Collared in Midgar

In the gleaming underbelly of Midgar's Sector 0, where the hum of mako reactors pulsed like a distant heartbeat through the sterile walls of Shinra's Weapons Development laboratory, Lieutenant Lucan Raithe stood rigid while his pulse quickened beneath the crisp lines of his officer's uniform. The air hung thick with the acrid tang of ozone and polished steel, a scent that always stirred memories of impending doom, though in this case it evoked the wrath of a woman scorned. He had been summoned, not to Scarlet's opulent office for the dressing-down he dreaded, but to this cold and clinical chamber under the guise of assisting with an experiment. His mind raced back to that chaotic strike against Avalanche, where her barked orders had echoed through the comms and his initial compliance had shattered amid the rebels' unforeseen ambush. He had broken from Scarlet's carefully planned battle strategy by aggressively using his men to counter-attack instead of holding their ground. The decision had paid off with Aerith Gainsborough, the elusive Ancient, now languishing in a Shinra holding cell. Victory had come at the cost of making Scarlet look like a fool who could not control her own operation, however, and a memory of her humiliated report to the board flashed through Lucan's mind, where he could still feel the ghost of her glare from that debrief, hot and accusatory. He had been dreading her **** ever since.

The doors sealed with a pneumatic hiss as the last of her technicians scurried out, dismissed by her imperious gesture. "Leave us," she commanded, her voice slicing through the tension like a velvet blade. "This demonstration requires only the lieutenant's unique expertise."

She turned to him then, her emerald eyes glinting with that familiar cocktail of disdain and dark amusement, while her full lips curved into a smile that sent an unwelcome thrill racing down his spine. At forty, Scarlet embodied mature allure honed to a weapon's edge, her voluptuous hourglass figure poured into a crimson dress that hugged the lush curves of her hips and the heavy rise of her ample bosom, where the plunging neckline teased the lacy brink of her black bra and her cleavage formed a deep valley that rose and fell with each deliberate breath. Encircling her elegant throat was a sleek black choker, its velvet band adorned with a subtle Shinra insignia pendant that rested just above the swell of her breasts and accentuated the **** pulse point beneath her flawless skin. A daring slit ran up one side of the dress, parting to reveal the smooth expanse of her thigh, toned and inviting, leading up to hips that swayed with hypnotic rhythm as she approached. Her blonde hair fell in asymmetrical waves, one side brushing her shoulder like golden silk, framing a face of mature beauty with sharp cheekbones, full lips painted a deep scarlet to match her name, and an expression that promised both pleasure and pain in equal measure.

Lucan swallowed hard, his gaze involuntarily tracing the swell of her breasts before snapping back to her face. He was no bumbling recruit; at thirty-two, he was battle-hardened, his broad shoulders and chiseled frame speaking to years of rigorous training, his dark hair cropped short and his jaw set in quiet defiance. Yet standing before her, he felt exposed, the heat of her presence stirring an unwelcome mix of resentment and raw desire. "Ma'am," he began, his voice steady despite the knot in his gut, "if this is retribution for the Avalanche op-"

"Retribution?" Scarlet interrupted with a throaty laugh, closing the distance until her scent enveloped him and her breasts nearly brushed his chest, while the heat of her body radiated through the thin barrier of fabric. She tilted her head, lips parting slightly as if tasting the word or perhaps him. "Oh, Lieutenant, you are always so dramatic. No, this is an opportunity, a chance for you to prove your loyalty after that little improvisation of yours. Assist me with this prototype, and perhaps I will overlook how you made me appear before the executives." Her fingers trailed idly along the lab table, manicured nails clicking like tiny threats, as she lifted a sleek wristband embedded with a softly glowing Materia, its hue a deceptive rose-pink.

He eyed it warily, the cool metal catching the light. "What exactly does this entail, Ma'am? I am no scientist."

Her smile deepened, predatory and promising, as she extended the band toward him, her other hand resting on her hip to accentuate the curve that begged to be gripped. "It is a neural enhancer, Raithe, designed to synchronize thought patterns during high-stakes operations, sharpening reflexes and aligning commands seamlessly with subordinates. Think of it as bridging the gap between superior and soldier." She leaned in closer, her breath warm against his ear, voice dropping to a husky whisper that sent a shiver through him, his body betraying him with a stir of arousal at her proximity, the faint outline of her nipples pressing against her dress. "Put it on, and you will see. Or refuse, and explain to the President why you undermined me yet again."

Lucan's instincts screamed at him not to take it, to walk away and face the consequences, but Scarlet’s emerald gaze pinned him in place, sharp and unyielding as a blade pressed to his throat. Whatever else she was, she was still a department head, her authority a towering monolith over his lieutenant’s rank. Refusal meant career suicide, a one-way ticket to the slums or worse, a quiet cell where Shinra’s disloyal vanished. The memory of her humiliated scowl at the board meeting flashed again, her lips tight with barely restrained fury as she had recounted his improvisation. She was not offering him a choice; she was dangling two nooses in front of him and asking which he would prefer.

His jaw clenched, the muscles in his chiseled frame tensing as he **** his hand to move. “Understood, Ma’am,” he said, voice low, the words tasting like ash. He took the wristband from her and slid it onto his wrist, the clasp snapping shut with a faint click that echoed in the sterile silence like a guillotine’s fall. The Materia’s warmth seeped into his skin, an unsettling caress that made his pulse spike, his broad shoulders stiffening as he braced for the pain he was certain would come. Neural enhancement, she had called it, synchronizing thought patterns, but Shinra’s experiments were never so benign. He had seen what their prototypes did, soldiers reduced to twitching husks, minds burned out by mako-infused tech. His dark eyes flicked to Scarlet, expecting to see her gloating, her full lips curled in sadistic delight as she activated whatever torment this device held.

Instead, she stood motionless, one hand on her hip, the black choker around her neck catching the light, its Shinra insignia pendant rising and falling with her steady breaths. Her emerald eyes glazed over, vacant and unfocused, staring straight ahead as if into an endless void, her sharp features softening into a blank, expressionless mask. No trace of her predatory smile remained; her full lips hung slightly parted, slack and unresponsive, the deep scarlet lipstick now a stark contrast against the pallor of submission.

Lucan shifted into parade rest, hands clasped behind his back, feet precisely spaced, his training taking over as he waited for her to act, not daring to speak lest he provoke the venom he knew she could unleash.

Five minutes crawled by, the silence stretching taut, broken only by the distant hum of the mako reactors and the faint ticking of a lab chronometer. Lucan’s muscles ached from holding his rigid stance, the wristband’s warmth now a persistent throb against his skin, not painful but unnervingly intimate, like a whisper he could not quite hear. Still, Scarlet remained frozen, her posture unchanged, the choker’s pendant glinting faintly as if mocking his growing unease, her ample bosom rising and falling in slow, mechanical rhythm. His mind raced, torn between discipline and the urge to break protocol, the memory of those broken soldiers flashing vivid and grim. Finally, his courage or perhaps his dread won out. “Ma’am,” he said cautiously, his voice low but firm, cutting through the sterile silence, “is it supposed to do something?”

Scarlet’s lashes did not flutter; her glazed eyes remained fixed on nothing, her voice emerging in a flat, monotone drone, devoid of inflection or emotion, each word precise and mechanical, like an automaton reciting from a script. "Yes."

Lucan waited for her to elaborate. She did not, her body statue-still, the crimson dress clinging to her curves without a single twitch or sway. Another minute crawled by before Lucan asked her what it was supposed to do. “The Materia…” she intoned in that same emotionless monotone, her words slow and even, stripped of any honeyed drip or throaty allure, her full lips moving minimally as if the effort was programmed rather than willed, “was meant to enslave you, Lieutenant. A punishment for humiliating me before the board.”

The pieces fell into place with brutal clarity. Scarlet’s frozen stance, her vacant stare, the way her voice had flattened into robotic obedience—“Your plan appears to have backfired.”

“Yes,” she droned, her tone unchanging, no murmur or tremble, just a blank affirmation echoing in the sterile air.

Lucan’s mind reeled, conjuring a shadow-world where the roles were as she had intended: him standing in her place, eyes glazed, will erased, bending to her every whim without question. A shudder of dread rippled through him. “What did you have planned for me?” he demanded, stepping closer, the heat of his anger coiling with the unwelcome pulse of desire her proximity always stirred, her scent still intoxicating even in this hollow state.

Her answer came immediate and flat, a direct recitation without hesitation or dreamlike haze, her vacant eyes unblinking. “I needed a footstool.”

For a second, the word hung in the air, absurd and obscene. Lucan’s breath caught, his jaw tightening as he leaned in, searching her blank face for any flicker of a lie. “Excuse me?”

“I needed a footstool,” Scarlet repeated in the same monotone, her voice an empty echo, no defiance or ghost of arrogance, just pure, programmed compliance, her body remaining perfectly still, ready for the next input.

That bitch. Fury surged through him, a molten wave that burned away the last of his restraint, searing his veins with a mix of rage and something primal, untamed. The image of himself, Lieutenant Lucan Raithe, battle-hardened and proud, reduced to a mindless prop for her amusement was an insult that demanded retribution. His gaze raked over her, taking in the lush curves of her body, the crimson dress clinging to her like a second skin, the swell of her breasts rising with each shallow breath. The Materia’s warmth throbbed against his wrist, a silent accomplice urging him to seize the power she had unwittingly handed him.

He leaned closer, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper, thick with venom and hunger. “If this Materia can turn a decorated lieutenant into a footstool, I wonder what it can do to Shinra’s most venomous siren.”

“Anything you want,” she said, her voice monotone. "It was my greatest creation. It has no equals in this world."

"Can it make you my whore?" Lucan leaned in, his breath hot against her ear, inhaling the intoxicating mix of her scent and the ozone-tinged air. "How would you feel if I **** you right here, Scarlet? If I bent you over this lab table, hiked up that slutty dress, and fucked you until you screamed?"

"I would feel nothing. If you desire me to become your whore, I will comply. Command me, and it will be done."

For a moment, Lucan was tempted to do exactly that. Ravishing Scarlet held a base appeal, the raw allure of her mature beauty undeniable even in this hollow state. But no, that hollow victory would not suffice. Scarlet deserved to feel every excruciating moment of her fall. Lucan wanted her to be aware when he **** her, to writhe in the degradation, her confident arrogance shattering as he took her over and over, day after day.

"Can this Materia restore your full awareness and personality?"

"Yes."

"How?"

"You issue a direct verbal command to return to normal."

"And if I give you commands now, while you're like this, will you remember them after you wake up? Obey them even after you're yourself again?"

"Yes. Any directives implanted in this state will integrate seamlessly into my psyche upon awakening. They will be impossible to question or resist."

"And this influence... how long does it last?"

"As long as I wear the choker. The choker maintains the neural link. Removal would sever the connection, but while it remains, all commands endure indefinitely."

It was difficult to remember, looking into Scarlet's vacant eyes, that she was a viper. Her backstory was a tapestry of blood and betrayal woven through Shinra's dark underbelly. From the Wutai War to her climb over corpses to head Weapons Development, Scarlet had always clawed her way to power, sacrificing anyone in her path. If he awakened her without safeguards, she would strike: a subtle flick of her manicured nails to unclasp that choker, a feigned stumble to snatch his wristband, a sultry whisper into a hidden comm to summon her loyal Turks, or worse, a seductive ploy to lure him close enough for a fatal blow.

And those were only the possibilities he could think of. In all likelihood, Scarlet would be able to think of many more with minimal effort. Rather than trying to ban each escape avenue individually, Lucan decided it would be better to seal it all with one unbreakable edict.

“Listen carefully, Scarlet. When I tell you to wake up, you will do so with your full personality intact. I’m going to hurt you, Scarlet." Here, Lucan's tone turned almost conversational. "I am going to spank you until my handprints become permanent imprints on your ass. I'm going to leave bitemarks on your thighs, and twist your nipples until you think they're going to fall off. And I'm going to humiliate you. How do you feel about licking cum out of a dog bowl, Scarlet?" He didn't wait for her to answer in that monotone drone of hers. This wasn't the Scarlet he wanted an answer from. "I'm going to turn you into my personal whore, my plaything, and return every slight you've ever inflicted on me a hundred-fold.

"You can feel about this however you like. If you want to hate me for abusing you, hate me. If you want to cry after I've humiliated you, cry. If you want to howl threats, feel free. But you won't resist me. Whatever thoughts you have about escape, whatever plans you put together, will remain exactly that: thoughts. You will never act on them.

"You will not remove the choker or tamper with the Materia. You will not try to alert anyone as to your predicament so they can try to rescue you. You will not arrange for me to be harmed or killed. Through action or inaction, you will never attempt to escape this enslavement.

"On the contrary, Scarlet, you will do everything in your power to ensure this endures as long as possible. You will actively build failsafes into the command mechanism to ensure that a technical glitch doesn't free you. You will act like you normally do to avert suspicion when in public. If someone does become suspicious and figure out something is wrong, you will use your influence to crush them before they can free you. And you will do everything in your power to make sure I'm protected so I can continue to use and **** you.

"You are brilliant, Scarlet. I want you to twist your brilliance to ensuring your enslavement rather than breaking free, as I know you want to. This is my greatest and most essential command to you. Can you continue to follow it even after I restore your original personality?"

"Yes."

"Then wake up, Scarlet."

For a heartbeat, nothing changed, the lab's hum droning on while the Materia's rose-pink glow remained steady. Then, a subtle tremor rippled through her frame, starting at her fingertips and climbing like an electric shiver. Her eyelids fluttered, once, twice, the glaze shattering as sharp intelligence flooded back into those emerald depths. Her posture shifted, no longer rigid automaton but the fluid, predatory grace of a woman who commanded boardrooms and battlefields alike. Her full lips pressed into a thin line, then curved, not into the drone's blank affirmation, but a sultry, venomous smile that did not reach her eyes. Those eyes narrowed, locking onto him with the intensity of a laser sight, dissecting him in an instant.

She took a step forward, her hips swaying with that hypnotic rhythm, the slit in her crimson dress parting to reveal the smooth curve of her thigh, instinctive seduction a weapon as sharp as any blade in her arsenal. "You insignificant worm," she hissed, her tone authoritative, laced with dark amusement that masked the undercurrent of rage. "Do you have any idea what you've done? Tampering with my creation, thinking you could leash me like one of those pathetic SOLDIER pups?" Her manicured nails flexed, as if itching to rake across his face, but her hand halted mid-air, trembling with suppressed effort before dropping to her side. The command held; her body betrayed her will, refusing to strike.

Lucan's lips curled into a mocking grin, his dark eyes gleaming with a mix of triumph and feral hunger as he watched her tremble with impotent rage. He stepped forward slightly even further into her strike range, crossing his muscled arms over his broad chest, a posture ill suited for defending against attacks, savoring the way her emerald gaze burned into him, all that haughty fire trapped behind bars she could not break.

"What's the matter, Scarlet?" he taunted, his voice low and dripping with false concern, echoing the condescending tone she had so often used on him in briefings and boardrooms. "You look a little off. Like a viper that's lost its fangs. Or is it just hard to swallow that an insignificant worm like me has you collared like the bitch you are?"

Scarlet's full lips twisted into a snarl, her sharp cheekbones flushing with a humiliated crimson that matched her dress. "You pathetic little insect," she hissed. "Do you really think this farce will last? I'll have you dissected in Hojo's labs by dawn, your screams echoing through the vents as they peel away every layer of your insignificant..." She lunged then, but not towards him. Rather, she reached for a concealed panel on the lab wall, no doubt a silent alarm or comm link to summon her Turks.

But once more, her body betrayed her. Midway through the reach, a visible shudder wracked her frame, her elegant fingers spasming as if electrocuted, curling inward against her will. A sharp gasp escaped her lips, not of pleasure but of raw, frustrated pain, her emerald eyes widening for a fraction of a second, glazing with a sheen that could have been tears or sheer fury. Her hand hovered uselessly before the panel, her posture locking into place as if an invisible **** had yanked her back. She let out a low, throaty growl, her voluptuous form quivering with the effort, the crimson dress straining against her heaving breasts.

As a last ditch effort, her hand darted toward the choker at her throat, fingers curling to unclasp it, to rip free of the neural link that bound her, only to freeze inches from the choker, trembling violently, the muscles in her arm corded tight like overwound cables ready to snap.

"Damn you," she whispered, her voice cracking just enough to reveal the vulnerability, the fear, beneath her armor, though she quickly schooled it back to that cold, mocking edge. "This is not over. You'll pay for every second of this humiliation, Raithe. I'll see you broken, begging at my feet like the dog you are."

"I doubt that," Lucan responded, amused. "Would you like me to show you how over it is? Stand in front of me, Scarlet. Hands behind your back."

"You pathetic fool, do you really think ordering me around like some slum whore will..." But the words cut off in a sharp gasp, her hips swaying involuntarily as her legs carried her forward, the click of her high heels sharp against the lab floor. Her emerald eyes widened in fury, locked on his as she positioned herself mere inches away, so close he could feel the heat radiating from her ample bosom. Her arms moved of their own accord, sliding behind her back with a fluid grace that accentuated the arch of her spine, thrusting her heavy breasts forward against the plunging neckline of her dress. The lacy edge of her black bra peeked teasingly.

He reached out slowly, deliberately, his callused fingers brushing the soft, yielding flesh just above her cleavage, tracing the curve where her breasts met in that deep, inviting valley. Scarlet's full lips parted in a sharp intake of breath, but her body did not flinch, could not flinch, under the command's iron grip. "These," he murmured, his voice a low growl thick with years of pent-up resentment and desire, as he cupped one heavy breast fully in his palm, squeezing with a firm, possessive grip that made the flesh spill over his fingers, "these have always been some of your best features, Scarlet. So full, so ripe, begging to be noticed in every slutty dress you parade around in."

She hissed through clenched teeth, her sultry voice dripping with condescension even as her nipple hardened traitorously against his thumb through the thin fabric. "You disgusting pig," she spat, authoritative tone cracking just a fraction with the unwelcome tremor of her body's response. "Touching me like some common whore, do you think this makes you a man? You're nothing but a maggot playing at power."

Lucan chuckled darkly, his other hand joining the first to grope her roughly, kneading both breasts with a rhythm that sent jolts of unwanted sensation through her, the choker's pendant bouncing lightly with each movement. "Oh, but that's exactly what you are now, is it not? My whore."

Lucan leaned in, burying his face into the deep valley of her cleavage, the soft, yielding flesh enveloping him like warm silk. The heat of her skin radiated against his cheeks, her heartbeat thundering in his ears like distant drumbeats, quick and erratic. He inhaled deeply, savoring the salty-sweet taste of her skin on his lips, the faint sheen of sweat from her suppressed struggles mixing with her perfume into something primal and addictive. With both hands, he pushed her heavy breasts together from the sides, the plush mounds compressing around his face in a suffocating embrace, their weight spilling over his fingers as he kneaded them roughly.

Then, with a low, guttural rumble from his throat, he motorboated her, shaking his head side to side, his stubbled jaw rasping against the sensitive inner curves, lips vibrating against her flesh in a wet, obscene rhythm that filled the sterile chamber with muffled slaps and his own mocking hum. The sensation was intoxicating: the give of her breasts yielding to his pressure, then springing back with resilient firmness, her flesh grazing his nose and cheeks like insistent invitations for him to mark her. He licked a broad, hot stripe up the valley, tongue delving into the crease where her breasts met, tasting the salt of her skin and the faint lace imprint, before planting open-mouthed kisses along the swell, one after another. All the while, his hands groped relentlessly, fingers digging into the undersides, lifting and squeezing with a possessive **** that made her gasp, her body trembling under the **** even as her mind railed against it.

"You filthy degenerate," Scarlet hissed through clenched teeth, her voice cracking with a tremor she could not hide. "Is this your idea of dominance? Slobbering over me like a starved dog? Pathetic. You'll tire of this game soon enough, and when you do..."

Without lifting his face from the valley of her breasts, Lucan's hands blindly trailed upwards, looking for the thin straps of her dress at her shoulders. Once he found them, he yanked the straps down, the dress peeling away from her skin like shedding a second layer of armor. Her arms, still pinned behind her by his earlier order, offered no resistance, allowing the dress to pool at her waist in a whisper of silk, revealing the lacy black bra that cupped her ample breasts like a cage of delicate shadows.

Lucan undid that as well. His hands moved to the clasp of her bra, his fingers deft from years of handling weaponry, now turned to this intimate conquest. He unhooked it with a flick, the lace parting like surrendered defenses, and he peeled the cups away slowly, letting the bra fall to the floor. Lucan pulled back reluctantly to look at her fully revealed breasts. They were full and ripe, the pale skin flushed pink, crowned by dusky nipples. They heaved with each ragged breath, the weight of them drawing his eyes, soft yet firm, faint blue veins tracing delicate paths beneath the surface.

Just above it, he caught a glimpse of her expression. The fury was still there, but it was overshadowed by a humiliated sheen she could not blink away, tears of rage perhaps or the sting of impotence that no amount of her vaunted authority could dispel. Her cheeks were flushed a deeper crimson than her dress, matching the pink spreading across her chest, and the corners of her full lips quivered with the effort to maintain her haughty facade.

Never had Lucan seen a more beautiful sight. "Look at you, Scarlet," he murmured. "All that power, that venomous tongue, and now you're just a pair of tits on display for a lowly lieutenant. How does it feel, knowing I could do anything to you right now?"

"I'll see you crushed under my heel when this farce ends."

"How mean. You might just hurt my feelings, and after I've been so nice too," Lucan taunted. "I've been downright tender with you so far. Playing nice with that cleavage you love to flaunt, had to be careful, did I not? Would not want to leave any marks where others might notice and start asking questions."

His fingers dug in then, pinching the soft flesh at her side just above her hip, twisting with a deliberate cruelty that made her skin bloom red under his grip. He watched her face intently, drinking in the way her eyes flashed with pain, her full lips parting on a sharp inhale she tried to stifle. Moving higher, he gripped the fuller swell of her breast from beneath, hidden from casual view, and rolled the nipple between his thumb and forefinger, first a tease, then a hard pinch that pulled an involuntary gasp from her. "But these parts? The ones you keep tucked away under that tease of a dress? I can be a lot rougher here." To prove it, he latched his mouth onto one nipple hard enough to draw blood even as his hand twisted the other nipple viciously, pulling until it stretched taut.

Still twisting her nipple, Lucan lifted his face from her breast and watched her expression once more. Humiliation, pain, and rage warred across her features, and humiliation seemed to be winning.

“I’m feeling generous, Scarlet. You’ve got a choice, your first real one since this little mishap. You can take the punishment you've earned or you can apologize for being an insufferable bitch. Get on your knees, fish out my cock, and face-fuck yourself on it until I cum down your throat. Once I cum, I'll end today’s session and you'll get a reprieve until tomorrow. How about it?”

For a fleeting second, he thought she might break, her emerald eyes, usually sharp as mako shards, now clouded with a humiliated glaze. Logically, she had to see it: there was no escape, no reversal, just the choker's velvet band cinched around her throat like an unbreakable vow, pulsing with the Materia's insidious warmth. Surely, even a viper like Scarlet would slither toward the lesser venom, swallow her pride long enough to drop to her knees and wrap her lips around his cock, buying a night's reprieve.

Her posture shifted subtly, her ample breasts heaving as she drew in a shuddering breath, hands still clasped behind her back in obedient arches that thrust her chest forward like an offering. Her gaze dropped to the floor, blonde waves falling to veil one side of her face, and Lucan's pulse quickened with anticipation. Yes, there it was, the crack in her armor, the moment her ruthless ambition bowed to self-preservation. But then her head snapped up, emerald eyes blazing with renewed fury, the humiliated pink on her skin hardening into defiant crimson.

"Kya ha ha!" The laugh burst from her lips, throaty and mocking, laced with derision even as she trembled from the pain he had inflicted. "You really think I'd debase myself for a worm like you, Raithe? Apologize? Get on my knees and service that pathetic excuse for a cock? I'd sooner let you twist every inch of me into ruins than give you the satisfaction of my submission." Her voice dripped with authoritative venom, her lips curling into a sneer that masked the flicker of fear beneath, prideful to the core.

He released her twisted nipple with a final, sharp tug, watching the dusky bud snap back, flushed and swollen from his ****. "Alright, Scarlet," he said, his voice low and even, laced with a casual dismissiveness that he knew would grate on her vain soul. "We'll see what you have to say when I ask you again tomorrow. And the day after that. You've got plenty of time to reconsider." This was only the first session of thousands, stretching across a decade or longer, each one chipping away at her armored facade until she shattered and submitted to him willingly.

His hands moved first, sliding around her waist to grip the lush curves of her ass through the pooled fabric of her dress at her hips. The material bunched under his fingers as he squeezed, feeling the firm yet yielding flesh beneath. He kneaded roughly, pulling her hips flush against his, the hard line of his erection pressing insistently against her thigh through his pants.

Scarlet opened her mouth, no doubt to offer more scathing commentary, but before she could say anything, Lucan leaned in and captured her in a kiss that was anything but tender. His lips crashed against hers, demanding and invading, his tongue forcing past the seam of her painted lips to claim the wet heat within. She tasted like bitter coffee from some executive meeting, mingled with a faint metallic tang. He groaned into the kiss, one hand sliding lower to slip under the slit of her dress, cupping her bare ass cheek, his callused fingers digging into the smooth skin hard enough to leave marks that would bloom later, hidden under her finery. The other hand kneaded the opposite globe, spreading and squeezing with rhythmic possessiveness, pulling her even tighter against him so she could feel every throb of his arousal grinding against her.

Scarlet's response was a muffled snarl against his mouth, her body rigid at first before the enslavement compelled her compliance, her lips parting further under the ****, her tongue meeting his not in passion but in a furious, futile pushback that only deepened the kiss. "You disgusting insect," she hissed when he finally broke for air, her voice breathy and edged with a tremor she could not hide, emerald eyes blazing with humiliated fury as a string of saliva connected their lips for a split second before snapping.

"Open your mouth, Scarlet," he commanded, his voice low and rough, laced with the dark satisfaction. "Stick out your tongue. All the way."

Her emerald eyes narrowed to slits, but her body betrayed her will in an instant. Those painted lips parted wide, fuller and more inviting in their **** vulnerability, and her tongue extended slowly, flat and glistening, hovering just beyond her teeth.

Leaning in, Lucan captured her extended tongue between his lips, sucking on it briefly with a wet, possessive pull that drew a muffled gasp from her throat. After a few seconds, he released it with a pop, then hawked and spat directly onto the pink surface, a thick glob of saliva landing with a wet splat that made her tongue quiver and head jerk as she tried to flinch away, only to be stopped by his commands.

"Don't spit it out or swallow yet," he ordered, before dragging his tongue up the side of her cheek, slow and deliberate, lathering her flawless skin in a trail of warm saliva. The salty tang of her sweat bloomed on his taste buds, evidence of her suppressed struggles. He lapped at it greedily, tracing the sharp line of her cheekbone, feeling her tremble under the intimate ****. Then, pulling back, he gathered the mixture in his mouth and spat it directly onto her waiting tongue, the added wetness causing a dribble to escape the corner of her lips, trailing down her chin like a tear of humiliation.

Next he moved to her neck. His tongue traced the elegant curve where her pulse thrummed wildly beneath the black choker, the velvet band warm against his lips as he lapped up the faint sheen of sweat gathering there, salty and musky.

The Shinra insignia pendant brushed his nose, cool metal contrasting the heat of her skin. He sucked lightly at her **** pulse point, drawing a sharp inhale from her, before spitting the gathered essence back onto her tongue, watching it overflow slightly, dripping down her chin to trace a path toward her exposed breasts.

Scarlet's breath hitched, her sharp features twisting in a snarl of humiliated fury, but her tongue stayed obediently extended, the pool growing.

Lucan dropped lower, his mouth finding the swell of one ample breast. He dragged his tongue along the underside, where he had left that blooming purple mark earlier, lapping up the salty residue of her skin's flush, the faint metallic aftertaste of her arousal mingling with sweat. Her nipple hardened traitorously under the proximity, brushing his cheek as he worked, and he felt her body shudder. Gathering it all, he rose and spat once more onto her tongue, the mixture now a viscous pool that threatened to spill entirely.

"Close your mouth now, Scarlet," he commanded, his voice a low rumble thick with resentment and hunger. "Hold all that in, my spit, your sweat, that salty mix from every inch of you I've claimed. Swish it around nice and slow. Taste it. Really savor it. Get used to having something thick and salty filling that haughty mouth of yours. But don't swallow. Not yet."

Her lips sealed shut with a wet smack, the movement precise and unwilling, her cheeks puffing slightly as she complied. A muffled sound escaped her, a throttled growl, low and throaty, vibrating through her clenched teeth like a caged animal's snarl. Her nostrils flared as her tongue worked the mixture in deliberate, swirling motions. He could see the disgust rippling across her features: the subtle twitch at the corner of her eye, the crinkle of her nose as the flavors bloomed on her palate, salty, musky, laced with the faint bitterness of her own exertion.

Scarlet's body quivered, her ample breasts jiggling faintly with the effort to suppress a gag. A single droplet escaped her sealed lips, sliding down her chin to join the trails already drying sticky on her cleavage, and her sharp cheekbones hollowed as she swished harder, her eyes narrowing in a glare that promised retribution she could never deliver.

His cock throbbed painfully against his pants, fueled by years of resentment boiling over into this dark, twisted need. "Come here," he growled, grabbing her by the upper arm, his fingers digging into the soft skin hard enough to leave bruises that would hide under her sleeves tomorrow. She did not resist, could not, but her body stiffened, a subtle tremor running through her as he yanked her toward the nearest lab table, the click of her high heels echoing sharply in the sterile chamber. The table was cold, clinical steel, scattered with forgotten tools and data pads that clattered aside as he spun her around and shoved her forward.

"Bend over," he commanded, his voice rough with hunger, pressing a hand between her shoulder blades to **** her down. With her hands still clasped obediently behind her back, she had no way to brace herself, her heavy breasts smashing against the unyielding surface first, the soft mounds compressing and spilling out to the sides like overripe fruit, her nipples scraping the chill metal. Her cheek hit next, pressed flat in a humiliating smear, her blonde waves fanning out messily around her face. The position arched her spine elegantly, thrusting her ass outward like an offering she never wanted to make, the dress's slit parting to flash her lacy black panties.

Excited by the glimpse, Lucan hiked the remnants of her dress up to fully reveal her panty-clad ass, before he hooked his fingers into the waistband of her panties, yanking them down roughly over the swell of her hips, the lace scraping against her skin as he exposed her completely. The fabric pooled at her knees, trapping her legs in a humiliating hobble. There she was, the most powerful women at Shinra, bent and bare, her pussy lips tight and unyielding. No slick invitation here; her body betrayed no arousal, just the tight, resistant heat of a woman who would rather die than yield willingly. Perfect.

He fumbled with his belt, the buckle clinking loudly in the sterile silence, then shoved his pants down just enough to free his throbbing length. It sprang out, thick and veined, pulsing with the pent-up rage and desire he had harbored for this viper in red. Positioning himself behind her, he gripped her hip with one hand, digging his fingers into the soft flesh hard enough to leave bruises that would throb under her dress tomorrow, a secret mark of his claim. With the other, he guided his cock to her entrance, the blunt head pressing against her dry folds. She tensed immediately, her body shuddering in a futile attempt to clench shut, a muffled snarl escaping her sealed lips as her emerald gaze burned into him from the side, promising a thousand deaths if she ever broke free.

He did not care. With a guttural groan of satisfaction, he thrust forward, forcing his way inside her in one brutal shove. The friction was exquisite for him, at least. Scarlet arched involuntarily, her spine bowing as a sharp, muffled cry vibrated through her throat, her heavy breasts scraping the table with the motion. Her muscles spasmed around him, trying to expel the intruder, her ass cheeks clenching in reflexive protest. Tears streaked her mascara, drawn from pain and the sting of impotent rage, carving black rivulets down her flushed cheeks.

"Does it hurt, Scarlet?" Lucan pulled back slowly, savoring the way her walls dragged against him, **** and tight, before slamming forward again with a wet smack of flesh on flesh. Her muffled cry vibrated through her sealed lips, the pool of saliva and sweat sloshing audibly in her mouth like a gag of her own making. "Bet it does. All that pride, that venomous arrogance, and now you're just a dry hole getting reamed by the worm you love to belittle. You could have avoided this, you know, could have apologized like a good little bitch, dropped to your knees, and sucked my cock until I painted your throat white. One simple choice, and I would have given you a reprieve. But no, you had to spit on my generosity. Now look at you."

He did not wait for a response she could not give; instead, he gripped her hip tighter, his fingers bruising the soft curve where her ass met thigh, and began fucking her in earnest. Each thrust was deliberate and brutal, pounding into her with the full **** of his battle-hardened frame, the table creaking under the ****. The friction eased slightly as her body betrayed her with **** moisture, not arousal he knew, but the instinctive response to invasion, a slickness born of survival that only heightened his pleasure. The scent of her filled the air: musky sweat mingled with her expensive perfume. Her ample breasts scraped the table with every impact, nipples rasping against the metal, and her ass cheeks jiggled from the ****, pale skin already blooming pink from his earlier molestation.

To maximize her torment, Lucan raised his free hand and brought it down hard on her exposed ass, the crack of palm on flesh ringing out like a whip's snap. The impact rippled through her curves, leaving a red handprint that burned bright against her flawless skin. She arched involuntarily, a throttled snarl gurgling from her throat, her eyes squeezing shut for a split second before snapping open again, blazing with that signature haughty fire, defiant even in agony. He spanked her again, timing it with a deep thrust, alternating cheeks to spread the pain, each slap eliciting a muffled whimper or growl that vibrated through her body and around his cock like a vice. Her muscles clenched tighter with every strike, milking him unwillingly, the heat of her reddening skin radiating against his pelvis as he ground into her.

Gods, it felt good, better than any victory on the battlefield. The way her voluptuous form quivered under him, that once-untouchable executive reduced to a trembling mess, her choker bobbing with each ragged breath, the Shinra pendant mocking her fall. Tears flowed freely now, mixing with the drool escaping her lips in thin strings, pooling on the table beneath her cheek. Her nails dug into her own palms behind her back, knuckles white with suppressed fury, but she could not fight, could not flee, only endure.

His pace quickened, thrusts turning erratic as pressure built in his core, balls tightening with the promise of release. He spanked her one last time, harder than before, the sound echoing as her ass bloomed a deeper crimson, and that final clench around him pushed him over the edge. With a guttural roar, Lucan buried himself deep, hips stuttering as he came inside her, hot spurts flooding her unwilling depths, marking her from within like the ultimate claim. Her body spasmed in response, a muffled **** escaping her as she felt the warmth spread, her eyes widening in fresh humiliation, tears spilling anew. He lingered there, panting, grinding lazily to wring out every drop, before finally pulling out with a wet pop, watching his seed trickle down her thighs like conquered territory.

With a satisfied sigh, he stepped back and pulled his pants back up. Almost lazily, Lucan said, "You can swallow now," while stepping around the side of the table for a better view.

Scarlet's throat worked visibly, the elegant column contracting in a series of deliberate, audible gulps that echoed in the silence like defeated admissions. A final shudder rippled through her frame as the last of the viscous mixture slid down, her full lips parting with a wet gasp, strings of saliva clinging briefly before snapping. Lucan watched intently, his dark eyes drinking in the way her sharp features twisted in disgust, emerald gaze blazing up at him from her prone position with all the venom of a cornered viper.

The moment her throat cleared, the words burst from her like unleashed poison, her sultry voice cracking with raw rage. "Kya ha ha! You pathetic, brainless insect," she hissed, the laugh bubbling up throaty and mocking, laced with that signature condescension even as her body trembled from the violation. The command to keep her hands behind her back held firm, forcing her to arch awkwardly to look at him, thrusting her chest forward like an unwilling display. "Do you really think this farce of dominance makes you anything more than a flea on my back? You've rutted me like some slum dog in heat, spilling your worthless seed inside me without a single thought in that thick skull of yours. I'm not on birth control, Lieutenant. Your brilliant little **** could end us both if I swell up with your bastard spawn. The board would notice, Hojo would poke and prod, and poof, your precious control vanishes in a puff of scandal. How utterly shortsighted, even for a worm like you."

"You're not on birth control? Good. You're not allowed to use the pill anymore, Scarlet, or any other form of contraceptive, for that matter. No morning-after potions, no discreet visits to an abortion clinic for a quick fix. If you want to avoid getting knocked up with my bastard spawn, as you so elegantly put it, you better be ready to apologize tomorrow and suck me off like an obedient whore. Do that, and I'll cum down your throat next time. Refuse? Well, we'll just keep rolling the dice until your belly starts rounding out under that slutty red dress of yours."

Scarlet stiffened. For a split second, he caught it, the flicker in her emerald gaze, a shadow of genuine alarm cracking through the haughty facade. "Did you even hear me, you brainless oaf?" she hissed. Beneath her condescension was a desperation she couldn't fully mask. "If I end up swelling with your worthless spawn, do you think the board will just ignore it? Heidegger, Rufus, Hojo, they'll notice the Head of Weapons Development waddling around like some bloated slum whore. They'll dig, Raithe. And if they uncover this little mishap, it won't just be my end, oh no, you'll be right there beside me. Your pathetic **** unravels us both, you fool."

Lucan chuckled low in his throat, the sound rumbling like distant thunder in the sterile chamber, as he circled her slowly, his boots echoing against the floor. He savored the sight: her lush ass cheeks still blooming with his handprints, crimson welts rising like badges of ownership, the black choker's velvet band encircling her throat like an ironic crown, its Shinra insignia pendant dangling askew from her heaving breaths. The heat of her humiliation radiated off her skin, a palpable wave that stirred fresh arousal in him despite the recent release. He reached out casually, tracing a finger along the curve of her spine, feeling the involuntary shiver ripple through her arched form, defiance warring with the Materia's unyielding grip.

"Oh, I heard you, Scarlet," he murmured, his voice a dark caress thick with mockery, leaning down until his breath ghosted hot against her ear, inhaling the salty-sweet perfume of her sweat-dampened hair. "But you're forgetting the timeline, aren't you? It'll take at least three months for that baby bump to show, if you get pregnant today, that is." He flicked the choker at her neck, making the pendant bounce against her flushed skin. "How many of these chokers can you make within that time?"