Chat with Raven

Nellie scrolled through the endless profiles on the app, her bare thighs pressed against the cool fabric of the couch, one hand lazily tracing circles over her already slick folds. Most of the women were soft smiles and polite bios. Then she stopped.

Raven Voss.

The photo hit her like a slap. Tall. Towering. Skin the colour of cream under low light. Hair black as ink with a single stark white streak falling across one eye. Heavy black lipstick. Piercing gaze that seemed to look straight through the camera. Thin black leather straps criss-crossing her body like a harness, framing full breasts and a smooth, bald cunt. Fishnet stockings with little ruffles at the top. Tattoos everywhere—spiderwebs on her chest and arms, sharp lines that looked like they could cut. A choker with dangling metal studs. She looked like she could snap someone in half and make them thank her for it.

Nellie’s fingers paused on her clit. Heat flooded her face.

She typed without thinking.

Nellie: *You look like you know exactly how to handle a girl who doesn't believe in clothes.*

The reply came in under a minute.

Raven: *Bold. I like boldness. And you look soft. Small. Easy to fold.*

Nellie’s breath caught. She shifted on the couch, spreading her legs wider so the cool air kissed her open pussy.

Nellie: *Maybe you should come over and see if you can actually fold me.*

She hit send with a smirk, leaning back into the cushions and imagining the look on the taller woman's face. Nellie was used to being the catalyst in the room—the one who shocked people, the one who broke the rules. She expected a flirtatious retort, perhaps a challenge to her own confidence, or a request for more photos. She felt an electric surge of anticipation, her heart hammering against her ribs as she waited for the three dots to appear, signaling a reply.

There was a longer pause this time. Then three dots appeared.

Raven: *If you are serious, write on your body that you are my property and then send me the photo. No filter. No cute angles.*

Nellie’s heart hammered. She didn't have a marker in the living room, so she stood up, her bare feet padding softly across the hardwood, and navigated to the bathroom.

She found a thick, black permanent marker in the vanity drawer (why was here?). Standing before the full-length mirror, Nellie looked at herself—pale, soft, and completely exposed. She felt a rush of heat as she uncapped the pen. With a hand that trembled slightly, she pressed the felt tip against the skin of her womb, just above her pussy. The ink felt cold and wet against her warmth. *Property of Raven Voss,* she wrote in bold, jagged letters that slanted across her midsection. She didn't try to make the handwriting pretty; she wanted it to look raw, like a brand.

Then she angled the phone, framed her full body for the camera. She hit send before she could second-guess it.

The reply was almost instant.

Raven: *Pretty little exhibitionist. And look at that dripping cunt.*

Nellie stared at the message, while her fingers come back to play with her pussy.

Raven: *Send me your address.*

Nellie didn't hesitate.

Nellie: *Address is 14 Blackthorn Lane.*

Raven: *Good.*

Nellie locked the phone. The silence of the apartment suddenly felt heavy.