With Wits of Course!

The brown haired lady pushes her body off you. Her knee having previously been putting painful pressure on your scrotum from her "quieting" of you, takes her hands now off your throat. The pain from the quintuplicate pressure at the base of your sternum slowly subsiding, as you catch your breath. Her green eyes are shooting daggers at you, their weight not very much adding a lot to the big picture as her threats to kill you haven't exactly gotten less real over the last minute. She turns around, about to walk a few feet to leave the earrings on her desk before most probably picking something violent to **** you with, but you don't want to be part of that.

"Hey, before that. Would you be so kind as to sit in my lap."

The comment seems to have gone across as well as it could, she wasn't happy, but you didn't expect her to be. She had gained knowledge and possession of an artifact so powerful that it allowed her to change reality to her whim, but your not so fateful encounter from just a day ago seems to have made sure that your executioner would have no ability to utilize them, and furthermore, the person previously possessing them (that being you), must have undoubtedly placed several commands in the subconsciousness of reality itself, and with them, infringed on the very control of her body.

She sits, nonetheless. Judging from the fact that she wasn't naked down to her panties, or dressed casually, you could easily infer that she takes her current task seriously, and regards you with at least some deal of caution. Her attire is a high necked crop top with with a diamond shaped boob window, the rest (which isn't very much at all), is white opaque hosiery on her arms and thigh-highs of equal design. As well as a G-string, giant pink bow and high-heels. You could sum it all up as lingerie if it wasn't for the large lab coat that was currently perched over a chair at her desk. Of course, you couldn't possibly know all this with the angle that your neck is leaning.

What you can know however is that what settles itself on your lap is heaven, the previous encounter with this lady, outside of the maid café belied her shape quite a bit. This of course wasn't because it wasn't there, the focus just seemed to have been on what she had in front. You wonder if her knowledge about the fact that you inspected her extra hard is a saving grace or a downside. It almost seems as though she wouldn't mind, but, you having been in control of her as a person seems to have ticked her off quite brutally. She might belie it on the surface, but there is no doubt that her masochism is only for show.

You graze her thigh slightly, feeling the warming of not only your hand in the stagnant air against her skin, but also the shiver that it sends up her spine when her skin bulges inward to your touch. You can't quite see anything but her back, but the way you graze her makes her shoulders twitch in what you would assume is indignation. She quickly swats away your hand, she's even about to turn around to strangle you again, but it would be abnormal of her since it would break her lap session. You continue, this time grabbing her hips and pulling her further up your lap so that her cheeks are nicely nestled on the sides of your half chub. You feel the hem of her g-string and burrow your hands below, feeling the softness of her stomach against your hand, all while the other one graces her cheek. She seems to not respond to any of your touching however, not as if the entire thing was fine with her, but as if the effort to break normative behavior was worse than the continuous roaming of your hands.

Tragically, anything above her stomach was out of reach, so you would have to do with petting the pelt of her pelvis and groping her thighs and ass. In doing so however, you devised a plan. You move your rod into position under her panty clad booty and then fully in between her cheeks, settling her, almost like she's on a bike seat. She groans in response, and inquires whether you're done. You only respond with a compliment to set the mood as you stroke the outside of her panties, finally eliciting a moan from your vixen, it might have sounded like a groan to most, but with your sexual encounters with women nearing the 10s you feel it is in your authority to judge otherwise. You proceed with phase two. You unclasp her lingerie, swiftly flicking the clasps down her legs so that they're harder to reach. Once more you get a groan out of the woman. As she bends over, you grab her breasts. You can feel the hardness of the nubs underneath, as well as her areola from beneath the fabric, you feel your plan work as she not only continues to stretch for the straps, but she gives no resistance. She in fact pushes slightly further, all without more than a few gentle hums. It's time for some snake charming.