She won't

Lucas saw the internal war in her eyes. Twice she opened her mouth, but though Lucas had loosened his fingers enough to let her speak, she remained silent. That was not all, though: amazingly, something of the arrogance their confrontation started with returned. "N-no. I... I won't!"

"Are you sure? This is your last chance."

Slowly, ever so slowly, she nodded.

He shoved her backwards until her back slammed against the wall. The air was driven from her lungs in what Lucas could swear was a moan.

His grin stretched wider. "You're pretty fucked up, aren't you?"

No answer.

"Good, I kind of like fucked up."

She stared at him with those bright green eyes he had noticed the very first time they met.

"You're excited, aren't you?"

She snarled, shaking her head vehemently. "N-n-no!"

The stammer made it not quite as convincing as she'd hoped for, and Lucas laughed. He brought his face close to hers, speaking in a low rumble. "I am going to enjoy wiping that smug look off your face."

Still holding her against the wall with one hand, he reached down with the other. Her thick cotton dress reached almost all the way to the ground, and he could only barely reach underneath the hem. He took hold of the bare leg underneath, and began sliding his hand up.

Kythril still tightly held the wrist of the hand he had around her throat, and her grip tightened when she realized her modesty would soon be a thing of the past. She did try to pull her leg away from his roving hand, but it was a weak gesture. A slight increase tightening of his grip on her throat seemed sufficient discouragement for her struggles to cease.

He reached her ass and grasped it firmly.

"Aaah," She groaned a note of protest, which only made him squeeze harder.

He wanted to move his hand further up her body, but her bodice was too tight and he couldn't find the right angle.

"Unlace yourself," he told her. "In fact, no, undress completely."

She didn't move, staring unwaveringly into Lucas eyes. In an instant, he released her buttock, withdrew his hand from her skirt, and slapped her in the face.

The sound of his hand impacting against her flesh echoed sharply in the hallway.

"Ugnnnhh," she cried out, her head snapping to the side. When she turned her head back towards him, her eyes were wide with fear.

"When I tell you to do something, you do it, bitch. Now are you going to listen or do I have to slap you again?"

"No! No. Please don't..."

Her breathing was ragged and her eyes were wild as she started fumbling with the laces of her dress. Her fingers were trembling with nervousness, but that only appealed to him, and he watched eagerly while she finished.

The bodice dropped to the floor, revealing the unadorned green fabric of the dress underneath. Her chest was heaving and she was staring at him fearfully.

"Well? Continue."

"There's... there's lacing on the b-back. I c-can't reach it with my back against the wall."

Ah. "Fine, I'll let you go. Don't you think about running though. I will not hesitate to cut it loose if I have to, understood?"

She swallowed heavily, then slowly nodded her head. "Yes... yes."

"All right then." Lucas released his grip on her neck, though he didn't step away, ready to seize her the moment she made a move to run.

She slowly turned around, facing away from him and began working at the lacing on the back. There was a lot of it, reaching from the small of her back all the way to her shoulder blades, but once the knot at the bottom had been undone, she pulled the remaining loops loose with a satisfying snapping sound.

She remained turned away, taking a deep breath before slipping the now loose garment over her shoulders. In the heat of summer, she had not put on an undertunic, and so her bra strap came into view first, and as the dress dropped further, her simple—and very old-fashioned—white panties.

She stepped out of the dress completely and began to turn around, but he had something else in mind. He stepped even closer to her. One hand found its accustomed place around her throat, and with the other he cupped a breast.

Immediately, her hands shot up to stop him. In retaliation, he slapped his hand down on her now bare ass.

"Ahhhh!"

Another spank, then a third and a fourth.

"Aiii, stop, please!"

He said nothing and spanked her several more times in quick succession. Finally her arms dropped.

"Better," he hissed in her ear, moving his hand back to her breast.

He had touched her chest when he spanked her there, but that had been under the —thin—guise of benevolent punishment, and so he'd had no real excuse to feel them. He had no such compunction now and eagerly seized his chance. He took his time, squeezing the wonderfully soft mammaries, first one, then the other.

Kythril's arms were tense by her side, her fists balled. If she didn't know it before, she knew it now: any resistance at all would be swiftly punished.

The bra was getting in the way. He grasped it at the front and yanked it hard. The clasp at the back snapped, as did the loops over the shoulder, baring the young woman's tits to his eyes and then his hand.

Lucas took hold of one nipple, causing her to wince with pain. He began to experiment, alternating between squeezes, pinches, and light slaps, drawing delicious yelps from her throat every time. It was not until he started pulling on them that she really started crying out, though.

With his other hand on her throat, he had a good deal of control over her, and she could do little to adjust to his moves. She still tried, though, and it almost became a kind of depraved dance. He'd pull her nipple in one direction, she'd cry out, and then her body would squirm delightfully to keep the discomfort to a minimum. He would then compensate for her movements, keeping her right on the edge of what he thought she could bear.

There was something to be said for a nice pair of breasts after all, he decided. No, not breasts; these were tits. Not too big, but soft and round and sitting high on her chest.