Sweat drips from her forehead down into her eyes as an involuntary shudder runs through Étoile's entire body. It stings horribly, which is an extra kind of terrible because the niggling irritation only more attention to how much Marianne's price is wracking her body. It's going to be almost impossible to do all of her chores properly tonight; her only hope is that when Her Ladyship sees the state of her handmaiden she'll be too distraught to be upset at her. 

The lynx squeezes her butt. Étoile squeaks like a mouse filled with helium and jumps several inches in spite of herself. Immediately, the pain of her lashes turns her legs to jelly and she winds up flopping limply in his arms. This only earns her further groping. The hand wanders up, and it squeezes. It wanders down, and it squeezes. Étoile can't keep the tiny moan inside of her mouth, and that's when she feels the fingers pinch her thong and [i]tug![/i]

Her cheeks burn so brightly not even this deeply unflattering veil can hide it. 

"I, u-um... eep! I can't, uh, a-aahhHH~" she stammers, nearly biting her tongue, "I d-d-doo... eeeheep! Th-think I can walk all the way back. My legs feEEel ffffffunny..."

No sooner has she brought up the subject than the female lynx has pulled in close as well, squishing her between a pair of hot, furry bodies as she gets her squirming thighs poked, prodded, and caressed. Is that so? Is that so? Poor thing! Itsy bitsy little human, do you need the big strong Janissaries to make you feel aaaallll better, hmm?

Étoile's sapphire eyes flutter daintily through all of the teasing. Under her veil it's obvious that her lips are making little puckering motions, and even if it weren't no sharp eared lynx could miss the sounds they make as she presses her body tight against each of theirs, desperate for the attention, or else to take any amount of pressure off her back for any amount of time. 

Incorrigible little minx. She's every bit the naughty girl they made her out to be, isn't she? Or, say this about her: she wears her masks well. Her eyes are soft and liquid to the point where even if you knew where to look you'd be hard pressed to find the resentment flashing inside of them. Even Anathet would have to stretch herself to notice that tiny moment, and then it's gone in a flash and a purr. 

"Pleeeaaase? Can I pretty please ride in your beautiful, strong arms? I promise, if you tell me your names I [i]promise[/i] to tell Her Ladyship how... gentle you were with me. I just know she'll want to reward you~"

She flashes them her softest and most soulful eye-smile as she bursts into a small and tired fit of giggles. Little doe. Kitten. Temptress. Humans really are all the same, aren't they?

[Pierce the Mask: [b]8[/b] - How can Étoile get these two to give her what she needs to see them punished later?]