vecna | ☣️ midwestern mayhem inbox.

[ is that enough? will it be enough?

it will have to be, as the soft sound begins of skin on skin, and with it, the rhythmic movement of his hand up and down. she can feel its ghostly path almost stroking her, too, but not quite. ]

Breathe pretty for me, then.

[He doesn't think it will be. That's the point.

The movements, then, don't stop, the rustle of his trousers ghosting against the small of her back. He breathes out lowly against her skin; it's warm, fanning across the back of her neck this time.]

Your imagination can do the rest of the heavy lifting, can't it? [Teases at her nipple between forefinger and thumb.] Just imagine my face as I touch myself, thinking about actually getting the chance to finger you someday.

[ evil, evil man. goosebumps all over. her heart hard in her chest. ]

You are— [ she gasps a breath and wriggles as best she can on the spot ] talking too much.

I thought you wanted to listen.

[To hear him moan and bite back embarrassing noises. Not to tease her, and he knows it.

Ah, more rustling. She can intuit, probably fairly easily, that he's shuffling his trousers and pants lower, because there is the very distinct, very hot feeling of his erection pressing up against her back. And his knuckles, too, as he strokes himself off, lingering at the tip of his cock to collect the slick there.]

Which one is it?

[ okay.

jerks her hand back and digs her nails into his thigh, now bared. ]

Everything.

[Ow?? Ow. Her nails are so sharp, it's painful, but it's also-

Exhilarating. She'll have left red welts where her nails bite in, proof of her presence, much like the lipstick. But better.]

Behave. [A force around her wrists to pull her hands back in front of her.] You're only making it harder- [Grinds into her back, leaving a bit of moisture there, too.] -on yourself.

[ no, no, no, she wants to see!!

yet, in the smallest of hearts, she understands she would be paralyzed now even without Henry holding her in place. the thrill of it. waiting for the contact to come and feeling her entire body, head to toe, tingle with delight when it does. he's so hot, so hard, so wet already— ]

Hahahaha...

[...With a laugh like that, she must be having some manner of fun. Which is good; he wanted to deprive her, but not completely.

He continues to stroke himself, slow and deliberate and almost pointedly in a way so she can feel it. Either the head of his cock pressing up against her, or the back of his hand brushing up and down the line of her spine.

This time, he plants a kiss at her shoulder blade, pressing in with his line of teeth.]

What's so funny?

[ mmmn. tries to roll her shoulder in silent protest, but. ]

You're wet.

[ a soft, breathy answer, lilting upwards in almost a croon. ]

So?

[His hand at her front dips down low to cup gently between her legs.]

You are, too.

Ah—

[ the fabric warm and humid. her thighs tense and anticipating the bare touch she knows won't come. ah, ah. wouldn't it feel so fulfilling to have him buried deep inside while those long, lithe fingers toyed at her clit, her lips, her thighs?

actually. lifts her tail, experimental. can she lift it? has he left her the ability to? if he has, he's going to have to think twice of it, because she's trying to squirm as much tail up between them as possible. a loop around his cock would be nice. ]

[Wouldn't it, though? If only she asked nicely. He could touch her in all the ways she liked instead of just gently, gently cupping her.

The thing is, however, that Henry harbors a rather big bias when it comes to her tail. Ever since day one, he was somewhat entranced by it; and now, he has left it to its own devices rather purposefully, just to see how it reacts—or how she might want to use it—otherwise.

Very creatively, apparently.

Her tail indeed can squeeze in between them, and though the limited space doesn't give a lot of room to snake around his cock, she can manage doing it just-so. It's just as warm as it feels at her back, pulsing and aching with his own heartbeat. His mouth opens in a quiet inhale just behind her, lips against the nape of her neck.]

And what are you doing?

[ ah, he's weak to it, isn't he? she'll remember that.

silently, smugly, begins to work him. it's utterly without compassion; a tight squeeze which urges his own hand out of the way, should he allow it. the kind of hug around him that's meant to make him come, and quickly. ]

[DEVIL WOMAN--

It takes all the willpower in the world to urge her tail away with his powers. Uncoiling it. Because that squeeze is utterly divine, and the way she works at him, how fast he would careen off that edge and come all over her, is very, very hard to resist.

But he can't let her win that easily. She'd like that, wouldn't she?]

Ahh, you are misbehaving.

[Wraps her tail around his thigh with his powers instead. :) Bites at her shoulder again, a little sting, but his hand doesn't wrap around his cock again just yet. Give him a second or two to recover from that close call.]

Why are you being so bad?

[ because she wants to hear him moan! gasp! feel him shudder, feel him spend. the unerring uncoil-recoil, though, has Sprezzatura gasping instead, and shortly her tail is wound firmly around his thigh as though it belongs there. just lifted enough that she can feel the tickle of cooler air kissing at her inside thighs when Henry isn't seamed up close.

a ragged exhale, long before she has an answer. ]

Ohhhh— [ grits her teeth, stop biting her!! ] I'm not.

[ /eloquent ]

You are.

[He scoots himself down just a little further, both hands now abandoning her rather cruelly, leaving her bereft of immediate touch for a few barren seconds — minus the loop of her tail around his thigh, anyway.

But it's only to grasp at her backside and spread her slightly, angling forward to push the line of his cock against that valley, feeling both cheeks couching him on either side. He ruts up, slowly, experimentally.]

You won't listen to a thing I tell you to do. If you just behaved, swallowed your pride, maybe I'd let you watch, and touch me, and I could play with your cunt with my fingers for as long as you liked.

[ it feels more lewd for not having taken her panties off first. her back goes very straight—or would, were she not all but completely mummified by Henry's will. she'd lash her tail, too, but...

like this, Sprezzatura feels the fabric drag on her skin and his cock drag against it, straining up and between, deepening the valley with its presence. he's... proportionate. certainly she hadn't forgotten this, but the thought flashes across her mind again now. proportionate, stiff, and eager to be buried between the plush of her cheeks. ]

You are telling me to do nonsense things. [ quite the claim from the woman who can't move a single limb. ] But you are getting ha—hang of things now.

[Lewd still because her panties are barely-there anyway. The material separating her skin and his cock is just a peasantry, not much else.

Still. She feels good like this, too. Hugged by her, when the rest of her can just barely move.]

Nonsense things? Like what?

[LIKE WANTING HER TO SAY PLEASE?]

[ hugged by the most intimate parts of her. he should know, having committed them to paper so lovingly before. with some effort, she strains to resist the hold that is keeping her so perfectly poised to be fucked like this, but not... so hard that she might actually break free of it. ]

Ask nicely, Sprezzatura; say please, Sprezzatura.

[ yeah. ]

[He thought so,

Not so forceful that she might actually break free of it — and so she doesn't. He feels the push against his telekinesis, though, and finds it very cute and very novel. She's not going anywhere. (Not until another nosebleed, anyway.)]

And what's so difficult about being polite? Being nice to me?

[He asks, moving into her again. And again. Far from hard and unfettered, but enough to jostle her.]

You can strain all you want, too, but you're not breaking out of this. Save your energy.

Aren't I already nice? You're here, you're permitted to doing this to me, I am so kind to you.

[ her tone belies "do not stop". this is so much more than she expected him to give her; this is touch she can glean pleasure from, easily, despite his assertions that he would deny her that.

she closes her eyes so that it all feels even closer to her. stiff. wet. a pleasing thickness that rubs over her hole--or would, but instead, her underwear is slowly sticking to the sweat forming on her body, and Henry ruts between her cheeks separated by millimeters. her cunt aches. ]

Pull my panties down.

[Halts in his movements, and surely, surely she knows what he’s going to say next.]

What’s the magic word?

Henry.

Hm. Flattering, but not quite.

[Much as he hates to do it, then, he doesn't oblige her. He doesn't even press his cock against her backside again, instead letting his hand drift back down to take his length in his palm. His other drifts under the band of her panties and squeezes one of her cheeks, fondling all too gently.]

I know you're aching for it. Stop torturing us both.

I refuse to plead with you.

[ a tremor in her voice even so. she wanted this, and she asked for this, and now she wishes she hadn't, because her pride chafes so keenly against the thought of begging. begging is the position she's put herself in. ]

No one tortures you but you. Get on with it! Let me hear.

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