You fail, but go out with a bang.

Even as she's picked up the straps she lingers, you doubt any of the hate that she feels has left her, but you suppose from her perspective you're still completely at her mercy. Once you were done having her sit in your lap, which to her was in no sense a signifier of any power, she would dispose of you. As she bends she continues to clasp her straps all while still bent over, forcing her ass to slide up across your stomach enough so that your penis now stands at full mast pointed upwards. As she finishes clasping her thigh highs you've kneaded her quite thoroughly, her voice, now more breathy and somewhat sensual. You feign a sort of surprise as she finishes, placing your hands on top of her bent over breasts. If she were to move from this position, your hands would slide down her breasts, undoubtedly contributing further to her own "situation". You loathe that you can't see the reaction to this. For all the murderous intent the idea of manipulating someone that's wronged you so thoroughly is enticing to you, especially when that person is so, liberated.

She rises, clearly intent on not letting you be in control. As your hands slide off her breasts, the soft flesh budges due to the fully strained chains tied to your wrists. Making a strained moan as she sits up, equally due to the expansion of her lungs from no longer having her breasts pinned to her thighs, but also because of the grazing of her 3 times as sensitive nipples against your palms, she returns to passivity. You let your hands fall freely to her thighs, bouncing slightly, only for her to continue to sit there, apprehensively, the same way one waits for formalities to be over at a banquet so that they can start to mingle. Your hope was to get to the fun part of this, but with you having your head locked, and your arms tied and the person sitting on top of you hating you too much to actually let herself go, you're running out of options. Your fateful encounter was going to be here in a matter of time to claim her prize.

Everything was going so well. You were in control, you had the world in your palm, the ball in your court. Yet now, you feel as though the world has left you to die. Giving up on every sliver of morals that you claimed to have, every appeal to ethics or equality is out the window. If you're gonna die, then you might give a last quite literal fuck you to the person severing your connection. You start stroking yourself. As you rub, you take careful notice of skidding the outline of her g-string, the velvety feeling of the undergarments and the topology from underneath urge you on an animalistic level to keep going. The heat emanating pulses against your hand in tempo with your strokes as you focus on selfishly using her body to please yourself. You slide her g-string to the side now getting in close and personal. Because of her previous clasping her body is even closer to yours and it allows you to get a functional reach inside her. She's still quite dry, and you don't know if you have the temper or the time to actually wait. It doesn't quite matter for you, and you'd almost want her screaming after what she's done to you.

You decide to continue to heat her up anyways, pulling her bottoms to her thighs, where the sheer thickness is preventing you with the little reach you have to toss them any further down. "No matter" you grumble to yourself, your cheeks pushing down against the brace is in such a way that dribble runs down your cheek as you mutter. With your hands on her hips you start making her manually grind against your cock, her ass feeling amazing against your stomach as her hips buck. You're still quite lost about the fact that you're not getting a reaction from her. Did it matter that much to you that you did? This is about you after all, and you're hardly gonna be waxing poetic to her in some kind of soliloquy.

"Does this mean you're done?" She inquires. Her voice is quite **** than it was before. Not in the sense that she's actually forgiven you, but more in the sense that she doesn't want to be rude seeing as though this was "totally normal procedure". You seize the uncharacteristic opportunity to act aghast at her insinuation. They didn't give you a S in espionage for nothing, you have to use the verbal skills when you've got them. "You ought to be punished for even thinking this was done." You yell, slapping her cheek and feeling the reverberation roll back two times over, as she yells in equal amounts indignation as apoligeticism. Suddenly you understand why you felt the way you did before. You were afraid to tarnish perfection. The velvety clothing, tacked to the almost more velvety skin. The aroma of perfume applied in the sense that mingled with the natural scent of her body into a perfect harmony. Your fear of hurting her wasn't on a moralistic level, it was spiritual.

Nonetheless her body is still bucking against your penis, her own motions helping along the effort ever since she denigrated herself. You can feel the slickness coming off her whenever the slight feeling of her pubic hair graces your dick. You can feel the bead at the front of it when she gets the furthest, and the indication is all that is left for you to grace yourself. You lift her up and almost instantly she turns her back. However you had anticipated this outcome, it wasn't too hard to grasp since you personally took her off your lap. "Lap" You quickly spout, too afraid of her ability to instantly find a way to cut your throat out. She prepares to position herself to sit back down as you instead take the initiative and aim your for shaft for her honeypot, dragging her down by her thighs. She lets out a huge yelp when she goes down, the position not really being favorable for anything that isn't a semi-complete to complete penetration. Being seemingly set on getting into your lap she continues to rise up, her legs shaking from your forceful insertion. You jam her down again, this time not having as much resistance to work through, having not fully unsheathed yourself. Her yelp is the sort of breathless one you make when you make when you hurt yourself while training. It's short, hitting between the tone of a voice-crack and the tone of indignant. When you keep pounding you start adding the motion of screwing her down, the gentle feeling of her cheeks molding against you making the experience feel empowering. She seems lost, as if she's confused over why you keep preventing her from doing such a service.

You're honestly surprised that the responsibility lies on her to find a way to sit on your lap rather than on you. You don't blame her however, after getting surprise penetrated during what were supposed to be **** murdering procedures, so the instinctual need to get out of an "embarrassing" situation to return to normality might just be the first thing you'd do too. That of course, doesn't mean you're gonna let her. Having worked up a good rhythm you listen to the reverie of your end, the sound of consistent slapping that one would wish to be the backdrop of one's life is now filling your ears to be the forefront.

You can hear the beat... 1! 2, 3. 1! 2, 3. 1! 2, 3. 4. Four? You almost paused for a second, but there it is again, the sound of something creating a delayed forth beat in the middle of this. You quickly grab her elbows and pull her arms down to where you're grabbing her wrists. You hear her gasp in the fearful way you do when you drop your keys close to a grate in the street. Her hands are now unavailable for stuffing her breasts back into her lingerie, which must have gotten shuffled around after your gracious fondling. Whether it was the breasts sticking out of the boob window or the straps having unwound you still couldn't tell from this position, but the clapping was heaven to you as you now had a slightly more awkward but equally enticing position to work from.

Having grabbed her arms you notice some huge changes. When you pull her shoulders back while slamming into her, her mouth is constantly open as you puncture her, leaving her voice to openly leak out into the room, completely impossible for her to stop as the musculature required to close off her windpipe is currently too stretched out to be able to properly function. From the viscous slap that you hear and the moan that follows you can clearly tell that you hit a stroke of luck. She seems to be struggling even further now, being **** to use her legs and hips to push off from your crotch making your sex turn into a lot more grinding and a lot less pistoning. Amazingly she still has the muscle strength in her calves and thighs despite her now ever increasing wetness. The **** required to lift her entire torso on the pivot of her lower calves is extensive, at least from the perspective of someone who's not a trained shinobi. It does give you a glimmer of hope however, if you can run her out of energy, then maybe you can have her release you since she personally can't get into your lap.