“Because you chased me!”
“Because I need to fucking talk to you!”
“You assault people all the time!”
“I only kill them!”
“Oh, okay.”
“I make a lot of threats, maybe a little torture sometimes, but I don’t sexually assault people, that'syuck.”
“Well — ”
“Hands on the desk.” He spoke with a voice that could have commanded armies.
I shivered with a healthy dose of fear and a confusing mix of desire, promptly slapping my palm back on the desk.
I should probably grab the blade and stab him in his—Oh!
His finger swirled across the fabric on my underwear, licking over my clitoris hiding just underneath.
I bucked into him, drowning under the precious stroke, resting my head into his collar bone and ignored the tension of the blade under my throat.
I no longer cared.
Sever my vocal cords. Gut me into pieces. Just touch me again.
“You like that, Princess?”
Obviously.
Do it. Do it again.
He did.
His thumb drew a long teasing circle around the outer of my clitoris, flirting with the prospect of touching it a second time. I whined. A long,pathetic whine. All I needed was for him to move his thumb just a dash inward and he’d be back to bringing me to the edge of delirium.
“Is this what you want, Princess?” he asked again.
I had dignity and self-respect and pride, so I did not answer. I would never answer this creature a single question. Not even torture could make me answer.
“Answer me!”
“Yes!” I screamed the word. “Yes, I do, I really do. Yes. Yes. Yes. Is that good? Any other questions?”
“Do you consent?”
“Do it again!”
“Do you consent?”
“Please, do it again!”
“Answer me!” he shouted. “Do you consent to me touching you in a sexually intimate manner? I need to hear verbal consent.”
“Huh? Oh, yes. I consent.”
“Are you currently inebriated in any way that may affect your true feelings of consent?”
