You ponder that look in her eyes

You watch her hop off. Every little jump makes her ass tremble; her breasts slam up and down. It’s quite a sight - a very enjoyable one, you can’t help but feel your pants straining - watching the proud knight so reduced. Her hands behind her back, her teeth gnashing against the stretched fabric of her garter. Every step or two she throws enraged looks over her shoulder in your direction. Her eyes roil with a potent cocktail of anger, disbelief, humiliation, and hopeless defiance.

Defiance, what sweet nectar. You can tell she can’t believe all of this just happened to her, that she’s boiling with fury at how you’ve dishonored her - and at herself for allowing it to happen, somehow. That she should put up more of a fight against your irresistible power. Because if she’s not, or isn’t demonstrably more succesful at it, maybe that means she’s not really trying at all… and she secretly wanted this; longing for someone, some lecherous brute like you, to be able to strip her of the trappings of prowess, and take her. You look at the blushing face twisted in a grimace, as her tits jolt up and down with each hop. No, it wouldn’t do for a proper, respectable lady - a knight no less - to want to feel someone’s intimate touch, to be desired, to be lusted after. A respectable lady doth protest. They should be overpowered, not lift their shirt or open their legs to the nearest eligible man (or woman!) they lay their eyes on.

Sure, maybe she’s crimson with mortification because she’s tied up naked in the street for all to see, yes, that might very well be the reason… but you can ply the depths of that look in her eyes. A lady must be ravished; a knight must be conquered; otherwise, she’d be complicit. She’d be, well, a slut. Her only avenue to experience true, guiltless pleasure, is to be helpless in the face of it.

You watch her hop off down the street, rounding a corner to flee into the nearest alley, away from prying eyes. Her face is contorted with embarrassment as she turns back. She frowns, shooting you a stubborn glare. Oh yes, defiance is indeed a sweet nectar.