"Maybe I should make the grips sharp too."

Small wiggle. "Not too sharp. I need to hold them."

"Spiky, maybe."

"Hm... Works." Kiss.

Noisy kiss.

Soft sigh from Fay.

Ellie grins, and quietly casts the sensory enhancement charm on Fay so that it will slowly ramp up over time.

Anathema can provide a very distracting amount of verbal harassment color commentary on other experiments. Just to distract her.

(She quietly opens the windows and turns on the fan. The climate control means it won't get too chilly, but, well. Fay has her hair down right now, so why not add in a breeze... Cool air over a sweaty body, hair brushing over incredibly sensitive skin. And Anathema and her wife can keep themselves warmer than poor Fay...)

Fay's whining gradually ramps up, skin twitching, fingers digging into her thighs, building into gasps and nearly violent shivers. She's very clearly struggling to meditate through all this. 

One particularly strong gust sends her hair swaying along her back - after the sensory enhancement charm has already ramped up pretty far - and her hands briefly jerk off her thighs until she masters herself, forcing them back. Still, her muscles are quite tense. 

"That's one penalty, Fay," Ellie giggles.

Hnnnnnnnnnnn.

A few deep breaths as she struggles to still herself.

"She is doing pretty well, though," she says idly to Anathema.

"I know. Quite an excellent pet. She'll hardly need any training."

"Must be all that practice before she came to me. Convenient, really."

"Somebody else did all the hard work breaking her in."

(Soft whine.)

"An unexpected windfall, to be sure."

"Mm, but perhaps there's still some room for us to teach her new tricks..."

"Hopefully old cats are more flexible than old dogs."

"Well, we'll just have to test her flexibility, won't we?"

"Yes indeed."

Deep moan.

Anathema smirks.

They're almost out of experiments, sadly... But, well, nothing says they can't speculate more, and of course they need to organize these...

Of course, of course.

Certainly they can keep going until at least a reasonable time to eat.

They're able to get Fay to twitch or jerk or shift from the nearly unbearable pressure of the floor on her shins, her skin touching skin - or even lean forward, curling in on herself - a few more times before they'd be wanting to eat.

She's panting desperately by then, skin reddened and immensely sensitive. Every breath seems to bring another whine or moan. She's stayed remarkably still overall, but, well... There's likely been a few penalties earned.