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dethoratsTitle: Yielding
Pairing: Califa/Robin
Rating: It's PG but R in its implications
Word Count: 446
Cruel jagged spines penetrated the flesh of her upper arms, drew forth beads of crimson. She could feel the heat of her own life's blood as it crept down over her skin, made her fingers slick and wet as they twisted against each other and against the confining, draining cuffs of seastone that made her nearly helpless. The CP9 woman had one hand tangled in her hair, manicured nails digging into the base of her skull in a manner not unlike that of the whip that was binding her arms together. The air smelled heavily of blood and of the thick cloying scent of an expensive perfume. How long had she been in this room? Her knees had long ago fallen numb, the sharp tingles and the stretched ache of calf and thigh muscles screaming loudly before slowing dying off, fading into unconsciousness. It was the woman's hand that was keeping her upright now.
Her lips were dry and cracked and her swollen tongue swiped over them futiley. Sharp green eyes behind small gold rimmed spectacles didn't miss the action. Robin's head was jerked back painfully, spine arching uncomfortably as the trickle of blood down pale arms became a steady flow. She stared through her own glazed eyes into the other's face, took in the pointed chin, the sweeping wings of brow, the sneer that curled painted pink lips, all the hard angles that made up the former secretary in disguise. No words were spoken. Both knew they were unnecessary. Robin would never betray her former crew in that particular manner. And Califa knew that the woman in front of her was well aware of what was expected next.
The boys, she thought in one small corner of her mind where, upon capture, she'd banished the self that had been slowly re-emerging since she had first truly encountered the straw-hatted captain in a crumbling temple in the desert, would never have done this. Usopp would have been unconscious by now and Luffy was too much of a risk. And Zoro and Sanji would both have resisted in their own ways, been beaten and bloody and broken in all but spirit. But she was older, more experienced, and far more cynical. And if she wanted to be in any kind of shape to escape should the chance arrive, then it was best to compromise certain aspects of honor. Besides, given that she'd already betrayed them in one way, what more did this one matter? Perhaps it was only right that her humiliation be nearly complete.
When the hand that was still tugging painfully at her hair pulled her beween impeccably stockinged thighs, she put up no resistance.
Pairing: Califa/Robin
Rating: It's PG but R in its implications
Word Count: 446
Cruel jagged spines penetrated the flesh of her upper arms, drew forth beads of crimson. She could feel the heat of her own life's blood as it crept down over her skin, made her fingers slick and wet as they twisted against each other and against the confining, draining cuffs of seastone that made her nearly helpless. The CP9 woman had one hand tangled in her hair, manicured nails digging into the base of her skull in a manner not unlike that of the whip that was binding her arms together. The air smelled heavily of blood and of the thick cloying scent of an expensive perfume. How long had she been in this room? Her knees had long ago fallen numb, the sharp tingles and the stretched ache of calf and thigh muscles screaming loudly before slowing dying off, fading into unconsciousness. It was the woman's hand that was keeping her upright now.
Her lips were dry and cracked and her swollen tongue swiped over them futiley. Sharp green eyes behind small gold rimmed spectacles didn't miss the action. Robin's head was jerked back painfully, spine arching uncomfortably as the trickle of blood down pale arms became a steady flow. She stared through her own glazed eyes into the other's face, took in the pointed chin, the sweeping wings of brow, the sneer that curled painted pink lips, all the hard angles that made up the former secretary in disguise. No words were spoken. Both knew they were unnecessary. Robin would never betray her former crew in that particular manner. And Califa knew that the woman in front of her was well aware of what was expected next.
The boys, she thought in one small corner of her mind where, upon capture, she'd banished the self that had been slowly re-emerging since she had first truly encountered the straw-hatted captain in a crumbling temple in the desert, would never have done this. Usopp would have been unconscious by now and Luffy was too much of a risk. And Zoro and Sanji would both have resisted in their own ways, been beaten and bloody and broken in all but spirit. But she was older, more experienced, and far more cynical. And if she wanted to be in any kind of shape to escape should the chance arrive, then it was best to compromise certain aspects of honor. Besides, given that she'd already betrayed them in one way, what more did this one matter? Perhaps it was only right that her humiliation be nearly complete.
When the hand that was still tugging painfully at her hair pulled her beween impeccably stockinged thighs, she put up no resistance.
