can I get uhhhhhh 17 which connects so beautifully to 7 por favor
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7. "that sounds like an excuse, i want a confession”
17. “beg for it”
Taking a break from my AAA week writing to jump back into my ask box writing... WRITING! 😤
SO MUCH WRITING, GOTDAMN!
tw internalized homophobia, degradation and of course, my fave, guilt 😌
"That sounds like an excuse, I want a confession..."
Vidal chimed as she held tightly onto Agnes' face, her nails digging into the detective's jaw. She held her there so she couldn't move or look away; used her strong legs and thighs to keep Agnes pinned below her. She wanted Agnes to speak and explain herself away; wanted to her the almost painful words drip from her very swollen lips.
"I...can't give you that..."
"Why? Because you're afraid? Why should you be? You're answering me..."
Vidal watched as Agnes swallowed and closed her eyes as if to recall her thoughts and feelings. Her eyes slowly opened as she dragged her gaze to look at Vidal's face. The agents' expression was open but not warm; welcoming but not soothing. She was pushing Agnes to her limit and Agnes, without a doubt, knew it.
"I...want...I want you to..."
"To?"
"...I want you to...treat me like...shit, Vidal...I don't want you to hold back..."
Vidal smirked as she pushed Agnes' face away from her hand; felt her nails drag against Agnes' cheeks and jaw and heard the exhale of breath as Agnes tried to collect herself. Vidal had all the power in her hands once more and realized the massive shift of power that changed then and there.
She didn't have to do too much; not with Agnes already naked and on her knees for her.
Not when Vidal held the leash in her other hand and gave it a tight tug that almost made Agnes lose her balance and topple forward with a press of her thighs together and a moan escaping her lips.
"Pathetic."
Silence from Agnes as she kept her gaze steady on Vidal's face. Her eyes were pleading, begging but it wasn't good enough.
"Beg for it."
Agnes' breath caught in her throat as her hands slowly traveled from her hips to the top of her thighs; resting them palm down on her hot and sweaty skin. She could feel sweat on her forehead and sliding down her back. She could feel all the hairs on her neck and arms standing up in attention as she choked back her goddamn pride and opened her desperate mouth.
"I want you to...berate me...degrade me...I want you to make me feel...sick to my fucking stomach, Vidal. Please. Please..."
And how could she say no as the smirk grew on her face and the leash in her hand tightened as she yanked a little harder which caused almost a yelp to leave Agnes' mouth.
Vidal stood there; tall and powerful and filled with a sense of duty she knew she had to dish out and dish out well. Agnes needed it, begged for it. She had to fulfill her partner in the way she was pleading for it.
"You think having that cock between your legs makes you superior."
Agnes glanced down at her legs and stared at the purple silicone toy nestled snugly in its harness around her waist. She bit her bottom lip before looking back up.
"You think wearing the clothes that you do gives you a sort of shield. Some magic pass that hardens you up, makes you tough. No one is going to call Agnes O'Connor a dyke or a carpet muncher now, are they?"
Agnes lifted her head a little higher, jutted her chin out a little more. Eyes gone hard as she stares down Vidal and takes the brunt of her words.
"But that's exactly what you are, Agnes. You're a fucking dyke. You're a fucking faggot. You walk around thinking that bulge in your pants will fucking save you and that every fucking woman you come across is going to want to fuck you there, right on the spot. You what? You think you can get anyone you want, don't you? You think your balls are the biggest?"
Agnes bit down on her tongue and felt her hands shake slightly against her thighs.
"You can think all of that, Babe and guess what? Is it even true? You're scared of your own fucking shadow. You hide behind all your flannel shirts and construction boots. You hide behind whatever toy you have strapped around your waist. You know what you are; who you've been. You want to be hard and rough and calloused and look at you! Fucking look at you, Agnes! Anyone with fucking eyes and a fucking pussy can see right through you!"
Vidal tugged the leash so tightly Agnes threw her hands forward to stop herself from falling on her face. Her face felt like it was facing into a hot oven.
"God, Agnes...look at you! You just want to be down on your knees with a collar around your neck and dragged around because god forbid, you make your own fucking choices! You are pathetic...you're lost. And then you show yourself and what do you ask for? Beg for? You asked to be filled and you asked to be fucked and you act like that is what's going to fix you! And does it? Does it, Agnes? Do you get fixed when I fuck you so hard that you can barely walk the next morning?"
Vidal drops the leash and makes her way behind Agnes then; grabs her quickly at her hips and pulls her back. Agnes doesn't fight it but welcomes it wholly. She rolls her hips back and digs her blunt nails into the carpet and rolls her eyes back as she feels Vidal enter her from behind.
Of course she's been wet; waiting for Vidal to finally and truly take over with her actions and not just her words.
That dull ache subsiding now and Agnes realizes, amidst all the words spewed at her that Vidal, is as always, right.
Agnes cannot help herself when she rolls her hips back and uses her arms and thighs to do so. She cannot stop herself when the feeling of being fucked by Vidal's strap becomes so addicting that she wants more and gets it. The sounds fill her ears and make her stomach churn in a way that's disgustingly sweet and hits a sort of sweet tooth craving she cannot hide. The way Vidal keeps talking; hurling words and phrases at her that would otherwise illicit a punch thrown at a wall or a case of beer to be drunk in wild abandon.
'Slut' and 'Whore' and 'Dyke' and 'Faggot' make Agnes clench tighter around Vidal's cock as if by sheer willpower alone, she could milk it if she tried hard enough. Logic and science cast aside; the deep desire she felt for the agent was enough to make all of this a little more real.
Agnes hated to beg unless she knew she would get what she wanted. Knew that, under any other circumstances, these words would never leave her lips.
She could feel herself about to bottom out as her eyes rolled back and her jaw went slack and her fingers in the carpet yanked and pulled so tightly she could feel the fibers of it lift into her hands. Agnes pushed back once more and with it, her words tumbled out of her mouth.
Agnes had never begged for anything in her life until Vidal popped up in it.
Now, she found herself more on her knees praying for things she had never prayed for before and never, like all the times she had as an awkward tomboyish child in her Sunday dress with scuffed knees and a penchant for staring at the other girls in the pews behind hers.
Are you washed in the blood?
In the soul-cleansing blood of the Lamb?
Are your garments spotless, are they white as snow?
Are you washed in the blood of the Lamb?
birdie skipped into andrew’s room, two slices of cake on two plates in her grip. “i come baring cake and my cute ass.” she teased softly as she then walked over to his bed. “i’m still upset that you didn’t tell me that it was your birthday. now i’m behind in getting you a nice gift!” she huffed as she handed him his plate and fork. “but i guess i’ll forgive you and give them to you late.... hopefully it will still be worth it... do uh... do you want anything?” she continued to ramble, only pausing to take a breath. she was strangely nervous at the moment, something that she wasn’t used to feeling
