Re: [M] but you're that girl with sharp teeth

p. Guillen | Amherst, past midnight

POSTED: Tue Apr 24, 2018 5:32 am

The man’s words suggested he was an open book, but to Dystopia, it was too early to tell that just yet. She, however, was a closed one. Locked tight, hidden away. Her true intentions would only be revealed through her actions, through blood spilled on that dusty wooden floor underneath her toes that were now just starting to un-numb. Dystopia shifted against her restraints, feeling an itch on her nose that she could only agitate with her tongue, but not satisfy with a claw. Her crimson eyes lingered on the orange coat of the stranger, one she had not yet known his name, yet here they were having a conversation.

Dystopia wondered how her mother would trick the man in this situation. Perhaps she’d climb into the man’s lap and give him what he had asked for in the first place. Perhaps it’d be then she’d slit his throat, or maybe after he climaxed.

”Do you not like your meat bloody? Raw? Red and dripping?” Dystopia asked him again, avoiding his question once more. She’d try to wrangle the control of this conversation right out of his grasp if he’d let her. It would seem that it’d be quite hard to do, actually.

A rough hand shot out, pulling her towards him so roughly that she fell in an awkward position into his lap – rump on the mess of furs, legs stretched out over his, back leaning against the corner wall, hands still tied behind her. Her knuckles brushed against the soft fur on the hides while her shoulders felt the cold bite of the walls. Her eyes once again found the stranger. Unwavering, unafraid to look danger right into the eyes and not look away.

She could feel the ache in her toes melting away as they were propped up. She stretched them, all the while trying to figure how she’d answer the question without really answering the question. Getting something for nothing. ”Even if you do decide to keep me, how are you going to pry me from the grip of that man?” She nodded toward the other room.

In the next moment, Dystopia sighed, deciding that she will indeed answer the man’s question so that they could move onto more interesting topics. ”No, I do not cook. I prefer my meat fresh as should you. I can, however, hunt. My parents taught me well.” If only the man knew what she were referring to.

Word Count → 000 :: ooc text here

POSTED: Tue Apr 24, 2018 11:55 pm

It was an awkward position that the girl ended up in, after he'd roughly pulled her closer. He'd hoped to see a little bit of fear in her eyes as a result, her fate ultimately held in his hands, but found that same unafraid gaze. If her lack of fear had gone hand in hand with resistance to him, the man might have struck her for it eventually, but just as surprising as her lack of fear, was how well behaved she'd been up to that point. At least physically, even if verbally she'd been more stubborn than the wolf would have liked.

He listened to the captive wonder at how he planned to change who she belonged to, his hand idly resting on her. It was tempting to do more than that, but the man was in no rush, there was an entire night for that, a lifetime if he chose to try and steal her from the trader. How she lay haphazard on the bed with him wasn't something he allowed to last forever though. There was no hurry to his efforts, but Guillen helped her upright into a kneeling position that he guessed would be more comfortable, even if it meant straddling him.

”Don't worry about how I'll make you mine, worry about making yourself appealing enough to go to the trouble...” Guillen finally responded, his tone almost dismissive at the idea that obtaining her was the difficult part. His eyes appraised her, if only for a few moments, before acknowledging that she'd finally answered his question ”You seem clever enough, I'm sure you'll pick up cooking, if I tell you to learn... Just like you've been smart enough to not try and pull away.”.

From idly resting his hand on Dystopia, to reaching behind her, drawing her chest to chest with him in the process, Guillen's fingers sought out her bound wrists. ”If you make me put these back on, they'll be much tighter than he made them.” Guillen commented in a serious tone, warning the girl before he actually started to undo the bindings that the slaver had left on her. He discarded the cordage when he was done, to see how she might react once her hands were free. If the submission that had earned her that freedom would slip away the moment she could try and claw at him.
Avatar by Nat

POSTED: Wed Apr 25, 2018 2:41 am

Smart enough.

That was certainly interesting. Smart enough to not pull away, smart enough to wait for the right moment to strike. He had pulled her onto him in a more suitable position, perhaps the one he had been hoping for, but did not get at first. It reminded her of the position she sat on Sebastien Stone, a leg on either side, chest-to-chest, face-to-face. Except in that situation, she had been in control. This situation proved to be the exact opposite. But even with her legs split apart, sitting upon him, her nonchalance did not falter. He drew her even closer, Dystopia half-assuming he was going to kiss her, geared herself up for something she had never done before. However, instead, he buried her face into his furry shoulder while he reached for the ties at her wrists. She had been hoping he’d pull a dagger or a weapon from one of his storage compartments to cut her ties, but instead, he just untied them with his hands. He had dexterous fingers; he wasn’t even looking.

”Let me deal with the trader,” Dystopia insisted, ignoring the man’s assumption that she’d just pick up slave duties like she were some den-maid. ”I have some pent up anger that I’m sure you don’t want me to take out on you.” Hey, at least she was killing two birds with one stone, right?

With her hands unbound, she fixed her feet and rose, pushing against his hands that sought to keep her in place. She walked absently around the darkened room, not seeking to leave, just to get a feel for her current surroundings. ”It’ll be much cleaner if you have a weapon, but killing him with my teeth will work, too.” Dystopia’s fingers straightened the edge of her previously rolled shirt, pulling it down to where it was supposed to hang over her midsection.

She had heard his threat about the bindings, but at this point, her wrath was not directed at the orange-furred man, it was directed at the trader who they both wanted to rid the world of. Why not allow her to be of some use right out of the box?

Word Count → 000 :: ooc text here

POSTED: Sat May 19, 2018 2:34 am

The younger canine was far from what he'd expected when first laying eyes on her, not all of those differences particularly appealing to the wolf. He'd have preferred her to be less willful, but she'd not squirmed and pleaded with him either. All in all, she had managed to remain more positive than negative in the man's eyes, enough at least for him to test her without her wrists bound together.

He had certainly not expected her to suggest that she be the one to 'deal' with the trader, that surprise dulling his response to the more unlikable insinuation that she might do something to him if she didn't get her way. Guillen's eyes narrowed considerably when she actually pulled away from him, evading his slower than usual efforts to keep her in place.

It was tempting to follow her, to assert his will, maybe even beat the notion that she could harm him out of her. Guillen willed himself to stay where he was though, to follow her with his eyes as she seemed content to wander the room, rather than actually try to escape him. Unseen thoughts were mulled over in the man's mind, weighing a new part of her, the girl's apparent willingness to do violence.

”And why should I let you get to release that pent up anger, if the first thing you do is push away from who you belong to now?” the wolf answered with a question, and annoyed tone to his voice, even if he remained seated. The man showing no sign that he was unnerved by her nonchalant demand to kill her tormentor, and instead suggesting that just needed to jump through hoops to get what she wanted.

”Either way, nothing will happen to him till morning. Now, come back. Will be plenty of time to look around the room tomorrow.” Guillen continued, his choice of words less ambiguous about whether he would decide to 'keep her', but just as firm in his demand that she come to him without needing to grab her by the wrist. It was a strange carrot to place in front of her, the opportunity to kill another, in exchange for obedience toward him, but something that the wolf wasn't above using. So long as it led to what he wanted.
Avatar by Nat

POSTED: Sun Jul 01, 2018 2:55 am

Smart enough.

She placed a hand on the wall and let it sweep across the surface, breaking away any chipping concrete or paint as she did so. In the other room, she could hear a dull buzzing as her captor snored loudly through the walls. ”Belong. Ha, such a funny concept! I belong to parents who do not want me, yet now I belong to a stranger who does.” It was a new situation for her really. She was desired; it was something she never experienced before in her life. It was a brand new thing and it felt kind of nice.

”Killing that man will do us both a favor. If I kill him now, there’s less chance for a struggle. He snores loud, so he won’t hear me coming, and by the time he realizes what’s happening, it’ll be too late.” Dystopia set her crimson eyes on the orange-furred canine. ”Let me begin being useful to you.”

But he didn’t seem too keen on letting her do what she really wanted. He was keen on controlling her, and while Dystopia was willing to play along with the game, controlling her wouldn’t last too long. Eventually, the swarm of bees would bust out of the box and sting every living motherfucker in their path.

Dystopia smiled, and she dropped her hand away from the wall and came back to Guillen. Placing one foot on either side of him, she lowered herself to his lap again, setting her crimson gaze back on him again. ”What now?”

Word Count → 000 :: sorry for the extra long wait!

POSTED: Wed Jul 04, 2018 3:57 pm

Guillen's amber eyes continued to follow the girl, not yet convinced that she wouldn't abuse the freedom that he'd given her so far, the man not at all interested in having to chase down the would be slave in the middle of the night. She didn't make him regret unbinding her wrists at least, even if she seemed intent on scratching up the already ruined wall, while she gave him a little bit of insight as to where she came from.

That she had been discarded by her parents was a good thing in the wolf's eyes, it meant no one would be trying to find her, that he would be the one she would be reliant upon. A firm hand went a long way in the man's experience, but only brought compliance that was as long lived as the bruises that conjured it. With what he'd seen on the younger Luperci so far, he wondered if striking her would yield even that much, that thought reinforced again and again with how hellbent she seemed to be on attacking the man who had brought her.

”It's good that you want to be useful, even better if you're willing to kill for me...” Guillen commented in a neutral enough tone, following her progress as she made her way back to him. He didn't believe for a second that she would be killing the other man for him, but more likely for herself. To the girl's credit, she found herself in his lap again, rather than sitting alongside him, or in front of the man that had made no secret of his intent to keep her as less than an equal. The man welcomed her just as could be expected, one hand resting upon Dystopia's thigh, the other lazily finding it's way to the small of her back.

Her question didn't receive an answer, not immediately, Guillen's eyes roving over her while he considered what to do with her. Her appearance suggested youth, but Dystopia had behaved as someone old enough for what had started to creep into the man's mind. A conflict, but one that was easy enough to resolve. ”You seemed to already know the answer to that when I brought you in here...” the man answered with an opened ended statement, the hand not on her thigh making a slow path up to the scruff of Dystopia's neck, intending to loosely grab a hold of her. ”We won't kill him until morning, and that leaves all night for you to convince me to keep you...” the man added, his snout making a move toward Dystopia's, to place a gentle enough lick on her face. If he was wrong, the man guessed she'd shy from him, or prove herself more naive than she had let on.
Avatar by Nat

POSTED: Mon Jul 16, 2018 2:52 am

Dystopia’s mind was alight with possibilities; she didn’t want to settle down into the man’s lap again. She wanted to kill, to exercise her freedoms in a way that both tugged at the chains that bore head, but also loosened them a bit with the trader out of the way. Though, even at mention of her offering him a service, Guillen yanked at her leash some more, cutting off the air from her windpipe for just that one second. It made her frustrated and it made her angry.

Silently, she climbed into his lap again, and instead cast him a direct glare.

Finally, ”And why would I do that? Even if you give me back to that awful man, we have a few days’ time before we reach one of the trading stops. He could be subdued before then. Why not make it easier for both of us? You get all the shit in his cart to use for your own will, and I get my freedom back. And hell, I might even stay with you for a few days to ‘recoup’.” Now she was bargaining where she had no leverage. Soon after, the man’s creeping hand found the scruff at the back of her neck and pulled, throwing her off balance some, but she craned her neck and held it so that she would not disconnect the direct glare she gave him.

The child in Dystopia sought to argue the outcome. She didn’t get to do this at home without consequence and her parents were much worse than the strangers out in the world. They had done things to her and her siblings that were way past socially acceptable. Dystopia was ready to take a bullet from this loner man, Guillen. She’d be fine with the wound.

Word Count → 000 :: ooc text here

POSTED: Wed Aug 01, 2018 1:03 am

She had pulled at the threads that the man so diligently tried to entangle her in, it was not ideal in the wolf's eyes, the girl's obedience seeming to come and go in fits, rather than the unwavering submission that would have better suited a slave. If she'd been less easy on the eyes, the man might not have thought the effort worth it, but there he was, contemplating farther ahead than just a few days with the captive.

The glare that she leveled at him was far from appealing to the man, but he tolerated it, accepted that she could dislike what he had planned for her, yet still obey in the end. Her bargaining was less well received by the man, his own eyes narrowing when she again tread over points that he'd already decided. Guillen's grip was just as unyielding as he was, holding her by the scruff while he glared right back at her, a moment hanging in the air before he'd actually speak again.

”You would do that, because I told you to...” Guillen began, the hold on her nape tightening just a hair before continuing This is mostly right, you came when called, not eagerly... but you did. You have an annoying habit of staring back, instead of averting your eyes, arguing when you should be nodding your head, but you at least know enough to not really fight me.”. It was a scathing review of her behavior, even if Guillen's tone remained steady, rather than angry. As though to try and prove his last point, his hand drifted from Dystopia's thigh, to slowly edge toward her neck, in an effort to trace at the side of her neck.

”Stop trying to bargain for something you won't get. Come morning I'll have the cart, I'll have you, and you'll have blood on your paws.” the man reiterated, his voice a little more commanding than before, ordering her rather than just suggesting. Another decision had clicked into place while he spoke, one that if the man had his way, would keep Dystopia from thinking about her obsession with killing the other man. ”Now stop glaring at me, and worry about earning your keep.” the wolf demanded, his eyes, along with his thoughts turning toward more than just conversation with the captive.
Avatar by Nat

POSTED: Mon Aug 20, 2018 3:50 am

He gripped her neck like she was a bad pup. It was something her mother would’ve done and then some when her and her siblings got into her things as pups. The grip was usually followed by some other kind of terrifying punishment – such as being tossed into a hole with several severed body parts and left there for the night… or beat… or threatened… or left out in the woods, told to find her own way back. Perhaps some of those things don’t sound too bad, but when you’re a pup, they’re the scariest things in the world. So many things could happen… and when you’re a weak, little pup, everything wants to kill you.

Guillen laid it into her hard, but Dystopia’s gaze had not wavered. Her thoughts barely moved as the man told her what he wanted from her. She had not acted like he wanted her to. Oh well. The actions she had shown him were subpar in his eyes, but all Dystopia was worried about was getting free from the slaver who intended to sell her, to take her far away from her home in Nova Scotia. Once she was free of that threat, she’d figure out what to do with the orange wolf.

Finally, the man had finished scolding her, and after a few beats, Dystopia broke the glare, casting her glance to the wall, to the side of the room, and sighing. Fine.

From that moment on, she let him lead her to his mess of furs, let his hands roam hungrily over her body, and let him find his purpose within her. When he was satisfied, he climbed off of her and lay down beside her, only truly falling asleep when he believed that she, too, was asleep. When his breathing fell in even patterns, Dystopia sat up in the dark.

The even chirps of the crickets outside told her that it was still late enough in the night that the slaver might’ve still been asleep. Dystopia cast a glance in Guillen’s direction, ensuring that he remained asleep even as she began to rise, find her feet, and step quietly over him. She found the door, turned the doorknob slowly, and slipped outside, being greeted by the freezing winter air spilling in through the broken front windows of the hall.

Quietly, she sauntered over to the front of the building until she kicked something that made a faint tinkle. Glass. Bending down, she felt through the glass shards until she cut herself on a rather large piece of glass, laying just there, glinting in the faint, clouded moonlight. Smudged with her blood, she carefully lifted the piece from the floor and gripped it in her hand. Then she made her way towards the two doors again, casting a regarding look towards the one she had just come from.

Then she slipped inside the other, leaving it open just a crack behind her.

There, she stood in the dark for a moment, listening. The wolf’s breath hitched in his throat and he coughed, scratching his nose before lying still again. Dystopia walked over to him, taking in his disgusting scent of poor hygiene and alcohol. She straddled him like a horse, sitting down hard on his fat, jolly belly, knocking the wind out of him.

Then, with a smile on her dark face in the night, she plunged the large shard deep into the center of his chest.

”What the f—“ he wheezed, thrashing as he tried to get her off of him, but she rode him like a bull, pulling the shard from his skin with a wet squelch and plunging it back in about six or seven more times. His blood splashed the walls a deep color; it sprayed everywhere. The ceiling, the floor, her. He had given her a warm bath – a better one than she could ever ask for in the biting winter night.

Dystopia sat there on top of him as he twitched and died, a pleased smile upon her lips. Her father would have been proud to see this. Her kill. Her first kill. It had substance to it; meaning. It was poetic in a way; she was the hero. She’d saved many other slaves from him that night. If they had come across anyone else in the coming day, he would have put them in the same situation. Dystopia only ensured that their paths would not cross.

When the sun started to rise and the sky turned an octopus’ blood blue, Dystopia finally seemed to awaken from her trance. She stood, swinging her leg from over him, leaving his rounded body’s silhouette with the transparent, dirty shard of glass sticking out from his chest.

Finally free, she climbed back into bed with Guillen and shut her eyes.

Word Count → 000 :: Whattya say we wrap this one up and do our next thread?

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