Thor exhaled a soft laugh through his nose, lips pulling up into a far too devlish smirk. “You won’t be leaving,” he said matter-of-factly. With surprising agility for a man his size, Thor stepped forward and snapped a thick leather collar around Loki’s neck, threading it through itself and standing in front of the chair he was tied to. The collar was attached to another long piece of leather, and Thor pulled it, applying more pressure. Not quite enough to choke off an air pathway completely – not yet. “Your mouth is disappointing,” he said, blue eyes glinting in the dark light of the room. “But I’ll give you a chance to redeem yourself. Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t choke the life out of you,” he growled, tugging on the rope for good effect.
Loki blinked, mouth hanging slightly open, looking as shocked as if Thor had physically struck him. That was before he suddenly found himself collared like some kind of dog. While he’d certainly dabbled in some darker and less-socially acceptable forms of pleasure, this was something distinctly different and had the distinction of being REAL. His instinct was to pull back against the pressure, but it only tightened around his neck until he began to feel as though he might suffocate. “Because it’s fucking wrong, you asshole,” he gasped, fingers flying to his throat to claw at the sturdy leather. He knew it was the wrong thing to say, but he said it anyways because he battled fear with a sharp tongue.