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What you Wish for

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Slammed against a pillar of the theater by too strong yet refined hands, Thomas can't help but shiver. Hana, majestic in her deceivingly understated shawl, towers over him in high heels.

"Annihilate me," she whispers in his ears, while she deftly ties his hands and his torso with unyielding knots that Thomas can't find in himself to fight. "I have been wondering, dear Thomas, who was the man who wrote such a heartfelt plea."

Gone is her cockney accent, gone is her silly smile; Thomas could see now it had only been a deceit. She carries herself differently, with the light smile of a goddess who regards Thomas as a toy for her amusement. She isn’t an actress playing Venus, she is Venus. Thomas didn't know his goddess had such a cruel tingle on her red eyes.

Her hands grab his neck and push him where she wants, molding his unresisting form to her pleasure. She passes a finger under the thin line of leather strapped around Thomas’s neck as if she is looking for the best place to leave a bruise, and he can’t. He can’t.

He is frozen in place not only by the bonds she tangled him in, but by his own desires made flesh. Hana has stripped him down to his core elements. To repressed desires and pleas.

He doesn't know how to react but fortunately the words are already there for him, lied down like a safeline to perdition.

"Oh please, please. Annihilate me."

Chapter Text

The ropes have moved, morphing from a net binding him to the pillar to a gentle hug around his chest. Not less vicious, but more intimate, molded over his muscles, holding him tighter with every breath.

Thomas pants, naked and clutching at the edge of his desk, while Hana, entirely dressed, rubs her shawl against his bare skin. With her heels, she's taller than him.

"Don't move," she says softly, and another helpless shiver runs through Thomas's body.

Hana chases the goosebumps with her hands, pressing down and bending Thomas until his chest touches the table. Humming in satisfaction at his obedience, she drags her nails on the inside of his tights, spreading his legs.

Thomas whimpers, as his muscles strain to hold the position, but he doesn't move. He can't, because Venus told him not to.

Something wet presses around Thomas hole, and he shivers again, his body betraying his nervousness against the desires of his mind.

Hana silences him with a hand over his mouth and increases the pressure. Thomas whimpers, holding onto the table not to move, torn between anticipation and fear. He knows he doesn't have a choice.

Venus's fingers invade his mouth and catch his tongue. Thomas gags, but her long red nails sting his mouth and he struggles to be still, to be good. He suffocates a whimper.

"Still," she orders, low and inescapable, and Thomas obeys, struggling to relax.

She breaches him and it's too soon, it hurts, but she rewards him with a kiss on his sweating neck and Thomas closes his eyes in bliss. She's approving of him.

With Hana's fingers in his mouth and the ropes constricting his chest, Thomas struggles to breathe, while she pushes and pushes, until she bottoms out. It still hurts, but less, and she rewards him, covering him with her body. Her dress is soft on his back.

He feels so full. With every breath her nails dig into his tongue, because he can't help but breathe, and it's leaning on the wrong side of too much. He gags, fighting his instinct to flee, but before his body can betray him she leaves his mouth.

Thomas sighs in relief and rests his head on the table. Drool is under his cheek, but it doesn't matter because she moves back and then thrusts in, reaching deep inside him. He wants her to stop. He wants her to continue.

"Good boy," she says, as if Thomas is her pet. He shudders again, because she is perfectly in control, and he is anything but.

"Now I'll make it better," she whispers in his ear, and then the hand who was in his mouth snakes down, still covered in drool, and rests over his balls. Thomas tenses, hissing when his hole clenches around her, and almost disobeys, because she is inside him and outside him, touching him in every place where he is vulnerable.

But it is better, when she fondles his balls and changes the angle of his thrusts, and Thomas moans. Her fingers trace the base of his cock, unbearably light, then a single nail slides up. Thomas buckles, impaling himself while she pushes up, feeling his balls contracting and moving to take her even deeper. The ropes constrict his chest and there isn't enough air, so he writhes in her grasp. Then she scratches the head of his cock, right where it hurts so well, and Thomas is lost to Venus.