Sayuri's mind spasms for a moment as she realizes how aroused she is by this sort of treatment. The place had just twister her as well, yeah. No, no, it's that this is someone who can help, who has a plan that doesn't get lost and doesn't involve as much difficult killing and burning and chemistry. Strong blue-eyed woman has the plan. She'll make it good. She'll save them. She's waiting for an answer.

"Yeah! I can do that! I'm much better now. I can clean up. I can go stealth," Sayuri says, an insanely happy grin on her face, occasionally interrupted by a brief spasm as she feels her breathing threatened. "Nobody can get any information out of me. I keep all the good secrets locked up tight in good lockboxes. Sometimes I even lose the keys and can't get them back when I want to, so if I choose to ditch the keys nobody will get in. Swear by Goddess."

The small, wiry woman leans slightly into the fingers on her throat in a subconscious sign of reassuring submission, then spasms and coughs, overdoing it. She tries to pull back quickly, instinct demanding air again. Sayuri falls back with a thump, staring up at the cloth ceiling of her little tent. Her cloak has fallen open, exposing her supple, pale legs to the air. She doesn't wear anything under the cloak aside from a scrap of cloth binding her modest chest.

Excitement rushes between her legs, feeling the thump of Sayuri's heart under her fingers, the raspy gasps for breath. She chokes, she falls, dusty white flesh exposed as the cloak falls open and for a brief, split second there's shock in Elise's eyes, lost in her own head, as she realizes just what she's been doing. It's like something has crawled into her head, planted eggs in her subconscious but then there's the worse thought. That this place has just made her love it... Or worse, just brought the sadism out in her. But she pushes those thoughts back, she realigns. Regardless, she needs to be strong, see what this girl is capable of, and by the time eyes reopen from a blink, she's reset her intentions. This little gutter rat can't really be this weak and stupid, can she?

She leans over Sayuri's prone body, fully exposed, her eyes icy and cruel and taunting. A hand closes over small breast, bound in dirty cloth, thumb rough brush against covered nipple. She's on all fours, looming over Sayuri's line of sight, smile sharp and vulpine, perhaps more affected than before, in that moment of aggression, but her voice is sharp as she leans into the woman's ear, teasing, mocking. "I suppose the rumors were greatly exaggerated, weren't they? I figured they might be. The cruel and cunning Sayuri. Bathes in monster blood. But I never expected a simpering, subservient little cow. You're just a stray, scared, cornered little rabbit, aren't you?"

She's getting good at this. And she kind of likes it.

Sayuri gasps and arches at the teasing thumb, seeming indeed like a meek, stray puppy caught in the clutches of a cruel woman. Then Elise starts in with her mocking. Each word is another spark in the feral girl's mind, waking back up her combative side, the side she was so happy ot set down for a moment. The cruel blue-eyed woman doesn't think Sayuri can handle herself? Elise thinks Sayuri's weak? That won't last long.

"You're so lucky my nose works better now," the small woman growls, electric blades dancing at the corner of her vision. A stone one winks into the air and flutters past El's ear, sticking into the ceiling.

"Last time a girl smelled rotten, that knife took her ear off," Sayuri whispers. She roars and lunges up towards Elise, trying to shove the blue-eyed woman back and over to reassert control. The smaller woman is surprisingly strong, her body almost completely stripped down to nothing but bone and lean muscle.

Hair dances behind her ear, feeling that quick rush of air as the knife spits right past her head. Blood pounds in her ears and for a moment all is lost in that heady thrum, that overbearing adrenaline rush. Moments are lost in it all. She doesn't even feel Sayuri's body hitting hers, doesn't realize much of anything. One moment she's staring down at the tight-bodied feral girl and the next she's on her back, pinned underneath the little beast, down-lined jacket spread out under her like a warm, worn blanket and suddenly she's leaning up and kissing the other girl, hot and carnal and uninhibited, as much a sign of submission as what Sayuri was just showing her and Christ she doesn't even realize what she's doing.

This is exactly the response she wanted to see, the aggression and poise and ruthlessness but she didn't expect herself to respond so strongly to it. Her thighs are slick, her breath quick, breathing hotly and openly against Sayuri's mouth, whimpering like some sort of animal, blue eyes suddenly just big and needy.

Sayuri smells the arousal on the pinned woman even through the haze of their mouths meeting. The feral woman's tongue is as vicious and powerful as the rest of her, forcing its way through Elise's mouth and conquering the taller woman's soft muscle ruthlessly. The ratty old cloak drapes over the two figures, forming a tattered, warm blanket. Sayuri undoes the single button holding it in place to complete the conversion and growls hungrily into Elise's lips.

"You want to see how strong and dangerous I am?" Sayuri hisses. Another knife - it seems they never end - flashes into the small woman's hand. This one is less balanced and single-edged and good, sharp steel. Its point flashes as it dances through the air and up under Elise's shirt. The soft sound of fabric tearing filters to Elise's ears.

"Good thing they're used to replacing these, huh? Now don't move. I can't see what I'm doing," Sayuri whispers. The cold, blunt side of the blade presses lightly at Elise's skin.

Her tongue is pinned to the floor of her mouth like her body against the roof, eyes sliding closed as Sayuri seizes dominance. "Mmhhmm. S'why I came here." she murmurs under her breath, eyes shut still as she feels the cloak lap around the two of them, unaware of what she's getting herself into. The narrow top of cold steel is a surprise, and one that she immediately knows the source of. Eyes flash wide without hesitation and as if on instinct, her heart is skipping in her chest. The dull edge climbs up her belly as the thin fabric of her shirt is sheared free.

"You don't have to hurt me..." She tries to sound rational but all that comes is a pitiful, scared whimper, her posture shifted in an instant. Her body lays rigidly still, terrified to move, the trembling lump in her throat the only motion. "I came here for your help..."

"I won't hurt you, Elise," Sayuri whispers. Something at the edge of her voice sounds familiar. Threatening. Gray. "I'm going to help you. I'm gonna help you feel so very, very good. The way it should be. None of those bastards ruining what two women share." The feral woman pants softly and slices through the rest of the shirt in one swift exhale. The tip of the knife passes close enough to El's throat she feels a soft breeze on her skin.

"Don't be afraid. I have very, very, very, very, very good control," Sayuri intones before nipping at the pale woman's ear. The blade of the knife settles delicately against Elise's side and scratches laterally down, peeling back just the faintest whisp of skin. Its edge follows the shape of Elise flawlessly, guided by fingers on either side of the dangerous tool.

Her mind races at a mile a minute. Eyes well salty and wet and suddenly she's in a very hot place, the whipping, freezing wind replaced with wet, still humidity. That bitch led her by the nose. She doesn't know how exactly but she does know she walked right into the trap, led like a bitch on a leash to this lunatic. To more humiliation. To more pain. And the real humiliation of it is that wetness between her thighs, soaked to the simple pink cotton of her panties. Her chin tips in what might be recognized as a bare nod of acknowledgement. Her shirt opens, exposing narrow white stomach, soft swell of breasts contained in simple pink bra. Cheek rests against cold cement.

She sucks in a tight breath, skin drawing back from the cruise of the blade, a breath that turns to a whimpered whine as the knife draws smooth pink line against pale flesh, teeth pressed tight together, eyes dancing wildly to the side like a spooked horse.

"Don't be afraid," Sayuri whispers, trying to calm the spooked horse behind Elise's eyes. "I'll take good care of you." The knife pulls away only to slide its tip up under the pink bra and snap upward, severing the thicker fabric binding the cups together. "And people whine about how hard those are to get off. Silly."

The edge flicks one cup aside carefully before the flat of the blade traps Elise's nipple down into her softer flesh. The feral girl nips and licks at the pale, delicate skin of El's neck as the blade rises just enough so that, when it begins moving in small circles, it rolls the tender nub underneath the metal.

"You smell so good," Sayuri says between gentle bites. "I promise, I won't let you steam for too long. I just want to make sure you're nice and warm first." The knife tipped up on its edge and carefully slid down Elise's soft breast, taking another small swath of surface skin with it.

Okay, El. You got yourself in this situation. You're pinned. You got exactly what you wanted. Now why is your heart racing so fast? Oh.... Right... That knife that's just a centimeter away from gutting you like a fish. Like it or not, you're trapped in this situation. Turn it into an opportunity, right? She controls her breathing, wide eyes forcing themselves to lock onto Sayuri's, to -not- -look- down. There's a knife down there. Looking at it will only make things worth. She can feel it combing across pink nipples, hard against the chilly steel of the blade. Sharp edge trails soft, supple flesh and she flinches despite herself, point piercing skin, a pinpoint drop of crimson blossoming to life against pinkened flesh.

Her face dances with Sayuri's, forcing contact as the woman keeps dipping for her neck, locking her eye to eye, lips brushing lips, pink tongue flicking against Sayuri's. "Not the breast." Cool and tight, despite that terror leaping in her chest. She dances for a quick kiss. If this is the rite of passage, well, she's been through worse...

Sayuri nods at Elise's words and kisses the other woman deeply. The knife dances away from the small knick in otherwise flawless pale skin and scratches instead carefully over El's fleshier hip, where another slip would be less dangerous by far. Sayuri's tongue swirls and bounces erratically against the other woman's, teasing and pressing into it. The crazy girl's lips squirm gently in the kiss, holding the embrace as long as possible.

Sayuri pulls back with a soft gasp and smiles, staring down into Elise's eyes with an intensity that could crack stone. The scarred woman steals another quick kiss as the knife passes onto Elise's thigh. The thigh that's so smooth and soft under Sayuri's fingers she can see the knife passing carefully into it, marking the rebellious leader. Blood blooms in Sayuri's mind. She wants to smell it. She wants to customise El. The knife jerks away before Sayuri loses control.

"How's it feel?" the brown-eyed woman whispers. "I... I'd like to draw on you with it, if you'll let me." A small shudder runs down Sayuri's spine as patterns flicker through her inner eye.

She relents to the kiss, pink muscles dancing against each other, lips spread. She coils against the lunatic woman, desperately clinging to the heat of her body against the cold of the roof. A gasp escapes her lips as well, this as the knife dances down the length of her body, taut and firm, careful against the terrifyiing sharpness of the blade.

Her arm drapes around Sayuri's bare shoulders, one leg coiled around the tight swell of her rear, open hip exposed to the fingers of Sayuri's hand, the glimmering edge of the knife. Her skirt is hiked up, exposing the soft freckled whiteness of smooth thigh, flash of pink panties beneath, midriff bared. Her chest thumps in a wild staccato, pinkened breasts flat against her body.

Eyes skittishly flick up to meet Sayuri's. She sees the crazed madness behind them, fevered fervor, and her voice comes as a growl in Sayuri's ear. "Feels like being cut." An eyebrow rises, cheek brushing cheek. She sighs. "Do it..."

Sayuri's eyes light up with hunger and excitement at Elise's agreement. Without pausing to consult on patterns, the smaller woman is pushing Elise quickly and carefully onto her side to expose her left flank to the cool air and the faintly warmed knife. Sayuri presses the tip of the blade against Elise's skin, stops, and pulls it away.

Sayuri grumbles slightly and grabs an alcohol prep pad from some hidden pocket in her discarded cloak. She wipes the blade clean, turns the pad about, and wipes off Elise's skin with a fresh part of the damp paper. The feral woman considers as the alcohol dries, sapping heat from pale skin.

The knife digs in to the freshly cleaned flesh, carving a thin gash that curves through Elise's skin. Sayuri pauses and looks over the beginning of her work, making sure she did what she intended before proceeding.

The expectation is bad, knowing that the incision will be coming, and a quick hiss draws between pretty pink lips as Sayuri draws the swab of alcohol across her hip. Looking down might make it better but she doesn't dare, so instead, her eyes focus on Sayuri's crazed expression, locked on the girl like an anchor. Fingers are coiled tightly in the brambled nest of her hair.

"You will register with the school again. I will give you a list of classes to enroll in. You will not be seen with me or our compatriots in public unless absolutely necessary. But we will insure that you are in the company of friends during the school routine whenever possible. If--" Words cut off, gasp rasping up her throat as the knife cuts a neat, sharp line of white fire up her hip. Elise is no masochist. In her wilder private school days she ventured downtown to a tattoo parlor to get inked. One time was enough. But she steadies herself like a trooper. "If one of those bitches in a sash, or one of their slavering little hounds, ask you where you've been, you will tell them you were abducted. Taken somewhere distant. A nearby island perhaps? For months? Years? Hard to say. You were drugged most of the time, disoriented, delusional. But you know you were used, abused, treated like a whipped dog by some... thing. You are not fully recovered, of course. Demure. Reticent to recount your horrors. You doubt anyone will believe your wild stories, but the pain and trauma of it all is too much. You must tell someone, even if you still feel conditioned like a whimpering animal." Her words are steady but distant. Whether she's trying to invoke the pattern and cadence of hypnotism or just speaking a mantra for herself, trying to focus her attention from the steady ritual of Sayuri's fingers, is hard to say.