The Willing Chewtoy
Beads of sweat roll down the sinewy silver of Val-Yor's muscular torso as the alien girl, emerald eyes shimmering lividly, mercilessly delivers a consecutive lash to his back's indent with the black whip in her hand. The upper half of his bodysuit is in shreds on the floor beneath them, and his wrists bound and suspended from thick cuffs of heavy steel, the tips of his boots scraping the floor. Another ragged grunt escapes the hulking hero at another lash landing upon his horrendously-scarred back. Starfire feels not an atom of remorse for the searing pain she disperses upon Val-Yor's anatomy; she is a clean-spirited guardian of Jump City and its residents, but even she possesses a dark side. The stouthearted Val-Yor had always invoked an oppressed context of rage within Starfire―one that had become too unrelenting for her to suppress. He would arrive on Earth, wait until the other Titans were gone, and then antagonize the girl until she succumbed to the desired fury that would initiate his masochistic cravings.
Val-Yor's teeth clench in exhilaration from being flogged, and he inwardly hopes that she shows him no mercy. The closed magenta drapes provide a purplish tint to the inside of her bedroom, and the activities transpiring go unseen, though not quite unheard.
"Pigheaded―" CRACK! "―pompous―" CRACK! "―prejudiced―" CRACK! "―CLORBAG!"
His painful groans subside, giving way to arrogant chuckles. "Ah, ah…I love you, too, my beautiful, primitive troq."
Starfire's pupils dissolve into the jade, smoldering glow of her optics. She carelessly flings the whip away and storms around to Val-Yor's front. His grin is both agonized and, somehow, haughty. Through her rage, Starfire is perplexed at how Val-Yor cockily mocks her, despite the position he's in. She savagely backhands him several times.
"I'VE TOLD YOU TO NEVER CALL ME THAT!" she roars.
The sting of her violent smacks are still lingering on his face as he cheekily responds, "That all you got, Tamaranean? Come on, really let me have it. I know you can hurt me worse than that―I know you want to hurt me worse than that." He presses his lips against hers, and the taste of his blood enters her mouth.
Starfire has long been conscious of Val-Yor's game: incensing her with prejudiced comments to get her enthusiastic and more eager to deliver the beautiful rage he savors with sadistic delight. Bruises, gashes, and puddles of his silver blood on her floor are what his deriding incentive earns him. She willingly plays into his game, not being able to fight the scorn she represses in the public eye of the citizens and other Titans. Perhaps this sick session of submission purges her of foul intentions? Is Val-Yor her lightning rod? It's a likely scenario…
Starfire would then yank the male down from his restraints and force him to stay on his knees, and then roughly fasten a black collar around his neck, choking him slightly. The chained leash is gathered in her hand.
"Just like when I was nearly fried, right?" Val-Yor pants. "You want to be the only one to cause me that kind of pain now, don't you, Starfire?"
An irate wrinkle forms over her nose as she notices that some of his blood has dripped onto one of her purple boots. "You've dirtied my boot―you will clean it, at once."
She yanks the leash so that his forehead impacts into the floor. After a growl and a few seconds of recuperation, his lips part into a coughing simper as he submissively laps up his own essence from her boot. Starfire's behavior could only be sadistic if she were enjoying what she was doing; anger sears through her at every blow, this distinction keeps her clear of comparison to Blackfire.
Val-Yor licks the last drop of his blood from her boot before emanating a masculine moan. Starfire yanks the chain of his leash and flings him across the room into her circular bed. She climbs atop Val-Yor and straddles him. He is jerked up into a sitting position with another violent yanking of his leash. His silvery hair is now tousled, short bangs damp with sweat curling over his brow.
"I am most pleased that you enjoy this, cretin," Starfire snarls with sardonic resentment, the tips of their noses almost touching. She then barrages him with obscenities in her native language.
Val-Yor's eyes widen and he shakes his head. "Such a dirty mouth…I love it." He slams his mouth onto hers again, and this kiss is far more hungry and imploring. He now longs to remove her purple skirt and top and everything else, and then have her ride him, all the while glaring down at him with hatred and disgust.
She nicks his tongue with her teeth and seizes his neck in a throttling, single-handed grip, and shoves him back down. "You will lay there like the lowly creature you are."
"Yes, my queen," he condescendingly replies.
"I will have to burn my linens now that your foul blood is all over them," she says, revolted.
"Then let's make sure they're extra filthy, shall we?"
Starfire relinquishes the leash and then gently rakes the tips of her fingers down his chest. "Let's..."
The emasculated Val-Yor would subsequently be gone by the time the Titans arrived, Starfire would remain confined in her room, scorning herself for giving into Val-Yor's sleight again, and Val-Yor would eventually return, once again becoming her chewtoy.
End.
