Whisper in her ear

You give a sly grin at Evellyn's futile resistance, thoroughly enjoying the struggle you've uncovered within her: "Untie you? Where's the fun in that?" you respond, relishing the conflict playing out in her expressive eyes. You tighten your grip around her, your fingers tracing teasing patterns along her skin. Evellyn squirms in your lap, a mixture of frustration and arousal dancing on her features. She’s caught in a battle between her knightly pride and the thrill of submission… and the pride is losing.

The air crackles with tension as you lean in, your lips brushing tantalizingly close to her ear. "There’s no need to keep lying to yourself… this is making you horny, isn’t it?" you whisper, the words sending a visible shiver down her spine. ”Trussed up, naked, straddled across my lap; anyone could walk in on us any second now.”

Evellyn scowls with fury, but her face is becoming increasingly flush, her breaths shallower, and her nipples erect. She tries to resist the swell, trying to blame it on your devious manipulations instead of herself: "Th- this is your doing. You and your twisted games!”

Your eyes lock onto hers with a keen edge: ”You can try to deny it but I see through you. You like it.”

Her defiant façade wavers. "You have no idea what y- you're talking about," she snaps, her voice a mix of frustration and embarrassment.

She struggles against the ropes. With a final teasing caress across the inside of her thigh, you relent, releasing her from the compromising position on your lap. Evellyn manages to slide away, landing on the balls of her feet and trying to retain her balance, her hopping constrained by the rope Charlene tied around her ankles. You delight in watching her breasts squish between her forearms. Her face is sweating; she scrambles to regain a sense of composure, her body still betraying the lingering effects of your touch.

The inside of Evellyn’s mind is ablaze. She’s supposed to be a knight, chaste, dignified and regal: The uptight kind of damsel who tolerates nothing more exciting than missionary with the candlelight doused! But these were the forbidden scenarios she fantasized about in the seclusion of her bedchambers when she was young, or when she was a squire getting tossed about the training yard. She hates it; she hates that you - of all people, you - uncovered her perverse desire, so deeply buried she hardly even knew of it herself. And yet to be teased and toyed with, in abject disregard of her venomous fury, to be stripped naked and bound and mocked and pinched and groped and spanked and made to cum… she craves it. And she hates that she craves it. She hates it so very very much.

And that vicious cycle… is what makes it so hot!

”I-If you ever speak a word of this to anyone I’ll… I’ll… by the goddess I’ll run you through with my sword!”