Part 2 - Wounds [nsfw]

The bedrooms are dark.

Slowly, one by one, the gaslights in the ceiling wink to life, the small flames illuminating a well lived-in room. Above, a hatch slowly opens like the lens of a telescope, and conversation can be heard from the main floor above.

The Bandaged: -Echoing.- Well now. . .that was. . .quite a recital. We'll need to work on your salad utensil terminology, and your confusion of plates and their sizes ought to be fixed, but your recitation of one's expected manners was impressive, if fleeting . .you may return to your quarters; we'll be starting another lesson in. . .oh, an hour.

A less than gentle push, and Able feels himself falling slowly into the servant bedrooms (thankfully, much faster than their initial fall into the room).

Able falls down, slowly working their way to his bed, floating down into it face down. He plops down with a loud groan, face in the pillows of the bed. He lays there for a long while before sitting up, removing his top. It seems at some point he had gotten a small undershirt. That came off too tossing it into the bed. He looks around at the room, the weasels happy that Able was back, bouncing at his legs, one of them in her very own sweater.

She seemed more calm with it on, and more confident. He got up, laughing at their little antics around his feet. He carefully moved to their side of the room, a small home built just for them, stuffed with pillows. He saw their food bowl, and saw why they were so excited. He filled that up with meat scraps, and they seemed to leave him alone for food. He put the scraps back up, covering them up in a cloth. He had gotten a fair amount of new books to go over, which meant he needed a bookshelf, which was full of disorganized mess of books.

He looks at the top of the shelf at the box. He sighs, ignoring it for now. The room had a few signs of being lived in, a little TOO lived in. The amount of bowls and papers and books just at his desk implied that he spent a lot of time there. It seems that however he's not doing as well as he should. He sits at that desk, looking at the books with distaste. He stared at his new quill and ink. He would have to practice....right?

He thought about that a bit before groaning, opting to just sit at the desk. It was honestly rare that his body felt hot, but for some reason he felt flush, his skin sticky with sweat even when everyone around him seemed to be freezing. He looked at the wound in his side, sewn up days ago, but it still hasn't healed. Maybe it was because it was deep? He assumed, but the pain did keep him focused.

Able looked at the wound, and hissed as he touched it. This was more tender and red than it was yesterday. He tried to wash it, but every time a rag would touch it, he would feeling a searing pain. He decided he'd just let it air out while he wasn't busy. That should work, right? He looked at his stitching job, wondering if maybe it wasn't tight enough? He couldn't tell, usually this would be sufficient.

Able: Hell... That hurts...

He mutters to himself, really in need of a new distraction from this wound, something that didn't require him wearing something that would rub up against it. He looks at his weasels, who are playing with a new ball they had gotten, a small little hay ball they could destroy with no worry. Able suddenly had himself wishing he had a more private area.

He stood, moving one of the bookcases vertical against the wall so it created a sort of corner that was out of the sight of the weasels. (He had to remove the books before moving, and then moving them back on.) He looked at this little corner. No, that wouldn't do. He would have to look for the washroom. Able moves to the valve, sighing as he turns it, the lights going out, the weasels seemingly fine in the dark. He keeps turning until the hatch opens up. He heads to the open floor, dropping down. He finds himself in the kitchen, ignoring it as he heads to the washroom. This room always felt...uncomfortable. Empty, almost. He sighs.

Able: Right... one thing at a time...

Able doesn't actually get into the bath, remembering that water hurts too. He eases himself against the wall next to the doorway, taking care of his own stress.

A sharp rap echoes out on the door, and a familiar muffled voice echoes; the door handle jostles.

The Bandaged: -Muffled.- Oy! Anyone in here?

The door is clicking open, giving Able little time to react.

Able nearly jumps out of his skin trying to quickly lift his trousers. This action of a small jump to try and help it along actually makes him fall back, and actually not lift his pants at all. He falls onto his ass, and ends up looking at the opening door, with a very deep fear in his stomach.

The door opens, revealing the bandaged woman(?) standing at the doorway. They're not wearing any of their Polythreme clothing, and are instead "bare", standing wrapped up only in bandages covering their entire body (sans their darkly colored hands and feet); a few short tufts of dark, coffee colored hair pokes out between the bandages on top of their head. The bandaged woman(?) is holding a bundle of rags in one hand and their pen and ink in the other.

The Bandaged: Well, now, I think I ought to reward myself with. . .oh.

The bandaged person pauses, standing in the doorway and facing Able. A single brown eye, shimmered with red from the candlelight, stares at Able.

The Bandaged: . . .hm. Right, I'm not alone, I have guests. . .

The bandaged woman(?) doesn't seem to react to Able's exposure, instead closing the door behind themselves and locking it. They move to the semi-circular bathtub, leaning and turning a knob while talking to Able without facing them.

The Bandaged: Well, now, whatever you're doing in here, you ought to finish up.

The bathtub slowly gurgles to life; water pumps in from holes peppering the rim of the bathtub, slowly filling it up with water. As the water slowly fills, it contacts a strange symbol peppering the sides of the water, and the loud hissing of steam fills the room as the water boils off from the sigils.

The Bandaged: . . .oh, don't mind me! Just pretend I'm not here. . .ahh. . .

The bandaged woman(?) slowly steps in (fully bandaged?) and simply sits in the water, humming and slowly sinking into the bath as it slowly fills up.

Able looks at the door, and hopes that door doesn't stay locked from the inside. He doesn't even pull up his pants, squirming to his hands and knees to grab at the door. His wound now even clearer as he turns towards it.

The door is currently locked, but the lock opens easily with a simple twist of the knob. Meanwhile, the bandaged woman(?) glances at Able, waving a hand.

The Bandaged: Well, now, that's just rude! I don't think I'm too much of a bothe-

The bandaged woman(?) trails off, looking at the injury on Able's side. They stop, before sharply calling to Able.

The Bandaged: -Sharply.- . . .wait.

The bandaged woman(?) shifts in the bathtub, propping up on the edge; their wet bandages are trailing water onto the floor as they gesture a hand from Able towards themselves.

The Bandaged: You, come over here.

Able stops, turning his head, a little startled by the sudden command. His face is flushed, but that could be the feeling in his side pulsating pain through his body. He doesn't move much.

Able: ....Wh.. Why?

He would be lying to himself and literally everyone around him if he said his thoughts didn't immediately go to lewd ideas. He instead just got harder at those thoughts, which wasn't his intention, but he wasn't about to complain about his dick.

The bandaged woman(?) gestures more harshly, the wet bandages over their eyes furrowing.

The Bandaged: Just come over here; I need a closer look.

Able slowly turns around, not sure how he could even attempt to hide himself at this point. In his struggle to get to the door he only had about an ankle still in those pants. He just gets more flustered at being told to get closer, remembering that he probably couldn't get away anyway. He sort of half-crawls to the edge of the bath, not feeling like exposing himself at this moment.

Able: ....Yes'm?.

The bandaged woman(?) grabs at Able's sides none too gently, pulling them closer, pulling the wound he has closer to view; the wound stings horribly but briefly from the water from the wet bandages trailing onto the wound and from the slight pressure the woman(?) is causing on the wound.

The woman(?) mutters under her breath, looking at the wound.

The Bandaged: Goodness. . .how long have you had this?.

Able writhes in pain, hissing through his teeth. This only mildly diffuses his lewd thoughts, but it doesn't do it very well as this person gets him closer. This seems to revitalizes his need more than he'd like, but at this point it seemed useless to try and hide the very visible excitement he got from just being mildly handled. He bites his tongue, trying very hard to ignore those thoughts, but just squirms at them instead.

Able: As....long as I've been....here... I would... Appreciate if you would not prod at it..

The bandaged woman(?) sputters (literally spraying water from the wet bandaged covering their mouth).

The Bandaged: Since you got here. . !? . .no wonder!

The bandaged woman(?) pulls Able closer, almost putting their face up close to Able's wound; they inspection of the wound by prodding and looking at it is causing Able a little pain.

The Bandaged: Blast. . .this is horribly infected, I'm half surprised you didn't collapse midway through the lessons. . .

The bandaged woman(?) stands up, the splashing of steaming water filling the room; they grab Able harshly, picking them up so he's resting on his back, hoisted by an arm behind his back and one tucked under his legs.

The Bandaged: Right. That does it.

Before Able can react, the bandaged woman(?) turns around and sits down in the water, partially soaking Able's body (and, rather painfully, their wound) in the water; the water is slowly tinted a sickly red from the blood in Able's sides.

The Bandaged: Today, you're learning how to dress one's wounds, and in what manner, so as to promote a more vigorous vitality..

Able immediately tries to squirm away, hissing in pain from his wound making contact with the hot water.

Able: N-... That's fine, I am sure it will heal w-without..

He winces, the pain suddenly pulsating.

The bandaged woman(?) holds a tighter grip on Able; at the same time, she(?) reaches over and grabs a bundle of knotted rags resting on the lip of the bathtub, pulling it over.

The Bandaged: Oh, certainly it will heal! However, one should be responsible, and make sure to help one's body along.

The bandaged woman(?) moves the bundle of knots on Able's chest, before moving their hand to the wound; immediately, the woman(?) pulls at Able's stitching, the pressure causing it to flare up in pain before the (frankly poor) knot in the stitch undoes itself. The bandaged woman(?) pulls out all of the stitching, opening up the wound a bit more to the stinging water.

The Bandaged: . . .bother, get that out of the way first. . .

The bandaged woman (or is it a man?) grabs the bundle of knots on Able's chest and moves it over to the wound; the abrasive texture of the bundle of knots immediately causes pain to flare just by touching lightly.

The Bandaged: Now. . .

Able suddenly looks very scared, knowing he's trapped, and feeling what they were planning. He looks up at the bandaged person pathetically.

The bandaged woman(?) moves the bundled rag, scrubbing the wound once; immediately, a harsh amount of pain flares up in Able's side, causing a tight lightheadedness in their head. The woman(?) continues scrubbing in regular directions, causing more pain to flare and muddying the water as pus slowly washes into the water.

The Bandaged: -Continuing to scrub.- . . .one must first clean his or her wounds before he or she decides to dress it in bandages; one, after all, wouldn't rest in the slums and wake feeling refreshed, but one would feel an absolute vitality if they rested in a luxurious, clean place.

The bandaged woman(?) begins to scrub harder, searing pain up in Able as pus and yellow-ish goo pushes out of their wound, spilling into the water with thick consistency. The woman(?) scrubs harder as they accentuate their words, gritting their teeth as the upper layer of the wound sloughs off into the water.

The Bandaged: -Scrubbing harder.- One must keep oneself orderly, and. . .cleaned, so that the wound may become healed. . .once the wound is scrubbed dry, it ought to be wrapped. . .in clean, dry bandages twice a week. . .though more is per. . .mis. . .able. . .

The pain is intense, and so searing that Able chokes on most of his screeches and screams. He is gripping onto the bandaged person tightly with one hand, digging his fingers into them before suddenly that stops. Suddenly all of his body stops, and he absolutely passes out, going limp in bandages arms.

The bandaged woman(?) scrubs, continuing to talk.

The Bandaged: If the pain. . .becomes unbearable, the drinking of tinctures and medicine is allowed if. . .

The bandaged woman(?) pauses, looking at the limp body of Able.

The Bandaged: . . .oh. Hm.

The bandaged woman(?) stares at them for a moment, before standing up out of the water; they shift around, propping Able up such that their head is resting on the lip of the bathtub with the rest of their body submerged in water; the woman(?) keeps scrubbing at the wound, while also using their other hand to rub across Able's arms, chest, etc., scrubbing off the grime and dirt present on their body.

The Bandaged: -Muttering.- well, I suppose this will also be a lesson in personal hygiene as well. . .I ought to change out the water soon. . .

The bandaged woman(?) keeps scrubbing, going long and hard as the candles lining the bathtub rim slowly burns down. . .

---

Able is awakened by his weasels jumping all over him, playing and squeaking. He groans, slowly realizing he's in bed. He shifts around, shooing the weasels gently, who merely play with his hand at this gesture. He weakly laughs at this, and then hisses, his side still in pain, but feeling more numbed and spread out. The pain feels less localized and more spread out, the wound itself hot to the touch. He rolls onto his back, moving his hair out of his eyes. Odd. It was a lot less stiff than before... He sits up, realizing he still wasn't dressed, but his torso was tightly wrapped with bandages, clearly well tied into place.

Able slowly wakes up, remembering what happened the day before....was it the day before? He feels so groggy, he feels like he's gotten bedsores. The weasels sniff at him, gently biting at Able's arm. They seem put off a bit, but then look at him, and decide it is probably alright. They run down to their bowl, all of them playing together.

Able rubs his head, trying to get his mind straight. He groans, now sitting at the edge of the bed. He then remembered, the scrubbing, the searing pain, the discomfort he felt. He feels angry that he wasn't listened to, but doesn't appear to have the strength to vocalize it. He just seethes in his own head. Able looks at his body more closely as his head clears. He didn't feel....grimy as he explored himself, which was an odd feeling.

Was he......Did she..? He is a little confused, his face flush as he thinks of what that means. Surely it meant nothing, but he does seem rather...thoroughly cleaned. Able goes back to lying down, his head too fuzzy to properly do anything anyway. He just needed a little more sleep, surely.

The whirring of a hatch above echoes in the room; in the next moment, the bandaged woman(?) floats down, partially dressed(? Is it fit to call it bareness if it's covered with bandages?) in what looks to be a lounge suit of sorts embroidered in ethnic print.

The Bandaged: -Still floating.- Ah, good; you're up.

The bandaged woman(?) walks in the air, floating towards the foot of Able's bed; they clap their hands as they land, apparently eager about Able's state of well-being.

The Bandaged: Well, now, it seems like you're coming along just nicely.

The Bandaged: . . .I'd hope so, at least; you've been in bed for a whole day. . .

The bandaged woman(?) moves to the side of the bed, pulling the blanket off of Able (how inconsiderate!). They look at their bandaged side, nodding curtly.

The Bandaged: Well, now, how does it feel?

Able sits up sharply, but this is painful, and he groans.

Able: A day?! All that for-!

He hisses in pain, gently holding the wound, but only in a sort of hover. It's warm.

The bandaged woman(?) tuts, and grabs Able's shoulders; they slowly push them down to a lying position, sighing.

The Bandaged: -Tutting.- Now, child, you ought to be lying down; you're bedridden, and I will not have my apprentice walking about with a gash in their side.

The bandaged woman(?) rubs at the bandages, causing a slight flaring of pain.

The Bandaged: . . .warm. That's good, that's good. . .means you'll be up and ready soon. Should be just over a week before I'll allow you to walk about in London.

The bandaged woman(?) stands up, pacing around Able's bed.

The Bandaged: -Musing.- Mm, now, your lectures will have to be delayed, as will any sort of studying. . .oral and written review can still be done in bed. . .

Able huffs, covering himself again with the blankets. It was a bit too cold for him to be bare to the air like that.

Able: That doesn't sound right.. Usually knife wounds take months....

The bandaged woman(?) suddenly stamps their foot, creating a loud thud.

The Bandaged: -Indignant.- Of course it would, if you leave it dirty like that!

The bandaged woman(?) pauses, and holds a fist to their lips, clearing their throat.

The Bandaged: Hrm. . .which is why learning to clean and dress one's wounds is important. I hope that you retained something from your washing in the bath.

Able in his slightly tired state gets outwardly upset.

Able: I would have if i hadn't passed out!

He lays back, groaning, thinking about why he was there in the first place. He doesn't think even with this newfound salt in his system he couldn't just shoo them out while he dealt with it.

Able: I never had any issues beforehand anyhow..

The bandaged woman(?) pounds the footrest of the bed, giving a loud shriek of frustration.

The Bandaged: -Gesturing wildly; infuriated.- I will not have my student spouting the stuff of nonsense!

The bandaged woman(?) walks furiously around the bed, pointing at Able's face, and at various other parts of their own body, and speaking through painfully gritted teeth.

The Bandaged: -Doing claw-like hands near their sides.- Ever spent a month in bed, feeling your muscles cramping up because it's been yet another day where your body has to void itself of disgusting, watery feces!?

The Bandaged: -Gesturing to a scarred pinky on their right hand.- Ever had one of your fingers fall off completely, because you had thought that washing off the boils was too much of a bother?!

The Bandaged: -Pointing at their eye.- Ever had your vision lost for days because phlegm and pus and all manner of disgusting discharge clogged up your eyes?!

The bandaged woman(?) gets up close to Able, whispering harshly.

The Bandaged: Ever been confined in bed, peppered with wounds, wishing to die so that you could get some kind of relief from the worms and the like feasting on your injuries. . ?

Able listens to this... nightmare fuel. He didn't want to listen to this. He looks up at the bandaged person, and sharply shakes his head.

The bandaged woman(?) nods their head solemnly, before perking up again, the angry energy immediately dissipating from them.

The Bandaged: Well, now you know of it in second hand. And I hope that you'll be more inclined to practice one's hygiene and cleanliness.

The bandaged woman(?) muses for a moment.

The Bandaged: . . .relatedly, I'm going to be accompanying you for your wound redressing and washing. Your stitch-work is dreadful, and your cleaning habits less so; it's any wonder you haven't died from a botched stitching. . .

Able sits up again, and again he regrets it.

Able: Absolutely not! I am fully capable of washing myself!

---

Several days have passed. It's the second wound washing of the week; according to the bandaged woman(?), bi-weekly washings are necessary to promote a faster recovery. Currently, Able is straddled across the bandaged woman(?)'s knees in the bathroom, completely naked. The bandaged woman(?) is scrubbing at their open wound, this time more lightly compared to before (mostly due to the grime and pus already being washed out thoroughly before), while also doing some off-hand scrubbing along Able's body.

The bandaged woman(?) has been lecturing about personal hygiene and wound care basics for the last hour and a half (much to the chagrin of Able). They've paused their rambling, however, focusing on the progress Able's wound has made instead.

The Bandaged: -Inspecting the water.- Well, now, your wound has been scarring over well; not as much blood has been soiling the water this time. It ought to have healed over by the end of this weekend. . .though I expect it will be sore for another week after that. . .

The bandaged woman(?) pauses, and swipes the bundled knot of fabric across Able's chest and back.

The Bandaged: -Scrubbing.- . . .this also gives a good opportunity for you to know how to wash yourself. First, learn to wash the parts of your body that you think you cannot reach; a small spot on your back that you can't wash is merely proof that you are not trying hard enough..

Able is miffed through the whole process, but has seemed to have just given up doing anything about it. He doesn't even try to hide half hard-on this time, it seems pointless anyway. He grumbles to himself, trying to just get through this.

The bandaged woman(?) scrubs under Able's arms, progressing to scrub the areas that they mention in order.

The Bandaged: -Scrubbing.- . . .second, be sure that you have attended to all areas necessary for cleaning. . .laymen tend to forget to wash the areas under their arms. . .between their fingers. . .behind their neck. . .

The bandaged woman(?) suddenly grabs Able's member with one hand, gently scrubbing it with the scrub in their other hand.

The Bandaged: -Scrubbing.- . . .and, of course, one's. . .privates..

The sudden feeling was more than enough to get his arousal springs up completely and he screeches.

Able: WH-... WHAT ARE YOU DOING?? I CAN DO THIS-!

The bandaged woman(?) ignores Able's discontent and his wriggling.

The Bandaged: Oh, quiet down; you're only making your wound bleed more, and you need to be cleaned down there. Don't worry, I won't break it. . .

---

Two days later Able is in the Bandaged persons study. They were spouting off about something, but Able couldn't focus on anything. He thinks he hears something about food, but even that isn't enough to get his attention from his member. It was so hard it actually hurt, not to mention the odd tension he felt in his balls, which he'd never felt previously.

It was all pressed up against his pants so hard he was afraid it would unbutton his pants all on its own. He seemed glad that the desk hid it, but probably not enough. He occasionally tries to pretend he's writing something down, but that ended up as little scribbles.

The bandaged woman(?) is talking about the cultural "do"s and "don't"s as it pertains to consumption.

The Bandaged: If you want to make sure you keep an appetite and not insult your host, make sure you do not examine your foodstuffs too closely, lest you find a similarity to your own composition and be put off to the idea of consumption. That being said, make sure to have some discretion in your consumption of food, lest you end up like those raving, Northbound persons you find arrested daily.

Able stares down at the desk, not really paying attention at this point, delving deeper and deeper into his own head. He can feel his pants at this point, and every time he shifted in his seat was a bit more of a distraction than he'd like. He grumbles to himself, gripping his leg with one hand, trying to try and pain himself into attention. It doesn't work. He lays his face down onto the desk, about almost given up at this point.

The bandaged woman(?) continues lecturing, gesturing to a diagram of a various pictures of foodstuffs, sorted into different categories. The leftmost column has cuts of browned and cooked meats with checkmarks, set alongside a dark-red, purple cut of meat crossed out in black; the middle column, mushrooms and various flowers check-marked, with a Blemmigan crossed out; in the last column, coffee and tea check-marked, with a bottle of deep maroon crossed out.

The bandaged woman(?) gestures to the column containing meats, gesturing.

The Bandaged: -Pointing in turn.- Now, if one finds meats cooked in their own juices, and said juices don't taste awful or like offal, it can be assumed to be permissible to eat on your part. Now, if one is prompted to consume a meal raw. . .don't. It is either a ploy to make you an object of scandal, or a Northerner is. . .oy, are you here?

The bandaged woman(?) walks to Able's desk, their bandages furrowed as they rap several knocks on the tilted ledge of the desk.

The Bandaged: Hello? Is there someone up there?

Able sits up, looking a little bit miffed, but just settles back down onto the desk. His head was whirring in a loud, unavoidable thought. You Need This. Able wasn't convinced of this thought quite yet, thinking he could almost certainly will the thought away with some concentrating. Being snapped back into reality, however, was a bit annoying to these efforts.

Able:.... I'm listening..

He lied.

The bandaged woman(?) immediately stands up tall, looking down at Able as their bandages furrow tighter.

The Bandaged: -Squinting.- What are the key signs that what you're consuming is most likely human in origin?

Able: .... vomiting...?

He makes up on the spot, not really sure if that was relevant.

The bandaged woman(?) gives a small shriek of incredulousness, clapping their hands as they accentuate their words.

The Bandaged: No! That is merely indicative of the fact that your host is terrible at preparation! The key sign is that it has the stringiness of young veal but has an uncanny taste of pork!

The bandaged woman(?) starts pacing around the room, their face inscrutable but most likely set in a scowl.

The Bandaged: We reviewed your meats this morning, and yet you don't even recall that simple detail! Lord, you've been lacking as of late; you haven't been able to recall any letters in the cursive script; you haven't remembered the ways to differentiate the Masters apart from one another; you haven't been recalling the methods to avoid insanity after glancing upon miswritten Correspondence. . .

The bandaged woman(?) shrieks suddenly, and rushes with manic energy to the front of the room; they pull the foodstuff diagram off the blackboard from which it hung from.

The Bandaged: -Frustrated.- What is it!? Something is occupying your attention, so what is it?

Able: A distinct increase in unavoidable indecent thoughts.

He admits plainly, his head still on the desk. He merely wishes to get rid of it, perhaps now he will be allowed some privacy to take care of the tightness in his pants.

The bandaged woman(?) pauses, and stands with a hand on their hip.

The Bandaged: The kind where one wishes to strangle their mentor, or pleasuring thoughts about Rubbery Men? Because the former is indecent, but understandable; now, the second is considered in polite society as indecent, but I can tell you that those Rubbery Men are exactly as good as you can imagine. . .

The bandaged woman(?) seems to be going into reminiscing about past. . .Rubbery interactions; best to stop this before it gets too detailed.

Able suddenly stands up, his chair screeching backwards with such a force. He places his hands firmly and a bit harshly onto the desk. It stings a little.

Able: Enough! I very much appreciate your attempts but madam if I do not deal with my own vulgar needs I will certainly explode.

His voice then gets very low, as if he's been distracted again.

Able: Now I shouldn't have to explain to you a man's needs, but if you need it spelled out so plainly I will. I need release, before these lewd thoughts spill into other things..

The bandaged woman(?) stops, staring at Able, before they perk up, holding a hand on their hip and resting their chin in their palm. She(?) speaks, in a startlingly direct tone.

The Bandaged: If you were in need of a consort, you should've had the good mind of asking me.

Able looks as if he is going to leave his body again, stumbling slightly.

Able: I am able to do this myself, why would you offer such a thing?

Able stops looking at the bandaged person, his head filled with new lewd scenes.

The bandaged woman(?) poses, holding a hand under their chin.

The Bandaged: Well, I am experienced; furthermore, it is the obligation of one's mentor to provide for their protégé. . .

The bandaged woman(?) chuckles.

The Bandaged: . . .in all manners, if need be. . .~

The boy01/07/2020

Able sits back down in his chair, crossing his arms.

Able: I am fairly certain that most people would disagree..

The bandaged woman(?) pauses, before turning on Able; they lean forward on the desk, standing in front of Able.

The Bandaged: Perhaps, but I'm sure that, right now, you're not one of those people.

The bandaged woman(?) leans forward a little more, getting a little closer to Able.

The Bandaged: Do you want my assistance or not?

Able bites his tongue, looking away. He seems to grow red at that. But she's right isn't she? Able thought. He certainly wouldn't disagree to a romp even if it was with such a person.

Able:...If you are offering... I am not one to refuse....

The bandaged woman(?) suddenly reaches over, picking up Able under their shoulders before hoisting them into a (now familiar) carrying position; an arm under their head, and an arm under their legs, hoisting them on their back while the woman(?) stands.

The Bandaged: Ah, there you are; listening to your needs rather than manners. Ordinarily, I'd be displeased, but I shall not shame you in your temporary home. . .

The bandaged woman(?) walks over to the gas valve in the corner(? Can a circular room have corners?) of the room, hoisting Able over their shoulders to free a hand.

The Bandaged: Now, I'm sure that you wouldn't want to disturb your pet darlings. . .so, just this one time. . .

The bandaged woman(?) turns the valve, turning the gaslight of the main room off. . .but, instead of turning it further to the right, she pushes the valve in, and twists it back to the left. . .

. . .above, the sound of metal scraping against wood echoes in the dark chamber of the main room, slowly casting a deep, blue light down into the main chamber.

The Bandaged: . . .I'll permit an, ah, audience in my room. . ..

Able grumbles to themselves, face flushed.

Able: My legs are not broken, and I am not a child..

The bandaged woman(?) moves to the center of the room, stepping in the blue candlelight pouring down from above.

The Bandaged: True, but I like carrying you like this. Besides

The bandaged woman(?) looks up, their body slowly rising up into the air; above, a familiar Violant ink shines down, written in yet another, more complicated sigil.

The Bandaged: . . .the sigil to head up only works on me, and carrying you is easier than writing it on your inside.

The bandaged woman(?) and Able slowly ascend upwards. . .

. . .as they slowly rise upwards, Able can see a very chaotically organized circular room. ahead, there's a bed equipped with curtains, the curtain rods skewed and barely covering a bed covered in green with yellow trim; beside it, a side-table covered in empty bottles of mushroom wine, empty honey-jars, and empty tinctures. Around, there's a mess of faded books haphazardly arranged on the floor, most of which Able has never seen before. Above, the ceiling are painted a light blue, transitioning to bunches of green as the chipped paint crawls down the walls.

Able looks around, not really expecting this. What was he expecting? Surely something a bit more... Organized. He blinks. Inside?

Able: ...How would you even get such a thing inside of you?

He seems to be a bit distracted from his current situation for a moment. Only a moment though, as the movement of his body adjusting in the Bandaged persons arms seemed to remind them of that.

The Bandaged: With difficulty, mostly by figuring out how to write something in blood, on blood.

The bandaged woman(?) steps into the room, looking about and evidently confused.

The Bandaged: . . .hm. Could've sworn it was cleaner since. . .ah, well. . .

The bandaged woman(?) walks along, hoisting Able over their shoulder for a bit; with a free hand, they move aside the limp curtains around the bed, and set Able down.

. . .Able sinks in the bed, the mattress conforming around them. This bed is luxuriously soft; is it. . .feather-stuffed. . ?

He feels suddenly very comfortable, this is much more soft than anything he's been on before. He sighs, relaxing, looking up at the Bandaged person.

Able: If I were so forward I would ask to stay in this bed for my time here. Though that seems fairly improper even given the circumstances..

He thinks back to his situation, biting his tongue. This was rather indecent to say.

Able: Ah, I apologize. I am merely thinking aloud..

The bandaged woman(?) pauses for a moment, staring at Able for a moment; then, a soft shriek of laughter. The bandaged woman(?) is covering their mouth, apparently bemused.

The Bandaged: Heh! Well, aren't you bold. . ?

The bandaged woman(?) moves forward, sitting in front of Able before grabbing them; they slowly slide Able along to the backboard of the bed, making him sit up against the wooden board while they lower down.

The Bandaged: . . .if you're that eager to get under the covers with me, you could've asked sooner. . .

The bandaged woman(?) is moving their hands up under Able's suit, lifting it up a bit. They're rubbing Able's side, gently slipping their fingers past the waistband of their pants as they do so but without going further than that.

The Bandaged: Mmh? . .hirsute, aren't you?

He looks down at the Bandaged person's hands, inhaling sharply before relaxing again. This was not usually how these things went, but he wasn't against this sort of treatment.

Able: It is difficult to ask someone when you are unsure of their intentions.

Able mutters, wanting to take more action in this, but feeling as if he would be violating some sort of personal space. This, he thinks, while having someone have their hands all over him.

Able: Mm, I do not see why I wouldn't be, ma'am.

He starts moving his hands to his pants, feeling that tension being a bit too great.

The bandaged woman(?) sharply pulls their hands away, moving to grab both of Able's hands; she(?) tuts quietly. Although Able can't make out their face, he's certain he would see a cocky grin underneath the bandages.

The Bandaged: Ah, ah. . .I won't permit my student to touch himself. . .

The bandaged woman(?) moves to clasp both of Able's hands together, palming his wrists in one hand. The free hand returns to Able's stomach, brushing it lightly.

The Bandaged: . . .what would people say, after all, teaching my protégé such bad habits. . ?.

Able barely struggles, but does a mild squirm. He stares at the Bandaged person with a bit of shock.

Able: Ma'am....please... It is painfully tense...

He pleads a bit, getting a bit worried he wouldn't actually get relief.

The bandaged woman(?) chuckles; their free hand suddenly pulls from their stomach and wraps around Able's clothed member, squeezing briefly with a thumb rubbing over the straining head.

The Bandaged: Hmm? . . this is bothering you?

Able breathes in sharply, unknowingly pressing up. He is breathing much more quickly now, it feels like he was close but it JUST wasn't enough.

Able: -Straining- N-no ma'am.

The bandaged woman(?) chuckles, squeezing and rubbing their thumb across the head of Able's clothed member.

The Bandaged: Heh. . .so polite. . .mmh, but you shouldn't lie to your mentor. . .hmm. . .

The bandaged woman(?) sits up a littler higher, pulling on Able's wrists to pull them closer to their covered face.

The Bandaged: . . .let's get a little more comfortable. . .~

The bandaged woman(?) lets go of Able's member, hooking their arm around their hip; they pull forward on Able, pulling their hips forward and causing Able's upper body (previously supported by the headboard) to fall onto the soft feather bed and lay on their back. The bandaged woman(?), still palming Able's wrists, pulls at the bandages around their face, exposing a pale, brown-lipped mouth grinning crookedly.

The Bandaged: . . .mmrrh. . .~

He makes the smallest whine in protest when the bandaged person's hand is removed, so quiet but still audible enough. Able attempted to stifle this, but likely not to a degree that mattered. Usually this wouldn't be his chosen position, but he supposed having a woman on top was no different than beneath him. He was still unsure as to what she was planning, but he did wish that she would get on with it.

Able: Ma'am... Please... this tension hurts like this...

The bandaged woman(?) chuckles, grinning as a hand tugs roughly at Able's waistband, pulling their pants onto his thighs and exposing his member.

The Bandaged: Oh, now that won't do. . .

The bandaged woman(?), still maintaining a grip on Able's wrists, lowers themselves, putting their face right by Able's member and grabbing it with their free hand. The bandaged woman(?) talks low, their warm breath running over the length of Able's member.

The Bandaged: Mmmh, here. . .let me kiss is all better, then. . .

The bandaged woman(?) grips Able's member at the base, and, moving forward, lets the lips of their mouth wrap briefly around the head, their tongue lightly pressing against the tip before they pull away, leaving the rim of the head and the tip moist with saliva.

The Bandaged: Mmwah. . .

Able was very close to protesting, and then the warm feeling makes him sputter out a very noisy whimper. That wasn't very common, but god he wasn't going to complain. He could feel it close, he was so close it burned in his gut.

Able: a-ah..! Ma'am that.... I am close, you....shouldn't do.... Certainly its not...

Able couldn't think of a proper way of describing what he was feeling, probably because his head felt faint, and the coming ejaculation was not helping. He writhes, a bit distressed now about his situation.

The bandaged woman(?) chuckles, a crooked smile edging on their face.

The Bandaged: Mmh, I will do whatever I want, child. . .

The bandaged woman(?) lowers their head, their hand pulling away from the base of Able's cock; they lightly press their lips against the head of Able's member, before quickly lowering, taking the whole length into their mouth while their tongue presses against the underside of his cock. Their free hand trails lower, moving to cup Able's balls and lightly rubbing a thumb across the skin.

The Bandaged: . . .mrrrh. . .~

Able watches with a bit of fear, not sure what to expect, but it wasn't that. The heat was enough to send him over the edge, but the extra little touches and rumbling from the Bandaged certainly made his release more aggressive. He makes an almost surprised moan, his head sinking back into the bed as his back arches with his sudden relief. He gasps, and relaxes fairly quickly.

Able: gh... I...Apologize...I couldn't... Stop it...

The Bandaged: Mmph. . .

The bandaged woman(?) swallows easily, lifting their head up so that only the tip of Able's cock rests past their lips and squeezing Able's wrists; after a moment, they slowly pull away, their hand letting go of Able's wrists and slowly sitting up. A bead of liquid on the corner of their lips shines in the blue candlelight, and the woman(?) moves a thumb to it, slowly pushing it past their lips with a luscious groan.

The Bandaged: . . .mm. . .you really ought to stop apologizing, boy. . .

The bandaged woman(?) sits back, their back resting on the footboard of the bed as they spread their legs slightly, staring at Able with a cocky, crooked grin peeking through the bandages.

The Bandaged: Mmrhh, well. . .I suppose you're finished. . .rather fast, aren't you? . .but, if you'd like to, ah. . .stay in bed, a little while longer. . ?

Able is gasping a bit, slowly fading a bit. Watching the Bandaged person take his fluids though spark something in him a bit.

Able: hhf... I.....suppose...I..-

A voice, similar in tone to the flapping of dense fabric, rings out in the empty chamber.

???: IS THIS HOW LONDONER'S ASSIMILATE?

Able can see a small pocket on the Bandaged's clothing rustle. The bandaged woman(?) sits up a little more, pulling the pocket into view.

The Bandaged: . . .hm. . .suppose we had an audience. . .

Able is suddenly aware of the feeling of being watched by many, many eyes (persons? clothes? things?); the bandaged had neglected to remove their clothes, which, to Able's late realization, are alive.

Able, finding energy, suddenly sits up.

Able: Ah! I will retire for tonight!

He is quickly putting things back into pants, and straightening things out as he gets out of the bed.

Able: I am sorry ma'am but as you can see I am very tired indeed....

The bandaged woman(?) furrows their bandages, the brief glimpse of a frown edging onto their mouth before they pull at the bandages, tightening it around their face and concealing their visage again.

The Bandaged: . . .hm. I see. . .

The bandaged woman(?) stands up, brushing themselves off; their voice is even, carrying no weight as they move towards Able and pick them up.

The Bandaged: . . .well, if you'll recall, one cannot ascend to my room without me; I hope you'll understand that you'll need me as well to descend.

Able looks a little embarrassed, he had not remembered this. He doesn't look at the Bandaged person for a long time before muttering a small apology.

Able: Ah....yes.... I am sorry.. to cause you such trouble...

The bandaged woman(?) hoists Able over their shoulder; Able can't see the Bandaged's face as he hangs, their arm curled around their hip.

The Bandaged: Again. . .you ought to not apologize so much.

Curtly, the bandaged woman(?) walks to the center of the room, stepping into the hole and slowly descending into the main teaching room. . .

. . .the bandaged woman(?) slowly lands on the ground, having no reaction as they pull Able off their shoulder, setting them down on their butt before standing upright again. The woman(?) speaks briefly.

The Bandaged: I'll leave you be, then. Use the valve to head down.

The bandaged woman(?) steps into the blue candle-light shining down, and slowly ascends, voicing nothing and showing no expression as they slowly rise up; above, the candlelight winks out as a metal shutter closes, leaving the main room in darkness.