"Its funny."
She says to me, silver eyes glancing down at my position on the floor.
"You really haven't changed much."
Her purple heeled boot nudges my head so that my face is forced to stare up at hers.
"I always thought that you would be much more of a challenge, but hey, oh well."
Her boot lifts my head further up. I swear my chin is going to be bruised from how much pressure she is forcing unto it. She continues to hold me up in this manner. Obviously unaware of the pain she is already inflecting on her near nude body. Then again for all I know, she may be aware of my own pain but just truly not give a damn. The latter makes more sense than my earlier thought. She smiles down at me with pearly whites fangs that make me shiver inwardly. Yep. I thought so. Her smiled proved my theory. She's well aware of what she is doing. Well aware of it. Damn her. And all I can do is just stare back at her. That's really about all I can do at the moment. Its just plain humiliating.
Eventually, She must get tired of seeing my icy, green glare because she quickly pulls her foot away, causing my chin to smack roughly on the concrete. Its not enough to make me whimper, but I know that when this is all over and done I'm definitely going to have a bruise now. Great, just great.
Then again, its not the only place that will be sore. I highly doubt that red haired vixen who currently has me helpless, will just leave my chin by itself bruised. No. I know her. She is everything but a merciful toturer. I can't convince my brain with any other silly illusion of my captor's already known behavior. She has me bound both physically and mentally now. I hate it. But not as much as I hate her.
She is beautiful. Deadly but beautiful. She could have maybe in a different life gone into acting or modeling. She's shorter than me. But she makes up for it tenfold. But not in the right ways. She's cruel and dark and cold. Just like my friend Talwyn Apogee warned me about a few months ago during Clank and I's hunt for the sibling criminals. She WAS too fucked up for me and my tastes. I mean, I've always gone for the good girls. You know, like Law Enforcement Officers or even the Damsel in Distress trait. Yet, it would be a lie to state that I didn't have a raging hard on after her moist lips whispered in my ears. It would definitely be a fib if I said that I didn't want to pounce on her delicious figure more than ever.
"You know, Kitten, there are so many things that I never got the chance to do to you, when I had you trapped that very first time."
She paces around my figure. Observing my boner as I struggle pathetically to try to hide my own inner truth from her pixie like face. Oh Zoni! I am fucked up! What is this crook doing to me?! Somehow, I am able to wriggle enough to flip over on my left side. Victory! Even though I have only moved about an inch in approximately 2 hours, it still feels amazing! My feelings of self pride soon vanish when I feel her finger nails scraping down my lower bare back. I flinch from the pain. I can feel coolness running down my back. Blood, it just has to be.
Her hands push me over on my back again. So much for my so called accomplishment. I can see my own red blood on her delicate fingers. Its odd not seeing her with her purple gloves. She has long elegant fingers that house sharp pointy nails. They are delicate just like the rest of her petite frame. I am not complaining other the rare sight of seeing her small hands. For one, I can't.
My mouth is covered with socks to quiet my frustrated cries. She managed to gag me hours ago which is probably the most demeaning part of being tied up on my bedroom floor. It only makes it worse when the escaped convict's hourglass figure begins straddling my waist. She doesn't take chances. My boner is trying to let me know that maybe I shouldn't either. Zoni….I want her….so bad.
She doesn't say anything, just watches me intently. My body twitches as I return her steady gaze. She says I haven't changed much, haha. That's rather funny. I use to be able to ignore her taunts and teases, but now, with one more quick glance downwards to my bound bodies' lower half, I know one thing that is 100% different. Her thick lips, a thick reddish hue, draw me more in. Her eyes, silver and appear like a cat's, beckon me to fight my bounds. They challenge me. I hate being challenged.
I try to push her off, much to her amusement. But it only tires me out in the long run. She never moves from her position on my chest and no matter how much I try, she is in complete control. I think that's what's got me so turned on. That has to be it.
"Ratchet, you don't know how much I want you and apparently its not a solo thought."
Her pale, teasing face is so close to mine, I can smell peppermint in her breath. I can't deny she tempts me. But then again all women have that effect on me. I should shake my head, force her off, do something that may be pointless, but could buy me some time. Instead, my breathing quickens, and if possible my erection grows.
Her lips touch my sock covered mouth. I can't kiss her back and I moan in anguish. She says I haven't changed, but in all reality neither has she. She is still the young, darkly seductive Nether that I met months ago. She still demands respect and wields immense dominant, manipulative power over all that she meets. No, she hasn't changed at all.
Her kisses deepen and our bodies move in rhythm. As much as my bound muscular figure can, I dance along with her. I can't fight her. I don't want to. Vendra Prog hasn't changed since I last saw her. But against my better judgment I feel though she may be wrong about me. I have changed. My new sexual tastes are certainly proof of it and I could honestly care less. All I know is that her touching me just feels right.