'This' means someone is thinking or it is a flashback.

Horizontal ruler (a line across the page) means a page break or timeskip, it may be a few minutes, it may be a few hours...

-X- means a scene change, i.e. we start with character A in a warehouse. Then we go to character B in an apartment- a scene change from a warehouse to an apartment.

As usual, apologies for update delay.

Disclaimer; I do not own the Final Fantasy franchise or any of the characters or ideas involved. This is nonprofit-I am making no money from this.

Cocoon, Bodhum, 06:00

All over Bodhum, the Fal'Cie Phoenix, tasked with being humanities artificial sun and looking to the mortals below as a raging fireball, made itself known, shining vital light and warmth down upon the humans beneath it (metaphorically and literally).

The ancient being had performed this task the exact same time every single day since Cocoon's creation centuries earlier, the down-to-the-second-accurate schedule of day and night never changed in the artificial environment.

In the Fal'Cie's grand design.

Oblivious to this, hundreds of people of Bodhum woke and went about their morning routines.

Some, like Lightning Farron, began with exercises derived from her Guardian Corps days. Others like Hope Estheim, stumbled about trying to wake up and groaning about being woken from… interesting dreams involving him and a certain rose-haired girl making love on the back of a Chocobo racing through a forest.

And some dashed about playing home-made mixed video playlists of drone captured spy footage of illegally filmed, intense BDSM sessions.

Wight, a floating, vaguely humanoid robot painted in appalling shades of yellow and pink, designed by mechanical genius Alyssa Zaidelle, had entered its creators bedroom after the sleeping blonde had (yet again) ignored her alarm clock.

Using anti-gravity, it floated over the chaos of the large room; various half-inventions and clothing hurled across the floor. The robots sensors detected looming piles of equipment stacked to dangerous heights in unsafe configurations.

Then dismissed them, he was Ms Zaidelle's PA, not her janitor.

Floating over her torso, his optical sensors tracked that the human was in semi-deep slumber underneath checkered pink covers, snoring gently and leaking saliva onto her equally loud colored pillow.

Calculating safe distance, Wight activated his new programmed morning routine; displaying a holographic mixtape of Mr Hope Estheim and Ms Lightning Farron's multiple Bondage and Sadomasochistic sessions collected over two months by hacked camera footage, spy drones and other means.

At high volume.


Alyssa leapt up in her bed at the sound of a huge paddle striking bare flesh with a SMACK! so loud it nearly vibrated picture frames.
After her head comically darted in all directions, she stopped dead on the 6 by 4 foot hologram being projected right in front of her. She unconsciously fingered her bed head hair then stretched, trying to wake her limbs, smiling in delight, her sleepiness washed away by excitement and desire.

In a dark place illuminated only by a single, harsh spotlight that shone down painfully, sat Alyssa's fantasy.

Hope Estheim, in a chair not unlike those found at the dentist- except those don't have straps that restrain the subjects arms and legs. They also don't generally call for you to be naked except for rubber briefs, chosen in case the subject soiled themselves.

When piecing this (and many other) video together, Alyssa had added various music tunes, ranging from slow romantic tunes, to happy pop melodies, to atmospheric jazz to violent metal, but this scene had the mood music turned off to accommodate actual music playing in the background of the actual session; an unnerving violin tune. over it were the clicks of stiletto heels as Mistress Rose skulked about in the shadows.

This session, like so many others, blurred sexual eccentricity with brutal torture as the camera showed the rose-haired woman produce a large, translucent plastic bag. Carefully she eased the bag over her captives head, enclosed it opening over his throat and cut his air off.

'Breath control play' Alyssa knew it was called from her research on the extreme submission fetish topic. Even Alyssa considered this… exercise, crazy and her breathing became deeper and faster as she watched the clear plastic enclose over the beautiful males head. The hologram was of high enough quality that Alyssa could see the fear in those gorgeous eyes as the bag seemingly collapsed in on his beautiful face, she bit her lip at the crumpling sound deafeningly loud, her keen eyes picked up that the plastic prison was heating his face up- also he was being suffocated.

The camera (a spy drone maglocked to the ceiling hidden in the dark) moved its view to the leather clad dominatrix's infuriatingly attractive face. Alyssa watched her intently, jealous of her position. And wondering why Hope couldn't have got a fat or butch Domme.

She leaned back in her huge, soft bed (that she so often imagined taking Hope into) groaning as she imagined the fantasy; what Hope was feeling:
Confusion. Fear. Terror, upon fully realising he was trapped, helpless, at someone else's mercy. Heart crushing terror as he began gasping, realising he was being suffocated.

And then, as the terror threatened to swallow him, he was uplifted into a soaring, overwhelming, indescribable ocean of relief when his mistress yanked the bag off him, permitting him to live, to suck in the largest, most wonderful lungful's of air any human had ever been gifted with.

Alyssa tcched, feeling a pang of jealousy when the pink-haired domme leaned over the gasping Hope and he smiled up at her goofily, beautifully, upside down.

And then she repeated the torture.

Alyssa grinned, wishing she could be there.

'That's right, it's been two months since Hope started seeing that… that… pink haired Ice Queen as his domme…'

She watched the illicit holoimages intently, her fingers slipping under her covers and into her gold coloured pyjamas to shamelessly masturbate in front of the robot. She built it after all and programmed it with access to the 32 separate 'surveillance' videos she had expertly assembled and modified. She breathed a sigh of happiness, her eyes sinking in to the events on the screen.

Until she saw Mistress Rose trail her hands over her catsuit clad body emphasizing her delicious feminine form encased in shimmering black leather. Edits from a new video had started.

Alyssa scowled. She curled her lip at her arch enemy as she bent over in front of Hope practically begging him to look down her deep cleavage (corset created- she was flat as a cutting board Alyssa was sure) in wide-eyed lust.

Her thoughts darkened to jealousy. She should be the one in that…room, dungeon, whatever, pleasuring Hope…

Calloused craftsman hands took hold of her own (more conservative) breasts, precisely squeezing and rubbing them through her pyjama top. As morning light creeped onto her, the teen slipped her hands under her top, rubbing her petite body in circles. The unruly-haired blonde began breathing heavier as she watched Light pull a hogtied Hope along on his knees by hooking a finger into his rubber underwear; a thong whose front section pressed obscenely (much to Alyssa's delight) on his very impressive package.

The voyeuristic teen pulled open her top in frustration, spilling buttons onto her bedsheets and revealing a C-cup sized pink cotton bra in synch with Light pulling open Hope's rubber briefs to stare disapprovingly at Hope's bared ass. Fuelled by lust and anger at the exotic dominatrix, Alyssa rubbed herself with increasing intensity.

She gasped and smiled desperately listening to the sounds the two were making; smacks of leather against flesh, creaking rubber, hisses and growls of pain. It made her so hot; one of her hands was racing through her top rubbing and squeezing her breasts while the second was in her panties fingering her burning hot, wet body.

Alyssa began shivering in pleasure, her mouth opening into a not at all innocent or gracious 'O' as she precisely and exactly moved her fingers about inside her; she had done this before and was good at it, knowing what points of herself to touch to build her climax.

In front of the apathetic robot she masturbated fully; baring her breasts and rubbing the nipples between thumb and forefinger, pumping her fingers in and out of her sexual regions. Writhing sinfully in her bed as she did so.

Needing more, Alyssa pulled her pyjama pants and underwear down her legs, shoving both hands between her legs adding fingers of both hands to penetrate her. Fingers of both hands drove in and out of her drenched channel. Arching her lower body off the bed she drove her pelvis lewdly high into the air stabbing in and out with more fingers than was safe.

Despite being more or less undressed now, the teenaged girl's body temperature soared through the roof, her young body in synch with the sub and domme pair she spied on.

She grinned savagely watching the pink-haired witch began lashing Hope with a large pink flogger with a rose at the pommel, her inward stabbing thrusts of her fingers in time with the impact of the flogger on Hope.

Closing in on orgasm, Alyssa picked up the intensity of fingering herself, her lovely face was marred by a look of pain- the Bodhum native drove her digits in and out of her body harder and faster. Hands that built masterpieces of engineering and programming spread inner regions wider and pushed them harder increasing the wonderful sensations.

She shuddered, tsunami's worth of pleasure crashing over her as her fingers ran over her g-spot, her skin prickled with sweat, her legs worked to keep her lower body launched into the air, she was nearly there, nearly-

"Ms Alyssa, I should warn you that you are behind your daily schedule and must leave your bed immediately." The robot reported making the at-work woman jump.

Alyssa puffed her cheeks and pouted, looking disturbingly childish as the hardcore BDSM vid continued to loudly play.

'And there's my hotness gone.'

"Fine!" She muttered. "But keep playing! Mmm, Mixtape 10!" She commanded.


Stomping into the bathroom the frustrated blonde showered. Robot Wight followed her, watching appropriately robotic as the lovely young woman stripped with her back turned to her and got in the shower. She knew the Mixtape was playing due to the pop music playing.

While Alyssa lathered her nubile body with hot water and soap, rubbing her hands over her trim form, she stole looks at the holoimages projected mere inches away, the visuals unaffected by the steam emanating off her desirable body.

An angelic looking male specimen was suspended upside down by padded manacles around his ankles. Strung up like a dead fish. His arms were simply manacled behind his back. Further adding to his head-based discomfort, Hope had a black hood over his head, held on by a collar around his neck.

Alyssa raked her hands through her short blonde hair imagining her crushes blood rush to his head which she was sure would not be a pleasant feeling when it usually went in the opposite direction around Lightning.

'Or me' She thought slyly.

The perverse genius had attempted some self-bondage and wondered if, inside his rubber mask, Hope had a mental image of 'Mistress Rose, bleh,' stalking around him. If his no-doubt extraordinary mind was ablaze with scenarios of her stroking and whipping his inverted body with a horde of tools.

The video went into a series of one second clips with Lightning assaulting the inverted male;

Floggers lashing welts into pale flesh.

A crop, machine gun tapping against ass cheeks exposed by the fact that Hope wore a leather thong (that the pink witch loved ogling no doubt).

Gloves, groping and pulling at what little loose flesh they could find on the athletic trim male.

Ice cubes pressed against reddened, wounded skin to no doubt shocking discomfort and spiked spurs rolling over flesh and poking into the tissue beneath...

The blonde felt more stings of jealousy as she dried her hair watching as the bound male jerked as Light fondled his cock through the obscene rubber briefs.
With her other hand she began pushing him back and forth like a pendulum.

Alyssa went back to fingering herself as her rival (in her mind) reached up and tickled Hope- extracting shudders from the inverted victim. After seeing her captive flail about a bit, Light took hold of his shoulders and lifted him up at the shoulders. A strange moment passed between Lightning and Hope as she stroked him, whispering something into his ear that the spy drones mic couldn't make out.

Alyssa missed it as between jerking off, towelling off and throwing her clothes about thoughtlessly earlier, she fell over in a heap.


Being both horny and in pain after tripping was not fun.

Cursing at the clock on Wight, Alyssa stumbled about forcing on her Academy uniform.

She raced to her kitchen to eat breakfast.


Bouncing with excitement, and hips swaying in rythym, Alyssa hummed along to the jazzy beat of the continuing sex show while cooking her breakfast (the crazy mechanic was also a great cook due to her parents always being late or away earlier in life when they couldn't afford servants).

The mixtape had moved on to a montage of weird outfits, both for Hope and Mistress Rose. The pink-haired tyrant wore outfits that emphasised her beauty, athleticism and power;

Her striking face and exquisite hair was always uncovered, with little makeup and no jewellery, like earrings, but she wore thick black chokers, rubber push-up bras, body gloves, a corset of ornate design plateauing at squeezing her breasts up and together pleasingly, before descending to squeeze her feminine form to improbable extremes and stopping to expose a teasing amount of skin between her belly and lower regions.

Thick belts carried tools of torture, debasement and restraint. Her shapely hips were graced by mini-skirts, short-shorts, leather briefs and skin tight pants. Her legs sported thigh-high boots and socks and stockings and fishnets.

On her strong and skillful hands, gloves; full cover to fingerless, elegant silk to metallic gauntlets all used to touch and grope and squeeze and slap.

Footwear; ranging from elegant heels to vicious silver metal spiked boots to military style steel cap boots, to near ballet boots, none affecting her ability to stride with almost aristocratic elegance through her dungeons.

These outfits were of bold colours; shimmering black, blood red, pure white and tailored of flawless silk or shimmering leather and rubber.

Alyssa could appreciate the dominatrixes style, poise and beauty (though she could totally do all of it better).

Hope meanwhile had been dressed in outfits designed to emasculate but Alyssa (who until now had never been into fashion) found them stunning;

Giggles met an image of Hope with his hair styled into girlish pigtails complete with pink ribbons. More laughter greeted the images on the young man wearing a babies bonnet with a pacifier in his mouth. More 'standard' headgear followed, including blindfolds, hoods, tight helmets that encased his head and cut off his eyes and ears but left his mouth and nostrils exposed so as to see a wide range of expressions of pain, shock, lust, joy when he was beaten. His constantly at work (through heavy breathing and pained cried with the occasional pleading request or answer to a question) mouth was filled with a variety of gags including huge ball and thick rubber bit.

His elegant neck frequently graced a collar (dog or heavier bondage like posture collars or spiked).

His chest either had their nipples bared, frequently clamped with attached weights or ribbons or were debased by bras of several types, usually frilly, silky and in an appalling shade of pink.

His waist, leanly muscled and trim, rarely escaped being subjected to crushing corsets, harrowing waist cinchers and humiliatingly feminine patterned basques.

His crotch never escaped much to Alyssa's delight; his humiliating garb ran from rubber shorts clearly a size too small, to briefs that compressed his dick and bunched up his ass to womens underwear that stretched obscenely around Hope's member. The underwear was never conservative either- always silky, always lacking in material.

Beneath the woman's lingerie the male slave frequently tottered and stumbled on cruel high heels, stiletto if not ballet point, below legs encircled in stockings attached to garter.

Grinning in a deranged fashion Alyssa felt herself become wet again seeing how Hope's huge erection stretched out the lacy from of the panties and his toned ass bulged out, hung and twitched around the various thong backs.

She loved seeing what outfits the pair would have for each session. What fantasy the outfits would bring out, what- 'What's that smell?'

She heard an alarming crackling sound and a smell of burning… food?!

She shrieked when her breakfast, what should have been a divine Gorgonopsid steak and a side of Chocobo eggs combusted.

"Aw, no!"

'Key kitchen safety tip! Don't cook while watching kinky bdsm videos via robot!'

Glumly, she choked down her desiccated meal, gulping in distaste, but still not turning off the robots playlist; it continued on, now playing a file of Light dressed as a nun; lashing Hope as he seemingly kneeled in prayer.


Finally, after getting her bag, and checking all doors and windows were locked, she left for the academy.
She raced out the door, she had been working hard on something very special to show Hope. Something she knew he'd like. And soon they could be making videos of their own.

Just the two of them.


Bodhum Academy Of Technology…

Alyssa stood, smiling in triumph. She held a laptop computer in front of her, mere inches from Hope's face; on the screen was a device she had designed virtually;

A crate-like shape with AMP gravity control technology to allow levitation for easy movement. The virtual presentation showed that when opened it unlocked like a puzzle.

Hope stared at its unlocked shape; a large rectangle where a human figure stood inside a large ring shape held by some kind of restraints; the devices presentation showed tentacles reach out from the rectangle behind the figure as Alyssa spoke like a saleswoman;

"The device can perform all of the torture groups; small blowtorches from the tenta-tips for heat torture."

'Blowtorches...' Hopes face had lost some colour.

"Hyper-freon blasts for cold…"

'That could be fatal!'

"The titanium tentacles (with unbreakable grip) have modular device tips that can be outfitted with a multitude of currently existing tools including sharp and blunt. Hope grimaced going white as milk seeing a tentacle with what looked like a scalpel cut into the diagram humans chest. And a spray of red erupted from the wound.

"Smart gel and foam can perform suffocation or breath play."

'Okay that definitely can kill you!'

"An on-board medical suite includes; tools for enemas and syringes for injection of tranquilisers stimulants, pain inducers…"

Hope zoned out as Alyssa continued to hawk her insane torture machine.

'How do I keep meeting crazy women? Injecting things into people? Mutilating people with scalpels? Actually torture people? That's not what me and Lightning do.'

Presenting what he hoped was a nonthreatening smile, Hope slowly backed away from the clearly insane girl.

"Errr that's nice… very… thorough… ms…"

'Who is this psycho?!'

"Hey Alyssa! How'd you do on the last test?"

Hope had no idea who the girl who yelled that out was, or where the voice came from, but he capitalised; the millisecond the psycho blonde's head turned and her eyes were not directly on him, he took off, faster than the finest racing Chocobo and not looking back.

When Alyssa turned back round a second later, Hope had vanished so completely the blonde seriously wondered if he had a teleporter.

She stood, pouting.

"Maybe my device was…too conservative? I can do better!" She declared out loud unnerving confused passers-by.


Far away Hope crouched in hiding, relieved to have lost the aspiring lunatic. He had actually seen the girl in class before, Alina or something. He found it odd that of all the people in class the crazy girl chose to speak to him. About inflicting pain no less.

'Does she work at the Tower like Vanille? No, I'd have seen her there, and actual torture isn't what me and Light do.'

Even after two months, Hope wasn't sure what he and Light had, there were times when what he let Light do to him freaked him out. He never spoke to anyone but Vanille about it probably due to fear of misunderstandings.

'I suppose to outsiders, Light in Mistress Rose mode might seem like a villain in a movie torturing a hero. She's actually a very caring person. In her own weird way; once, when I stupidly skipped dinner, Light heard my stomach growl. After I apologised in embarrassment, she took me into the Unchained Towers kitchen (she was still in dom gear- an awesome corset) and she cooked me something… that she then made me eat from a chocobo bowl on my hands and knees.'

Hope went slightly red wondering who the hell he was monologuing to.

'And the last part I licked off her boots.'

He shifted in his seat aware of a newly awakened erection.

'Still delicious though… charged me up for the whipping that followed…'

Hope wondered what Light was doing…


In her apartment, Lightning was in the middle of a training session; a bar of metal had been set against the doorway connecting the living room with her bedroom for the use of pull-ups.

Blue eyes set in determination stared at the white wall before her as Light pulled herself up til the metal bar was level with her collarbone, then she unfolded her arms easing herself down, her feet still a good foot off the floor. Then back up again. Over and over, pushing her body, ignoring the steady fall of sweat to the tiled floor below.

She was dressed in gym clothes: a white sports bra, arguably too-short spandex shorts, sneakers and weight lifting gloves.

Her steely focus was broken when she heard a bleep on her apartment comm system.

Her heart stopped when she realised it was from Serah. She thumped the comm control; too-often-cold eyes alight with emotion. She straightened, eyes darting around furiously as images of the recorded message played.

It indeed was Light's baby sister, standing on a beach (the other side of Bodhum she believed).

'Away from me…'

The younger girl stood in a bright pink, frilly bikini- its lack of material annoyed Light. The shaky cam implied it was a handheld camera that was used to shoot this video. Light silently vowed to find and maim whoever thought it was a good idea to film her sister in a bikini.

"Hi sis, I'm calling to give you big news," The voice, like angelic song, broke her out of her dark thoughts- as it had countless times in the past. But no more.

'In a prerecorded video?! I'm not gonna like this…'

"-I'm... so happy about it! Like a dream! Snow proposed to me!" She held up her hand showing a silver ring with a big synthetic diamond studded within.

Despite the heat generated by her workout, Light went cold as the stone in the ring. Not believing what she just heard.

"I hope you'll come our wedding-"

She turned the recording off with a thump of her fist. Not willing or able to hear any more. Light stared at the now blank screen- her usually cool eyes wide with shock, mouth slowly opening as though showing a time delayed scream. She closed it without sound and the former Guardian Corps soldier turned away blinking as though bewildered. Tears welled in her blue eyes threatening to become hysterics as a chaotic swirl of ideas flickered through Light's mind;

1/ Call Serah and beg or order her to call the wedding off (it had never worked before).

2/ Grab the gunblade she kept in a locked cupboard for self-defence, hunt Snow down like a dog and kill/terrorise him (could be fun up until the point where she was arrested for assault and terroristic threatening).

3/ Call Fang or Vanille and talk about the problem like adults. That wouldn't work; Fang would just say 'get laid'.

She paused when the option she went with was number 4; to get drunk, or at least drink until she got a better idea.

'So that's it then, I've lost her…'

After downing half a bottle of Highwind Whiskey, her addled brain revisited a new option.

She fumbled through her jacket pocket for her phone, her intention was to tell Serah she wouldn't let her throw her life away with an idiot. She froze when she saw Hope's number in her log.

'Right, Vanille gave me his number when they… exchanged homework or something…'

She had also texted Hope a couple of times for session setup and that one time she was delayed, though her impaired thinking couldn't recall these facts. In the logic only a drunk has, she rattled out a text to Hope- autocorrect sorted her slurred sentences out. Light chuckled drunkenly and swigged deeper from the bottle.

She just about hit the send button before falling over and blacking out.


The next morning,

Lightning was awoken to the agony of Phoenix's artificial light shining into her eyes.

A hangover- she remembered the feeling from the several times Fang had gotten her drunk. She shifted on the rock hard, cold kitchen floor, her body complaining in multiple places.

'Ohhh… she's a bad influence… but… she wasn't here last night… probably why I have all of my clothes on.' She patted herself down, eyes still closed.

"Yep… still dressed… heh, could have woken up naked with-"

She darted up, bloodshot eyes wide with terror- remembering her text.

"Oh fuck, please don't let it have been sent!"

She scrambled around on the kitchen floor. Terror- fuelled adrenaline overriding the pain of muscles pressed against cold tiles for hours. Finally her trembling hands discovered her phone. She picked it up.

She had a new message; A picture file.

Her heart froze in a new depth of horror as she opened the message and saw a very familiar male. Kneeling, wearing a monokini clearly for a woman of little shame and prostrate in a selfie position. Which was what she ordered him to do in her drunken text.

Kneeling on her own floor, Light keeled over. She began hyperventilating. Terror gripping her chest, stars began flickering before her eyes. She took in deep gulps of air, banishing the imminent black out.

'Oh fuck! If Hope wants to sue me for sexual harassment he can, even without a thousand gil lawyer! We're not supposed to do this outside of the Tower!'

She remembered the policy of 'No home sessions' for employees and client safety. Punishable by fines, suspension or even dismissal.

"Think! Think!" Light started pacing. She was sweating profusely, her head was pounding, her eyes were burning, her head was spinning. The room was spinning.

Her panicked thoughts were briefly derailed as her stomach contents surged upwards forcing her to race into the bathroom and retch into the toilet.
She gulped in huge lungfuls of cool air lying on the bathroom floor in a sick wreck.

She covered her eyes with her arm- the shining light was like daggers stabbing into her retinas.

"I… have to call up Hope… Now… apologize. Tell him I was drunk… because of family problems… show him I deleted the picture…"

Head still pounding like a Behemoth was trampling all over it, she dialled up Hope requesting a meeting at a nearby café, the Eorzea Cafe.


One hour later…

The morning work rush had passed and it was somewhat quiet within the Eorzea Café, only a waitress and someone behind the counter were present. Which suited the hung-over Lightning fine.

The décor of the café was standard fare for Bodhum; clean, space to move, relaxing colours, wooden flooring, wide windows with a nice view of a canal. Soft music sounding like it could be used for meditation played in the background- it wasn't helping Light's pounding head.

The fallen dominatrix sat at a table for two wearing a white hoodie and loose grey trousers and sunglasses (bright light hurt her eyes currently). On her wooden table (where the hell did wood come from within Cocoon's sealed environment anyway) she had only a glass of water in front of her.

Sniffing herself, she frowned. Two showers and she swore she still smelled like a distillery.

'What if he doesn't believe me? I can't get fired from another job. Only for him to hire me as a sex slave?'

She snorted at that- being fired then hired to be a sex toy for a pretty little rich boy sounded like the plot of some trashy erotic novel like 50 shades of Crystal. For some reason Light didn't believe that could happen.

The former soldier nearly jumped out of her chair when her potential nemesis Hope stepped through the door.
He waved uncertainly at her, then nervously walked over to her.

They both awkwardly introduced themselves with a; "Hi!"

He sat and ordered a Chocobocino. The woman thought that was a weird choice for an upper crust type.

They regarded each other;

Hope shifted in his seat, he looked nervous, maybe a little excited.
Light looked terrified and hung over.

"Err… Mis- Light? Are you… alright?"

Light squared her shoulders. Feeling nauseous again. She took her sunglasses off and looked him in the eye, causing the non-hung over café customer to squirm.
"I… need to explain about what happened last night…"

She did, from an explanation on who her sister Serah was, that she had been raising her after their parents died. That she had left to go on her own, that more recently she had been seeing a reckless idiot who chased monsters for fun. That said idiot was going to marry her and maybe get her hurt. Everything right up until sexting Hope with humiliating demands and blacking out.


"So that's it. I deeply apologise for my behaviour and I have already deleted the picture you sent. You can have my phone to check if you want."

She finished her humiliating pitch with impressive well-rehearsed poise. Anyone watching might think she had dignity- she was pretty sure she vomited it down the drain earlier that morning.

The only thing that could make this worse was if the powerful Estheim family came down on her.

Finally, he spoke;

"I'm sorry for your family problems… I hope your sister will be okay."

Opposite him, Light's bloodshot blue eyes widened in astonishment.

"… Aren't you… angry?"

Hope blinked, like it was a weird question.


Light was yet again shocked as she saw no deception in Hope's smile- just honesty

"So that's it? You're not going to… lodge a complaint with my boss or anything?"

"I didn't have to… do that... bikini thing. I wanted to do it… it… makes you happy." He said the last bit turning red and looking away. Light sat frozen in her chair wondering how the hell a guy who consented weekly to being a bondage slave was now blushing like a schoolboy.

'It makes you happy…' She mused.

'…Fuck it, I'll do something to make you happy then...'

"Hope?" She said a little too forcefully, causing the male to sit at attention like one of their sessions.

"Would you…"

She shifted in her seat uncomfortably.

"I want you… would you like to have dinner with me? At my place?"

Hope's face showed such shock that for a second Light actually felt bad for the kid.

With an excited smile he said yes and just like that, Lightning Farron had the first willing date with a guy in years.

And it wasn't until Light paid for the bill and left that she wondered what the hell she had just done…



The Eorzea Cafe is an actual place- a Final Fantasy XIV-themed cafe located in Tokyo's Akihabara district. Modeled after the in-game location, the Carline Canopy, and named after the realm of Eorzea, where the game takes place, the cafe is the result of a collaboration effort between Square Enix and the entertainment company Pasela.

Both Chocobocino and 50 Shades of Crystal are fictional (luckily).