buried alive by White Cell terrorists while U.S. forces swept the surface, looking for him, the sole survivor of the mass slaughter… Leather in his mouth, absorbing the moisture he hadn’t yet sweated away….“Mr. Lestrade advised what your safety signal was, and it will be respected if used. But you really should trust your ( ... )
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(The comment has been removed)
I've known control freaks (for want of a better word) made that way by a traumatic past, and D/s play actually helped them to relax and let go if they were initiated into it by someone they trusted. If anyone but Lestrade had been behind it, I think Mycroft would have gone pitbull on them...
Reply
Reply
Her voice was unfamiliar, but that touch- he knew he’d felt it before. Not under adverse circumstances, or he’d remember. Intrigued and anticipating the moment when the blindfold would come off, Mycroft placed one foot into the warm depths. When he wobbled a bit, firm and familiar hands steadied him.
“You’re all right,” she said. “My assistant has got you. Sit down.”
Assistant? Someone else was in the room? When had they come in- or had they been present the entire time, silently watching? Mycroft hesitated, disoriented by the abrupt switch in perception. It wasn’t the woman he had faintly recognized: it was an unknown party who had yet to speak ( ... )
Reply
Those words instantly derailed Mycroft’s curiousity about her helper’s identity. Gregory was sending his love. Heart swelling, he imagined Lestrade lounging in an ornate study or library upstairs, sipping his trademark scotch and soda and cutting a commanding figure in his black turtleneck jumper and leather trousers. I love him so much. What did I have before I met him? Shadow romances. One-night stands. Before Gregory, there was nothing.Tears pricked his eyes. He suddenly wanted Gregory to hold him right now. What was happening to his normal stoicism? One minute he was rebellious, the next aroused and submissive, and now he felt as vulnerable and anxious as a lost child. Where was that imposing persona that could scare terrorists and enemy agents into pissing themselves and giving up their secrets ( ... )
Reply
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