[The force of his hand is slow but inexorable, a persistent force rather than the sharp, quick thing it had been before. The benefit is that the pain is minimal, and lessens as she moves with his prompting, letting her head be pinned to the wall. The drawback comes a moment later, as he forces her in even further, fingers digging into her hair, pushing until her mouth drops open and she pants wantonly.
She isn't entirely pinned. Her hands are free, and one still braces against the wall, the palm flat against the smooth plaster. Could she force herself back and break from his grip? Perhaps, but surely he's expecting that.
And then for a moment her thoughts go blank, because then he's pushing in further, and oh, god, but that feels good. It's not what she wants, but it's so close, and she arches her back, her hips moving automatically to push into that touch. The barest hints of slick, overheated pressure, nudging against her again and again before sliding down and teasing against her clit. He keeps repeating the process, over and over, and she feels a whine building in her throat. Again she jerks her hips back with little fineese, trying and failing to force him into giving her what she craves. More, and yet all he does is draw back-- not entirely, no, giving her no relief from that sweet torture at all, but she can see him watching her.
He laughs, and her blood boils.
He wants to make her vocal. That's why he's forcing her mouth open, why he's slowly driving her up the wall. But she won't, not here, she's determined-- not only for her dignity's sake, but because now it's a point of pride. Her fingers curl, and with a force of effort she keeps still, not giving him the satisfaction of squirming and writhing.
She can't stop the way her legs tremble, though.]
You do know what to do next, yes? Or are you going to just stand there and do nothing but get yourself off?
no subject
She isn't entirely pinned. Her hands are free, and one still braces against the wall, the palm flat against the smooth plaster. Could she force herself back and break from his grip? Perhaps, but surely he's expecting that.
And then for a moment her thoughts go blank, because then he's pushing in further, and oh, god, but that feels good. It's not what she wants, but it's so close, and she arches her back, her hips moving automatically to push into that touch. The barest hints of slick, overheated pressure, nudging against her again and again before sliding down and teasing against her clit. He keeps repeating the process, over and over, and she feels a whine building in her throat. Again she jerks her hips back with little fineese, trying and failing to force him into giving her what she craves. More, and yet all he does is draw back-- not entirely, no, giving her no relief from that sweet torture at all, but she can see him watching her.
He laughs, and her blood boils.
He wants to make her vocal. That's why he's forcing her mouth open, why he's slowly driving her up the wall. But she won't, not here, she's determined-- not only for her dignity's sake, but because now it's a point of pride. Her fingers curl, and with a force of effort she keeps still, not giving him the satisfaction of squirming and writhing.
She can't stop the way her legs tremble, though.]
You do know what to do next, yes? Or are you going to just stand there and do nothing but get yourself off?