tampered | Open Log: Tambour Amoureux: Saturday

Open Log: Tambour Amoureux: Saturday

When; Saturday, February 6
Rating; Pffff it's a brothel, idek. 'May get porny' What sort of rating is that?
Characters; The Master, ANY NUMBER OF EMPLOYEES, CUSTOMERS, ETC.
Summary; It's the Belle Epoque. The Master has a brothel cos he can. Day Two, for action happening today. [Previous day] Note: There are a few girls making a break for it today, so perhaps the previous day's log is better for any potential carousers? Whatever you so choose.
Log; In the red light district, there are any number of bordeaux, catering to a vast array of clients. Tambour Amoureux, however, has a certain...something to it. The owner, a Monsieur Harold Saxon, has made sure of this. He may be a British import but his attention to style, to the quality of entertainment, to the health and well-being of his girls, is still impeccable, to say the least.

From the outside, it's not necessarily instantly obvious what sort of establishment it is. There is lighting, and a certain welcoming atmosphere, and the name on a large sign at the front but it really could be any number of cabarets. Of course, the connoisseur of such places would easily recognise the name.

Inside, there is a stage, for performances, as well as tables and chairs and several couches as well at certain points to the side. The room has a rich mahogany and deep red colour scheme. There is a staircase, more discreet, off to the side, leading to the upstairs, where there is a hallway, with lighting more dim than the lower levels; various doors leading into any number of bedrooms.

Most discreet of all, and a place that requires either longer patronage, or association with someone who knows the secret is a backroom, lavishly furnished with couches and carpets and drapery. Here, one may purchase opium, or bring one's own and relax in a comfortable surrounding.

Additionally, there is a balcony up some back stairs, for employees, and whomever they might choose to bring there.

In a more private section, off-limits to the clientèle are the private offices of those warranting one. Monsieur Saxon's in particular is two rooms. The larger one contains a desk and couch, along with double doors to a private balcony. The smaller one contains a bed and not too much else. It's not his home, of course, that's elsewhere, but Monsieur Saxon does prefer to know exactly what's been in the bed he uses. Or might use. If he chooses to. A curtain is pulled across the archway between the rooms.

[ooc: I was going for....a bit more brothel-y than Moulin Rouge, you know, cos the brothel is the focus, rather than the cabaret. FOR CRYING OUT LOUD, PLEASE INVENT THINGS. I kind of...bare-bones'd it so I'll be stalking over everyone's posts and if you add in a piece of scenery or a specific thing to the maison then I'll add it into the description.

Also, it's never too late to join the Master's....team. Just go to the post linked in the Character's section. Message me or something if you want to talk out stuff or ask questions or suggest things or whatever. Or work out character connections to the Master because I totally didn't do that at all...
Don't ask me why I know so much about the Master's office, now. I don't know. It kinda just happened.

The Master is Monsieur Saxon to everyone except his girls, to whom he is 'Maître' because he CAN BE.

Also, anyone feel like running away/being signed up? Aion could do with some girls to hunt down, y'know.

Alsoalso, sorry for repetitiveness. Some things just don't NEED to change, y'know? I'm just making certain you don't get shoehorned into one day.]

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A flinch. Well. That could mean anything, of course, but he is much more inclined to take it as her lack of confidence in this sort of thing. His expression softens very slightly and he leans in to kiss her neck. "No, you're doing quite well, my dear," he assures her. "Très bien." 'Too forward', well, it is a possibility in her line of work, but it's very rarely something the Master is concerned about.

"So, binary lessons. Perhaps we ought to conduct them somewhere slightly less public?" This might be just the thing to cheer him up properly.

[ooc: Aha, no, I mean, if he gets knocked out and Alice tries to run away, he'll figure out about the drugging, yes?]

Alice lets out a soft "ah" at the kiss and blushes again, withdrawing slightly out of genuine embarrassment. Maybe this is too much for her. But it was all she could think of, so she has to stick with it. She smiles sweetly at his praise and takes advantage of the lower placement of her hands by sliding them towards his hips and then down his thighs as she slid off his lap. In French, "As you wish, Maître."

His hips rise to meet her slightly as she slides away and off of his lap and he takes advantage of this momentum to stand up, speaking to her in French as he does.

"Oh, very good, Alice, you're doing so well, such a fast learner, my dear." Taking his absinthe from the table, he holds it to one side as he leans in to kiss Alice deeply on the mouth and then walks off towards the stairs at the back, intending that she follow him. He hardly thinks it necessary to give her his arm or anything of the sort. She's his girl, not a lady.

"Maître has taught me well," she responds, also in French. The kiss is a startle, but she makes sure to return it, and exhales deeply when he pulls away. This treatment is expected, it would be unnatural for it to be any other way. It's all part of the plan, and she will see it through to the end.

Alice turns with a spin to follow after him, the movements of a dancer still embedded in her habits. Her heart is pounding, but she can play it off as nervousness or excitement. As long as she lets the Master take the lead, she should be able to go through with this.

Walking up the stairs and down the hallway until he reaches the area that is off-limits to customers, he turns, sipping at his drink as he makes certain that Alice is following him. Once he's satisfied that she is, he turns back, walks somewhat further and unlocks the door to his rooms, stepping inside and waiting once again, so that he might lock them from the inside once Alice has entered.

Following closely behind, Alice feels a peculiar sort of knot in her stomach. She has only been this far into the back of the bordello a few times, and it was never for anything pleasant. Not that it would be now, but at least this time she has planned it.

She bounds into the room playfully, and turns to face him after he locks the door. The moment he has turned around, Alice reaches up and wraps her arm around his neck, neatly wedging one of her legs between his and bending her knee just enough to rub the inside of his thighs. "Maître," she breathes, looking up at him with her most convincing bedroom eyes.

They are sufficiently convincing to the Master. One of his hands still holds the drink, but he lets his other one brush down her back and around to rest at her hip, his fingers splayed as he leans down to greedily lick her mouth open, wanting to demonstrate his power through the kiss. His awareness is dulled very slightly by his second glass of absinthe and his focus keeps flickering to her leg between his, brushing against him teasingly.

[ooc: Um. How will she get the drugs INTO him?]

And she lets him take control, lets him feel as though everything is going well for him. With her arms behind his head, and his head quite distracted by her own, Alice touches a small slit in her gloves, where a pouch of a questionable substance lays hidden. Alice isn't sure what it is, only that the customers would ask for it and become calmer and sometimes fall asleep. She rips the top off to make a small opening, making sure it doesn't spill out, and then pulls away from the Master just enough to look him in the eyes. Breathily, in hurried English, she says, "Maître, may I...?", her eyes glancing from his own to his shirt, hoping to give the hint.

Generally, he'd insist on removing her clothing first, but her dress is complex and he might as well have his shirt off. How pleasant, to have her serve him. He strokes from her hip to her arse to leave it there a moment and then removes his hand, standing back slightly, welcoming. "You may."

She flashes him a very pleased smile, using the hand with the now exposed drug to gently take the glass of absinthe from him, holding it with her hand vertical to the rim so the drug can slip in as she sets it on the floor. She then goes to work on removing the buttons, one at a time. Once she is halfway down, Alice leans up to lick playfully at the Master's now exposed collarbone, her hands continuing to release the shirt.

The Master breathes out, his head lolling back slightly and his eyes closing, a beatific smile spreading momentarily across his face before his expression returns to the slight pout that is its neutral position. He brings his hands to thread into Alice's hair, enjoying the feeling of her fingertips sliding against his belly as she undoes his shirt, of her mouth, moving wetly at his collarbone. Freeing one hand, he lets it slide along the swell of her breast, exposed by the revealing neckline of her dress.

The shirt finally removed, Alice lets it fall to the floor while making sure it doesn't knock the glass over. His hand is warm and his grip tight, and Alice would be falling into his trap if she wasn't setting one of her own. Exhaling slightly, she looks up at him with near desperation, cheeks flushed and lips parted ever so slightly.

He'd taken his hands away briefly to let her slip away the sleeves of his shirt and while he'd replaced one of his hands, he'd let the other curl around her. Looking back down at her face, he chuckles, deep in his throat.

"Come on, then," he says, letting go and bending down to pick up his glass. Taking her by her wrist, he brings her past the curtain, into the smaller room containing a bed. Iron frame, soft, rich black comforter, feather pillows and mattress.

He moves her, pushing the back of her knees against the bed until she is forced to sit down and then, placing his glass on a bedside table, leans in and down slightly to kiss at the hollow of her throat. Bracing himself with a hand on her upper thigh, he licks down to dart his tongue between her breasts, curling it through, looking amused before he moves his hands back to his favoured position at the sides of her head. His hands cup her face as he kisses her once again.

This is certainly unexpected development. Alice eyes the glass nervously; it's so far away and she isn't sure if he'll ever get a chance to drink the tainted absinthe. Her attention is then broken by the sudden presence of his lips against her skin. The Master is quickly taking control and Alice can think of nothing else to do but play along.

Alice is now breathing heavily and the kiss steals what little breath she had left. His hands on the side of her head make it difficult, so she places her hands on his chest and pulls back lightly with a gasp. "M-Maître..." she exhales, tracing lines from his chest and along the sides of his neck with her fingertips.

"Finding it difficult to breathe, Alice?" the Master asks, a bit smugly. "Perhaps you'd do better out of your dress." He steps back and scoops his drink off of the side table, weighting it in his hand as his eyes travel over Alice's body, taking in the sight of her, flushed and wanton, panting in that dress. Smiling into his glass, he tips it back and takes a drink.

"Do you need help taking it off?" He holds the glass to the side again, tapping a finger to his lips theatrically. "Then again, I'm very fond of you breathless. Perhaps I should make you attend to me first before I untie your corset. What do you think?"

She is breathing heavily and it's true that the corset of the dress definitely isn't helping, but he has finally taken a drink and it will be over soon enough. It is only a matter of time before she can make a break for it, and she would prefer to be dressed and ready to go.

Without saying a word, and her chest still rising and falling with each breath, Alice stands and places one hand on his chest and the other on the hand holding his glass. The latter pushes the glass back to the table and the other keeps the two facing each other as she switches their positions. She pushes him gently back onto the bed and climbs into his lap, straddling him. With one hand behind his head, she trails her tongue from the crevice between his neck and shoulder to just below his ear, which she then nibbles on lightly while the other hand slides slowly down his chest. Any moment now.

Edited 2010-02-08 05:44 (UTC)

The Master closes his eyes again. Mm, movement in his lap, something he very much appreciates. He is very glad that she's chosen this option. He doesn't even really mind her taking away his absinthe, there'd really only been about a teaspoon left in the glass anyway. Besides, second glass in a row, umpteenth glass of the night, he probably should have cut himself off long before this point.

The sensations blend into each other. It's not necessarily obvious to him why this might be happening but it's quite lovely. He tilts his head to allow her better access, leaving his eyes closed. Alice doesn't need lessons. She knows what she's doing.

Alice notices his obvious pleasure and can't help but smile. Perhaps he really has trained her exceptionally well. The added bravado of her change in personality definitely helps; she knows she'd never be able to do such a thing with her in control.

The lifting of his head gives her room suck gently at the sensitive skin just below his jaw line. She moves her hand from behind his hand to his back to drag her nails softly down the length of his spine to the little of his back, then along his hip bone to meet with the other hand at the front of his pants. She looks up to see his eyes still closed and decides to stall for a bit more time without doing anything too perverse. Quickly sliding her hands back up his chest, Alice pushes him completely down onto the bed and leans over him, her hair pooling around them as she leans in to kiss him one last time.

Not having to focus on keeping himself upright anymore, the Master is able to open his eyes slightly to look at Alice leaning over him as he relaxes gratefully into the bed. He kisses her, feeling very lethargic, not really alert enough to make it as passionate as previous kisses.

Only, absinthe should not be affecting him like this, not when he's a Time Lord. He's sliding into oblivion and what has she DONE? "Ahhh, petite salope!" he growls, and it may not be period but what does he particularly care? He can't even struggle up under the weight of her pressing down on his chest. It's like he's made of lead, or sacks of flour and he fights it for a moment but Alice has given him what would be a severe overdose in a human and it's too much. His eyelids fall closed and his mouth slackens and everything goes dark.

Alice hears his cry and grins, "Oh, my poor Maître! Can't handle your liqueur?" His eyes close and she gives his face a few light slaps on both sides to ensure that he is out and will stay out. Giving a satisfied smirk, she stands on the bed, towering above him, "Let this be a lesson to you, Monsieur Saxon." She stomps her foot straight into his groin, certain that he'd be feeling that when he wakes, "Never mess with Mistress Alice and her sisters!"

And with that, she turns to leave the room. On her way out, however, she notices his shirt on the floor and it is a very nice shirt, indeed. So she takes it, tearing it in two along the seam of the sleeves, with which she then ties the Master's hands to the iron posts of the bed. It will give them more time, she hopes, and besides, he likes it kinky, right? She laughs contentedly and dashes out of the room, and hopefully from the Tambour altogether - forever.

It is around five minutes later when the Master finally emerges from darkness. He groans, especially at his groin, which is throbbing painfully. Really painfully. But when he starts to move a hand to, you know, check if it's still there his hand is pulled up short. He tugs again, with both hands this time and when the bed frame rattles and he feels the fabric against his wrists he makes an impatient noise. His wrists are too far apart to move his hands to untie himself, so he twists at the bonds, slowly sliding his hands out of them. It's only fabric, after all.

Once he's finally pulled his hands free, he allows himself 20 seconds of doubling up in pain, er, collecting himself, before he makes himself get off the bed, hissing slightly at the movement, and slip on his suit jacket. If Alice thinks she can do this and get away with it, she has another think coming.

There is going to be a reckoning.

[ooc: Soooo......this (http://www.sundive.co.uk/lifeonmars/images/ep4/Image7.jpg)? :3]

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Open Log: Tambour Amoureux: Saturday

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You're making me feel guilty. He's gonna be so upset. :<

GUILTY? THE MASTER IS EVIL. HE ABUSES WOMEN. NO GUILT.

Lmao. Good point! Maybe she should just hit him instead of drug him. XD

Or KNEE HIM INT HE GROIN. 8|

Would that give them enough of a head start? 8D

Ha, I wish. He deserves it.

Balls. Maybe she'll just do it for the sake of doing it. :Db

:D

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Don't worry, this is only to make ALICE worry that he won't actually drink it, ahaha

Oh noes!

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BECAUSE IT IS NECESSARY

OH FFFFFFFFFFFFFFFF

OHSHI-

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