Hannibal didn't move from his place between her legs. She was seated on the desk, so he pulled her gently so she would stand before it and turned her over. Her arse now in front of his face, he produced a small bottle of oil from his pocket. He applied some liberally on his fingers; she would already know his thoughts.

He didn't get off on her pain, but he did like that she liked having it like this.

He spread her cheeks gently. "Will you allow me this?" He asked. It was formality: she wouldn't say no to him.