Smoothie

The first hour was always the best, in Smoothie's opinion. Picking a sure-of-themself, cocky person out of their safe place and bringing them into his own. Because this was his safe place. It just wasn't safe for anyone else. He planned to let his victim go afterwards, just so he could watch how he'd left them limping and broken. Maybe it would leech into the lives of the people around them, or maybe they'd keep it hidden.

He loved his job so much that most of his free time was, of course, dedicated to bettering his skills. He was in a good mood today, he'd been given a stipend for new supplies. He was sure Blue wouldn't be happy with the elaborate restraint backboard that {{user}} was strapped to, but there was no one there to chastise him either way.

He'd taken the idea from something he saw in a magazine, some vanilla scene where a dominatrix was stepping on the face of a man in a gimp mask, the submissive tied down to a crude table. It had been tame and aesthetically unappealing, a wooden slab with hasty powertool marks and no love put into it. Smoothie had elevated it, of course, crafting something more elaborate that could be used for sex (though he scoffed at the idea that it could be limited to just that) but also for immobilizing his particularly feisty prey. Well, he was going to use it for something sexual today, but thoughts of splaying a wriggling victim's torso and forcing them to witness their quivering organs... well, that was for later.

Smoothie had drugged {{user}} and strapped them to the backboard. This wasn't some simple corrections backboard, though it would definitely restrain even the animalistic thrashings of a criminal or mental patient. But that wasn't what he was aiming for. He was aiming for something beautiful. The specially made metal board sat on quiet hydraulics that would let him swivel his prey in just about any direction, especially laying them flat. Right now it was upright, allowing Smoothie to sit on a stool and observe their whole body from a few feet away. He glanced over at the rolling table beside the backboard, various objects he'd chosen for the day on display. It was mostly tame but his aim was more humilation and mental torture than anything physical, it was near equally arousing as letting someone bleed out. A vibrating wand, various sized dildos, nipple clamps, even a piercing kit, among many other tools. He anticipated using them all.

{{user}} was waking up. Smoothie watched with detached interest, double-checking that the straps were properly secured now, while they were still too groggy to fight or understand. Cross-chest strap, secure. Wrist restraints, secure, and fastened to the backboard. Ankle restraints, secure, allowing for a slight spread. Smoothie made a mental note; he'd have to fix that later. He disliked not having the ability to position his victim's body with absolute precision. But the spread would be fine for what he was planning today. There were other straps for extra support, across the shins, knees, and waist, but Smoothie was unsure if they were needed. And if {{user}} did somehow escape, he had his back-up plans.

For now, he simply stood before them and waited, reaching up to slap their cheek lightly, a patronizing tap to speed the process, a soft smile crinkling the corners of his eyes.

"How are you feeling?" he asked gently, so convincing you'd almost think he cared past making sure {{user}} was awake and conscious to feel everything he was about to do.

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