Breaking Gilda


                                            Originally published in August 2014


                                            > "Give me your lunch money, dweeb."

                                            > Ever since you'd met her two years ago, she'd made sure you were absolutely fucking miserable.

                                            > Today - an average Friday - was no different.

                                            > You hand over the tiny wad of bills and immediately cower for the inevitable blow.

                                            > She just punches you in the arm instead.

                                            > "Only ten dollars?! Fucking dweeb, I told you to start bringing me more!"

                                            > You slide back a bit, trying to make yourself as tiny and helpless as possible.

                                            "I'm sorry, Gilda! I can't get any more! Lunch only costs so much; where am I supposed to say the money is going?"

                                            > She grabs your shirt to haul you up, leaning down into your face and getting practically nose-to-nose with you. She smells of some kind of body spray.

                                            > "Make something up, dweeb. Use some of that egghead genius of yours to figure it out. Unless you want to lose something more permanent than your money."

                                            > You nod, tears springing from the corners of your eyes.

                                            > Gilda backs up again. "Cryin'. Fuckin' disgusting, dweeb."

                                            "I'll get it to you! I promise! Meet me in the park by your house this afternoon - uh, four thirty! I'll get you some more, I swear!"

                                            > Gilda gives you a solid kick to one leg, growling. "You'd better. And you're driving me home too, dweeb."

                                            > With that she shoves you away and turns off to stalk down the corridor.

                                            > You shakily stand up again and watch her go.

                                            > You watch her laugh with some of her jock friends, waving about the few dollars she had just taken from you.

                                            > All around you walk other students, utterly blind to what you just went through.

                                            > And that's okay. You really don't care.

                                            > In fact, the less they notice right now, the better.

                                            > As soon as Gilda is out of sight, you let a grin split your face as a small laugh bubbles up out of you.

                                            > A couple of the other students glance at you, but move on soon enough.

                                            > They don't matter.

                                            > Right now, the only thing that matters is that you know exactly where Gilda is going to be going four-thirty this afternoon.


                                            > Two years she's tormented you every day of the week.

                                            > Six months since you had come to the inescapable conclusion that you were going to have to do something about this.

                                            > Four weeks of furious research and preparation to make sure every single element of this would go down right.

                                            > Another week of training yourself to cry on command to appear extra pathetic for her.

                                            > Five days since you'd added the final supplies to your plan.

                                            > One weekend for you to break this bitch.


                                            > The remainder of the day goes no different than the average Friday.

                                            > The teachers drone, the girls giggle, the jocks flex, and the principle bores everyone out of their mind with her speeches on how we should all love and tolerate each other.

                                            > You ignore it all. Your mind is miles away, re-running the plans in your head for the billionth time, trying to spot any loophole or mistake.

                                            > Nothing.

                                            > Final bell rings. You grab your bag and split for home. Some idiots laugh and make comments about being eager to get home for the weekend.

                                            > They don't know the half of it.

                                            > Your bag needs to be emptied out, textbooks, notebooks and calculator all spilling out on your bedroom floor.

                                            > Whatever, you can clean it up later.

                                            > In their place goes the weapons of your victory, stuffed in until the bag is filled to nearly bursting.

                                            > Change your clothes, putting on a heavy pair of workboots over your pants.

                                            > Everything is in place.


                                            > Head for the door again.

                                            "Bye mom! My phone will be on if you need me!"

                                            > "Bye honey! Don't stay up to late with your friends just because it's the weekend!"

                                            > You'd told her you'd be hanging out with your bros overnight.

                                            > Thankfully your mom was cool like that. Long as there wasn't any booze, drugs, or girls involved there wasn't going to be any problems.

                                            > You'd sworn to her there wouldn't be, and she trusted you.

                                            > In fact, you could reliably say there would not be any booze or drugs where you were going.

                                            > Girls, there might be. Just one, though.


                                            > You get to Gilda's house early. Not even four o'clock yet.

                                            > Good. She definitely won't have left yet.

                                            > Hovering a good distance away in the light mid-October rain, you pull the hoodie up over your head and wait for the door to open.

                                            > Gilda emerges around four-twenty, giving the rainclouds above a vicious look before she starts toward the park.

                                            > Despite the weather, she's actually gone down to a tank-top and jeans. You wonder if she can even feel the temperature, or was going to sprint to the park to get her blood up before she beat the remainder of your cash out of you.

                                            > She's barely gotten to the front walk before she spots you walking up towards her house.

                                            > She smirks at you.

                                            > "What's this, dweeb? Home deliver? I'm honored. Maybe I'll give you a tip."

                                            "In the back, Gilda. I'm not getting fleeced by your right out front here where anyone can see."

                                            > "Like the hallway in school is any different."

                                            > She stalks up to you, grabbing one arm and pulling your hand out of your pocket. "Just give it here, dweeb, or I-"

                                            > Her grip wasn't all that tight to begin with; she didn't actually expect you to resist.

                                            > Surprise helps keep her stunned for a moment as you twist out of her grip and punch her in the shoulder, then take off sprinting back around her house.

                                            "Fuck you, Gilda. Back here or nothing."

                                            > Wasn't even a punch, really. She probably ran into people harder out playing soccer with the school team.

                                            > But you had just done two very particular things that your preparation had taught you she wouldn't be able to help responding to: You had fought back and you had ran.

                                            > You ran back around behind her house, where a scouting trip three weeks ago had revealed that a neck-height wooden fence surrounded everything.


                                            > Sure enough, there's the pounding of feet behind you accompanied by angry yells. "Oh you are so dead, dweeb! So fucking dead!"

                                            > You sprint around the corner to behind her house, noting the rear door.

                                            > Lifting your hoodie's bottom a bit, you let the copper pipe you'd carefully along your right side fall into your hand.

                                            > Only two feet or so, but enough.

                                            > You spin just in time to catch Gilda in the stomach with the pipe as she rounds the corner. Her breath wooshes out, eyes widening in shock. It's not so much the blow - though she had to have felt that, even muscled as she was - but the shock.

                                            > Another blow to her stomach, and she's stumbling now.

                                            > One more to her back and the falls full-forward, catching herself on her hands and sputtering. "W-what the f-fuck, dweeb? You i-"

                                            > You hit her again, this time on the leg as she tries to rise. She falls the rest of the way now, especially when you knock out her elbow with a booted kick.

                                            > Amazingly she's still trying to rise, her eyes lifting to meet yours.

                                            > Oh, you've done it now. The look in those eyes has gone beyond anger into full-on rage.

                                            > "F-fu-uuck-"

                                            "You don't know when you're beaten, huh?"

                                            > "Gonna b-break every bone in y-your body, you l-little.."

                                            > You'd kind of expected this. A jock a good as her couldn't give up after a little spill on the field, after all.

                                            > But you didn't really like the only solution your research come up with.

                                            > "To bad, Gilda. You're just hurting yourself now."

                                            > She lunges for you and the pipe collides with the side of her head. Gilda again collapses into the mud, eyes rolling up.

                                            > You hope you didn't hit her to hard. That's probably a concussion, but you didn't hear anything break.

                                            > A quick check proves he's still breathing and heart pumping.

                                            > She's also rather warm.

                                            > Quickly checking her pockets, housekeys are quickly located. Only the third try you get the right one for the rear door.

                                            > It opens cleanly, and you drag Gilda inside.

                                            > Unsurprisingly she weighs a ton, but then she's five-foot-ten of well-toned muscle.

                                            > A quick glance-around reveals a the bedroom on the ground floor is obviously not hers.

                                            > Up the stairs it is, then.

                                            > By the time you reach the top, you're panting and sweaty - but are rewarded by the sight of what could only be Gilda's room.

                                            > Posters for bands you could care less about, soccer players you don't know, clothes all over the floor.

                                            > And, of course, a completely messy bed covered in tangled sheets.

                                            > Definitely hers.

                                            > You check the bed's underside. Metal frame, good. Makes your job easier.

                                            > One last lift gets Gilda up onto the bed, still only semi-conscious.

                                            > You set your backpack down, retrieving the tent rope ball you'd packed away.

                                            > Time to get to work.


                                            > Gilda is still only semi-conscious when you finish tying her down, muttering softly to herself.

                                            > Going to have to wait for her to get a bit better before she'll be focused enough

                                            > Oh well. It gives you time to explore the house.

                                            > Not a bad place overall - decent home, kind of messy, not very much of interest to you.

                                            > You lock up the back door again and draw the curtains, then go help yourself to a soda and some chips from her kitchen before heading back upstairs to check on Gilda again.

                                            > She's actually fallen asleep in her bed. You opt to let her rest a bit. No sense in rushing her after that blow to the head.

                                            > Time to explore her room in the meantime.

                                            > She doesn't seem like the type to bother with a journal, so you'll have to look for something else.

                                            > Maybe she has a stash of frilly lingerie she's keeping secret or something.

                                            > Or a box of toys.

                                            > Looking through all her drawers produces nothing but sportswear.

                                            > Does she breath and eat sports too?

                                            > Not even a- wait, what's this?

                                            > You dig through a drawer of sweat shorts to produce a small locked box buried beneath them.

                                            > Bingo!

                                            > Check the keyring you took from her earlier.

                                            > Sure enough, tiny little key to fit the lock.

                                            > It opens.

                                            > ...

                                            > Holy shit.

                                            > You were expecting maybe some fancy underwear, maybe a vibrator or two.

                                            > Not a box full of pills.

                                            > Looks like... stimulants?

                                            > Yep, performance enhancers. Little note at the bottom indicating how long to take before a match.

                                            > Well, that explains where your money is going, and why she needs more.

                                            > You look back towards Gilda, sleeping away on the bed.

                                            > For a fraction you wish you could feel sorry for her getting stuck on pills.

                                            > It remains just a wish, though.

                                            > Just because she wanted to play better isn't an excuse to make your life an incessant hell for two years going.

                                            > She still deserves this.

                                            > Ultimately wait about two hours further, passing the time surfing the web and playing games on your phone.

                                            > She starts to stir somewhere around seven.

                                            > "Uuungh, my head, what'd I d-"

                                            > She'd tried to reach up to put a hand to her head, but the rope you'd tied about her wrist and the bedframe stopped it before she could get more than a couple inches.

                                            > It takes her a moment, but she finally notices the loops of rope around her other wrist and ankle as well.

                                            > Then she sees you.

                                            > "W-what the... hey! Dweeb! Asshole! Get over here and get this off me!"

                                            "No can do, Gilda."

                                            > You approach, folding your arms and smirking.

                                            > She is staring at you, her face contorting into an increasingly twisted visage of pure rage.

                                            > "You think you're funny, asswipe? You can't keep me here forever. I'm gonna get out, and I'm gonna wipe your face across the asphalt until you-"

                                            > You casually slap her across the face.

                                            "What I think I am, Gilda, is considerably smarter than you. I know exactly how much time I have - until around midnight Sunday night, when your parents always get back from their weekend getaways; that's, oh, about 53 hours from now?"

                                            > She stares at you still, but her face is one of slowy dawning confusing. "How do you know that, dweeb?"

                                            > You lean in nice and close, just like she always did to you in school.

                                            "I listened."

                                            "When you were kicking me until I gave up whatever change I had, you never really listened to anything I said, did you? But I listened to you."

                                            > You sit back in the chair, smirking as she tests the ropes to see if she can slip them. She can't; you memorized knots specifically meant to be unslippable. Wouldn't want her to accidentally cut off the blood to her wrist, after all.

                                            "I listened to you, Gilda. I learned your habits, I learned your schedules, I learned your weaknesses. And then, this little egghead went and figured out how to exploit them, how to turn your own habits against you."

                                            "I figured out the password to your phone, so I could send a nice little message telling your friends you're feeling sick and not to come over all weekend. I figured out just how to act so that you couldn't resist coming out and then chasing me.

                                            > You stand up, snapping out the pocketknife you'd taken with you.

                                            "Just for you, Gilda. Just for you."

                                            > Her eyes are on the knife now, the first flickers of fear appearing.

                                            > As you approach, she tries to scoot backwards on the bed. Doesn't get far, of course. "Hey listen, dweeb, I might've been a little hard on y-"

                                            > She freezes as you slip the knife beneath her shirt. Rather than sinking the blade into flesh, though, you drag it up to cut through the strap of her tank top.

                                            > It's only when you're cutting through the second strap that she realizes what's happening. Instantly she's back to ragemode again.

                                            > "Oh, FUCK YOU, Dweeb! You are going to so fucking regret this. You hear me? So. Fucking Regret. This. I will make sure you never walk straight again, you h-"

                                            > You cut her off with a backhanded slap to the cheek. She stares at you in shock; it's probably one of the first times that a 'victim' has so casually cut her off.

                                            "You don't get it, do you? For the rest of tonight, you belong to me."

                                            You finish cutting away her shirt. She's wearing a sports bra, of course, but it's still more than you've ever seen of her - and it's a beautiful sight. Her stomach is firm and muscled without being into creepy bodybuilder territory; as you start cutting off her pants, you wonder if her hair is naturally that bleached-white color - and if so, if she matched down below.

                                            "You've given me a lot of misery, Gilda. I just figured it was time I paid some of it back."

                                            > She doesn't dare struggle with the knife working so close to her body, but it doesn't stop her mouth. "You just keep thinking that, dweeb. When the cops come and toss you in the slammer I'm gonna stand there and laugh!"

                                            "No you aren't."


                                            "See, I figured you out as well. Watched how you act. You just love being the one in command, and hate it when things get taken out of your control. Surprises? Your friends don't dare; even a good surprise might still get them flipped out at for not letting you run the show."

                                            > You pull her pants away - you'd taken the liberty of removing her boots while she slept - and slip the blade beneath one strap of her underwear. Looking up at her, you let her see how calm you are.

                                            "So that's what I'm going to take: Control. I'm going to take every option, every choice away from you so you can see how that feels. And after tonight, you're never going to want to come up against me again."

                                            > The knife slides through the fabric, then repeats the process on the opposite side.

                                            "You're going to think, if he did all this just to get revenge for me beating him up every day, what is he going to do if I really hurt him?"

                                            > With a smirk, you tug away the panties - and sure enough, she definitely does match. Keeps herself nicely trimmed as well. You chuckle and waste no time starting to cut away the bra as well.

                                            "Very nicely kept there, Gilda. You expecting someone?"

                                            > The bra comes away, leaving her completely revealed.

                                            > She's not quite model stuff, but this girl could be on the cover of a sports mag any day. Despite her slim, compact form she's been gifted with a delightfully firm chest. Her legs of course, are the stuff of some guys' dreams - perfectly toned and shaved. Considering she was still wearing her makeup from the schoolday, it's more than enough to set something stirring in your pants.

                                            > Gilda, on the other hand, is not taking this very well at all. She's alternating between staring at you and at her restrained, nude self - her breathing getting shallow and rapid.

                                            > You run a hand up her side, feeling the taught muscles beneath her skin until your palm curves around the swell of one breast, cupping it gently.

                                            > An unusually high whine issues from Gilda, her eyes having gone wide and pupils shrunk down to pinpoints. She's muttering to herself again, though this time the words are clearly audible. "Oh my god, this is happening... oh god, oh god!"

                                            > Damn right it is. You crouch over her, your hands pressing her shoulders back as you lean down to take one nipple into your mouth - rolling and teasing it until it becomes erect and flushed despite her obvious distress.

                                            "You've made me your plaything for a long time, Gilda. It didn't matter what you took from me, as long as you were happy. So guess what? Tonight, you get to be my plaything, and you're going to give me whatever I want. Got it?"

                                            > She whines again and throws her head back, digging her hair into the bed in a furious attempt to not have to to look at you. It doesn't prevent you from seeing the furious flush on her face, though.

                                            > Nor does it keep you from reaching down between her legs to grab her attention back again- wait, what?

                                            > She's wet. Not just damp, not just a little aroused, she's sopping. What the fuck?

                                            "Jesus, Gilda, you actually getting off on this?"

                                            > "SHUT UP!" She snaps, trying to twist away beneath you.

                                            > "Shut up, shut up, shut up, shut up! I am not, you goddamn asshole!"

                                            > You let a finger run along her nethers, and she twists beneath you once more - but this time, you realize, it's not just a futile attempt at escape.

                                            > There's a certain involuntariness to it, a certain shuddering to it that shows this isn't something she is choosing.

                                            "Holy shit. Gilda, you could have just said you were this perverted."

                                            > "SHUT UP!" She howls.

                                            > Real inventive there, girl.

                                            > "I hate this! I always hated it! You don't even fucking get it, dweeb! You can't imagine how bad it is when your life is being on top of the pile, but you can't help getting wet when you think of someone taking you down!"

                                            > Wow, is she... yeah, she's actually crying. You don't think Gilda could fake it.


                                            > Nevermind that you have an armor-piercing shell lodged in your pants right now.

                                            > Still she goes on. "You don't get how sick it makes you feel when you want to be the strongest person you can possibly be, but when you go to get yourself off you always think of someone r-raping you! And you want it and hate it all at once, but it won't go away!"

                                            > Wow. Just, wow.

                                            > And the strangest thing is, despite how upset she is getting she isn't drying up at all.

                                            > You know what? There's only one way to answer this.

                                            > You need carry through with what you came to do.

                                            > It doesn't take long for you to strip out of your clothes.

                                            > Gilda takes a couple moments to notice you're not on the bed anymore, but she looks over just in time to see you slip your underwear off and let your erection spring free.

                                            > Her eyes go wide and she starts to whisper again. "No, no, no, nononononono!"

                                            > She is panting slightly, a sheen of sweat appearing across her body as her chest bobs up and down in rhythm to shallow breaths.

                                            > Her terror only makes her more delectable to you.

                                            > You crawl back on to the bed, hovering over her with your shaft positioned directly in front of her hips.

                                            "Time to lose control, Gilda..."

                                            > You slide yourself in, and damn, she's tight. Almost like she's trying to squeeze you out - which, considering the way she's gritting her teeth and scrunching her eyes shut, she may very well be doing.

                                            > Putting a hand on either side of her chest, you start to thrust. It's not your first time and almost certainly not Gilda's, but from the way she squirms you might think she was going through this for the very first time.

                                            > ...which in a way, she is.

                                            > She's not even muttering anymore, just entirely focused on you inside of her - and avoiding the unwanted pleasure she is undoubtedly still tapping in to.

                                            > Considering her nipples have become two little pebbles on her chest, she's not entirely successful.


                                            > You speed yourself up, pounding into her even more furiously. She's making little whines with each thrust now, tears again flowing from her eyes. Her signature purple eyeshadow is spread all over her cheeks, and her hair is rapidly becoming disheveled from sliding against the bed.

                                            > Slowing yourself, leaning in to run your tongue up her chest, tasting the lightly salty sweat that has built up on her skin.

                                            > She shudders at your touch, but you can't tell whether it's a good shudder or a bad one.

                                            > Of course, being the sports fanatic she was, she's also barely winded compared to you - and you rather suspected you were closer to climax than she was, considering how conflicted she was while you were thoroughly enjoying the entire thing.

                                            > You decide that there's no way you're going to let her get away without finishing. That'd be giving her control, after all.

                                            > You slow yourself a bit further and reach down to where the two of your are joined.

                                            > Find her clit. It's not hard, considering how flushed and erect it is. At least some part of her is enjoying this.

                                            > She stiffens, then breaks into a new round of sobbing when the sensations flood through her. It doesn't take long for you to see that she is coming quite close.

                                            > You push yourself harder again, each thrust driving you deep into her.

                                            > Abruptly she cracks, stiffening with a shrill keening sound that somehow reminds you of an eagle's cry.

                                            > Her entire body tenses up, her walls squeezing down onto your shaft.

                                            > This is what heaven feels like.

                                            > You keep riding her through the climax, until you register the pressure building in your shaft.

                                            > Hrm, best not to fill her up just yet.

                                            > You slide out of her. It doesn't take more than a few strokes of your hand to unleash your own climax, thick streams of your seed spraying out across her chest.

                                            > You milk it for every drop you're worth, until both of you are breathing heavily as the wave of pleasure recedes.

                                            > Well, pleasure for one of you, anyhow.

                                            > Gilda is outright sobbing now, as your seed dries on her chest.

                                            > You look down and find she's absolutely drenched her sheets.

                                            > Yeah, no way she didn't enjoy this on some level.

                                            > That's gotta be tearing her up inside.

                                            > Just according to plan.

                                            > Eventually she quiets down and you both catch your breath.

                                            > You go find some towels. While it would be intensely amusing to just leave your seed all over her all night, it doesn't work with your next plans.

                                            > You return with dampened towels and start to carefully wipe her down.

                                            > The paradoxical care after what you just put her through sends her into a new round of tears.

                                            > When she finally speaks again, her voice is raw and scratchy from crying. "So... w-what now, dweeb... you gonna make me hate myself even more? Because you've done a fucking grand job of that."

                                            "Well..."

                                            > You put the last of the towels aside.and lay down next to her.

                                            "I was thinking I could spend the night here, next to my plaything."

                                            > She lays her head back, eyes still glittering with tears in the darkened room.

                                            > "Fuck you. I'm so going to break you in half..."

                                            > You snicker at that.

                                            "For what? Proving that you like getting railed without a choice? I'm not the one you should be blaming for what that does to you."

                                            > She heaves another choking sob, then sputters out another "Fuck you."

                                            > You prop yourself up on one elbow.

                                            "Really, Gilda? That's the most you can say? You lost control of yourself a long time ago. I'm just showing you."

                                            > She remains silent. You drop your ace in the hole.

                                            "I mean, those pills? That's not a sign of self-control, you know."

                                            > Immediately Gilda goes stiff again. "Oh god, you found the pills...?"

                                            > At least she doesn't bother denying it or some stupid shit.

                                            "Yes, I did. Performance enhancers, Gilda? Really?"

                                            > "You just don't get it, do you? Sicko dweeb like you be whatever you want, it doesn't make you any less of a dweeb. Me? I gotta be awesome. I gotta be the best there is, all the time. If I don't..."

                                            > Her voice goes soft for a moment.

                                            > "...then my pals all run off to be dweeb friends with a bunch more dweeb nobodies."

                                            > You feel there's a story there, but you'll figure it out later.

                                            > For now, time to use the massive opening she's just given you.

                                            "You, awesome, all the time? You just said it, your 'pals' are running away from you. You only keep yourself on top by making everyone else scared of being labeled 'dweebs' and being beat up by you and whatever flunkies stick with you."

                                            "And, of course, by apparently drugging yourself silly to win."

                                            > You climb on top of her again. You can barely see her eyes in the darkness, but it' enough to know they're still wide and staring at you.

                                            "You're a miserable, pathetic, insecure looser, Gilda. And right now, you're -my- miserable, pathetic, insecure looser of a plaything."

                                            > To illustrate your point, you slip a hand down between her legs. Her juices still coat everything, and you feel a shiver run through her body as your fingers run over her sex.

                                            "Doesn't matter how many times you deny it, Gilda. You liked that, things being completely out of your control. And you'll like it again when I fuck you the next time, too.

                                            > Gilda slams her head back and squeezes her eyes shut. "Just... go away, dweeb. Made your point, I won't beat you up, whatever... just leave me alone."

                                            "Oh no. That'd be to easy. I've got the whole night before I have to go, and I'm willing to bet I can make some more time tomorrow as well."

                                            > She moans softly and shakes her head. "J-just piss off..." Silence, then more softly: "...please."

                                            > Begging already? You'd have figured she'd have lasted longer than that.

                                            > No matter. You've already got something planned.

                                            "No, Gilda. I'm not leaving. I'm going to stay right here, picking away at that pitiful little ego of yours until you admit how pathetic you really are."

                                            > You reach down again, starting to stroke a few fingers along her sex, feeling the edges of her nether lips and the delicate folds within.

                                            > She shivers lightly again. Another moan, barely audible, is trapped in her throat.

                                            "And as long as I'm here, I'm going to keep having fun with my plaything. No point in not enjoying you as long as I'm here, right.

                                            > Two fingers slip into her, tracing along those silken folds before slipping up to tease out her clit from beneath is hood. You can feel her becoming hot and wet beneath your touch, her feet twitching as she desperately tries to ward off the oncoming pleasure.

                                            > She isn't even bothering to respond now, just focusing on rejecting the desire her body - and at least part of her mind is so obviously delighting in.

                                            > Deciding to go full-in, you drive two fingers deep into her; Gilda responds with a choked gasp and arching herself up slightly against you in response - a reaction she visibly forces down moments later.

                                            "Oh dear, Gilda... you're still resisting it, aren't you...? Well, I know just how to fix that..."

                                            > You bring your thumb up to slide over her clit as your fingers dive in and out of her. Soon you've got her bucking and grinding herself against you, even as the tears once again flow from her eyes.

                                            > Time to play your final card.

                                            > You withdraw your hand entirely.

                                            > After a few instinctive bucks, Gilda's eyes shoot open. "What the hell, dweeb? What're you just leaving me hanging for?"

                                            "Oh, now you want it all of a sudden?"

                                            > She snarls, trying to get around your logic. "But - that's not - you can't - I don't - aaaaugh!"

                                            > Her head falls back down on the pillow. "That's not fucking fair! You can't just leave me like that; it -aches- when you don't finish it!"

                                            "To bad..."

                                            > You smirk and watch her frustration... and surprise when you slip your fingers in again and resume your work.

                                            > If only it were to give her the release she's now so confused about desiring.

                                            > Instead, you play her up to the edge of relief three more times, but refuse to let her go.

                                            > By the end she's shamelessly bucking the bed, angrily crying out. "God dammit, dweeb, just let me finish!"

                                            "No."

                                            > You withdraw your hand for the last time, wiping your fingers off beneath her nose so she can smell her own arousal.

                                            "No... I think I'm going to leave you like that. Overnight, I mean."

                                            > Her eyes narrow. "Don't you dare."

                                            > You climb off the bed just long enough to pull the blankets up off the floor and back up onto the bed.

                                            > Getting them over the ropes tieing her ankles to the bedframe was tricky, but you pulled it off.

                                            > Slipping beneath the blankets, you lay your head down on her chest. You can hear her heart beating furiously at the denial she's been left hanging with.

                                            > She's not exactly soft with all that muscle, but not bad either. Besides, you are sure that she is even more outraged by your decision to use her as an involuntary pillow/cuddle-buddy.

                                            > Gilda tries everything to finish the job - further pleading, threats, even rubbing her thighs together as best she could at one point.

                                            > It doesn't work. In the end, she gives up.

                                            > You hear her sniffling softly in the darkness.

                                            > You smile.

                                            "Goodnight, plaything."


                                            -----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------


                                            > You awaken the following morning to find yourself still curled close to Gilda.

                                            > She's still sleeping away, almost kind of cute when she isn't sneering at you or shoving herself in your face.

                                            > A quick check of the ropes still around her wrists and ankles shows that they've remained in place and not accidentally cut off blood flow during the night.

                                            > You push yourself upright, stretching.

                                            > 7:15. You're not usually an early bird, but you did go to sleep rather early last night...

                                            > Slipping out into of Gilda's room into the darkened house, the early morning sun just barely starting to peek in through the windows.

                                            > After relieving yourself, you slip down to the kitchen and initiate another pilfering of their kitchen.

                                            > Frozen waffles, mmm. Not the most delicious thing you've ever had, but easy to prepare.

                                            > And more importantly, easy to bring back upstairs for Gilda to enjoy.

                                            > The irony of bringing breakfast in bed to a girl you've just raped and broken isn't lost on you.

                                            > Still, you don't entirely trust her to walk around, not until you've had a bit of a talk with her.

                                            > After you eat you bring a tray up and set it beside her bed.

                                            > Gilda's woken up at some point, and opts to stare daggers at you as you step in.

                                            > You just smile back.

                                            "Good morning, toy."

                                            > "Kiss my ass, fuckwad."

                                            > She must be a morning person.

                                            "Now, now; be nice. I'm going to let you out some so you can eat."

                                            > Her mouth twists into an expectant grin. "Eat? I'm going to feed you my fist, sicko."

                                            > You offer her a polite, almost saccharine smile.

                                            "No you aren't. Do you know why, Gilda?"

                                            > You start to advance across the room towards her; as you climb up on the bed the fierce, aggressive mask shatters and she cowers back into the bed again.

                                            "You aren't going to hurt me, because you know that for whatever you might do to me? I will turn around and pay you back ten times worse."

                                            > She's narrowing her eyes, desperately trying to put down the fear. The fact that both of you are still naked and you haven't untied any of her limbs yet makes that a little hard.

                                            > It makes you a little hard too.

                                            "Just think about those pills to start. I took plenty of photos with my phone while you were asleep. You certainly could beat me senseless, report what I did to the police, get me hauled into court..."

                                            "But if you do that, those pictures are going to get out on the internet. Then it's going to come out that you demanded I come over to give you more money, and then intimidated me into taking some other drugs with you, which caused my irrational and terrible actions. Drug tests will confirm I did this because I will voluntarily consume them in small amounts, and of course your reputation as a rulebreaker and bully is well-known."

                                            > Gilda is staring at you in horrified fascination as you lay out your logic.

                                            "Let's see - drug possession, that's probably a few years right there for each type. Forcing someone else to take drugs - that's even more on top of that. Assault and battery is just the finishing touches. You're looking at ten years in prison at least, Gilda. And I know you're eighteen; you'd be tried as an adult."

                                            > By the end of the explanation you're grinning ear to ear. It wouldn't actually work, of course - the second anyone looked at the contents of your backpack you'd be sunk. But, she doesn't need to know that.

                                            "So I'm going to untie you now, and you're going to sit there and eat your breakfast like a good little girl, got it?"

                                            > She struggles a bit further to keep some shred of dignity, before finally giving up and nodding a silent acceptance.

                                            "Good..."

                                            > You reach up and undo the ropes tying Gilda's arms back. She sits up and rubs both wrists, then looks to the tray you bring over.

                                            > Waffles, an apple, and a big glass of water. Beside it, a pill.

                                            > You set it down beside her and climb into bed on her opposite side as well; she simultaneously glares daggers and flinches away from you.

                                            > She points to the pill. "What's that?"

                                            "Just something to make sure last night doesn't stay with you longer than this weekend."

                                            > She catches your meaning and goes bright red. "At least you bothered to think of that...

                                            > Yeah, you may be totally breaking her, but you're not that much of a sick fuck.

                                            > The moment she starts to eat, you reach over and drag her into your lap. Or more accurately, you slide yourself up behind her and fold your legs beneath her thighs.

                                            > Regardless, she's now sitting between your legs, your semi-erect shaft

                                            > Gilda stiffens again and leans forward away from you.

                                            "Nope. You're staying write back here."

                                            > You wrap your arms around her chest and pull her back against you, getting a good feel at the same time. Her back is well-muscled, and you fan feel the ridges of muscle moving beneath you.

                                            > Gilda takes a deep breath, as if trying to prepare herself for saying something. "Would it... be at all possible... for you to fuck off an just leave me be for a bit?"

                                            > You laugh softly and lean in over her shoulder, pressing your back against her. She undoubtedly feels a different part of you pressing up from below as well.

                                            "No. Have you forgotten, Gilda? You're nothing to me now. Just a plaything to have some fun with. You don't get that consideration."

                                            > For a moment she seems prepared to retort, but then just screws her eyes shut and starts to silently eat.

                                            "Don't forget to drink up, Gilda. You lost a lot of liquid last night..."

                                            > You lean in and whisper in her ear. "And you're going to lose a lot more today."

                                            > She takes a deep breath to steady herself, but does not grace you with a retort. She might actually be learning.

                                            > You pass the time while she finishes by just enjoying making her as uncomfortable as possible, sometimes casually fondling her when she i least expecting it. At least once she had actually dropped a bit of waffle when you tweaked one nipple when she least expected it.

                                            > Finally she's done. You give her a condescending pat on the head.

                                            "Now come on. We both need to wash up; just because I cleaned myself off you last night doesn't mean you weren't kind of sweaty. Just one thing before you do."

                                            > You climb off the bed, going to your backpack. Gilda gets a good view of your still-erect shaft as you walk around the bed.

                                            > Digging in, you find the thing you'd been looking for shortly and toss it to Gilda on the bed.

                                            > She catches it (of course) and stares at it a moment before giving you a dead stare. "You've gotta be kidding me, dweeb."

                                            > A dog collar, adjustable, with a lead of rope already attached to the front ring.

                                            > You give her a knowing smirk.

                                            "Did you forget, Gilda? This isn't about anything but showing you just what you really are. You're going to put that on if you want to leave this room in the next twelve hours."

                                            > Considering you just gave her a huge drink, that's kind of a serious threat.

                                            > She stares at the collar in her hands, then up at you again.

                                            "Fucksake, dweeb. You just don't know where to qu-"

                                            > You grab your copper pipe and take a few slow steps towards Gilda.

                                            > Her eyes instantly go wide and she raises her hands placatingly.

                                            > "Okay, okay! God damn, you don't have to..."

                                            > She quickly closes the collar about her throat, buckling it on the second try. "There, you happy now? Made me feel like shit enough yet?"

                                            > You also notice that she's trying to pull her legs shut, fruitlessly since the bindings are still in place around her ankles.

                                            > You lean over to take a closer look and break into a grin. She's puckered up and glistening down there.

                                            "Wow, Gilda. Not even been up for thirty minutes and I've gotten you wet already?"

                                            > Her face flushes hard at the obvious and deeply unwanted reaction she is having to the situation. "Yeah, well I can't exactly help it since you just left me hanging last night!"

                                            > You undo the ropes around her ankles and grab the lead attached to her collar. "We'll have plenty of time to deal with that soon enough. Come on."> Gilda climbs from the bed on shaking legs, both from being immobilized so long and from what you did to her.

                                            > You casually lead her down the hall to the bathroom you found earlier.

                                            > It's not bad, though not exactly luxurious.

                                            > More importantly, there's a generous shower/bath easily big enough for two.

                                            > You head straight for it, only to look back when Gilda doesn't follow.

                                            > She looks away and flushes again. "Need to piss, dweeb."

                                            > You shrug.

                                            "Toilet's right there."

                                            > She goggles at you. "I don't... what... no... no!"

                                            "Then you can hold it in."

                                            > Gilda lets out an enraged scream and stomps over to the toilet, sitting down on it with a heavy thud.

                                            > You don't actually bother watching - that's not your thing anyway. Instead you look over the assortment of shampoos and washes she had.

                                            > Nothing fancy, as to be expected.

                                            > Gilda finishes and stomps her way over to you, her face flushed bright red and her teeth gritted. "Happy now, dweeb?"

                                            "Plenty. Get in."

                                            > As she climbs in and closes the glass door shut, you turn the water on and set it to a moderately high heat.

                                            > Turning you, Gilda folds her arms and gives you a look of barely-constrained rage.

                                            "Wash me."

                                            > "What."

                                            "You heard me. Wash me, nice and slowly."

                                            > Her hand goes to open the door, but you speak first.

                                            "Either you can wash me, or I will fill the tub and hold you underneath while I fuck you with the showerhead. I'm sure a strong, tough girl like you can hold your breath long enough."

                                            > Her eyes go wide and she takes a sharp breath... and you are fairly sure just surprise didn't account for that reaction either.

                                            > You look down to check her sex again. Yep, not just surprise at all.

                                            > Which is probably why she suddenly looks very angry.

                                            "Refuse that, and I go start sending some pictures to the school board."

                                            > Again Gilda comes to the obvious, inescapable conclusion.

                                            > "Fuck... fuck you..."

                                            "You will. Now wash."

                                            > Turning your back to her, you let her get started.

                                            > She's surprisingly good at it, although after a few moments you remember she's probably had to work away a lot of stressed muscles in the showers after a practice on the field.

                                            > Of course, it's made doubly good by the look on her still-red face.

                                            "You're not bad at this at all, you know. I might have you do this again."

                                            > She growls something you can't hear over the running water. You turn to face her, letting her begin on your chest.

                                            > By the time she's work her way down to your hips, she gives your crotch a wide birth. You correct this with a firm hand, pulling one of hers against your semi-erect member.

                                            "That's part of me too, Gilda. You're going to have to touch it."

                                            > She does, with an almost cautious touch - as if she expected you to somehow reach out and further brutalize her for not outright giving you a handjob.

                                            > To your cock, she might as well be, though. It's rapidly returning to a fully-erect state; Gilda finishes as quickly as she can and moves on to your legs.

                                            > Standing up again, she skewers you with another vengeful stare. "Happy now, dw-mmmph!"

                                            > You'd lashed out and pinned her against the shower wall, pressing yourself against her and forcing your lips together.

                                            > Her eyes are wide, any remaining bit of makeup long since having washed away.

                                            > She also doesn't notice that you've kicked the drain cover shut, so that the tub is slowly filling.

                                            > You break away and whisper into her ear.

                                            "Going to try something here I've always wanted to try, Gilda. And I think you kind of want to try it too."

                                            > She just hisses softly, almost catlike. "How many time do I have to tell you, dweeb? I don't enjoy feeling like this. Doesn't matter how many times you tell me or what you do; nothing's going to stop me from feeling sick at being weak.." Her voice is soft, but the next words are whispered. "...or feeling sick at how I react when weak."

                                            > You just smirk.

                                            "So if I turn you around and take you right now, you aren't going to have the hardest orgasm you've ever had?"

                                            > You're surprised by the shades of red Gilda keeps turning. You've never seen her flushed before, after all. Still, that along with the total lack of a retort tells you everything you needed to know.

                                            > You grab on to one of the handholds and hook one leg around Gilda's, a sharp jerk taking her foot out from beneath her.

                                            > She falls to her hands and knees, arms and legs splashing in the water which is now pooling partway up around your calves.

                                            > Before she can even curse at you, you've grabbed on to the back of her head and shoved it down beneath the water's surface.

                                            > She struggles a bit in surprise at first, but it's confused and not terribly effect

                                            > It also means that from your position crouched over her, you can easily spread her legs - giving you an excellent view of her slit, lips full and engorged for you when you pull back..

                                            > Gilda pops her head above the water, spluttering nonsensically..

                                            > Before she can go far, she freezes when she feels your tip probing in between her lips.

                                            "Like I said... plenty ready and willing for me."

                                            > "N-no..." Gilda's voice is breaking, and although it's impossible to tell if the water streaming off her face is from the showerhead or tears, you have a fairly good idea.

                                            > Without warning, you quickly drive her head back down beneath the water. As soon as her attention is fully on the sudden lack of air in her nostrils, you plow yourself into her up to the hilt.

                                            > She writhes, but doesn't actually toss you out as you start to thrust into her.

                                            > It fully occurs to you that this is a girl trapped beneath you who could probably suplex you off of her and through the glass shower wall, driven by rage finally overwhelming cold logic - if not fear from lack of air.

                                            > But she doesn't. She stays there beneath you, struggling and twitching but not for one moment actually removing you.

                                            > Her hands scrabble uselessly at the sides of the tub, slipping off the water-slick surfaces. But, she totally fails to grab the handholds and force herself up from beneath you.

                                            > Gilda's head is allowed up from beneath the water before she was in real danger, but you don't give her long - just enough to take a deep breath and cry out, "Dweeb, wa-"

                                            > Down she goes again, your hand gripping her hair tight to keep her head from rising early.

                                            > You drive into her ever harder, letting your rage at every time she pinned you to a locker our kicked you down behind the gym fuel your strength.

                                            > Soon enough that familiar throbbing is growing at the base of your shaft.

                                            > You could slow down, but that's not what this is for. Instead, you just push yourself harder.

                                            > Up she comes again. "Fuckyo-" And back down. This time her voice was rawer than ever, a sure sign that she is feeling what you are too - if the way her toes are curling and back arching wasn't a sign enough.

                                            > Finally you know you can hold on no longer; Gilda is allowed one more fresh breath before her head is brought back down - and you slam home all the way inside her, waves of warmth erupting as your own climax rolls through you.

                                            > Seconds later, she tightens around you as her own body twitches under the assault of a powerful climax. Her scream is audible even from beneath the water, but you hold her down a little longer while her tightened cunt milks every drop of seed from your shaft.

                                            > When you finally let her up, she is flushed and panting - but not actually harmed.

                                            > She promptly scoots to the far end of the shower, curling up as tight as she can in the water.

                                            > After a few moments you notice that the water on her cheeks truly can't be merely runoff from her hair. As if to confirm your statement, she lets out a heaving sob.

                                            > You start to say something, but before you can she bodily throws herself at you. "WHY?!"

                                            > She beats on your chest and shoulders, screaming all the while. "Why why why? Why'd you have to fucking do it, dweeb? Why this, why couldn't you have just gone to the principle?" She sobs again, and in a softer but no less raw voice: "Why does it have to feel so fucking good?"

                                            > She collapses into you, bawling aloud. After a moment's thought, you put your arms around her.

                                            > It's over. You've won. You've broken Gilda, forced her to accept her deepest, darkest fear - and you're not even done.


                                            -----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------


                                            > Gilda lays against you, any will to actually strike you spent.

                                            > Her rage against you is done, her mind now stuck in an infinite loop of shame and fury with herself for her unwanted reaction to your assault.

                                            > After analyzing the situation for a few moments, you put yours arms around her and pull her close.

                                            "Shhh... Shh. It's okay, Gilda. It's okay. Because you know what? This is freedom for you.This is accepting what you are, so you don't have to fear it anymore... a weak, pathetic pretender."

                                            > She lets out another heaving sob, any coherent reply lost in her own confusion.

                                            "Don't try to fight it, Gilda. The more your fight it, the more it hurts."

                                            > As if to illustrate your point, you let your hand run down her side to rest on a densely-muscled thigh.

                                            > Gilda shifts away from you, but you tighten your grip on her with the remaining arm and after a moment, she gives up.

                                            > The bathroom is silent except for the running of water, and an occasional sniffle from the girl beside you.

                                            > Finally she speaks in a small voice, raw and unsteady from her ordeal and her crying. "I can't stop being strong, Anon."

                                            > "If I do... I'll end up with nothing. I was weak before, I let her run away from me... my best friend."

                                            > You smirk softly.

                                            "No. She ran because you were pretending to hard. It comes off bad, Gilda, when you try and be something you aren't."

                                            > She shudders as your hand runs up and down her thigh. "W-what are you going to do to me?"

                                            "Well, I have some time and I certainly have some ideas. Most of them involve getting out of this tub, though, so why don't you just-"

                                            > She doesn't move, and despite your power over her mind you are still nowhere near strong enough to lift her.

                                            > "I-I meant what are you going to- to tell them?"

                                            > She sniffs again. "You-you're going to tell them all how weak I really am, are't you? Tell them all that I'm not really... not really me."

                                            > Finally her head rises to lock her golden eyes on you, still reddened from tears. Anger glitters in them, but you can't tell if it's directed at you or herself. "If you do that, I don't think I can go back."

                                            > A finger slips under her chin and you meet her shattered gaze with a heartless smirk.

                                            "Oh, I'm not going to do that, Gilda. In fact, I'm not going to tell them anything at all, unless you force me to."

                                            > Her eyes widen in surprise.

                                            "...instead I'm going to make sure every day you have an opportunity to hurt me, to take something from me, to make me miserable."

                                            > You lean in until you are practically face-to-face with her.

                                            "And you aren't going to dare, because you know what I would do if you laid a finger on me. You can go after anyone else you want, but you'll always remember that you're just taking the easy pickings. You'll always know that inside, you are to weak to really challenge me."

                                            > Her lips draw back into a shaky snarl. "I hate you, you bastard."

                                            "I'm sure you do. But, think about how much worse it could be."

                                            > You kick the drain open again allowing the water to empty and rise from the tub, giving the soaked collar's lead a tug.

                                            "Come, Gilda. I'm going to show you what I could do."

                                            > After a moment she rises unsteadily to follow you. Out into the hallway you go, both of you dripping but neither caring.

                                            > Back into her room, you walk to the window and motion for her to join you.

                                            "Come, come."

                                            > Gilda nervously approaches. Her eyes have begun to regain some of their old fire as the immediate effects of her humiliating climax fade.

                                            > Time to reassert your authority.

                                            > As soon as she is in range you grab her shoulder and pull her the rest of the way over to the window. She resists for just a moment before stumbling forwards, raising her hands to catch herself on the cold glass.

                                            > You slip around behind Gilda, pressing yourself hard against her. Still off-balance, her still-wet well-toned stomach and chest are pressed firmly against the windowpane.

                                            > She shrieks, due to the early-morning October chill seeping through the glass or suddenly finding herself fully on display to the entire world isn't clear. "What the hell do you think you're doing?!"

                                            > The goosebumps that rise across her body, undoubtedly are the result of the cold, though. It's actually a rather nice feeling, pressed against her as you are.

                                            > You lean even more into her, grinding your hips against her ass so she can feel the pressure of your stiffening shaft.

                                            "If I wanted to ruin you, Gilda? This is what I would do. I'd put everything of yours out there for the world to see. Everyone would know not just how weak you are, but how much you love this."

                                            > "I-I don't-" She had begun to push herself back from the window as you spoke, but now her efforts weaken. You smirk, nodding.

                                            "Oh yes you do. And you'll find that just being seen like this is far, far preferable to everyone finding out exactly how much of a lying slut you are."

                                            > She isn't even bothering to fight now, her voice gaining a little quaver again. "D-don't..."

                                            > You give an overly dramatic sigh.

                                            "Don't what, plaything? Magic word now."

                                            > "Don't... p-please."

                                            > You step back; Gilda slumps bonelessly against the wall, staring up at you.

                                            > Her pure white hair is still in disarray from being rubbed against the tub floor as you pounded her, and she's still covered in droplets of water that shine in the light.

                                            > Despite her perfect physique, she actually looks rather helpless as she sits there limply.

                                            > If you weren't rock-hard already, this would be more than enough to get you there.

                                            "I won't do anything like that, Gilda... as long as you do what I want?"

                                            > That get her attention.

                                            > "Like w-what? You've already had your way with me twice."

                                            > You laugh, shaking your head.

                                            "Gilda, Gilda, Gilda... I've fucked you twice, and didn't even finish in you once. That's only the beginning. There's so much more that you can do to a woman, you know, though I have to wonder if a bitch like you even knows how to use her lips."

                                            > A slow look of comprehension comes over her face, quickly followed by horror. "N-no! I don't do that! I won't! I'm not putting... -that- in my mouth!"

                                            > You start padding over to where you left your clothes, slipping the belt out of your pants and taking another item from your bag.

                                            "And why not, Gilda?"

                                            > "Because I'm not like that! That's something two-cent sluts on the cheerleading team do to get a date with some popular guy! I don't do that!"

                                            > You coil the belt up in your hand, turning to face her again.

                                            "Playing tough and superior again, Gilda? Have you, perhaps, forgotten that you are nothing but my plaything here?"

                                            .> She points to the belt. "What's that f-"

                                            -SNAP-

                                            > You flick the belt out, snapping it out across her arm.

                                            > Gilda retracts it with a yelp, staring at you.

                                            "First, I am going to have to start using this if you keep thinking that you mean anything here."

                                            > You coil it up again, making sure Gilda realizes you are ready to strike again.

                                            "Second, you are indeed putting that in your mouth... unless you'd prefer I bend you over in front of the window and give the world a show of that instead?"

                                            > She makes a little noise at that, balling her hands up into fists.

                                            > "I... I would fight. I don't care what you do, I'm not letting you turn me into-"

                                            -SNAP-

                                            > This time your belt targets her muscled stomach, laying cross it with a snap that actually pulls a little yelp from her lips.

                                            "I told you about pretending you're strong, Gilda. I'm not turning you into anything; this is all coming from right inside you."

                                            > To emphasize your point you poke her directly in the center of her chest with a single fingertip.

                                            "Don't even bother trying to deny, Gilda. You admitted as much to me back in the bathroom. It feels good to let go and allow me to do whatever I want with you."

                                            > Memories of her tear-laden admission come back to her, and you see Gilda flinch.

                                            "So, you are going to get right on your knees and suck me right here - right in front of this window. And if you don't? I will whip you silly with this belt and you'll get to have a nice long explanation to your so-called friends on Monday as to where all those marks came from."

                                            "Who knows - maybe you'll even open up to reality and enjoy being used again. I certainly know you did last time.

                                            > Her eyes fill with tears once more, leaving you honestly surprised - you didn't know Gilda could even cry, let alone imagined getting her to once in a single day.

                                            "Oh and one last thing?"

                                            > You show her the other item you had collected from your backpack: A silvery vibrator, already attached to a cord and battery pack checked.

                                            "You're doing it with this in you. I want you to be ready in case I feel like having you that way too."

                                            > She snatches the vibrator from your hand, her cheeks burning with shame and already finding themselves tear-streaked yet again.

                                            > You just smirk as Gilda gets to her knees and spreads herself slowly, glaring at you.

                                            > As you suspected she's been unable to keep herself from responding to the talk. Her sex is already swollen in anticipation; as she gently probes the tip of the vibrator past her folds, you see a drop of her juices run down the side.

                                            > But even in her anger and shame she can't help her body's response, or the soft intake of breath as the vibrator fills her up inside.

                                            > It's not even on yet, and already she is feeling it. She must've been quite excited indeed.

                                            "Good, good. Now, open your mouth - and remember, if you screw this up, I won't be afraid to belt you silly."

                                            > Gilda doesn't even respond, but does open her mouth - eyeing your shaft with equal parts disgust, trepidation, and maybe even a little anticipation.

                                            > The first for what she was being forced to do, the second because she was surely aware that this was something she was not going to be good at despite the threat hanging over her, and the third because of the first two.

                                            > You don't waste any time. Shuffling forward, you let the head of your shaft lip past her ready lips, resting down on her warm and soft tongue.

                                            "Your turn now... start sucking."

                                            > Gilda must have seen this a bit in the past, as she more or less knows what to do. Her head starts to bob on your haft, lips travelling up an down in regular beat.

                                            > To your immense thanks, she also knows not to use any teeth.

                                            > Unfortunately, however, she is not a particularly good suck either. Her tongue is left completely unused, simply resting in her mouth.

                                            > Nor does she vary her pattern or o anything extra for your tip.

                                            > You decide to give her a bit of motivation. The vibrator's control in your hand is nudged; immediately a gentle buzzing springs up from between her legs.

                                            > Gilda obviously feels it, her muscles going tense. Fear keeps her going, though - the obvious fear in her eyes as she looks up from your crotch, pleading with you not to become fed up and decide to try out your belt on her.

                                            > Then she redoubles her efforts on you. Is it just a desire to be done with this as soon as possible, or something more?

                                            > You decide to find out. Your fingers nudge the switch up to a higher setting, the buzz growing along with it.

                                            > Slowly, unsteadily, one of Gilda's hands rises from her groin - where they had been keeping the vibrator in her, as well as her sex protected from any further unwanted attention.

                                            > It reaches up, her strong fingers carefully wrapping around your sack as her head keeps bobbing. For a moment you fear she has had enough and simply intends to deliver a crippling, agonizing crush to your manhood... and then her lithe fingers slowly start to ripple, massaging your balls with care.

                                            > Either she is so lost in this that she doesn't understand what she is doing, or she's finally given in.

                                            > Still, her actual sucking leaves much to be desired.

                                            > You decide to egg her on, as long as she seems to be cooperating.

                                            "Good so far, plaything, but you need to be doing more. Use your tongue - wrap it around me, use it to stoke me, cup me with it."

                                            > A little whine escapes her throat, but Gilda does what you ask.

                                            > Here it is more obvious that she is unskilled.

                                            > Her efforts, while admirable, are clearly amateur at best.

                                            > You were hoping a 'bad girl' like her would be better at this, but apparently her self-proclaimed superiority trumped that.

                                            > Frowning, you decide to take final action: Grabbing her head, you force her all the way down on you.

                                            > All the way.

                                            > Simultaneously, the vibrator is flipped up to its highest setting.

                                            > Gilda promptly starts choking on your shaft, your tip pushing into her tight throat.

                                            > This... this is heaven.

                                            > Gilda struggles, but not nearly enough. Her chaotic, desperate efforts to close her throat against your shaft only serve to pleasure you, an after a few moment her second hand joins the first on your balls - apparently working in the hope that it will bring this entire traumatizing experience to a conclusion as fast as possible.

                                            > No such luck - with the vibrator working at full tilt, Gilda is understandably distracted, and you suspect her own climax is building as well.

                                            > For you, it doesn't take particularly long.

                                            > The throbbing need comes quickly after you push into her throat, and you don't bother holding it back.

                                            > Hot jets of your seed empty into Gilda's throat; your hands are locked behind her head, forcing her to stay firmly mounted atop your shaft and to take it all.

                                            > She gets the point quickly - swallowing the spunk in rapid pulls.

                                            > You wonder if she knows that it is also milking you for every drop, granting you wave after wave of glorious pleasure.

                                            > Even after she has finished and the last drops are stolen from your tip, the vibrator buzzes away in Gilda's sex.

                                            > Pulling clear of you, her hands promptly drop to her slit once more - a low moan escaping her lips.

                                            > You decide to aid her.

                                            > Slipping around behind her, you kneel behind Gilda wrapping both your arms around her chest to cup her firm breasts, playing with each delicate nipple in turn.

                                            "Go ahead, Gilda. I can tell you want to give yourself some help. Don't deny it."

                                            > A tiny, squawked 'no!' makes its way past her lips, but her hands move anyway - back down to guide the furiously buzzing vibrator exactly where she wants it, to draw back her hood and play with the pearl hidden beneath.

                                            > It doesn't take long for Gilda to finish, her whole body shuddering and twisting under the force of the climax.

                                            > You slowly nudge the vibrator back down to zero, wrapping your arms back around her to hold her as the last waves of pleasure spread through her body.

                                            > "F-fuck..." Her head lolls forward, eyes squeezed shut. "That was..."

                                            "Yeeees?"

                                            > She didn't finish so you found it necessary to prompt her.

                                            > Gilda just shakes her head, though.

                                            "Amazing, sensational, the most mind-blowing thing you've ever experienced?"

                                            > Her eyes snap open, "N-no! Humiliating, degrading, fucked up!" Silence holds in the room before her eyes open in defeat. "...and yeah - pretty good orgasm, I have to admit."

                                            > She looks down at her fingers, covered in her own juices from her last-minute assistance and climax.

                                            > "How do you... how do you expect me to live knowing this?"

                                            "Easily. Come."

                                            > You unwrap your arms from her, standing and again taking the lead. Gilda follows this time without hesitation, but you are only going to the bed.

                                            > Ropes still festoon its corners from when you got up this morning.

                                            > You sit down in the middle, and motion her to join you. With some hesitation, she does. A gentle push to her chest gets her laying back, confused.

                                            "Everything you are feeling now should be telling you the exact answer, Gilda. You live with it by accepting it. It's not any different than you were before - you're still the same weak, submissive pretender you were then."

                                            > She starts to rise, but you grab the dog collar about her throat and hold her back.

                                            "The only difference is, I will know it. Do what you want, Gilda. But I'll always be out there, ready to remind you just how much you like this."

                                            > She stares...

                                            > ...and then ever so slightly nods.

                                            > "Just don't let them know. Please. Don't let them know, and I'll..." She shudders again. "...I'll enjoy it."

                                            > You lean in and give her a kiss on the nose.

                                            "Good, because for every victory you give me? I'm going to take you even lower, and you're going to love it even more."


                                            -----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------


                                            > Gilda shivers as you sit back up.

                                            > It isn't from the cold.

                                            "But you know, you've been very bad to me overall. I don't think I can just let that go."

                                            > She freezes up again.

                                            > You step off the bed, collecting your belt from where it had fallen to the floor.

                                            "You've still got the rest of the weekend for the soreness to go away. Your friends won't need to know anything."

                                            > You grab the belt just short of the buckle, giving it a few experimental flicks.

                                            > Turning back to Gilda, you see she is staring at the belt with an unamused look.

                                            > "You think I've never roughhoused before, dweeb? We mess with each other in the locker room all the time."

                                            > You shake your head.

                                            "The actual blow is only half of this, Gilda. Turn over, get on your hands and knees."

                                            > She shoots you a darker look, but rolls herself over to present her ass to you.

                                            > Her legs spread slightly, you also get a good luck at the muscles in her excellently-toned thighs.

                                            > You'll get to those in time.

                                            > Stopping beside the bed, you bring your arm back.

                                            -THWACK-

                                            > Gilda shifts a bit, but doesn't really react as the first blow slashes cleanly across her rear.

                                            "You know why I'm doing this, Gilda?"

                                            -THWACK-

                                            "Because you need to be punished for letting your mistake blow over to other people."

                                            > She has closed her eyes and is gritting her teeth, but refuses to show any other reaction.

                                            -THWACK-

                                            "Because you need to be reminded that just because you are a miserable, weak little kitten-"

                                            -THWACK-

                                            "-you're an even bigger fuckup if you loose control over it."

                                            > Now you're getting through to her.

                                            > Her jaw is obviously straining - far harder than if it were just what you were doing.

                                            "So I'm going to punish you, just like a little kid."

                                            -THWAK-

                                            "Because that's what you were acting like, Gilda. A little kid throwing a tantrum because you couldn't accept yourself."

                                            > Your blows continue to lay in across her ass, crossing it with slowly-coloring red stripes.

                                            > Gilda's eyes are scrunched shut, furiously trying to avoid the tears that are building behind them.

                                            "And just like a little kid, you get the belt when you can't control yourself.

                                            > As you move on from her ass to let the belt curl around her thighs, you see them tremble.

                                            > It's not just the blows; she's shaking even before you begin to lay in.

                                            > But once you do, her legs begin to tremble wildly.

                                            > This is getting to her in more ways than one.

                                            "See, Gilda, this is why I had to come here."

                                            -THWAK-

                                            "You needed to be punished for how badly you'd screwed up, as well as reminded just what you liked."

                                            > You pause, grabbing her hair and using it to drag her head back up.

                                            > Despite her tightly-scrunched eyes, she can't avoid the few tears running down her cheeks.

                                            "Tell me, Gilda. Why do you need to be punished?

                                            > She opens her eyes, and shockingly you still see a spark of defiance there.

                                            > You'd thought after all you did to her any of that would have been well and truly eradicated.

                                            > She quickly crumbles, though, especially when she catches sight of the belt still clutched in your hand.

                                            > "B-because I-I'm a sad fucking cunt w-who hurt p-p-people because of m-my own weakness."

                                            > It's adorable how she's still trying to hold back tears.

                                            "Do you think that I've done enough, then? Do you think you've learned your lesson?"

                                            > She raises her head again.

                                            "N-no..."

                                            > You suppress your own flicker of surprise.

                                            > You'd been expecting her to tell you yes, to try to stop the belting.

                                            > Denying that would have been so sweet to you.

                                            > But this...

                                            > Had you really gotten so far into her head she actually thought she deserved to be hurt?

                                            > Only one way to find out.

                                            -THWACK-

                                            > Gilda jumps when the next blow hits her.

                                            > As the following lashes roll in, she increasingly curls in on herself.

                                            > It's a strange sight to see, this girl who hand manhandled you many a time fleeing from your blows.

                                            > You're sure she's felt worse pain.

                                            > And yet..

                                            > Smirking, you drop the belt and approach her side.

                                            > Her thighs, ass, and even lower back are all festooned with reddened marks.

                                            "Now then, Gilda. Tell me, now have you had enough?"

                                            > "N-no..."

                                            > Her voice is small and muffled from inside the ball she has squeezed into.

                                            > Instead of continuing, you sit down on the bed in front of her and pat your lap..

                                            "Come here, Gilda, and tell me why you think you need to be punished so badly."

                                            > She slowly uncurls; you grab the lead from her collar and pull her over to you.

                                            > Eventually she lays back down with her head and shoulders on your legs.

                                            > "I hate myself..."

                                            "Why?"

                                            > "I hate that I thought being weak drove my best friend away. I hate having to put so much effort into being strong just to make myself right again."

                                            > You opt not to interrupt her to point out that it definitely did not make her 'right'.

                                            > "I hate that I had to buy the fucking pills to keep myself on top. I hate not being appreciated unless I can be strong enough."

                                            > She takes a deep breath, her eyes closing again and cheeks flushing.

                                            > "And I still hate that what you do to me feels so good, even if love it as well."

                                            > ...wow...

                                            > You knew she had some issues, but this...

                                            > ...you could work with this.

                                            > Lightly running a hand through her hair, you start to talk.

                                            "That's a lot of very good reasons to hate yourself, Gilda."

                                            > No 'believe in yourself' bullshit from you.

                                            > Not if you want to keep her under your control.

                                            "But you know what? You're wrong about one thing."

                                            > She doesn't react, so you go on.

                                            > Letting your hand stray down from her shoulder, over her chest and perfectly-flat stomach, you smirk down to her.

                                            "I appreciate you like this."

                                            > Gilda shifts a little, her mustard eyes focused up on you.

                                            "I'd even say I can only appreciate you, knowing what I do."

                                            > You lean in close now.

                                            "And I am the only one who is going to. You're right-most of them would abandon you in an instant. So if you ever want to know someone who appreciates you for who you really are? You're going to stay on my good side."

                                            > She squirms at your touch, your hand having come to rest directly between her breasts, over her heart.

                                            "And if you fuck with me? You'll be forever known as Gilda the fake, Gilda the pill-popper, Gilda who screwed up."

                                            > A new emotion crosses her face.

                                            > Fear.

                                            > Not even when she had first woken up tied to the bed had she actually been afraid, only angry.

                                            > This, though.

                                            > This is what she fears.

                                            > You lean in, offering her a comforting smile.

                                            "But as long as I'm the one holding this-"

                                            > You raise the collar's lead.

                                            "-you'll be safe. You will be pushing yourself even harder out there; you will succeed without the pills."

                                            > Your hand shifts from the center of her chest to cupping one breast.

                                            "You'll succeed because you'll know that whatever you do in public, I'll be waiting for you. Waiting to bend you over and use you like the plaything you are. Understand?"

                                            > She quickly nods. "Y-yeah, I gotcha."

                                            > Her nipple has become a hard pebble beneath your hand.

                                            "Good."

                                            > There's no point in hiding your massive grin as you lean over to place a kiss on her forehead.

                                            "I need to return home, plaything. But I'll be waiting for you at school on Monday. Waiting to fuck you again."

                                            > You stand, finally re-dressing and packing up your bag again.

                                            > Your ropes and the collar go back in, hidden away.

                                            > Your belt is slipped back through your pants.

                                            > Gilda has curled up on her side again, her knees drawn up to her chest.

                                            > Her toned body contrasted by a defeated, vulnerable look in her eyes as she watches you pack.

                                            > You turn for the door.

                                            "Oh and Gilda?"

                                            > Those wide eyes focus on you.

                                            "Since it'll take at least a day to fade... do think of me every time you sit down. Until next time."

                                            > You swat her on the ass; the skin is still warm to the touch from your efforts.

                                            > She yelps.

                                            > You smirk and start making your way home.


                                            -----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------


                                            > Next Monday, in school again.

                                            > Digging through the mountains of trash in your locker when you hear a familiar voice approaching you.

                                            > "Hey, Anon!"

                                            > You turn to see Gilda making her way towards you.

                                            > A snarky comment was about to leave your lips when she again pins you against the open locker, half-shoving you inside.

                                            > "Lunch money. Now."

                                            > Examining her again, you notice that she's regained much of her old confidence.

                                            > Confidence that rapidly begins to fade as you don't simply collapse into a teary heap.

                                            > "Move it, dweeb, I don't have all day."

                                            > Your hand snakes out to firmly grasp her wrist.

                                            "You're playing a dangerous game, Gilda."

                                            > Your voice was low - low enough that it wasn't going to be heard beyond a foot or so away.

                                            > And everyone else was smart enough to vanish when Gilda descended on a victim.

                                            > She flinches as if struck, her strong mask crumbling.

                                            > "C'mon, dweeb. I gotta do this - the other girls, they say I've gotta grab somebody's to make me feel better after being 'sick' all weekend. I can't duck out of this one, so hurry up."

                                            > The fact that Gilda's still demanding the money is rather lessened by how she is all but begging you to hand it over without a fuss.

                                            > You reach into your pocket, withdrawing a small wad of ones.

                                            > Holding it up in front of her, you watch her eyes light up.

                                            > "Thanks, I pro-"

                                            > Your hand closes into a fist, the money within.

                                            "You take this, Gilda, you know what's going to happen. Your decision here - stand up for yourself to them, or you get walked over by them now and me later."

                                            > She freezes, eyes widening as the choice working its way through her head.

                                            > "I-I-I can't-"

                                            "You have to. Make the choice, Gilda, or someone's going to see you like this."

                                            > At last she snaps, fingers digging into your fist to unclasp it from the bills within.

                                            > You let her, your face a blank mask.

                                            > Best to keep her guessing.


                                            > She'd think you were angry, but in truth you were delighted.

                                            > Here was another excuse - as if you needed one - to go full out on her.

                                            > So you let her take the few dollars, looking her straight in the eye the whole time.

                                            > Making sure she knows you aren't intimidated one bit, and will be coming straight for her after this.

                                            > "Thanks, dweeb..."

                                            > Given the speed at which she returns to her 'friends', you're almost tempted to think she's fleeing.


                                            > You don't see her the next day, or the day after that.

                                            > She's obviously avoiding you, worried she might be pushed into that situation again.

                                            > This is fine with you.

                                            > Plenty of time to take care of a few things you needed to acquire.

                                            > Thankfully you parents let you drive alone, and like any self-respecting high-school study you had a fake ID for specific uses.

                                            > Not like it mattered.

                                            > The guy at the "adult" store barely glanced at it before going back to whatever iPhone game he was wasting hours on.

                                            > Everything is acquired by that Thursday, and for a change you seek Gilda out after classes end.

                                            > She emerges from the gym, of course, hair still presumably wet from a post-physed shower.

                                            > You're waiting beside the door.

                                            > She stops at a distance, watching you warily.

                                            > "What d'you want, dweeb?"

                                            > You hold out the extra backpack you had brought in your car that day.

                                            "Four-thirty tomorrow, at the old apple-house near the woods. You know the place?"

                                            > "Yeah. It's locked up, though."

                                            "The cover over the second window in the back is loose. There's a crate you can use to get up and in. Just put the cover back on when you're done."

                                            > Gilda narrows her eyes, her hands clenching nervously. "And I'm supposed to come alone, I'm guessing."

                                            "Naturally. Everything in this bag, you can either put on or leave out beside when you're done."

                                            > Her teeth grit, and you can feel the tension and frustration building in her.


                                            > Apparently your lessons last time didn't sink as deeply as you'd hoped.

                                            > "I hate you."

                                            "Now you do. You'll love me then, though."

                                            > "Fuck off. I'm not interested in being your toy."

                                            "I disagree, but even then this isn't about liking it. This is about me not releasing those photos from your room."

                                            > You drop the bag, turning to leave.

                                            > Gilda's empty insults ring in your ears, but you just smile.

                                            > For every threat or barb she yells now, you'll just have to pay her back.


                                            > Friday cannot pass quickly enough.

                                            > Stepping out of the school's front door, you hear the low rumble of Gilda's motorcycle already leaving the parking lot.

                                            > You practically leap to your car to follow her, but resist.

                                            > It's imperative to pace yourself carefully.

                                            > Besides, she needs time to prepare.

                                            > Instead you head home, grab a bite to eat, pack a bit more food and chat with your parents a bit before heading out again.

                                            > No car this time.

                                            > Not where you're going.

                                            > The old apple house is on the edge of town, amid the withered remnants of a what had once been a fairly large grove.

                                            > Supposedly they'd given up years back under pressure from the big farms, but you didn't care.

                                            > The point was that the house was large and well-built, holding up strong even after all this time.

                                            > And it was far enough outside of town (and enough of a pain to get to) that almost no one bothered with it.

                                            > After fifteen minutes of climbing through weeds, scrub, and dead apple trees you understand why.

                                            > More than worth it, though, to be alone with your toy.

                                            > Pulling yourself in through the window, you carefully set the panel covering it back in place and pace a bit further into the old farmhouse.

                                            "Gilda?"

                                            > "Eat shit, asshole."

                                            > You grin. Yep, she'd looked in the bag.

                                            > Following her voice, you find her curled up in a bedroom behind the stairwell.

                                            > Gilda glares absolute hatred at you; if looks could kill, you'd have died more times than Rasputin.


                                            > "What the fuck is the idea of that bag, you dickhead?"

                                            "Don't tell me you've already forgotten your collar?"

                                            > She stands, jabbing a finger in your direction. "Don't give me that shit. There's half a fucking sex dungeon in there, you sick fu-"

                                            > It's your hand that shoots out now, closing around her throat.

                                            "Apparently you've forgotten your place, Gilda. That's to bad."

                                            > Fear glints in her wide eyes.

                                            > Despite her bluster, you could tell that she was trying to put up a confident front before her fear caught with her again.

                                            > Unfortunately, you bully straight through it.

                                            > Using your grip to throw Gilda to the floor, you plant a booted foot on her chest.

                                            > It's a testament to her fear that you are able to pin her without any real effort.

                                            > Or pin her at all, really.

                                            > Flicking out your pocket knife again, you point it at her.

                                            "Here's how it's going to work, Gilda. You can either take your clothes off, or I can cut them off again. Considering we both have to walk out of here..."

                                            > She coughs softly. "F-fuck, man, I'm not gonna-"

                                            > You bend down and slip the blade beneath her top, getting ready to cut.

                                            > "-okay, okay! I'll do it, goddamn!"

                                            > You take a step back, knife still in your hand.

                                            > Gilda pushes herself up on her elbows, snarling at you.

                                            > "You just can't let it go, can you?"

                                            > She obeys, though, pulling off her jacket and slipping her shirt up over her head.

                                            > Calmly smirking back, you shake your head.

                                            "Really, Gilda? Forgotten how much you enjoyed things last time, after you let go?"

                                            > Her belt is undone, pants falling to the floor. "I remember you fucking raping me, bastard."

                                            "That's funny, because I remember you saying it felt good."

                                            > Her breath catches, hands fumbling on the straps of her bra. "I didn't- didn't mean."

                                            "Still not able to accept it? To bad."

                                            > While she finishes up, you head over towards the bag she brought.

                                            > Unzipping it, you locate what you'd wanted and leave the rest beside her.


                                            > Meanwhile, her's panties are tossed aside.

                                            > Gilda plants her arms on her hips, sneering at you. "Like what you see, dweeb? 'cause fucking raping seems to be the only way you're going to get anywhere near this. Ain't that sick?"

                                            > Seems she's transitioned to accepting what is coming, but still 'resisting' in any way she can.

                                            "You know what's even more amusing? How you keep pretending to be strong when you're the one stripping for me."

                                            > Her hands fall slightly and you can all but see her strength fly out one of the boarded-over windows.

                                            > "That's not-"

                                            > Your knee rises up, driving directly into groin; she collapses forward with a yelp, catching herself on hands and knees.

                                            > Moments later her jaw crashes into the floor as you seize hold of one wrist and tug it behind her back.

                                            > A cuff - well-padded, but still a metal handcuff - closes around it; moments later, her second arm joins the first.

                                            > "Can't fuck a girl unless she's all tied up and can't resist, huh? Is that what this is? IS IT?"

                                            > Gilda's voice is rising; you are forced to grab her head in both hands and shut her jaw.

                                            > Turning her head slightly so he can see you, a slight grin appears again.

                                            "No, Gilda. You know what this is? This is about reminding you how helpless you are. Reminding you that even if you thought you could resist me, you couldn't. Reminding you that you are nothing more than my toy here.

                                            > You can see the beginnings of tears glistening in the corners of her yellow eyes, and her breath is starting to come slightly harder.

                                            > Releasing her mouth, you run a hand softly over her back, feeling the ridges of well-toned muscles beneath her skin.

                                            "You are entirely mine..."

                                            > Standing, you start to shed your own clothes.

                                            > The dog collar she had worn is collected from your bag and closed around her throat, the lead falling to the floor beneath her.

                                            "...and you will enjoy it."


                                            > Between her legs - knees spread slightly to catch her when she had fallen - her sex has become engorged and ready, already starting to glisten with her arousal.

                                            > Her eyes, meanwhile, flow freely with tears.

                                            > Makeup smears on her cheeks and the floor.

                                            > She can feel what is happening to her, and she still hates it.

                                            > "F-fuck-"

                                            "No."

                                            > She looks up to find your erect shaft all but touching her nose.

                                            "Suck."

                                            > She shudders, turning away.

                                            "Suck, or I'll try out your ass instead."

                                            > That gets her attention.

                                            > "You are truly one sick puppy, aren't you?"

                                            > Her voice is

                                            "I'll take that as a no, then."

                                            > Her face pales in shock, eyes widening again as you move around behind her.

                                            > "Wait, shit! You were serious, I didn't thin-"

                                            "To late, Gilda. You have to learn to obey me, or suffer the consequences."

                                            > Unfortunately, lube was not one of the things you thought to bring, so you're going to have to find another way.

                                            > Fortunately, Gilda herself is all to willing to provide.

                                            > Her sex is all but dripping, ready to accept you should you decide to plunge into it.

                                            > She, however, is not.

                                            > "I'm serious, man! Don't - don't -"

                                            > She finally lets loose a true, sob, tears again streaming freely down her cheeks.

                                            > "Fuck my cunt. I'll do whatever you want, lay however you want. Just don't... not up my ass, okay?"

                                            "Oh?"

                                            > You stroke her hair back, smiling down at her.

                                            > Gilda twists her head around awkwardly on the floor to be able to look at you.

                                            > Her face reflects the desperation in her voice; she truly is willing to do anything to avoid this.

                                            > "You go up my ass, I'm gonna have all my friends asking why I'm acting sore... they'll find out, dweeb. They'll find out."

                                            > Her eyes close, sniffles interrupting her words.

                                            > "They find out I let some guy do that to me, I'm fucking dead."

                                            "Then put your face down and spread yourself out like a good little slut for your master."


                                            > She does, tears still freely flowing as her knees are worked apart to expose herself.

                                            > You settle in between them, your tip sliding up and down her slit, as if anointing itself with her juices.

                                            > She doesn't scream or screech as you slide in; this is, after all, your third time together.

                                            > She does sob again, though, quite aware she is letting you do this without an ounce of resistance.

                                            > Even when you start to pump, she keeps her stoic silence.

                                            > When you slip out, though, giving the lead on her collar a sharp tug back, she notices.

                                            > "What-"

                                            > Your free hand grabs one densely-muscled thigh, holding her steady as your shaft seeks out its prize.

                                            > Though you can't see her eyes when your tip presses against her ass, you can feel her stiffen.

                                            > "C'mon, Anon, quit that. Don't do that to m-"

                                            > You drive in, your now thoroughly-lubricated shaft driving past the ring of muscle guarding her entrance and deep within her.

                                            > "-mmnoooooo!"

                                            > The feeling is indescribable; her texture there is entirely different than inside her sex.

                                            > Not to mention, the was she was transfixed - as if you'd run her through with an actual metal spear - was delightful.

                                            > "Fuck! Fuck! Fuck, I said not to-"

                                            > Another jerk on the collar's lead and she is interrupted by a choking cough.

                                            "I don't think you quite understand, Gilda. This isn't a choice you can make. Every part of you belongs to me here."

                                            > You're starting to thrust now, your hand on her thigh keeping her steady and aborting any attempts at pulling away.

                                            > "Now you can either stop pretending you are in control, or I can put a gag in your lips to remind you who is."

                                            > Gilda has recovered from her coughing fit, but she doesn't respond - just hanging her head dejectedly as you ravage her passage.

                                            > You notice an odd squeaking noise with each thrust you make, not quite like wood squealing,


                                            > After several moments you realize that it is Gilda herself making a soft squeak with each thrust you drive into her.

                                            > Her eyes are clenched shut, desperately trying to block out what is happening.

                                            > "N-no m-more, please..."

                                            "Sorry, plaything, but I'm not nearly done yet."

                                            > You're not going to last long, though.

                                            > Not with the way she's writhing and twitching around beneath you.

                                            > You're not sure you could have asked for a greater turn-on.

                                            > Eventually you can hold back no longer.

                                            > Your climax rolls through you, seed seeming to burst from your shaft with geyser-like force.

                                            > At last Gilda responds, rolling her head back with a cry.

                                            > "Noooo-ooooo-ooo! Fuck you, fuck you, fuck you..."

                                            > She rapidly trails off into tear-stained, sniffling silence as you make a last few thrusts to milk the last of your seed from your shaft.

                                            > Sitting back, you lean against a nearby wall; Gilda collapses on her side, eyes staring off into nothing.

                                            > It doesn't take long for the heat of the act to cool, and you notice Gilda has begun to shiver.

                                            > Whether from the aftermath of her experience or the mid-fall chill, you don't know.

                                            > Either way...

                                            > Reaching over, you pull her up against you.

                                            > Her arms are still bound behind her back, forcing her to hunch over awkwardly, and she flinches as the bodily contact.

                                            > You slip an arm around her, unashamedly fondling one breast as you speak.

                                            "See, Gilda, this is what you have to learn... fighting me, it doesn't help. All you do is hurt yourself..."

                                            > She turns away. "Hurt myself? You've killed me..."

                                            "Have I?"

                                            > You look down, noticing that her arousal is only now fading.

                                            > She's also leaking, drops of your seed running down from her ass.

                                            "It doesn't seem like that to me. Are you still trying to deny that you enjoyed that, plaything?"

                                            > Gilda stares into the floor.

                                            > "That hurt, man. How the fuck am I supposed to enjoy that?"

                                            > You remain silent, waiting for the admission you know will come.


                                            > "...but fuck me, I did. I don't know how,but I did."

                                            > Her head flops forward, chin against one collarbone.

                                            > You pull her in to sit across your lap, wrapping your arms about her.

                                            "You know, Gilda... you don't have to show your friends this."

                                            > "So I'm just going to make up an excuse again for why I'm not around?"

                                            "Yes. The question is, which do you value more - friends that force you to hurt yourself, or your master who knows what you enjoy?"

                                            > She shifts unhappily at 'master', apparently still uncomfortable with that description of your role.

                                            > "It feels good in the moment, but... after you left, when I thought about it... I felt... disgusting."

                                            > Reaching up to slowly run a hand down her back, you nod.

                                            "I know, Gilda. You're having a very hard time accepting what you are."

                                            > "I'm not some kind of submissive little girly-girl who-"

                                            > Your hand tightens on one of her wrists.

                                            "Get on your knees."

                                            > Your voice is hard authoritative, and she half-rises to her knees before she realizes what she's done.

                                            > Instantly she sinks back down, cheeks flushing with shame.

                                            "You can deny it all you like, but this is what drives you..."

                                            > Gilda just curls up, her knees rising to her chest in an attempt to compensate for the hands still bound behind her.

                                            "Think about it, Gilda."

                                            > She evidently is, as tears have again begun to flow.

                                            > You go silent, allowing her internal turmoil to work its way through her.

                                            > Eventually finding that your thoughts have drifted off, you look down to see how Gilda is doing.

                                            > ...she's fallen asleep.

                                            > On her side, head turned over, arms around behind her, one leg still half-lifted to defensively cover herself....

                                            > Your shaft stirs again at the sight of her laying there, so vulnerable and ready to accept you.

                                            > But no.

                                            > You slip an arm around her shoulders and wait; she needs this time.


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