[ everything she does captivates for a moment longer than it reasonably should, moments slipping clumsily into one another. when she crawls over him he arches up again, eager to meet the sinuous curves of her body with his own, feel the brush of her tits over his skin; under her hands on his chest his heart is pounding. even the way her eyelashes flutter against her cheekbones as she smiles up at him feels worthy of overattention, makes him want to kiss her even more—makes the moment where she does kiss him all the more intoxicating and all the more torturous for its brevity.
when she pulls away stephen makes an outraged noise, and then another when the word finally sinks in, slow as a stone in marsh. ]
[Her face is gleeful, almost obscenely so, her eyes alight, only barely biting back a grin. She'd known this moment would feel good, but oh, god, it's better than any orgasm . . . look at him, look how furious he is, and she does laugh then, quiet and delighted, as pleased as a child on Christmas.]
No.
[She leans back, hands flat on his chest, perching above him. It's a nice pose for him, actually, her breasts pushed up and on display, her back arched, but she doubts he's looking. She doubts he's thinking of anything but how furious he is right now.]
Did you think it would be that easy? You put me through an hour of humiliation. You apologized, and I accept . . . but you're going to have to wait a little longer before you get to come.
[She climbs off him, settling down on the bed. She angles herself so she's in easy sight of him, where he can look and look and look without having to move an inch. Isn't that nice of her? Nicer still: the way she finally undresses. Her skirt is first, her bra (and she shivers when that comes off, can't resist running her fingers against herself, teasing over one peaked nipple, fuck), and then her panties-- and oh, of course she's wet. She's dripping, obscenely so, wet enough that she could slide right on him if she felt like it. Just spread her legs and sink down atop him, fuck herself on him, ride him til she was screaming again--
Not that she will.
But she could.
She reaches over the side of the bed, and of course there's a few toys there. A vibrator, small and discreet, and a dildo, decidedly neither of those things. It's big, almost obscenely so, thick and long, and she groans softly as she nudges the head against her entrance.
Let him watch. Let him see what he could have had, if only he'd been better behaved. Rosalind leans back, her eyes hooded, and moans softly as she pushes the toy forward, fucking herself with it slowly, letting it spread her open and leave her panting, throbbing around it, getting it slick with her own arousal. She pushes it in again and again, til at last it hits home, and fuck, but that feels good-- she moans, her head tipping back, as she draws it out and fucks herself properly with it, quick and hard, slick noises filling the air between them.]
[ just as torturous is the flare-up of wild hope when she says i accept, likes yes, finally, he'll get to fuck her, get this stupid ring off and lose himself in that body. but then she keeps talking, words which take their sweet time filtering into his addled brain as the threat they are; he can only stare, blown pupils and furious betrayed eyes, as rosalind settles across from him on the bed—a perfect view, every view of her is perfect, that's probably just the drugs talking— ]
Wh—
[ when she takes the dildo out of the drawer he actually snarls, bucking against the handcuffs, like he'd murder it if it were a person. it's possible by now he's forgotten that he can actually do magic to escape, he's so fogged up.
and then, oh god, it's sliding inside her, a too sweet and easy stretch. he's breathing hard as he watches, his cock aching, so hard it hurts. too vivid to just be fantasy, the thought of how hot and wet her pussy would be, doing all that pretty throbbing around his cock. when she starts to speed up he's pretty sure he's just going to die, actually. ]
Ros— [ it's not an affectation—stephen doesn't ever shorten her name—just his speech continuing to fail him for once, dry parched throat when the rest of him is damp with sweat. he swallows hard, for the hundredth time, and it only makes him think about how good it would be to shove his tongue where that plastic is, quench his thirst on all that sopping wet. ] Rosalind. [ like a plea, and then with frustrated resignation, another furious clatter of the handcuffs— ] Fuck.
[It won't take long, not when she's nearly as keyed up as he is. Each snarl, each desperate little gasp, each time he reacts and stares up at her in mingled desire and fury, leaves her trembling in the best possible way. Her wrist snaps faster, and she finally reaches for the vibrator, gasping as she turns it on (the lowest setting, of course, she's not nearly used to them) and sets it against her clit.]
Perhaps I'll just leave you here.
[She says it breathlessly, her voice trembling, and yet there's still steel in her gaze.]
All tied up for me, helpless to do anything but bow to my whims and hope that I'll be kind . . . just lying here, waiting for me to use you again in a few hours. All nice and hard for me, ready to be ridden, ready to be used by me, for me . . . you'd love that, wouldn't you, Stephen?
[She has more to say (she always has more to say), but that, it seems, is the last she can speak. Within a few seconds she's leaning back, falling against the bed as she arches herself up. Her hips snap up, and fuck, but it's a good orgasm: she tightens around the toy a fair few times, thrusting it up shamelessly in her, writhing a little as she rides it out.
He's still aching beside her. But for her, at least, it's quiet. Her heart thumps in her ears, and she pants up at the ceiling for a few moments. She tugs the dildo out with a wince, turning the vibrator off. She sits up, staring down at him with hazy eyes.]
Look at you.
[She says it smugly. It's not the gradiose things of before, but rather a spoiled child's triumph, utterly befitting this game of theirs. Shifting, she straddles him once more-- and then, kindly, reaches forward, tugging at his handcuffs. Why not? No matter what he does, she's won. And there's almost no chance he won't throw her down and fuck her til he comes in her, but that's not such a bad thing.]
[ it's difficult to overstate how much stephen would. even with his dick aching like it'll legitimately strain, with his heart ready to explode out of his chest, the images flood in as readily as her words do: him pinned to this damn bed for hours and hours, agonizingly hard the whole time, only to know relief now and then. not complete relief, either, not with the cockring on, but just her using him for her own pleasure—riding him until she's had her fill, just like she's fucking herself with that toy.
when she comes his dick jerks in the ring, aching and near-helpless. ]
Fuck.
[ wearied, his voice raw. through the red haze of the drugs there's a thread of something he knows he'll feel in force later, that rare prickle of what he knows to be humiliation. he's usually good at suppressing it, at not feeling it at all.
when she straddles him he's still not above leaning up, trying to get at her mouth, her collarbones, any skin he can touch with his mouth. the click of the handcuffs comes as that last and best surprise—
and then he's gripping her wrist, twisting to push her under him, reaching down to snap off the cockring with such a rush of relief it's almost unbearable. ]
I can't fucking believe you. [ but it's not real outrage, maybe incredulity, as he shoves her legs apart—
slides his cock in, where she's so yielding and wet from the dildo, fuck. ]
[She's laughing in giddy delight as he flips them over, leaning up to crashing their mouths together in a messy kiss. His cock slides home, fitting so nicely into her, far better than the dildo could ever be. One leg wraps around his hips, and she falls back, lying against the mattress, smirking up at him.]
It's no less-- nn-- no less than you deserve--
[She tips her head back, her hands coming up over her head, a mocking imitation of submission.]
S-someday-- someday I'll do that, all that, to you, I promise you--
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no subject
when she pulls away stephen makes an outraged noise, and then another when the word finally sinks in, slow as a stone in marsh. ]
No?
[ WHAT THE FUCK.COM ]
no subject
No.
[She leans back, hands flat on his chest, perching above him. It's a nice pose for him, actually, her breasts pushed up and on display, her back arched, but she doubts he's looking. She doubts he's thinking of anything but how furious he is right now.]
Did you think it would be that easy? You put me through an hour of humiliation. You apologized, and I accept . . . but you're going to have to wait a little longer before you get to come.
[She climbs off him, settling down on the bed. She angles herself so she's in easy sight of him, where he can look and look and look without having to move an inch. Isn't that nice of her? Nicer still: the way she finally undresses. Her skirt is first, her bra (and she shivers when that comes off, can't resist running her fingers against herself, teasing over one peaked nipple, fuck), and then her panties-- and oh, of course she's wet. She's dripping, obscenely so, wet enough that she could slide right on him if she felt like it. Just spread her legs and sink down atop him, fuck herself on him, ride him til she was screaming again--
Not that she will.
But she could.
She reaches over the side of the bed, and of course there's a few toys there. A vibrator, small and discreet, and a dildo, decidedly neither of those things. It's big, almost obscenely so, thick and long, and she groans softly as she nudges the head against her entrance.
Let him watch. Let him see what he could have had, if only he'd been better behaved. Rosalind leans back, her eyes hooded, and moans softly as she pushes the toy forward, fucking herself with it slowly, letting it spread her open and leave her panting, throbbing around it, getting it slick with her own arousal. She pushes it in again and again, til at last it hits home, and fuck, but that feels good-- she moans, her head tipping back, as she draws it out and fucks herself properly with it, quick and hard, slick noises filling the air between them.]
no subject
Wh—
[ when she takes the dildo out of the drawer he actually snarls, bucking against the handcuffs, like he'd murder it if it were a person. it's possible by now he's forgotten that he can actually do magic to escape, he's so fogged up.
and then, oh god, it's sliding inside her, a too sweet and easy stretch. he's breathing hard as he watches, his cock aching, so hard it hurts. too vivid to just be fantasy, the thought of how hot and wet her pussy would be, doing all that pretty throbbing around his cock. when she starts to speed up he's pretty sure he's just going to die, actually. ]
Ros— [ it's not an affectation—stephen doesn't ever shorten her name—just his speech continuing to fail him for once, dry parched throat when the rest of him is damp with sweat. he swallows hard, for the hundredth time, and it only makes him think about how good it would be to shove his tongue where that plastic is, quench his thirst on all that sopping wet. ] Rosalind. [ like a plea, and then with frustrated resignation, another furious clatter of the handcuffs— ] Fuck.
no subject
Perhaps I'll just leave you here.
[She says it breathlessly, her voice trembling, and yet there's still steel in her gaze.]
All tied up for me, helpless to do anything but bow to my whims and hope that I'll be kind . . . just lying here, waiting for me to use you again in a few hours. All nice and hard for me, ready to be ridden, ready to be used by me, for me . . . you'd love that, wouldn't you, Stephen?
[She has more to say (she always has more to say), but that, it seems, is the last she can speak. Within a few seconds she's leaning back, falling against the bed as she arches herself up. Her hips snap up, and fuck, but it's a good orgasm: she tightens around the toy a fair few times, thrusting it up shamelessly in her, writhing a little as she rides it out.
He's still aching beside her. But for her, at least, it's quiet. Her heart thumps in her ears, and she pants up at the ceiling for a few moments. She tugs the dildo out with a wince, turning the vibrator off. She sits up, staring down at him with hazy eyes.]
Look at you.
[She says it smugly. It's not the gradiose things of before, but rather a spoiled child's triumph, utterly befitting this game of theirs. Shifting, she straddles him once more-- and then, kindly, reaches forward, tugging at his handcuffs. Why not? No matter what he does, she's won. And there's almost no chance he won't throw her down and fuck her til he comes in her, but that's not such a bad thing.]
no subject
when she comes his dick jerks in the ring, aching and near-helpless. ]
Fuck.
[ wearied, his voice raw. through the red haze of the drugs there's a thread of something he knows he'll feel in force later, that rare prickle of what he knows to be humiliation. he's usually good at suppressing it, at not feeling it at all.
when she straddles him he's still not above leaning up, trying to get at her mouth, her collarbones, any skin he can touch with his mouth. the click of the handcuffs comes as that last and best surprise—
and then he's gripping her wrist, twisting to push her under him, reaching down to snap off the cockring with such a rush of relief it's almost unbearable. ]
I can't fucking believe you. [ but it's not real outrage, maybe incredulity, as he shoves her legs apart—
slides his cock in, where she's so yielding and wet from the dildo, fuck. ]
no subject
It's no less-- nn-- no less than you deserve--
[She tips her head back, her hands coming up over her head, a mocking imitation of submission.]
S-someday-- someday I'll do that, all that, to you, I promise you--