Kaya claims a new toy and Peggy gets fed.
R for themes.
"Pe-gee. Hmm. It's kind of cute. So, tell me, Peggy," dancer's hands drifted along the curves of the body leaf shoulder, thumbs pressing soft over the upraised skin trapped over silver, "what do you like to do in your free time?"
He could feel his ripped open raw nerves jump and twinge under the slight contact. The rope around his throat irritated him the most, more than anything due to its perfect amount of pressure, enough to be excruciatingly hard to ignore, but not enough to choke the air out of him. "Drugs. Fucking around. Playing with my dolls."
"Dolls? Dolls are nice. How many do you have, Peggy?" The voice floating down from above was melodic, a medium voice flavored in soft tones and vowels. During speech, those fnigers spin higher, rising to admire the work sticking out of the back of his neck.
"I have four," he said quietly, his crouched position beginning to crush his diaphragm and make his breathing irregular. The pain was still burning embers in his shoulders and neck and he kept his head still for fear of disturbing the abused area.
But Kaya knew how to tie well - there would be no permanent damage or significant air loss. Killing in the midst of play wasn't appealing to him. The number disappointed him, clucking his tongue quietly around a frown. "Four? How pitiful. I guess we'll go by my number then, unless you have anything you'd like to persuade me with. Ten is such a nice, round number."
It was never enough to actually hurt, just uncomfortable. "I made them or found them in the trash." From his postion, he could only really look at the floor and his feet. Tiny shins, tiny ankles, tiny feet, tiny toes.
"Ah, so you're a creative one, aren't you?" Touches wandered back down, gently pinching and kneeding the flesh neighboring that which was pierced. Sapphiric eyes calculated, considered his canvas.
"Mmn." Tiny fingers, tiny eyes, tiny soul, tiny ambition, tiny motivation, tiny self-preservation.
"But you know, I've always found dolls to be frustrating. Understand?" A pin was extracted, the sultry tip running lost against skin, breaking nothing but leaving sensation in it's wake. Back and forth, left, center, right. So many options.
"Nnh." Again, his body twitched and flinched in anticipation under the tiny pin. Tiny pain, tiny mutilation.
"Good. No matter how much you talk to them, touch them, lick, anything, they never talk back. Or do much of anything really, except get dusty, which is another annoying trait." The pin wandered a while longer, it's master lost in momentary fancy. Ah. Beautiful indeed. He pinched hard, drawing up enough skin to work the tip of the needle through it, centered over the boy's spine at a low diagnol from the two at the juncture of his neck and shoulders. Symmetry was key to any good design.
He cried out when the pin punched through his skin. He cried out at the loss of his favorite doll, the one he left behind. He cried out at the realization that Kaya was right. His self-disgust turned into cheerful aloofness, as if he could simply ignore himself for the rest of his days.
"But then-" the needle jammed halfway through to freedom, "they are beautiful. And they always accept you, ne?" Break away. Tunneled and lit, garnet tained silver sparkled and Kaya's hands drifted slowly away. There was a lingering smile in his eyes as he backed away from the chair, away from the body trembling and alive in the web of ropes.
The freshly cleaned and primmed hair itched his left shoulder and he turned his head slightly to see if he could bite it, but yelped as blind searing pain ripped through his upper back and neck. Yes, yes Peggy, your dolls were the only ones who you could call friends. The only ones that helped clean up the cum and blood and put your life in order. You owe them your soul.
For two whole minutes, silence. Observation. Plastic scrapped the carpet threads to his dresser, freed a digital camera and he came back. "Utterly lovely." Twenty frames went past and Kaya finally moved around in front of him, crouched down elegantly with a cheeky palm to chin. "How are you? Going numb anywhere?"
Dark weary eyes skimmed the other and Peggy attempted a shrug, the burn settling into a pinching ache. Oddly he felt like an ikebana piece, bound with love and presented at a lover's door in hopes of getting lucky. Put him on a shelf, in a glass of water and he'd wilt in a few days.
Tsking with tongue only, Kaya smiled, a hand reaching up to grab his chin. A gentle shake, enough to discomfort him without digging the rope too hard into his throat. "I know you can speak now, Peggy. So speak. The tongue is a muscle and you know what they say about muscles. You either use it or lose it."
"It's itchyburn," he said, voice raw from screaming earlier and disuse. He looked away again and pursed his lips. That would be all.
Pouting somewhat, Kaya let go of his face. After all, fair was fair. For now.
He held up the camera, scrolling through the pictures of Peggy's back in a psuedo slideshow. "Look at how pretty you are."
He kept averting his eyes to stare at the floor but again, curiousity always killed the cat. The tiny images of himself like this flicked past his eyes and he only half-believed it was him.
The camera was taken away, pictures flipped through until he found his favorite. Zooming in to lessen the surroundings, focus on the back, he held it up again. "See? Quite fetching."
A pouty raw lip was nibbled thoughfully. "Oh."
Kaya's grin spread, tipped saucer of milk. "You like?"
As much as he wanted to say no, the word creeped out before he coud stop himself. "Hai."
"Ah, good. I rather like it myself. " The camera was taken away, modes switched and Kaya leaned back against the vanity. More pictures were taken, zooming in on Peggy's face.
When he realized his face was the subject, he tried to look awa. His head immobilized by pain and bondage, the only real thing he could do was close his eyes and pretend he was prettier than that.
Contorted features, gorgeous in the yellow lighting. Kaya moved, one knees to the side of the chair, taking in all angles. Finally he finished, camera set carefully on the bed and attention finally fully back on his subject. "Now, what do you think? I rather like the arrangement as it is, but it could do with a few more."
"It hurts," he said plainly.
"Mmm... pain for beauty. Nothing's free. Nothing at all. Ah, while we're on the subject, do you belong to anyone, Peggy?" Absently adjusting the pins to offset the skin they were gouged in to optimum, they then wandered to flicks around the pony tail he had created.
"No one." The tingling flared up again but faded as fast as it began.
"Reeeeally? Splendid. Do you want to belong to someone? Would that make you smile?" Down, down to the pin over his spin. Gentle strokes and a full rotation, eyes admiring the jumping of trapping skin.
"I don't like smiling," he said plainly, fully aware he was still trembling.
"What's something you do like doing that is a reaction to a sense of happiness or joy?" Kaya's patience unnatural, and he pulled out the pin he had been twisting.
"My dolls," he said quietly, wincing when the pin was extracted.
"You have sex with your dolls? How intruiging." Knots undone, neatly freed with the speed and tidiness of experience.
"I don't stop them." He shifted somewhat uncomfortably and flexed his fingers and whatever joints he could. He caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror and flinched.
"They get possesed and fuck you?" Kaya laughed at the thought, hands easing and controlling Peggy's head, guiding him to sit up straight and massaging fingers worked down the side to alleviate the stiffness there the bonds created. "What interesting hobbies you have."
He made a half-assed shrug and swallowed the gob of spit he had pocketed in his cheek. He never usually accepted massages but he was, of course, in no position to refuse.
It was light and over in moments, hands moving and taking the rope with him, dragging over Peggy, miniature mountain. Humming again, the ropes were left on the floor for the moment, abandoned in favor of stepping in front of Peggy to rifle through a vanity desk drawer. When the noises stopped, he turned around, two different concealers each in a hand. He held them up to Peggy's cheeks, thoughtfully considering.
"I use white," he suggested, hoping against hope that Kaya wouldn't try to make him look sugary sweet.
"Hmm... white." He took out another concealer, replaced the options to old and new, head tilting slightly to the right. "... Hm. Thank you, sweetie, lovely suggestion." The pale but natural base was set aside and Kaya unscrewed the cap, picking up an appropriate sponge for the job.
Whenever Peggy had done his makeup, it was smeared across his face with fingers and toilet paper. Thick black eyeliner and disgusting red lipstick. Lots of beads and gaudy bracelets he either stole or made himself. Muddy boots and shabby over coats and petticoats and skirts and his bruises.
Spread smooth, a clean beginning, a painter's white washing prep. Finished, powder was patted to set and out came a selection of monochrome. "Do you have a favorite color, Peggy?"
"Red and black and purple."
"Fabulous." He had been leaning towards purples anyway. Inspiration from the bags under his eyes. Eye shadows in hand, Kaya began his practice, various brushes implemented in the effort. The humming began, spilled into quiet singing, the tune upbeat.
Makeup was never applied to him by someone else, but Peggy couldn't say it wasn't somewhat enjoyable. He sat still and tried not to flinch or pull away. He was never used to anyone touching his face like this, and doubted he would for a while to come.
"Got any requests?" He flashed a brief smile, but it melted back almost immediately with concentration. "Keep your eyes closed." The liquid eyeliner was out now, careful and precise.
"No." He kept them shut, fingers twitching from sitting still for so long.
"Good boy." His hands moved butterfly, drifting down. Kaya inspected his work, smiling to himself a little once more, and the eyeliner returned, swirling a pattern beside Peggy left eye, taking it down across his cheek. Elegant, simple flowers. Art classes had created a steady hand. Finished with that part, he moved to lipsticks, holding up a few before deciding on a deep magenta. Peggy's chin was held firm, lips painted in careful strokes.
The lipstick mixed with his stale lipgloss half bitten off by himself and the blood staining there. Peggy blinked away the few watery tears that formed from the powdered color.
Good thing he had been scrubbed beforehand. Finishing it with some black lipstick, Kaya made a satisfied sigh. Capped, tubes were stuffed back in their bag and Kaya wandered out form in front of him, moving across the room again to the dressed, humming once more to himself as he sifted through his options.
The makeup itself was flattering, meant to bring out whatever feminine qualities Peggy's face possesed, lips thickened with a subtle pout, lined with a black that spread only a little inwards from the edges. Heian era reminiscent eyebrows in the form of two short, black lines were drawn. Next time he'd shave Peggy's natural eyebrows off for a smoother look.
He licked at his lips a little and still avoided himself in the mirror. As he thought about it, everything wasn't how it should be. The last time he was thrown into a car, he was fucked just for the fun of it, sloppy orgasms and sweaty faces. It was always rough, with little or no preparation or care. After they were done, Peggy was tossed out the door where he usually laid for half the night, gather his filthy rags and wander towards 'home'- under the stairs in an alleyway cloved behind an old hardware store that sold meth.
Articles of clothing chosen, Kaya wandered back to his captive. He sat in sieza, hands nimbly untying the right leg. When finished, a purple thigh high stocking with light black ebroidery work in the shapes of butterflies and black lacing at the thigh band was slid on, gag and tissue alike bounced around Peggy's lap as the item was pulled up into place.
Once 'home' he would crawl into the messy nest of newspapers, scraps, torn apart pillows and whatever padding he could salvage from junk yards. His morphine supply and needles were always carefully stashed in a nook under the third stair. Once laying down, he would reach between his legs and feel the hot sticky dripping down towards his knees. If it was a gangbang, there was always more. More bruises, bitemarks, insults, thick white fluids, spit, degradation.
The left was untied now, stocking slid up into place. Kaya ignored whatever of Peggy's anatomy was revealed, instead tugging the yukata back in place across his lap. He stood, deftly untying his wrists. He wasn't afraid of Peggy. And regardless, chances were Takei was still in the kitchen. Takei never did like it when his master brought someone home.
He would bring his fingers to his face, the weak lights of the street glistening in the ejaculate smeared on his fingers. More times than not, it was still warm, even after hours of lying on the cold street. Spreading it on his skirt he would settle among his dolls and slip away after shooting up a sizeable amount of morphine.
He didn't move from his postion, still drifting back through his memories. The last one was a woman. She had tall legs and a pearl necklace. She had used a vibrator on him to keep him hard while she rode him until he cried. Staring blankly at Kaya, he waited for an order.
A smile. Dew temperate fingers slip around small wrists, pulled Peggy to his feet. His voice the shade of duckling down, "Stand still." Azure orbs locked on darker naturals, the swift hands between them undid the yukata's belt, slid it away. In seconds following, silk fluttered through the air and left Peggy naked. A black skirt, ruffled and layered with chaotic materials of high quality was wrapped around his waist, zipped closed and cinched for size. A corset followed, laced tight but not constrictive. His purpose tonight was for show, not use. Brocade in sensual purples, black fabric silvered in sworls. A collar round his neck of simple purple rhinestones and Kaya gave his ponytail and gentle tug. "Sit down."
The fabrics and new clothing articles slid over his soft and clean skin like a lace smoothie. He didn't dare touch it in fear of dirtying it. He sat when told to and kept his hands away from the obviously expensive cloth.
Kaya freed his hair and worked his fingers through it experimentally. "What to do, what to do... hmm..."
"Thank you," he admitted, fingers curling around the edge of the chair and eyes low.
"Hm? Oh." Kaya patted his head. "You're welcome, dear." Amused, inspiration finally caught. Fiveish minutes later found Peggy's hair pulled up in the back in a twisted foray of delicate work, pinned in place with the pins unused on the boy's back. The rest was down, spilled down the sides of Peggy's face. A frame, the point of which to accentuate his back. "Wonderful. Okay, stand up now and get on the bed." Kaya turned away, picking up the camera and flipping it on while he waited.
His short legs worked to carry him to the overly lavish bed. He sat on the edge, careful not to wrinkle or muss anything. He wanted to touch his hair but figured he would ruin it if he did. Soiled little boy fingers should not be touching pretty things.
Mode set as he wanted, the camera was momentarily abandoned on the vanity in favor of posing his subject. Peggy was positioned in touches and words to sit on his hip, legs tugged coyly next to him, back to the vanity and head turned in a frozen glance over his shoulder. "Good, now stay that way until I tell you to move." Enjoying himself, Kaya smiled as he picked up the camera. Shutter click shutter click.
Peggy posed and stayed as he was moved. The bodice was tight around his ribcage, but it was comforting in a way.
Eventually he grew tired of that pose and repositioned him. Nearly an hour passed of this, Kaya moving him around, taking pictures, moving him around again. The last pose involved a prayer tie, Peggy's arms bound tightly in the front in a supplicant's manner, the adjustment of tension administered through the knot against his back. Tight enough to turn fair skin blue, when Kaya was satisfied, the camera was left on the vanity once more. His hands wrapped around Peggy's constrained ones, rubbing lightly to bring momentary warmth back to them. "How does it feel? Any numbness?"
"My fingertips," he remarked, his muscles aching from the amount of effort he put into keeping still.
"How long?" The rubbing kept on at that remark. To be expected, but Kaya wasn't interested in permanent nerve damage. Not yet.
"I want it in minutes." Twin indexes wormed their way in the bonds around Peggy's wrists, testing tension.
"Ten minutes," he shrugged, wiggling his fingers.
"Hm... not bad." Kaya turned him around, loosened the bonds slightly to let a fresh flow of blood work it's way up. "I assume you have an appetite?"
He hadn't thought of it and wouldn't have asked if Kaya had not brought it up. "Please," he said politely. Peggy worked the blood into his finger tips and touched all surfaces of his hands.
"Marvelous." Kaya slipped back around in front, smile pleased. A grip on the forearms tied so snugly together and Kaya led him out of the room, back to the kitchen where Takei was seated at the table, munching on a piece of pile while scrolling through his phone emails. He looked up at their approach, immediately straightening up and putting the device away.
"Go prepare the bedroom for tonight. He'll be staying."
Takei nodded, rose, bowed and was off. A chair opposite the one vacated was pulled out and Kaya gestured. "Sit down."
He sat like the lap dog he was turning into, the frothy lace spreading out around his knees and thighs with a pouf. He eyed the man who had carried him, half in fearful respect and with suspecion. Whipped, he concluded.
Eggplant lasagna from the afternoon, baked fresh, was taken out, Kaya humming once more in near contentment as he sliced out a chunk. The microwave buzzed to life and Kaya decided orange juice was good enough, filling a cup and sticking a straw in it, placed within range of Peggy should the boy feel like leaning in for a sip. When all was said and done, a fork, Kaya and the plate of now steaming dinner was at the table beside Peggy. How amusing. Kaya glanced at the kitty clock ticking away on his wall. Mmm, probably another fifteen minutes. Plenty of time. Scooping up a helping of lasanga, he blew on it between words. "So, drugs, fucking and dolls with whom you occasionally rut are your usual activites?"
He nodded and took a sip, wary of the orange glass. It could be laced. Any assortment of drugs. Date rape drug most likely. He had learned far too many times how that drug worked. He wanted to trust, but kept his wits about him.
"Ne ne, such dull games make for dull people. Here, open up." Kaya looked over at him and held out the fork, waiting for his mouth to open for admittance.
"Dull games..?" he said and opened his mouth slightly.
"Mm. Drugs, fucking. Boring and common." Kaya shoved the fork in, careful but boldly confident in his ability to feed someone. This wasn't the first time.
He was going to explain himself but chewed and thought out a better responce to what he was going to originally say. Swallowing the mushy plant, he replied, "I just need money."
"Spending it on drugs is boring. People are so unoriginal these days." Another scoop of lasagna was freed from the main chunk, blown on and then offered once Kaya noted Peggy swallow.
He took the food into his mouth again and chewed, mulling over being called 'unoriginal.' He had been called many many things, but 'unoriginal' was quite original.
"Why don't you take a sip of your juice, wash it all down." An order in a gentle suggestion, fork left on the plate in his lap. Kaya watched, eyes following every ripple effect of movement in Peggy's body.
Peggy carefully leaned forward to grasp the straw between his teeth, carefully wrapping his lips around the plastic as not to smudge his carefully applied makeup.
Watching, Kaya smiled in approval. When he finished, Kaya scooped a chunk of lasgana and blew on it. "I'd be willing to give you a chance. Mostly because I'm bored and you're the right size, but also because I am a kind hearted and generous woman."
"Give me a chance?" Salvation seemed to be just that one step away, the Jesus Christ of vicious BDSM cracking his whip and beckoning his believers onto the cross.
"Mm. Give you a chance. Open up." The fork hovered in front of painted lips.
Painted lips parted and he accepted the mush.
Deposited, Kaya withdrew metal from mouth, observing him thoughtfully. "Taste good, doesn't it? But you what I don't like? I don't like druggies. And I don't like whores who spend all their money on drugs. It's pathetic. Don't you agree?"
Peggy blinked like a deer in headlights. He reddened and looked away, for once, the shame catching up to him after all these years. "Hai."
"Hm? Wonderful. I have more than enough whores, I don't require any more. But if you want to be my little doll bad enough, I'll let you. This means no drugs, no fucking, but if you're good, it may eventually mean dolls of your own."
"But if I'm a whore, then you'll make me fuck," he stated bluntly, a hint of smugness tucked inside the left cheek.
"No dearie, you won't be a whore. I already have plenty, like I said. You don't have a hearing problem, do you? Here." Another scoopful was offered. "Chew this. Think about what I said and then tell me what I said you could be."
The food gag was chewed quickly and swallowed hastily. "What the hell do you mean by doll? There are sex dolls and little girl dolls and porcelain dolls. Be specific!" he shouted, finding his inner bitch again.
An eyebrow quirked. A hard stare was given and then he laughed. Leaving the plate on the table, he grabbed Peggy's seat from underneath, between the boys' knees, and dragged it a few centimeter's closer. "Sweetie, you're such a rat, even in all this finery. What do you think you are right now? What this has been?" Hands brushed up bound forearms, ended on small hands cupped in larger, polished ones.
"What? All you did was put me in a stupid dress and tied me up and took pictures!" he continued to shout. In the back of his mind, he dreaded what he was saying. Terribly dreading.
"What were you expecting? That I'd fuck you?" Amused still, Kaya let go of him, leaning an elbow on the table. His fingers curled a first, cheek leaning against knuckles.
"No. At first, maybe, but not anymore. I just...never had any of this before. I'm sorry," he said, his reptile brain telling him this was his best chance of surviving. Fight or flight and bound as he was, in unknown territory, he would lose.
"Mmhm." Calculations and Kaya knew his kind well. This wasn't the first time. It wouldn't be the last. A girl's got to entertain herself somehow, hasn't she? A lioness smile, curvaceous and warm, Kaya sniffled. "I am not cruel. If you don't want to stay, I won't keep you. You'll be free to go in the morning."
"I have nothing, you know that." He looked away and hung his head, the dull ache of the pins returning, his bound arms stiff from being kept in place tightly. He coudln't say he didn't like it.
"You'd have your autonomy. Because once you belong to me, you belong to me. No drugs. No fucking unless I condone it. Not so much as pissing without asking for permission first. ...Think about it." Another fresh scoop was offered, the plate half empty by now.
"Fine. I'll do it. I'm yours," he said without thinking, his mind reeling behind him.
With his mouth open to speak, Kaya shoved the fork in, cutting off anything Peggy might have had further to say. "Think about it." His eyes sparkled. What a truly amusing night.
He mulled it over. A warm bed, fancy clothes, real food and a place to stay. When the fork was taken out of his mouth he said again, "I'm yours."
"We can draw up the contract later." A quiet laugh and he carved more lasagna out of the rapidly diminishing pile. "How are you doing? Still hungry?"
"I'm not hungry anymore," he answered and sat still, shifting in his bonds.
"Splendid. Finish your juice." Then he rose, wandering off to put Peggy's small leftovers away in a seperate container. No knowing what that thing had, so until his doctor gave Peggy his shots, no sense risking anything.
Peggy bent to suck on his straw, the acidy liquid flooding his mouth and coating his throat. His dark eyes followed Kaya's movements and tried to figure out what his future would hold.
He waited until Peggy was finished, watching with three toned eyes. When the last slurping noises echoed way, he grabbed the rope intricately pressing arms to chest and pulled Peggy to his feet. "Come."
Peggy stood, the dress splashing around his knees and making him feel pretty. He said nothing but stood at attention.
Patting him on the head with a near grin, Kaya led him off to the bathroom they were in earlier, kicking a small stool towards the sink. "Sit down." While he left Peggy to his task, he hummed and got out the tools he'd be needing.
"....now what?" He sat at the stool and peeked into the sink. "What're you looking for?"
"Something I'm sure you'll be happy about." Kaya wandered back over, unlabeled bottles, gauze and guaze tap in hand. He set them up orderly on the sink and situated himself behind Peggy. "Mm... So pretty." Fingers wandered in last strokes across his exposed back, nudging pins as they went. A firm grip and one in his neck was yanked out.
He was going to question what 'happy' meant but decided to check his tongue. When the metal flower was extracted, his spine arched heavily and he gasped. "Nngh!"
"Tingles, doesn't it?" Two more came out. The third was tinkered with, twisted and turned. A quite sigh. "Almost a shame they ever have to leave at all."
Peggy gasped and twisted under the itching pain. "H...hai!"
He patted Peggy's head in absent affection. "It's okay, you'll learn to like it." A tug, freedom and small vampire bites glistened in place of the jewelry. A cloth with peroxide was dabbed over them, cleaned and gauze was tapped over them, cut in the fun shapes of hearts and butterflies. When he was done, he nudged Peggy gently in the side with his knee. "All better. Stand up."
The doctoring was a little unneeded; Peggy had far worse than pinpricks cutting him. He would have protested but stood instead.
Turning him round to face to face by the shoulders, Kaya silently went about the task of cleaning off his face. Moments found Peggy's face once again clean, left now with only faint clinging remains of eyeliner round his eyes.
Peggy couldn't understand why after spending so much time on the face powders and paints that they were being removed. "Why did you take it all off?"
"Because I don't want you getting it all over my sheets." Simple as that.
"Oh." He tugged at the skirt and felt stupid.
Another pat on the head and Kaya told hold of his ropes once more. Finished inhere, he took Peggy back to the bedroom. Takei was nowhere in site, but his handiwork had small evidences. The sheets were turned back with crisp, careful folds. All objects save the heavy furniture were removed from the room, drawers empited, vanity cleared. Kaya shut the door behind them and then turned him around, deft fingers working the ropes free. They were off in moments, the complicated tie a simple matter for the one who created it.
Stiff ligaments and joints and sockets quivered under the release and Peggy shivered, the rope pattern tattooed into his flesh deftly. He rubbed his shoulders and forearms and hands together in relief, looking around the room in curiosity. Now the morphine was basically out of his system, he could better examine his surroundings.
Kaya wrapped the rope into a neat collection, tying it off and watching Peggy as his hands moved. Eagerness bled away when reality set in and Kaya would see in a matter weeks how this one would take to the game.
Peggy reached for the pretty lace curtains and looked over his shoulder at Kaya. "Is it bedime now?"
There wasn't a window behind them, a pretty illusion. "Yes. Come here and we'll get you into your pajamas."
"Pajamas? How many times are you going to change my clothes?" One ripped up petticoat, two skirts and a tattered tank top decorated in pins and clips. The thought of multiple outfits was still a mystery to Peggy.
"Since it's pajamas, I'd say a fair guess is only once more for the night." Amused, Kaya wandered to pillows on the bed, a hand slipping underneath. A satin, slip shaped garment was pulled, the color of inverse sunlight to match Peggy's hair.
"...it's pretty," he counter-attacked.
"It is. Turn around." The corst was unlaced, slipped off. The skirt was undone, removed, set aside. In the air conditioning, Kaya moved into easy seiza once more, hands tugging down the stockings and nudging Peggy to lift his feet in turns to fully release them.
"I know how to undress myself you know," he said, not particularily minding having some one do it for him, but figuring he should mention it anyway.
"It doesn't matter. If I want you to undress yourself, I will tell you to do so. Raise your arms up over your head." Kaya stood, absently folding the stockings.
Palms were thrust up into the air and now smooth black hair skattered over pale abused shoulders and jumped when Peggy tilted his head.
The slip came down, straps on shoulder and tugged into place. Without missing a beat, Kaya pushed his arms down and fiddled with the slip, adjusting strap lengths until he was satisfied. Humming again, his took Peggy's hair down and ran his fingers through it a few times to get out any tangles that might have formed. The hair pins were stuck in his own hair for the moment and Kaya gestured to the bed. "Get in. Time for sleep."
The soft sheets slid under Peggy as he climbed into the huge bed and dove under the covers. A real bed, plush and inviting. Warm. "Oyasumi~" he chirped and curled into a ball.
"Goodnight." A kiss on the head and Kaya setted the covers around him. He left, pins in hand and the door shut quietly behind him. Locks on the outside of the door were slid into place and the external lightswitch was hit off. Smiling to himself, Kaya wandered dreamily off to Pimiko's room, taking a moment to drop off the hair pins in his personal room.
After the lights went out and the door shut, Peggy sat up and let his eyes adjust to the dark. Looking around the dark room, he laid down again and sang quietly to himself, a habit he formed a child.