Wimseficlet: Dog collar
Jun. 7th, 2011 07:58 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
nineveh_uk‘I’ll do anything you like if you’ll take it off now.’
‘That’s a promise.’
Really, with that as canon (Gaudy Night, chp. 19), how can the universe continue on its course and yet contain no Peter/Harriet dog-collar fics?
Anyway, I see from![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
metafandom that it’s kink_bingo time, and so I went and looked at a card and was scarred for life one of the prompts was “collar”, and while I never, ever intend to do kink_bingo, I am afraid I did have a little idea... PG-ish.
The dark quiet of Lady Peter Wimsey’s bedroom in Audley Square was broken by the light of late night taxis and appreciative voices, occasionally in French. Her ladyship, whose education had been less cosmopolitan than that of her husband, encouraged the use of his native tongue, but lapses were understandable.
‘Peter,’ said Harriet, ‘do you still have that dog collar?’
‘Yes,’ said he, a little startled by this apparent non sequitur, but willing to listen courteously enough. ‘I owe your life to it, after all, though I never did have my name put on it.’
‘We can remedy that another time. Would you fetch it?’
‘Now?’
‘Hmm.’
‘As my lady commands,’ flinging back the bedclothes and shivering ostentatiously, and then suddenly serious, ‘but, look here Harriet. I never meant - God knows what it looks like, the sort of thing I would think of and not care what it – what I mean to say is, are you sure this is a good idea?’
‘I think so.’
Six centuries of possessiveness... Not to be nullified by a word of renunciation. Not in this house with the Wimsey mice running over the chairs in the hall. I meant it, he had once said, I have said it, and meaning did not bow to intent alone.
‘Your lady commands. Now go and put it on – I’ve had my hands around your neck often enough to know the size.’
ETA: And, inspired, if that's the right word,
A glint of shining brass in the dressing-table mirror: Peter, at her door with the dog collar dangling from his hand and a speculative look in his eyes.
I’ll do anything you like if you’ll only take it off now.
‘No, not that.’ Two presents: her life, and her self-respect.
*Is it really necessary to say that I don't give a damn what people do in real life, this is about the reactions of a fictional character?
‘That’s a promise.’
Really, with that as canon (Gaudy Night, chp. 19), how can the universe continue on its course and yet contain no Peter/Harriet dog-collar fics?
Anyway, I see from
metafandom that it’s kink_bingo time, and so I went and looked at a card and kink_bingo, I am afraid I did have a little idea... PG-ish.The dark quiet of Lady Peter Wimsey’s bedroom in Audley Square was broken by the light of late night taxis and appreciative voices, occasionally in French. Her ladyship, whose education had been less cosmopolitan than that of her husband, encouraged the use of his native tongue, but lapses were understandable.
‘Peter,’ said Harriet, ‘do you still have that dog collar?’
‘Yes,’ said he, a little startled by this apparent non sequitur, but willing to listen courteously enough. ‘I owe your life to it, after all, though I never did have my name put on it.’
‘We can remedy that another time. Would you fetch it?’
‘Now?’
‘Hmm.’
‘As my lady commands,’ flinging back the bedclothes and shivering ostentatiously, and then suddenly serious, ‘but, look here Harriet. I never meant - God knows what it looks like, the sort of thing I would think of and not care what it – what I mean to say is, are you sure this is a good idea?’
‘I think so.’
Six centuries of possessiveness... Not to be nullified by a word of renunciation. Not in this house with the Wimsey mice running over the chairs in the hall. I meant it, he had once said, I have said it, and meaning did not bow to intent alone.
‘Your lady commands. Now go and put it on – I’ve had my hands around your neck often enough to know the size.’
ETA: And, inspired, if that's the right word,
A glint of shining brass in the dressing-table mirror: Peter, at her door with the dog collar dangling from his hand and a speculative look in his eyes.
I’ll do anything you like if you’ll only take it off now.
‘No, not that.’ Two presents: her life, and her self-respect.
*Is it really necessary to say that I don't give a damn what people do in real life, this is about the reactions of a fictional character?
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(no subject)
Date: 2011-06-08 12:29 pm (UTC)I can't see literal-minded, deliberate and honest Harriet being very keen on, or any good at any kind of role play really.
(no subject)
Date: 2011-06-08 12:47 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2011-06-08 01:21 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2011-06-08 03:44 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2011-06-15 01:03 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2011-06-08 03:29 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2011-06-08 05:29 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2011-06-08 06:17 pm (UTC)