INT. - JULIAN BLACK'S MANSION - NIGHT
Cici hung, hands tied with thin leather straps, to the rough wooden frame Simone favored for her treatments. Her feet ached where the bindings cut into her flesh, the choking sensation of the stiff collar around her neck familiar enough she didn't fight it anymore. While everything else around her seemed soft and perfect, the cross's harshness brushed against the therapist's back in stark contrast, splinters of wood jabbing her down her spine, across her naked buttocks.
Simone circled her slowly, sipping a glass of wine, eyes hooded, ruby lips parted. Cici would have wept if it didn't feel so good to hang here, with the drug in her system and her mistress's power pressing against her. The sharp slice of the tip of Simone's knife drew a faint line of blood from Cici's flesh, healing with a whisper from the man who hovered, watching.