Good. [They'd started easily, just Corrigan’s big hands on her wrists, a sort of human restraint, a gentler echo of what they'd eventually escalate to. Then rope, smooth and pliant, looped around her wrists, her ankles, then padded cuffs, and now cool, firm metal.
Corrigan knows damn well Penny isn't helpless, but even the illusion of her wholly in his grasp is intoxicating. He smooths her hair away from the nape of her neck, nuzzling gently.] Going to be a good girl for me?
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Corrigan knows damn well Penny isn't helpless, but even the illusion of her wholly in his grasp is intoxicating. He smooths her hair away from the nape of her neck, nuzzling gently.] Going to be a good girl for me?