Ash finds herself in the Velvet Galleria once again, feeling plush midnight against her feet with each plodding step. Knowing that this place exists in an interstice of time, the young woman finds herself in no particular rush to greet its custodian and continue on her looping quest. She stretches and yawns on her slow shuffle into the central hall where doors upon doors lead their way into different snapshots of time for her to consider. A hand runs through her ashen hair, the dolled up Ash smiling in the mirror by her imposing wardrobe before gently prying it open to peruse the other costumes. So many splintered cinders, even so she can tell one of the oldest costumes is missing and furrows her brow. Out of all of her states of self, this one is the most unruly, perhaps she has not taken kindly to being locked away in dusty oak furniture for so long a stretch. 

The old crone who would usually fill the galleria with an echo of hacking laughter is eerily inconspicuous, the footsteps that replace her cackle belonging to something else entirely. Ash knows this, because Lady Primrose isn't one to walk about her velvet prison. "Wh-who's there?" The ashen girl calls out as she closes the wardrobe door and flattens her back against it, this costume she wears is the most skittish of the bunch though she makes up for it in other ways. Still, she knows that of all her forms she is easily the most vulnerable to unseen threat, having been enslaved and conditioned more times than she can count and only half of those unwilling. If the girl named Ash is her submissive tendencies made whole, then Lady Ember would be her dominant counterpart. A hypnotic mistress, ever the opportunist and arguably one who finds her moral limits pushed with every tempting encounter that falls into her lap. 

"I was wondering when you were going to show up, I saw that the cute negligee was currently out and had to pass the time imagining what sort of terrible fate you were throwing yourself into this time. Not the cow ending again, I hope? We hate repetition here." Ember smirks and cocks her head, revealing herself in that fiery sleeveless dress, a deep V cut into its front. "Don't ask me how I got out, nor where the mistress of this realm has scampered off to. No, for all you need know, this is just a silly little dream."

Ash gulps, catching the husky tone in her mirror's voice as the woman flashes her a dark smile, sauntering over to the wardrobe and falling upon her so suddenly. Not sudden at all, actually, but Ash finds it too surreal to fear the spitting image of herself. Surely Ember would not set her unsated self on her very own soul. The auburn haired mistress wears her excitement candidly, answering that question succinctly enough to make Ash finally cower. Ember chews her lip as hooded eyes run across Ash's babydoll lingerie, not nearly as delectable as the curves beneath the thin material, the way in which her own self trembles. 

Neither are able to fake it much longer, that Ash's shivering is from fear rather than her own lusty anticipation. The former professional is dripping with submissive need at the sight of her own face smirking down at her, Ember cupping the pleasant thing's chin and tilting her to look straight, motioning to kiss her while their lips only manage to brush. "You're so weak for me already, what's up with that? It isn't fun if you're already a well trained doll, I thought that was one of my bad ends. Or near enough, hehe~" The auburn one's lips set upon the ashen one's at last, but the kiss is left teasingly abrupt as Ember's thumb strolls down the other's sultry curves. 

"I know just how easy you are to manipulate, make good for me. I know all your wants and weaknesses, the fantasies that have you clenching thighs in the night and the unrequited wishes that leave you staring wistfully at those closest to you. Maybe I'll make a pretty whore of you again." Ember conjures a pair of black leather gloves around her hands, one holding Ash's burning cheek while the other grips her soft thigh. A leatherbound thumb pushes against the melting lips of a very aroused Ash, sliding past them into her mouth with little force required. "Or perhaps I'll return you to the docile pet you enjoyed a long decade as, adorning the ground and kissing my boots." A collar forms around Ash's neck and Ember pulls taut the leash, forcing her plaything into an indelicate kiss that makes a mess of her lip gloss. A smear that makes her look the owned slut she feels, Ash curses her own lack of inhibition for making it so easy to give in to these well chosen threats. No, offers, temptations that tickle her as they trickle from her twin's corrupting tongue. 

Ember giggles when she notices how lost in reverie Ash has already become, the heat causing her eyes to lose their focus, hot exhales so pleasing against her chest. "I should've known what a slut you'd be, having experienced your failures first hand and felt that welcome return to mindless again and again in our recursion. Sometimes it seems like you don't even really want to succeed, knowing there's more fun that awaits you in that next, intoxicating loss. That you'd give in to me, another version of yourself, is inevitable in the face of all that. An addiction to dropping deep for all that care to ask for a key, hm?" Numbing kisses over porcelain skin from Ember's drugged lipstick, Ash leans into her and they begin to merge like twin flames pushed together. 

"Y-yesss..." Ash feels pathetic, which is a feeling she's learned to savour despite the negative connotation. She indulges herself yet another loss with emptying smile, wanting more kisses and touches from her other self who supplies her with ecstasy and unfettered awe. Ember is her controlling influence, making her malleable like soft pleasurable putty in this timeless world. 

That's right, they can have as much fun as they like here between a single ticking of the seconds hand that's far too stubborn to work, perhaps the clocks were all scared away from the cackling witch that runs this realm. Ash giggles as the drugged kisses make her needy and useless, Ember having to put in all the work but finding herself rewarded with a toy she could spend days with. Maybe she'll break Ash completely, as she had Alva when the scholar misguidedly placed trust in her. She could leave a broken, whimpering, pretty thing that can't quite recall its own name and stroll through one of these doors like nothing ever happened. Two of them existing at once is a paradox, but one that can be easily solved by proving who the more worthy of the two is. Ember is real, Ash a well manufactured imitation who should be made to kneel and prostrate herself before the genuine article. 

Go ahead, Ash. 

When Ember releases her and steps back to watch the show, Ash quickly drops to her knees and looks up with eyes wide, pleading and oh so pleasing. Her lady snickers with practiced indifference painting over her own passionate eyes while she stares down at her handiwork. "Neither of us are stranger to bondage, hm? Though I believe my knowledge is superior, as it is in most things besides whoring and... hmm, help me out for a second talent that's unique to yourself..."

Ash whines like a sad puppy, loving the degradation from her better self, becoming docile against such damning words. Why is it so exciting to be derided by her own dominant reflection, she weakly wonders, heart aflutter. "A-are you going to tie me up? Make... ohh... make me g-g-good?" She leans up on her knees and begs with her entire body to be bound by twin flame. 

A hand strokes under her chin and another runs fingers through that dyed silvery hair, Ember appreciating this alternate version of herself for what she is, an object to be appreciated with the eyes. A visual spectacle of a woman, designed from the ground up to inspire paying customers who feel need to stick their fingers in the paint. Ember shakes her head at them, it'll only spoil the canvas. Ash desires touch more than anything, so it'll be denied from her for just a short while. As red rope begins to form itself around her limbs and bind her so cutely, an obedient package not capable of suffering fatigue, hunger or aging in this halted hall. 

"I'll make you yearn for my touch so badly that your mind begins to fray and spill all over this plush, velvet floor. When I return I'll collect what's left and give my toy more climaxes than her erring mind can count to. I shouldn't be too long, pet, these journeys usually only last around a decade." Ember cackles in place of an absent crone, excusing herself from this place to return to ticking time. Ash fights against the well tied shibari to no avail, whimpering with unfulfilled desire and thrashing until she's on her back. 

Ember steps into a world of rich softness with a cracking smile, having only just remembered the reward she had prepared for herself in return for a successful quest. Perhaps pretty Ash was her good luck charm, absorbing all chances of failure while she squirmed and lost her head. The bound toy is found kneeling in a different place to where she had been left, having conditioned herself in a distant corner of the gallery to wait patiently and think of nothing but the pretty black spirals that she could spot on the floor and ceiling if she looked close enough. Ash sits on her calves and drools, a line of spit that never seems to end in this endless world, her eyes so empty that you could mistake them for a doll's. 

"There you are. Are you ready to have the thoughts fucked back into your failing mind, one generous orgasm after another? I think we can both see now, we have all the time in the world~"

It takes a long time for the mirrored plaything to respond, her mouth having not been used in a long time. The toy swallows and her eyes slowly roll upwards to fall upon the one who will finally touch her... the thrall's mouth waters and still the thoughts don't come. Of course not, she needs them fucked back into her, just as the lady says. Who is she again? She looks pretty. After a deafening silence in which Ember admires the state of this whelp, Ash finally answers.

"Hhhhhrrrghhh?"