Christine gave herself one last glance in the bathroom mirror and nodded in approval. This particular silky, diaphanous lingerie she had picked up on her last trip to Paris was a sound investment. Christine was lucky to have snagged it before it went to someone else. The soft, fluttering ruffles on a collar that barely stayed on her shoulders, the nipped waist, the flowing skirt that was practically translucent — Madame Lachance has really outdone herself with this creation! Christine centered the two single teardrop pearls she had fastened to her anneux de sienne so that they stood out, straining against the delicate pure white material, patted a bit of rouge on the center of her lips, and steadied herself.

It wasn't so unusual for her to come back from her once a year trip to Paris with several of these sweet underthings squirreled away in her wardrobe trunks. She'd slowly bring them out over the year and it was always a fun little surprise. She wasn't nervous about debuting a new bit of lingerie; she was more apprehensive about what she was going to propose tonight. If she didn't ask, though, she would never receive…She squared her shoulders, primped her curls, and opened the door.

Her husband had just finished hanging up his coat and was in the process of undoing his waistcoat. With his back to her, she took a moment to arrange herself and cleared her throat.

"Erik, dear," She called to him in her sweetest tone. She paused, waiting for him to turn around and take her in. How she loved the expressions that always came across his face when she caught him like this! Surprise, approval, hunger - and then, obedience, waiting to be given the permission to approach her. He always loved well-made clothing with sumptuous materials and his eyes danced over her form, catching on each ruffle and stitch and pleat and edging. She smirked and sauntered over to him.

"Yes, Christine…?"

"I was thinking…" She took him by the hand, led him to the edge of the bed, sat him down, and then primly placed herself in his lap. "...that we could play a game."

He allowed her to remove his mask and wig and place them on the vanity, awaiting further instructions. She could practically feel his pulse pounding in his veins, his muscles tensing with desire.

"A game…?"

"I think you'll like it," she said. She playfully ran her fingers through his hair, teasing the edge of the depression on his head until she felt him shudder.

"Tell me more."

"Do you remember that silly doll you used to have? The one that frightened me half to death whenever it would tip over?"

His eyes narrowed. "...The medical manikin? It was more than a 'silly doll', you know; it was highly anatomically detailed, with removable organs, and cost me a pretty penny! It was hand-crafted and -"

"Yes, that's the one," Christine said, cutting him off before he got too worked up. "I thought to myself, wouldn't it be fun if I pretended to be a very anatomically correct doll and you could play with me however you wanted?"

"...How do you think I liked to play with the 'doll'?"

"Oh, I don't really care, Erik, I'm saying you could play with me...pretending to be a doll."

"What kind of unconscionable deviant do you think I am?"

"One who is always so much fun, dear," She dropped a kiss on the little nub above his nose in an effort to cool him off before her whole project went off the rails. My, but he could be so sensitive!

"Well…" The kiss seemed to mollify him a bit. "...What are the rules of the game?"

Feeling she had some momentum behind her idea, she pressed on. "In this game, since I would be a mannequin, I wouldn't be able to speak or move on my own. You would have to do all that for me."

"So…in this scenario, you are a doll and not an automaton. You can't walk on your own, only pose or stand still. Is that correct?" His fingertips had started to slide deliciously up and down her waist, her back, her thighs, discovering there were no drawers, only stockings. He worked the blue velvet ribbons of her garters between his thumb and forefinger through the fabric of the lingerie before letting his hands wander on.

"That's correct," she said, nodding. He did like games and he did like rules and he did like her...Perhaps her experiment would be a success!

"And I am to do anything I please to you?"

"Exactly."

"If you were my medical manikin, I would put you in a nice display cabinet and only take you out if I ever had a question regarding anatomical issues."

"Erik! I thought this could be fun…" Her voice trailed off as one of his hands was now at her hip and the other was searching through the gauzy skirt for the juncture between her legs.

"Hmm..." He looked up at her and she could almost see the mechanism of his mind whirring away behind his bright eyes. "So this is the scene - You are my brand new highly detailed anatomical doll…"

"Yes…"

"...and I am the perverse degenerate who uses you not in the way the manufacturer intended…"

"That's not what I mean!"

Erik gave a strange little chuckle and shifted her around a bit so that her back was more against his chest and her legs fell to either side of the knee she was perched on. He nuzzled her neck with the little cartilage nub she had kissed moments before as his hands kept wandering, wandering…

Her head easily fell against his shoulder and he pressed his smooth cheek to hers. She felt their breath syncing up with the slow, hypnotizing rising and falling of their lungs. Both of his hands skimmed up her body only to begin their descent again, one long, slow caress from her shoulders, over her breasts, down her stomach and hips, to her thighs. How was it that his pressure was both so firm and yet so light? She didn't care to understand the mechanics, she only knew that it felt magical.

Now his hands found the partition in her gown and his cool fingers met with the warm flesh of her thighs, bare above the garters and the edge of her stockings. His fingertips floated up to where her thighs met, the warm nest of dark brown curls, increasing the pressure of his touch and yet moving so achingly slow, taking his time approaching her center. She was slick with desire when he finally reached her, his fingers gliding easily in between her folds. The little sigh of approval that he made near her ear was divine. He continued, teasing all around where she wanted him to truly touch her, trying her patience.

Finally, with a firm, determined stroke, he pressed two fingers into her while two other fingers began circling her most sensitive flesh. It was almost as if he was off like a shot, striking up a pace that more than made up for his slow, laborious exploration. The previous teasing had worked her up so much, Christine was surprised that she could already feel her release quickly gaining on her, coming up fast from the distant horizon. Unable to help herself, she dropped her head further back on his shoulder and moaned in pleasure.

Abruptly, he removed his hands, bringing them to her waist. She sat up, incensed, aggrieved. How dare he stop at this crucial moment?

"Erik…?"

"Dolls do not make noises nor move, Christine. Am I wrong?"

She paused. "You're...you're right. It was my mistake."

His golden eyes were pinned to hers, sparkling with mischief, and she wondered, for the first but not the last time that evening, what she exactly she set in motion. She resettled against him and went limp once more, a proper mannequin.

She could almost feel the self-satisfaction radiating off of him as he pressed his cheek to hers again and his hands took up their tasks. He returned to the soft, languorous caresses, allowing his fingertips to dance over every inch of her. He kept at this for a while, never making another approach to the hot center that was aching to be touched.

"You know," he spoke, his voice a low purr in her ear. "My last manikin was quite unsteady and would fall over all the time. Let's test your structural stability."

Swiftly standing, he brought her to her feet, positioning her at the edge of the bed, the back of her legs pressing against where he was just sitting. He looked her up and down, appraising her, fussing here and there with her lingerie. Cocking his head to the side, he seemed to still feel she was lacking something...Inspiration seemed to suddenly strike and he walked off. She strained her eyes to see where he had gone to, wondering how long he would leave her standing there. Staying as still as as statue on her feet, with her almost painful need for release throbbing between her lets, she began to wonder if this game really was the best idea. She was relieved when he didn't make her wait long; he reappeared with a few flowers taken from one of the arrangements around the house and brought her hands up around the stems, placing the small bouquet in her grasp.

Satisfied, he took her by the shoulders and leaned in for a light, chaste kiss. She was sure to keep her lips still. His next kiss was more insistent, pulling her flush against him. Abruptly, he worked his knee between hers. She remained motionless, the flowers crushed between them. He pushed her feet apart inch by inch, leaving her in a wide legged stance. As he pulled back from their kiss, he smirked and Christine's heart fluttered. He seemed to be enjoying himself...Maybe a game was just what was needed to get him to loosen up!

She didn't have long to dwell on this though; he sank to his knees and found his way under her skirt, kissing the bits of exposed thigh he came across. His hands slid up the outside of her thighs as his lips and teeth skimmed over her sensitive skin. As his face pressed to her flesh, she was almost grateful she wasn't allowed to speak. She would never admit out loud how much the feel of his textured skin against hers thrilled her; he was far too sensitive for her to confess to such a thing. His kisses were creeping closer to where she needed the most attention, now at the the edge of her hip, now at the juncture of her thigh. Christine's stomach tightened with anticipation and she wondered how she would keep silent when he —-

His warm mouth closed over her hot center. Instantly, her breath caught in her throat and she focused on staying still. Landing a kiss directly on the little pearl at the apex of her sex, he first gave her a shot of direct pleasure before working his tongue between her lips, teasing her indirectly. It was almost pure misery the way he worked his tongue away from where she needed it, then brought his lips around her pearl before abandoning it again to nibble at her thighs, kiss her hips, and begin the approach once more.

He lavished her with attention, each pass of his tongue slowly eroding her concentration. Finally, he began intently focusing exactly where he knew she needed him to and a wave of relief cascaded within her as she felt her climax building. The control she exerted over her body affected her pleasure, magnifying it. Each restrained breath she drew seemed to gather up the building energy between her legs, redistributing it like currents of electricity through limbs she struggled to keep motionless .

Just as her knees began shaking, Erik pulled back, pushing away the fabric clinging to his head and shoulders. Because she was still holding the makeshift bouquet, she couldn't see very well what he was doing but she felt certain he must be staring up at her, watching her reactions from where he kneeled before her on the floor. What he was planning to do next, she wasn't quite sure; all she knew was she now had a pulsing, burning need that ached to be satisfied. She wondered if she broke the rules now to beg for that satisfaction if he would grant it to her and yet...the tension that this game created thrilled her even more than she had imagined. Being at his mercy was strangely both agonzing and liberating.

Erik planted a playful kiss on her trembling knee before rising to stand before her. "Just like my other manikin...Not very sturdy at all, are you?"

That sweet, teasing reprimand in his silky voice made her heart hammer in her chest with anticipation. She swallowed down a lump in her throat, each cell in her body begging for his touch. Cradling her head in one hand and supporting her waist with the other, he softly lowered her to the bed. He plucked the bouquet from her hands and tossed it to the side, sending petals scattering. He appeared over her for a moment, a strange smile playing on his uneven lips as he lowered her hands to the mattress and then sunk back down. Christine could only helplessly try to look downward, straining to see what he was doing as he drifted back down her body. The last thing she saw was the ruffled edge of her dress as he tossed it up around her thighs before he resumed his previous business.

This time, he didn't hold back, targeting exactly where her pleasure was building. While his tongue and lips took up this task with relish, two determined fingers easily worked their way inside of her. She was so ready, there was hardly any resistance, and they began moving in and out of her, curling as they did so, reaching a pleasure center deep within.

Committed to the rules of the game she laid down, she remained silent and still as her climax found her. She trembled, she shook, but she didn't move on purpose, even though she felt her back aching to arch into him, didn't make a sound even though she badly wanted to cry out his name. Her breath came ragged and broken, her palms pressed hard into the mattress in an attempt to anchor her as she spun off into her powerful release.

She didn't realize she had been squeezing her eyes shut, lost in the aftershocks of her gratification, until she heard a loud clatter nearby. Her eyes fluttered open to find him standing over her, his glittering gaze affixed to her. The noise must have come from his the immense ruby he usually wore pinned at his throat as it hit the tabletop; he was loosening his cravat, also leaving it on the bedside table. There was another clatter as he unfastened his cufflink and dropped it onto the wood surface. She could see his erection straining at his trouser front and she longed to reach up, pull the suspenders from his shoulders, undo the buttons on his pants, and take him into her hand, her mouth, her self but she stayed still, expecting him to disrobe and join her in bed.

Instead of undoing his shirt, instead of removing his clothes, instead of joining her in bed, he rolled up his sleeve before unfastening the other cufflink. First, Christine felt a confusion edge in on her cloud of bliss, then anger that he wasn't joining her, then more confusion mingled with dread. He obviously wanted her - what, exactly, was he planning?

"What a curious doll; your eyes seem to follow me all around the room," he chuckled, finishing rolling up the other sleeve as he walked back to the end of the bed where her legs were still askew. She blinked, self-conscious, and refocused on controlling her breath.

Beginning at the edge of the stocking on her right leg, his elegant hands caressed down her thigh, across the curve of her calf, down to her ankle. He tipped the high heeled slipper from her foot, letting it fall to the floor with a thump, and then, eyes dancing with mischief, placed her ankle on his left shoulder. The hem of her garment slid down and gathered around her hips. Heat crept into her cheeks; she felt scandalously exposed. His nimble fingers undid the garter on her thigh, allowing it to flutter to the mattress. Those skillful fingertips found the edge of her stocking and slowly, teasingly, began rolling the silk down her leg. His touch was maddening, the level of detail magnified by the fact that she could only lay there and experience it, not participate.

Now he rolled the stocking up and over her knee, stopping right below it...Now one hand went to the ankle at his shoulder and pressed it down, holding it fast...Now the other hand went back to her knee, the fingers dancing around the roll of the stocking.

Oh no. Christine felt her breath quicken. He wouldn't…

"Now," he said, making sure to stare her dead in the face. "If you were a real flesh and blood woman, I imagine this little spot right here behind your knee would be extremely ticklish. And if I were to attempt this maneuver where I would draw the stocking down your leg and accidentally brushed this area, you would jolt, kick me in the face, and leave me with a black eye on my good side."

Just that one time! And it was an accident!, she wanted to shout. All she managed was a flare of her nostrils.

"And then others would suspect that my sweet little wife had to defend herself from a rampaging brute such as myself."

This incident and the ensuing misunderstanding happened soon after they were married and Christine was stung with guilt for months and months afterwards. She had repeatedly apologized and explained herself but still, Erik did like to needle and tease her about it sometimes. It was really his fault - if only he hadn't removed her stocking so quickly and swiped that most ticklish patch of skin…

Christine couldn't think of the past, had to deal with the present, where Erik was daring her to squirm. The hand at her ankle pressed down, securing her leg to his shoulder while the other began teasing at the seam between flesh and fabric. Oh, he was so smug! His sparse grey eyebrows were slowly creeping up his forehead with delight, the corners of his lips were quirked up in a muted smile. She was practically ready to kick the look right off of his face regardless if he was foolish enough to touch behind her knee.

With his eyes pinned to hers, he deliberately, languidly, drew a finger across the flesh from the lower part of her thigh and past the area behind her knee. It took all of her concentration not to jump off the bed. She clenched her jaw, the tips of her fingers pressed into mattress, her breath came in quick little gasps but she did not squirm or scream or cry.

Something unexpected happened...The anticipation of his touch, the tightening of her stomach, the tingles as his fingertips skimmed the skin all seemed to draw a delicious sensation down to her center. Just as she had this realization, he reached down with both hands and continued rolling down her stocking. She felt almost...disappointed.

After lowering her bare right leg, he put her left leg on his right shoulder and began the process once more. This time, though, he only gently caressed her knee, playfully threatening to tickle her again but not following through. He turned his head to give a quick kiss to her ankle before releasing her leg.

Her eyes followed him as he walked around the side of the bed. The one stocking was still in his hands and he twisted the fabric around and around, contemplating her prone form. Christine imagined, for a second, that he was about to use it to bind her hands or something similar and her stomach tightened in anticipation. Although the thought seemed to cross his mind, the impulse died behind his eyes and he left the stocking on the bedside table.

Christine was surprised to find that she was again frustrated and she had to wonder what kind of woman wanted to be tied up. She had a moment of panic that perhaps she had truly gone too far, that she was exploring such strange, sinful pathways of lust that her desires were irredeemable. What must Erik think of her?

She couldn't help but recall the time she got her piercings and what a disaster their debut had been. Tension was building in her marriage with Raoul. Rumors of infidelity on his part, his suspicion of her own infidelity, and the beginning of his gambling and drinking habits were starting to manifest. He decided some time apart was best and that they could start fresh when he returned, so he went with friends on a trip to Monte Carlo. On a whim, while he was away, she went with one of her society friends to the scandalous parlor where many ladies had their anneux de sein put in. At the time, she thought it would be an exciting addition to their marriage, that he would see her in a whole new light.

But when he returned from his trip, he was already enveloped in darkness and no light would reach him. That first night she revealed them, he scowled, said it was improper for a lady of her standing to have such things, called her a freak. Later he apologized, true, but he never really did warm up to them and it made Christine feel how she often did, that her ideas were not welcome because they were not healthy, they were not normal, they were not proper, they were not ladylike...If she wasn't like a lady, then what was she?

But then Erik was sitting on the edge of the bed next to her, bending down to take one of the little pearls into his mouth, tugging at it with this teeth through the fabric of her gown, wiping the self-doubt from her thoughts. How could she ever believe Erik would judge her so harshly after all of these years? The most judgmental thing he'd ever done was throw a fit over a grey dress that she adored and he loathed and they had a rather vicious disagreement about whether or not the pleating at the front was flattering. It did go missing eventually...

Those intrusive thoughts slipped further and further away from the front of her mind as Erik

worried the pearl at the end of her anneux in his lips. While one hand crept over her heated skin to palm her other breast, his mouth continuously sucked and pulled and teased at the other through her lingerie. The fabric added extra friction every time he took her nipple into his mouth, and when he withdrew, it clung to her, wet and cool, making her almost cry out in relief when his hot mouth closed over it once more.

Just over his thigh, she could almost see the bulge at the front of his trousers and her hand twitched imperceptibly, longing to creep over, to cup him through the wool, to stroke him and bring him the same pleasure he granted her. She couldn't understand why he was still working on her, still holding back. If he wasn't feeling frustrated, she was in his stead.

She was so lost in her irritation she didn't feel him plucking at the buttons between her breasts, opening the front of her lingerie to slide one smooth hand under the chiffon. His touch made electricity ripple across her skin and she closed her eyes, clenching her jaw to keep from moaning with desire. He pressed a kiss to the place in her neck where her pulse thrummed hard but then he pulled away once more. Through her closed lids, she could feel him watching her and she dared to open her eyes. His thumb thoughtfully circled her pert nipple, flicking the ring on every pass, as he stared down at her, his face shadowed with lust and contemplation. Under his hand, Christine's heart beat harder.

"I suppose one of the best things about having a dolly is that you can dress them or undress them as you please…" There was now a rough edge in his velvet voice as if he was reaching the limits of his restraint. Surely he wouldn't keep playing with her like this, teasing her endlessly…

He pulled her up to a sitting position and, after tugging this way and that, brought the lingerie up and over her head, leaving her entirely nude. He draped her arms around his neck, trailing kisses from her jaw to her forehead, across her lips, down her neck, each one infused with increasing urgency. Just as his lips met the hollow at her throat, she gave a little sigh. He immediately paused.

No! He can't stop, not now!

Christine felt her breath quicken and struggled to reign it in. If he stopped just to prove a point in their game, she would take matters into her own hands, rules be damned. That strange little smile of his was present once more and his amber eyes were alight with devilish fire. Seeing this, the slightest bit of regret for dreaming up this silly game squirmed its way in between the butterflies in her stomach.

Swiftly yet gently, he flipped her onto her stomach. With one ear pressed to the mattress, she heard the bed creaking as he planted both hands beside her head and leaned down to kiss her cheek. His warm breath at her ear, the weight of him pressing into her between her shoulder blades made her skin erupt in gooseflesh. One hand raised to softly smooth her hair away from her face, taking a moment to fan it out around her head - and then he was gone. The mattress sprang back up without his weight and cool air rushed against her skin where his body had pressed to her exposed flesh.

Caught by surprise, Christine almost lifted her head to turn to look for him - almost. While it was growing harder and harder to play the part of the passive mannequin, she remained committed to the rules. Having these invisible binds on her body and an imaginary gag on her tongue magnified every sensation, made every action feel like an exquisite agony and amplified every moment of his absence. The need she felt for him was almost bordering on physical pain and she struggled to keep from shifting about on the bed anxiously. She remained still, taking calm, measured breaths, waiting for his return.

The lights snapped off, leaving them only in whatever moonlight came through the windows. There was the sound of shuffling, of fabric rustling, then the sound of the mattress creaking as he crawled towards her on the bed. His cool bare skin covered her once more has he resumed his previous position, hands besides her head, body pressed to her back. She could feel his cock, hard and hot, against her thigh and shuddered with anxious electricity. It couldn't be much longer…

He lowered himself to kiss the crest of her shoulders, up the back of her neck, stopping at the edge of her ear to growl, "Ah, Christine…"

She was about ready to scream; to counter this, she decided to focus on the obscenely large near-black gem that was always perched on his smallest finger. It glimmered in the limited moonlight, and she counted the facets to keep her mind calm while her every nerve was on fire. Even that was eventually denied to her; his hand left her sight as he reached down to guide his cock to her opening, teasing it back and forth, back and forth.

The cruelty! The audacity! Was he enjoying himself? From the sounds of his strained moans, it didn't sound like it and Christine was glad. If he was going to make her suffer, she wanted him to be on her level.

Finally, he pushed forward with one long, guttural groan. The relief she felt as he sank into her unfortunately manifested itself as a high, breathy cry. He stopped.

No!

Real tears pricked her eyes, half out of frustration with herself and half with his endless, maddening teasing. Erik did like to push a game a little too far, didn't he? This time she was sure she was going to spring up, flip him over, and take matters into her own hands if he didn't allow her the release he had spent what felt like hours building to.

Erik lowered himself further down to peer at her almost eye to eye. "Hmm...I suppose new dolls are a bit squeaky at first, aren't they?"

The words that ran through Christine's mind at that moment were more appropriate for a surly, long-suffering dockworker than a genteel society lady and she hoped he could see them flashing across her face. The unconscionable tease! The joke was truly wearing thin at this point! Didn't he feel about ready to burst, as she did? How dare he?!

After giving her cheek a soft kiss, a smug chuckle vibrating across her skin, he raised himself back up and began thrusting into her with long, forceful strokes. Each one forced a gasp from her lips but he seemed to be past the point of caring about this little transgression against the rules, and she was grateful for it. This is what she wanted - not thinking about what came next, not worried about whether or not he was holding back. Another moment of self doubt crossed her mind, wondering why she had put herself in a position where she was just passive, just being used, but it quickly washed away as she was lost in wave after wave of sensation.

His intensity and this position was enough to dissolve all rational thought yet she couldn't help but wish that she had more direct attention to the little bud that brought her the most pleasure. As if he read her mind, he dug his arm beneath her and rolled them both over, his hand immediately snaking down between her legs. At last - he would grant her the release she was longing for!

Now, before they were married, Erik had divulged the many details of his life that he had kept locked away over the years. The things he told her he experienced and had done seemed fantastic, unbelievable, and yet explained so many of his behaviors. One of the strangest things he told her about was his bizarre childhood in the palaces of Persia, serving the shah as a sort of court jester or entertainer - but also an executioner and torturer. While she had witnessed flashes of his white-hot rage, his remorse was always fast and doubly intense. That was also a long time ago, and since then, he had proven himself to be as gentle as a lamb.

- Or so she thought! No, she could never before imagine her sweet and devoted husband, a man she had to pry into revealing his desires with this stupid game, as a person who only dreamed night and day of inflicting pain and agony on unwilling victims. Now, as he brought her up to the edge of her climax and dropped her back down repeatedly, she unequivocally knew he reveled in others' misery.

At first, she had been pleased to feel his fingers flicking against her little pearl. She sighed and settled against him, cheek to the pillow, as her body began to tremble with impending release. And then - he stopped! He came to a full stop, laying perfectly still, his arms clamped around her body and still buried deep within her. She felt his hot breath against her neck, her curls sticking to the perspiration on his brow. He held fast to her until their panting subsided and her throbbing need receded, and then started again once more.

The first time, she could bear it, but he cruelly did it once, twice, three times, bringing her to the crest of satisfaction before pulling her back again. Each time, her body seemed to gather pleasure from a deeper reservoir, the intensity growing stronger - along with her frustration. It was apparent she wasn't suffering alone; Erik moaned and whimpered and writhed with her, forcing himself through the same excruciating torment. From time to time, she could feel him staring down at her, watching to see if she would crack but knowing that he was scrutinizing her so closely fueled her determination to mind their rules to the letter. She wouldn't give him the satisfaction if he wouldn't give her hers.

He pulled free of her and just as she was about to protest, pressed her back into the mattress as he brought them face to face. For another excruciating moment, he lay still as he kissed her, fervently crushing his lips to hers, to her face, to her throat. After a brief moment of this, he pulled her legs up around him and leaned forward, gripping the headboard. Ah - this was one of their favorite positions as it provided perfect friction exactly where she needed it. At long last, the end was in sight!

Erik, in his desperation for release, set a frantic pace and Christine finally felt the rush of her climax crashing into her senses. The intense, pure molten pleasure radiated from her center and wiped every doubt, thought, and impulse from her mind. There were only two things that swam through her consciousness with any sort of clarity - the feeling of Erik's hand caressing her cheek and her controlled, silent gasps.

.

.

.

"Christine….Christine…"

Erik's voice in her ear pulled Christine's consciousness from the dark velvet bliss she was suspended in. It started out a soft whisper but was now growing annoyingly insistent. Why couldn't he let her be? He brought her to this place, it's only right he should let her enjoy it a moment longer.

She cracked an eye open. His face went from relieved upon realizing she hadn't gone into a coma to offended that she was playing at being dead. She quickly closed her one eye again and tamed the smirk that was pulling at the corners of her lips.

"Christine."

Oh, his voice was so firm now! He was so insistent earlier that she not make a peep and now he wanted to reanimate her! Well, she would make him suffer a little bit longer. It was only fair, really. He gently nuzzled her, dropping a few kisses across her jaw and under her ear where he knew she was slightly ticklish. She remained motionless.

"You know, I forgot that I am a rather capable magician. Perhaps I can turn this incredibly anatomically correct medical manikin into a real girl. Abracadabra!"

She felt his lips press to hers and could hold out no longer, opening her eyes and bringing her arms around him. She felt him relax under her touch. When he broke from the kiss, he pulled her into his embrace, cuddling her close.

"So did you enjoy yourself, Christine? Did you get the sensation you were seeking, that you were not completely in control?"

"Erik, I must admit, that was an adventure! I didn't know what was coming next and it was...it was interesting and exciting...Did you like it?"

"...If you are happy, I am happy."

Christine didn't like his pause and his response seemed guarded at best. "If you're unhappy then I'm not happy, Erik. If you didn't like it, I want to know. That's what I want more than anything - I want to know what you think, I want your honesty."

Erik squirmed for a moment and then, worrying the edge of the sheet between his fingers, he said, "...I didn't like all of it. I didn't like that you were unresponsive. I wasn't sure how you were feeling, if you were uncomfortable, if I was hurting you."

Christine kissed his cheek, his brow, his lips. "There - that's what I really like from you, some clear honesty. We could've stopped any time you wanted if you didn't like it, you just had to say the word. And besides, if you were making me uncomfortable or something hurt, I would tell you."

Erik remained silent and continued fumbling with the edge of the sheet.

"You know," Christine playfully landed a finger on his nose nub. "I think there were times that you were having more fun than I was. You were trying so hard to get me to crack!"

"Well…" he said, visibly relaxing a bit. "You proved yourself an excellent actress as always and weathered all distractions admirably."

"Next time, we should try it with you as the mannequin, then you can see how fun it is. Would you like that?"

"I...I would try it at least once…"

Christine nestled close to him again, curling up under his arm and drawing her fingertip up and down the center of his chest.

"I'm surprised to hear that you didn't enjoy yourself because you seemed to be quite enthusiastic about your role. Now I know why that mannequin was falling down all the time…"

"Christine -!" She got a mischievous thrill from hearing the indignant outrage in his voice. "I never -! Why do you insist -?"

Smirking, she egged him on. "I don't believe I'll be able to walk right for a week!"

He pulled her close and buried his face in her hair, settling into his role as the beleaguered butt of her jokes. "You are very mean, very mean indeed to me, Christine," he said, teasing her back.

She sighed and patted him sympathetically. "Poor old Erik!"

Thanks for reading my Kintober 2018 story! (Yes, I know it's now November...Let's just roll with it.) Thanks as well to Timebird84 for coming up with the 2018 Kinktober prompts; it was a lot of fun.