Thread: The Emerald Estate (GrinningGentleman x Poppy)

Martin's eyes was furious, as they glared down on the helpless woman bellow her, while his hand throttled the breath out of her. His lips sneered as her nails made a hole in his suit, as well as a bad gouge on his hand. When Vivian finally lay limp across the couch of the booth, Martin's hand removed itself, controlling his blinding fury. His hand was bleeding pretty bad at this point, as he kept staring down on Vivian. By his side was Emma, still panting heavily, as she turned herself around, pulling the bottle out of her ass with a controlled moan, gulping. Don't... Fucking say anything, Em.. Martin stopped her, with a raised finger of warning, as he looked away. Pull those tattered robes around you, and get the fuck back to your office, and get cleaned up. Don't want to see your face back for the rest of the night. He demanded, a gutteral growl to his words, making it damn clear he didn't want to be questioned. Emma looked down herself, pulling the flaps of her remaining clothing around herself, getting off of the table, rushing her way out through the crowd, as they made way to her and started clearing out, still gazing in bewilderment and contemplation towards Vivian. Martin turned around, pointing to the ground. Enjoyed the show? Come back tomorrow night, and another show of this caliber will be put on. This time, on the stage. Possibly with audience participation this time! Bring Masks. Haley! Put something exciting on! He asked of Haley with a grin, before looking back to the crowd, as they started dissolving, whispering and giggling between each other. Martin licked his lips, as his gaze wen't back down to the limp body, uncomfortably sprawled over the couch. There was still something about Vivian. Something Martin adored. Even after hurting hi this way. Maybe it was the way she -did- hurt him. Quite a fucking show. He'd had to straighten the bulge in his pants, several times. He shook the thought off, as he reached down to pick up Vivian, throwing her over his shoulder. When Vivian started stirring, Martin just kept staring at the knife in his hand, his hand still stained with several lines of blood, having dripped from the gouge, now having closed almost entirely. The bruises on her face, as well as the cuts and gouges on his hand, suggested it had been several hours, since she was knocked out. As Vivian started speaking, Martin's head tilted slightly, licking his dry lips, narrowing his eyes a bit with her questions. He grunted through his nose a single time, tightening his fingers around the knife, cutting a gouge in his mahogany table. She probably dose, I've stopped questioning my dear sister's choices in life. He started, almost rather solemnly. She'd chosen her path, plastering it even more clearly to him after this night. Now he had to find a way to deal with that, while also earning with it. Second part certainly shouldn't be too hard. First part, would be hell. Martin pulled out Vivian's Desert Eagle from a drawer in his desk, holding it out in front of himself, ignoring anything else Vivian would say from this point on, as he started explaining who he was, in his own way. Quite a beautiful gun. Expensive. The kind of personalized design, you can only get a few places in the country. He started, pouting slightly as he dropped the knife, reaching his free hand into a drawer, picking out a magnifying glass, looking over the gun for only a second, before finding what he needed. Like all artists.. A signature.. 'ES'. He stated, lowering the magnifying glass, as he turned a thoughtful grimace. Hm.. The country I come from, 'Es', is the Ace of Cards. Funny. Said Ace of Cards is also the weapon shield of someone else... He stated, looking back towards Vivian, as his free hand pulled back the Eagle's barrel, detaching it from the rest of the gun, as you would when cleaning it. He placed the barrel on the table, returning his hand back to the gun, as he continued to pull the gun apart, while speaking. Do you even know, where your degenerate dad, and spineless brother get's your guns? Every.. Single.. Fucking.. One of them? He questioned, tossing the pieces of the Desert Eagle on the table, as he dropped back into his chair. Emerald Serpant. E.. S.. I know you might have to think hard about that one, but I think you know how fucking deep you've sunk.. What kind of shit you've gotten yourself into. I don't give a fuck, that your daddy is 'big-boy-Vermilion', and your brother is 'fuck-boy-Vermilion'. He growled, getting off of his chair. Least of all... I don't give a fuck, that you're the little Princess of Vermilion... You're fucking -mine- now! Martin snarled as he stomped around his massive desk, walking into Vivian's face, only to slap the side not bruised by a black eye, hard enough to cause her head to turn. He was careful, making sure to avoid any kicks, scratches or punches from the crazy princess of Vermilion, now walking bahind her. There, he undid the chain from the back of her chair, pulling it out like a leash, using it to pull her off of the chair by the collar, almost tossing her towards the table, where he pushed her face first down on the hard mahogany, pinning her lower body against it as well, with his crotch pushed against her rear. The hand holding her leash, moved to grab her hair, keeping her down, as his other hand made sure to push any attempt of her hands to scratch him away, while his legs avoided her heels, now looking towards the knife, leaning carefully close to her, still sure to avoid any scratches to the face. Take it.. Use it. Dig yourself deeper, you fucking whore... What do you have to lose? Your life is no longer your own, but -mine-. You lost all privileges tonight. Aaall, by your own, fucked up mind's doing. Martin suggested, his hand very ready for her to grab the knife, and ready to grab her at the wrist if she tried.