NSFW: Undying

[400yearsofsurvival]

[ from here. ]

A low chuckle dragged out of his throat as she tried so hard to fight. It's something he would always love about humans. They were too stupid to know when it was useless to fight. They could save their energy for so much more. And yet the wasted it flailing around, achieving nothing. Exhausting themselves for him.

He shoved her down into the chair, planting a firm hand on her chest, just below her throat. His gaze swept over her, pausing at her neck before going lower. Lingering on her chest. Then finally coming to rest on her lap before an especially wicked smile twisted his lips.

"I've got special plans for you."

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[finalcurse]

Rachel tried to follow his eyes, but her blood loss from earlier still swam between her ears, making her head sway slightly as soon as he dropped her down into the chair. She couldn't have stood up if she'd tried, not with his hand like a weight against her chest. She wasn't even sure her legs would carry her again.

Those bursts of speed were getting fainter, exhausting. Shuddering beneath his gaze, his touch, twin trails of tears traveled down her cheeks. "Please, let me go. Please."

[400yearsofsurvival]

"Now why would I go and do something like that?" Keeping his hand on her chest, as if it took no effort at all to hold her down, he bent to pick up some of the rope from the floor. "We're going to have so much fun."

He used his teeth to help him unravel the coiled rope, looping it around her chest and the high back of the chair. The rope was coarse sisal, and he was not gentle with it, cinching the loops tight around her. It took almost no time at all to fasten the ends, leaving a total of six strands snug around her. Three above her breasts, three under, intimately close together.

Picking up a second bundle of rope, he moved around behind the chair.

[finalcurse]

The binding kept her upright, though her chin tucked against her chest. The wound on her neck still ached, the ropes tight and uncomfortable against her upper arms. It only took one stretch to try and test them. She wasn't getting free.

"What do you want from me?" she asked, letting her head loll back, her dark hair matted in a sticky bundle from the blood. It was in that moment that she realized she didn't even know his name.

"Who are you?"

[400yearsofsurvival]

Adjusting the placement of the ropes on the back of the chair, he leaned over her. He pressed close against her hair, inhaling audibly. Even half dried, her blood smelled sweet.

"Your new master," he said, almost seductively. It was what his newly turned minions called him.

He left her first question unanswered as he dragged her arms behind the chair. He used the second length of rope to bind her wrists, winding strand after strand around them. Cinching it tight in the middle. Once it was secure, there was no way to pull her hands free. Especially once he passed several lengths through the slats in the back of the chair, winding a few more strands around her wrists in the process. It would force her elbows out slightly, making the rope over her chest even more tight.

[finalcurse]

Master.

She turned her face away from his. All she smelled was blood. It was cloying, her stomach clenching with nausea. As he looped the ropes around her wrists, pulling her elbows out, she grunted softly. It was all she could do.

She wasn't sure what he would do, why he was tying her. He had bitten her, kept her locked in a room. She wanted to be back in that room already, uncertain of what he had planned for her, and honestly afraid.

[400yearsofsurvival]

It would seem she was already catching on. Her cell was safe, he wasn't there in her cell with her. There she would have a little peace. But she had demanded to be let out, and he'd given her wish. If she were to voice this, he'd just remind her to be careful what she wished for. It was a lesson he expected to teach her over and over.

He responded to her grunt with a soft sound of his own, falling just shy of a laugh. He could already tell he'd made an excellent choice. She wasn't going to be a meek one.

With her hands holding her in place, he could adjust the ropes on her chest. He reached around her and unfastened them, letting the coils fall loose around her waist. He'd be putting them back soon enough. He moved around to stand in front of her. All sharp smiles and self important amusement. Planting a hand by her shoulder, he reached out a single, clawed finger and dragged it firmly down the front of her shirt. The fabric split in his wake, clinging together here and there, slowly exposing her skin.

[finalcurse]

Rachel didn't like small spaces, but she liked this guy less. Master. She fumed, shaking slightly, still terrified and angry and hurting and...a thousand thoughts ran through her mind, and none of them congealed into anything but that she needed to be free and back at her Aunt's house.

She was confused, at first, by his untying of her chest. At least until he smiled at her and started to cut away at her shirt with his finger...no. Claw. He had claws. This was all too real. She turned her head up, trying not to let the tears of frustration and desperation spill out onto her cheeks as the soft jersey fabric of her shirt cut away.

[400yearsofsurvival]

His gaze flicked up to her face as his claw sliced through the hem of her shirt. His tongue peeked out, sliding over his upper lip, as if seeing those tears on her cheeks was somehow enticing. How long until she started begging to be let go again, he wondered. Or had reality finally sunk in?

Grabbing the fabric of her shirt in each hand, he easily finished the split, letting it fall open, exposing her stomach and bra. That's exactly where he went next, hooking that wicked claw right under the center point. He watched her face, wanting to see it in her eyes, as he gave a sharp tug, splitting her bra as easily as her shirt.

[finalcurse]

This was a different level of panic. Unease had settled through her, disquiet making her stomach ache. He could only be stripping her for one reason.

Her eyes were downcast, flicking up only to meet his an instant as his finger hooked against her skin, beneath her bra. Fear and anger were there, but also shame. She looked quickly away as the fabric split, the cups parting and falling away, leaving her partially exposed.

"Please." She asked, but it sounded less convinced, more resigned, bitter almost.

[400yearsofsurvival]

Gently pushing her shirt and bra aside, he gazed at her as if she'd been hiding some unexpectedly pleasant secret from him. As if he'd just unwrapped a birthday present and it was what he'd wanted all along, only with all of the warmth sucked out of his smile.

"Please?" He asked with a lifted eyebrow. "Please what?"

One hand moved to cup her breast, falling just short of gentle. He wasn't harsh, but it was the sort of touch that spoke volumes of just who he thought it belonged to. This was emphasized by his thumb dragging firmly over her nipple. His smile tugged wider, enjoying this greatly.

[finalcurse]

Goosebumps crawled over her skin like spiders at his smile, her eyes dropped down to stare at his stomach. This close, she could see the cracks in him, his facade. How pale he was. Those shark eyes. Her face showed her disgust as he palmed her breast, her jaw tightening.

She wasn't going to answer him. Please what. Please let me go. Please don't do this. Her words might as well have fallen on deaf ears. He was going to do as he pleased. He seemed to enjoy her fight, but she couldn't stop herself. She yanked at her wrists, the rough cord biting into her skin, her frustrating welling into a growled sound.

"Let me go!"

[400yearsofsurvival]

Her sudden frustration only drew out a small laugh from him. He instead brought up his other hand, using both to roughly knead her tender skin, briefly. He had plans for her, to see just how much she was willing to fight. To see where she'd finally crack and give in.

"Maybe tomorrow," he said, in no way meaning it.

His hands slid away from her, seizing her shirt and bra. In one jarring, violent jerk of his hands, he tore both garments free of her body, shredding them in the process.

"Hope you didn't want that back."

[finalcurse]

She calmed, only because the ropes hurt her skin, chafing her wrists. She lifted her eyes to his, wanting to call bullshit on the whole letting her go. Why would he? The movement had made the wound in her neck ache worse. When he yanked her shirt and bra, the sudden tear made her skin protest as it too chafed, leaving slight red marks against her pale skin.

A flush crept over her cheeks, her neck. This was humiliating, which was no doubt what he intended for it to be.

[400yearsofsurvival]

"That's better," he said as he tossed the shredded clothes aside.

He picked the fallen ropes back up finally, unwinding it from where it had fallen. When he started wrapping them around her again, he didn't include the back of the chair. Strand after strand went around her torso, hugging close above and below her breasts. He was just as tight as before, but more meticulous. Making sure each strand sat perfectly in line with the first. Each one equally snug.

To fasten the ends, he wound them twice around the two sets of ropes, right between her breasts, cinching them close together. The remaining length, he brought up behind her neck, knotting it there. Knowing full well the rough rope would not only irritate her skin, but the wound as well. Not letting her forget it was there.

[finalcurse]

The rope stung as it rubbed against Rachel's skin, uncomfortable as it was no doubt supposed to be. If she struggled, it would chafe everywhere. He wasn't stupid. It was unfortunate. Stupid she might be able to get away from. He wasn't going to be so easy to escape from, as he had already proven by playing with her.

The way he cinched them was uncomfortable, trapping her breasts and then rubbing directly against the bite he'd left in her neck. She made a soft noise of discomfort, pain flickering across her face. She had to bite her tongue to keep from making any more noise, knowing that it would likely please him.

If he was going to play with her, she was going to try to make sure she did what she could to not be entertaining.

[400yearsofsurvival]

That's where she was wrong. There was really only one way to not be entertaining, and it wasn't exactly a voluntary thing. When people finally hit a point that they were truly catatonic when when he got bored and either turned or killed them. He rarely let it last that long, and doubted she'd reach that point any time soon. Because that soft noise meant more to him than her pleading. It was those involuntary things that made it all worth it.

He continued to work, vaguely amused. He picked up another length of rope, a little slimmer than the first. This one he passed behind her neck first, letting the loose ends fall down over her. He repeated the process from the center with the strands on the outsides of her breasts, winding the loose rope around them, cinching them tighter. He pulled them as tightly against her as he could, starting to cinch her breasts from all sides. But that as by far not enough. Taking one tit in his hands, he started winding the rough rope around it. Tugging it tighter and tighter. Another coil, laid carefully by the first. And a third. Each one seeming to squeeze tighter with the added pressure.

[finalcurse]

What in the hell was he doing to her? Whatever it was, it was incredibly uncomfortable, the pressure against her sensitive breasts making her squirm slightly in her seat. The noises that fell from her now were completely of the involuntary sort, the discomfort and confusion enough to have her heart pounding.

She tried to keep her breathing steady, but she was failing, her chest rising and falling more quickly as he wound more and more rope around her.

[400yearsofsurvival]

He repeated the process on the other side. Just as meticulous, just as tight. When he was through, he fastened the ends, tucking them away. The ropes were tight enough that they wouldn't be slipping free, held in place by her now bulging and swollen breasts. He took his time, watching the way her chest heaved under the ropes, her breath betraying her emotional state. And with each breath, she was sure to feel it, as her rips expanded, pressing on the ropes, pulling everything just a little bit tighter.

He wrapped his hands around her trapped breasts, squeezing and fondling them now that they were so much firmer. Already, they were reddening and darkening. He couldn't wait to see her reaction when the color really set in.

"Just the way you should be," he said, his palms sliding over her warm skin. "And if you behave, I'll even take it off before I put you back into your room." He probably would, anyway. It was more fun to give them a break, let them breathe, before he did it all over again. But he liked what such a threat could do.

[finalcurse]

Rachel had never experienced anything like this before. She could feel the swelling, the blood trapped just beneath the skin, feeling as though it was pulsing. She ached already, each breath pulling things together. She whimpered beneath her breath, her eyes red and wet.

"You're sick," she mumbled, not daring to even look down at the impromptu cage he'd made for her flesh. Each shift was discomfort incarnate, and she didn't know what he was trying to do, besides humiliate her. If that was his goal, he was succeeding.

[400yearsofsurvival]

The insult just made him smile wider, having heard so much worse. But those soft whimpers that she tried so hard to hide, that was the goal. Soon, he'd have her making sounds far louder, far harder to deny. As if to prove her point, his fingers found her nipples, pinching them hard. He dragged his hands down, holding tight until the little nubs slipped free of his grasp, making her tits spring back up.

His hands continued down, over her bare stomach. His fingers explored her warm skin, his touch firm but not painful. Teasing right down to her hips, just above the waistband of her pants. All the while he gazed at her like he intended to devour her any moment.

[finalcurse]

Pain. She had only ever felt this kind minutely, when a t-shirt rubbed, when a boyfriend had played with her nipples too hard. She bit back the noise, trapping it behind her teeth, though the grimace was evident on her face. No wonder he'd done it. She felt every touch tenfold, her nerves seeming like they were going haywire.

As his hands moved down, she swallowed hard, watching him, his face, his hands. She saw what he had done, how he had tied her, and her cheeks flushed deeper red. She was never helping anyone else ever again.

[400yearsofsurvival]

He watched as she realized what he'd done to her. Not only the reason for the ropes, but why they were there. He breathed in, savoring that moment. Savoring the flood of emotion that stained her cheeks so red. If he could get her blushing already, there was no telling what would happen once he got her pants off.

Leaving her to watch her own heaving and bound chest, he turned his attention to her pants. At her hips, his fingers dipped under the waistband of her pajama pants, leaving her underwear be for the moment. And for a few hearbeats, he seemed like he might just pull them off normally. But with a flex of his wrists, they went the same way as her shirt--torn from her body with shocking force, and utterly shredded in the process.

[finalcurse]

She jerked her gaze to him as he slipped his fingers into her pants, waiting with held breath until he decided what he was going to do. In what couldn't be a human act whatsoever, they were torn away and her lower body jerked with the force of it, her hips sliding to the edge of the chair.

A surprised sound of pain leapt from her lips at the sudden strain it put on her arms and her breasts, the sound dying in a whimper as she tilted her head back against the top of the chair.

[400yearsofsurvival]

Again, he just laughed at her reaction. Now they were getting somewhere. He tossed the torn pants aside, as she'd no longer have a need for them. Not while she was here with him.

"That's a perfect spot for you..." he said, taking in how she'd shifted. He seized her behind the knees, tugging her just a little bit further forward, to the point that she might have slipped off the chair if not for her arms secured behind it.

"Much better," he mused as he started to run his hands up her thighs, forcing her legs further apart.

[finalcurse]

He laughed. Of course he laughed. He was a sadistic monster. Emphasis on the monster. Her breath was heaving again as she tried to control her body, tried to steady herself, but she couldn't. There was no way anyone was going to be in control of anything unless it was him.

No. She could be in control of herself, somehow. Her mind, maybe. She tried to close her knees, twist her legs to the side, but his hands were like vices forcing her legs open. She was only in her panties, black cotton with a lace band, and she dreaded what would come next. But would she beg? No. She'd tried. He wouldn't listen.