[ don't call her a bitch, she might cream herself. maybe she could be forced into a sleek evening dress for a pervert party at a casino, maybe she could clean up relatively nice in finery for a masquerade but maybe at her blackened heart and core she could barely be much less than a rabid animal, a bitch to the bone and the hilarity in this is in the mask of trying to seem cordial to people anyway.
but how much more gorgeous mortal threats are, even the disappointment of the plastic weapon could melt at the promise of detonation. what a complete shame lappland herself rather needs a weapon to channel her own arts; the disparity and relative more powerlessness more potent a drug than any cocktail she'd had before. her high bark of a laugh turning into a gasp, an almost puppy-ish whimper as w pinches at her nipples--yes yes, it nearly makes her legs go weak, the flush to her face darkens fiercely. the look she'd leveled to w before only somewhat amused and anticipatory in play now devolved into something close to...
a beast meeting another savage creature's gaze, the recognition of kinship in violence and control. she'd so much less often been on this end of it. it's too intoxicating. ]
What... whatever you say, Signorina. I wonder if you'll understand if I say I hate feeling safe. [ a baring of teeth, the glow of her eyes. what she knows of w--terrorist, mercenary, trouble child to rhodes and yet even she vaguely knows she has a much deeper history with rhodes than lappland herself who wouldn't yet if ever consider it something close to a place to belong. a safehouse in so far as they embraced and treated the infected. safety probably has so little meaning to the both of them. she arches her back just a little more to push her breasts further to w's touch; the red blush creeps down the pale skin of her chest. ]
I'm so willingly giving you my pathetic last moments. [ ... she wouldn't really, but even now the fantasy and dream of it is too tempting not to indulge in. how lovely it would be to hand her life over to someone who could crush it as painfully as she might like. ] I don't even know if I want to beg for my life anymore, but I could beg for something else.
Could I beg to give you pleasure? [ through the strained hiss of her voice the tip of her tongue lolls out, just for a moment--however wet she is, she could scent w's as well and her mouth is watering at the idea of tasting it. yet for now she tips her head back to the wall to bare her throat further in entreating submission, ] Or could I even ask, even beg for you make it hurt more?
[ every pinch to her tits has her legs near shake; a shiver runs through her hard at any particularly hard one. maybe at this point fighting back barely occurs to her. it's so selfish of her if she wants to be pinned just this harshly or more. ]
no subject
but how much more gorgeous mortal threats are, even the disappointment of the plastic weapon could melt at the promise of detonation. what a complete shame lappland herself rather needs a weapon to channel her own arts; the disparity and relative more powerlessness more potent a drug than any cocktail she'd had before. her high bark of a laugh turning into a gasp, an almost puppy-ish whimper as w pinches at her nipples--yes yes, it nearly makes her legs go weak, the flush to her face darkens fiercely. the look she'd leveled to w before only somewhat amused and anticipatory in play now devolved into something close to...
a beast meeting another savage creature's gaze, the recognition of kinship in violence and control. she'd so much less often been on this end of it. it's too intoxicating. ]
What... whatever you say, Signorina. I wonder if you'll understand if I say I hate feeling safe. [ a baring of teeth, the glow of her eyes. what she knows of w--terrorist, mercenary, trouble child to rhodes and yet even she vaguely knows she has a much deeper history with rhodes than lappland herself who wouldn't yet if ever consider it something close to a place to belong. a safehouse in so far as they embraced and treated the infected. safety probably has so little meaning to the both of them. she arches her back just a little more to push her breasts further to w's touch; the red blush creeps down the pale skin of her chest. ]
I'm so willingly giving you my pathetic last moments. [ ... she wouldn't really, but even now the fantasy and dream of it is too tempting not to indulge in. how lovely it would be to hand her life over to someone who could crush it as painfully as she might like. ] I don't even know if I want to beg for my life anymore, but I could beg for something else.
Could I beg to give you pleasure? [ through the strained hiss of her voice the tip of her tongue lolls out, just for a moment--however wet she is, she could scent w's as well and her mouth is watering at the idea of tasting it. yet for now she tips her head back to the wall to bare her throat further in entreating submission, ] Or could I even ask, even beg for you make it hurt more?
[ every pinch to her tits has her legs near shake; a shiver runs through her hard at any particularly hard one. maybe at this point fighting back barely occurs to her. it's so selfish of her if she wants to be pinned just this harshly or more. ]