What was their second encounter like?

The second encounter should have been Cora’s ****. She was a decorated officer of Aldenheim’s city guard, had fought just as many Lowtown thugs as she had anti-half-orc prejudice, and had carved out a reputation for competence. There was no way she was going to let some elvish jokester make a fool out of her and get away with criminality. She’d tracked Erin through the winding backstreets of the city, cutting off every escape route until there was nowhere left to run. This time, she wouldn’t fall for her tricks.

She’d charged the elf, fast as lightning, only for Erin to sidestep as if she’d seen it coming days ago. With a quick backhanded snap of her wrist she sent Cora’s sword flying from her grip, metal skidding across the cobblestones with a shrill scrape. And, gods help her, the woman had laughed.

"Patience, darling. At least let me get a good look at you before we dance!"

The words had barely registered before Cora felt fingers at her neckline. A twist, a flick- the buttons on her tunic popped open one by one, exposing a deep, teasing view of a valley of green skin. Cora’s face burned. She lunged again, but Erin dodged her effortlessly, catching Cora’s wrist and twisting just enough to send her pivoting forward. Before Cora could wrench herself free, something tugged at her arm; her bracer. She barely had time to register the missing weight before she felt another quick pull elsewhere, as Erin executed unmatched sleights of hand as if the half-orc was operating at half her speed. Perhaps she was: Cora swung wildly, furious, embarrassed, but Erin kept moving, kept laughing, kept undoing.

Her other bracer slipped from her wrist.

Her coin purse vanished.

Her tunic fell open.

And then- a sharp tug at her waist.

Her trousers dropped, pooling around her ankles.

Cora barely choked back a curse before she stumbled, her knees buckling as the fabric tangled her step. Once Cora processed she was standing in the alleyway in nothing but her underwear, Erin had already seized her by the midsection and spun her hard. She whirled, helpless, momentum tearing her balance away with every misstep; unable to prevent her opponent’s strategic touches, her footing faltering with every **** attempt to plant herself. The world was a blur of alley walls, shadows and Erin’s grin. Cora’s eyes watered as she fought against the dizziness, trying to keep track of where her opponent’s hands were - everywhere, it felt like.

By the time Cora stopped turning, she was tied up again.

This time, her own damn bra was twisted in her mouth as a gag. Strips of cloth torn from her tunic were wrapped around her wrists, behind her back. Her belt had **** her legs together. She swayed unsteadily on her heels, having been gift-wrapped like a wench for the whole alley to see. And Erin? Erin had looked her up and down with satisfaction, inspecting her handiwork, before tugging her around and adding a few more shreds of cloth to the web of ribbons crisscrossing her back. She'd then moved in close, face-to-face. Warm lips pressed against Cora’s forehead, the touch soft mockingly tender. Cora’s eyes had gone wide, her entire body locking rigid. Erin grinned as she pulled back, mischief twinkling in her eyes:

“Sweet dreams, sweetheart.”

She’d winked, and then she was gone, disappearing into the night.

Cora was too stunned to even growl. Too stunned to even think. And - gods save her - she was too stunned to stop the heat creeping down her neck. She had been left hopping home, every bounce of her bare tits hammering in her disgrace. A proud, strong half-orc turned into a farcical display, trussed up with humiliating efficiency. She’d grunted against the gag, a muffled, frustrated, impotent noise. Erin hadn’t even needed to tie it particularly tightly: Cora likely could have spat out the gag but would be too mortified to call for help anyway. Too furious, too flustered, to do anything but stumble home in disgrace - half-naked, hopping, breasts jiggling with every pathetic step she took.

And gods-damn her, Erin’s final taunt proved true.

She did dream sweetly that night. And she hated it.