ombranera | Open RP Post

"And...if this is too much for you tonight, if you would rather leave and come back another time when you are more settled or more certain? That is fine just as well." He meant it when he said this is all in Cade's hands. Getting him to realize the truth of that? Might take some time.

Zevran walks a wide circle to the chair across from Cade before settling in, hands in plain view, eyes warm, considering. "Here there is no judgement save for those in the rules we make. Understand?"

If he leaves now, Cade knows he'll never come back. He'll avoid Zevran every time he sees him, and pretend this never happened, and the opportunity will be gone. Tired of his shaking hands, he wraps them around himself and presses them under his arms, his knees still bouncing nervously.

"Will anyone know?" he asks, already afraid of the answer.

"That is up to you. Unless you tell me, explicitly, otherwise? This is between us. You have my word on that." There is little that he holds somewhat sacred- but this trust? Is one he does not mean to break.

This reassures Cade somewhat, especially with the additional knowledge that he could, in theory, tell anyone he wants without ostensibly betraying any vows. He nods again, anxiously, his eyes darting around as though he's waiting for someone to burst in and start condemning him.
His gaze finally lands on Zevran again, but only for a moment, in a look that's almost expectant before he drops his gaze again. He's going to die if he sits here too much longer.

"Have you thought of a word- or would you like me to offer you one?" Several came to mind ranging from 'stop' to 'red' to several words in Antivan- but it must be short and definitive. A way his mind knew would mean freedom.

Cade goes into that totally silent, void-gazing state again for several long moments, then he returns and swallows hard. "Stop is fine," he decides, his voice a hoarse whisper. He has no idea what else someone would choose.

"When you say stop, it stops. Whatever it is we are doing for whatever reason, no questions asked." Here he stands- walking not to Cade but to the arrangement of implements he'd brought with him. "Before we do anything- aside from this not being sexual in any possible way- what other limitations do you have? What do you not want done to you, what should never be said?"

Cade follows Zevran with his gaze, of course still impossibly nervous, but becoming more and more confident that he isn't going to be hurt in any way that isn't superficial. Still, that in itself is enough to keep him on-edge.
"..um," he falters, once again having to think hard. He's never been asked this. Limitations? Do those.... matter? He has never been in anything even close to this situation, and off the top of his head, it's difficult to imagine what kinds of things could go wrong.
"...I don't..." he finally begins, waffling on how to start, "...um, I don't want to be... touched." He glances uncertainly at Zevran, wondering if he's on the right track.

"No hands on you at all- not in your hair or on your shoulders if you become distressed?" He nods even as he pokes about the specifics. The more he knows, the better care he might be able to take of Cade. "For me- when things become like this and I am on the other end- I do not like being held by the back of my neck."

Sometimes offering ideas can help along the understanding of someone that is new to this. "I do not care to be told I have no worth nor set up to fail. Some people enjoy that but- I do not. And that is not the purpose of this for you, I think."

This is so complicated.
Cade has to pause and think again, and shakes his head, indicating he's certain: he doesn't want hands anywhere, at any time. Perhaps his mind will change, but he's not thinking that far ahead. For now, he only knows that even friendly touching makes his stomach tie in knots and his blood run cold.

"You've been on the other end?" he asks timidly. Along the same lines, he doesn't know what he does or doesn't want to be told; that one single time in the abbey, it was very quick and straightforward, without much speaking at all.

"I was on the other end last week." He crackles a soft laugh. "It is more rare for me to be on this side of things to be honest. Not many are comfortable putting an elf in a position of power over them, even if only an illusion of power is offered."

"No touching, I can do that. Or, not do that as you like. Is there anything else that you can think of? If not we may move on to the switch- though I had thoughts on that as well." As Cade could see from the switch, cane, flogger, cat, paddle, and whip laid out in a neat row to his side.

Cade immediately feels ashamed at that-- not so long ago, he was treating elves like servants regardless of their wardrobe. Not to mention how he treated Beleth, a mistake that will likely haunt him for the rest of his life, even if he did apologize. Even if she forgave him.

Having bravely returned to his usual color for most of the conversation, he immediately flushes a bright red again when he's shown the tableau. He covers half his face with his hand, but leaves his eyes free to look them over. His gaze lands on the flogger, which catches his interest if only because it's so much more pleasant looking than the one he made for himself.
"..um," he says, almost too quietly to be heard, "I, um. ...use that. Usually." He frees one hand long enough to gesture at it, then tucks it at his side again. "...it's different, though."

"You flog yourself?" Zevran takes the handle and turns it about to offer it to Cade. It has a weight to it, the leather Antivan. Wide, heavy strips that offer more of a thudding sensation when it came to the work than the stinging nettles of a cat. "Give it a swing to test the weight, tell me what you think."

Of the options available- Zevran is most inclined to try that for Cade. All the more so now that he has expressed some familiarity with it.

Another shy nod, but this one comes more easily. It's somehow less difficult to admit when discussing it with someone who won't be shocked, who won't judge him for it. He takes the flogger in his hands and feels it, impressed by the smoothness of it.
As he was instructed, he gives it a test swing onto his own thigh, and gives a jump of surprise at the sound it makes. His reaction actually elicits a brief and timidly amused smirk-- he doesn't often laugh at himself, or anything at all, but there's nothing like effectively jumping at his own shadow to put things in perspective.
"I'm used to rope," he quietly admits, carefully handing it back. "..and... knots." Rather than press his hands back against his sides, he folds them in his lap, perhaps an indication of his ever-so-slightly increasing comfort level.

"Mm. I do have a knotted cat that might sting the same, but what rope work I do is more for restraint than it is striking. It is less consistent and more difficult to control than leather." Zevran takes the flogger back, offering over the aforementioned cat with thinner strips and knotted ends. The swish is more of a hiss, the strike meant to sting. For him this is much like discussing the weather, or food. It simply is one more part of life in general- though one that was tainted for him and he slowly reclaimed by learning more for himself. To do this, to do it better than he was taught, to offer more consideration.

This one actually hurts when Cade swings it against his leg, enough to cause a little intake of breath. He runs it over his fingers as well, getting a feel for the texture and the weight of it, and as he hands it back to Zevran, his demeanor seems to shift from slightly amused curiosity back to grim and dutiful. He nods. This one.

"As you wish." Zevran flicks the cat so it hangs at his shoulder, the tails on one side, the handle swinging free against his chest. Every other implement is set back in the leather bag he'd brought in with him.

"This will sting quite a bit- I know you said during you would not wish to be touched- but afterward. When we are finished; I would rather apply salve to your back to ensure you do not walk away with more than bruising- or that you take few sips of a healing potion. Whichever you find more agreeable."

Cade thinks about it, and ends up undecided. Is part of the process not being in pain for a while after? It sounds like cheating, at least to his mind.
"Maybe," he concedes. He'll decide when it's over, but silently resolves to not be so weak.

"Maybe the touching, or maybe you do something for the injuries? The former is fine so long as you take the potion. The latter? I do not whip someone unless they tend to themselves or allow me to tend to them afterward. It is one of my rules." It is far, far to simple for this to go horribly wrong otherwise. "You will still bruise, make no mistake. You will be feeling it tomorrow and for a few days. But this is to make certain if skin is broken you do not become ill from it- to be sure that you are not harmed in ways you do not want."

Cade is frustrated by the rule, but he's not calling the shots here. He nods, a bit grudgingly. "I'll take the potion," he decides, looking at the floor.
It's not like he's never gotten infections before, although in the past it was easier to pass them off as the results of rough sparring.

"Good." He finishes putting away his implements, setting one potion off to the side for afterward along with a skin of water. "How is it you would like this done? Against the wall, Sitting backwards on the chair, I've a rope and a hook if you wish to be suspended by your wrists."

Cade lifts his head to blink at him, and shakes it uncertainly. "However you think it best," he says, with the same grim resignation as before. Usually he just sits on his bed or the floor, but this is a different beast altogether.

"I think for this, our first time- against the wall will be best." Give Cade something cool to lean into if he wishes, a way to show when enough was enough. Zevran ran his fingers along the handle of the Cat as he considers the other options and discards them. "Strip to the waist and stand facing the wall."

The moment of truth is finally here. Cade hesitates for a second or two longer than he might before following any other direct order, but follow it he does. He unlaces his doublet with shaking hands, rests it over the back of the chair to keep it from wrinkling, then removes his chemise and folds it neatly before setting it on the seat.
He glances uneasily at Zevran, but this part at least he's gotten used to, being that he is supervised even when changing clothes for the night. That's a nightmare in itself, but he has learned to separate himself from it.

Head down, he goes toward the wall and stands there as instructed, staring at a fixed point, arms at his sides in a soldier's posture. From here Zevran can likely see the scars littering his upper back, quite nasty from the looks of them: twisting cuts and former gouges, clearly from times that he either didn't know when to quit or refused.

He suspected as much. Those that flogged themselves with knotted rope likely did for a lack of anything better and an inability or lack of desire to tend to themselves afterward. There had been crows that did similar things- Zevran made a point to either correct them as best he could or never come under their hands otherwise. True to his word when he steps in behind Cade- he does not touch- not with his hands. The leather wrapped handle taps Cade lightly upon the shoulder.

"Brace yourself against the wall, you will need to. What do you say if you wish this to stop?" An obligatory check in, one he will start with until such a time comes that he will not have to do so.

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