Thread: Dominion Over Her (BennyQ x Sketchyequine)

There was something about the way Solstice looked that invigorated Kordavo. The tears in her eyes, rightly deserved, were enticing in a way, like small pearls of liquid that dripped down her cheeks. They looked beautiful there, staining her once proud expression as she had mocked him. Her face now seemed restrained and passive. Perhaps she did know her place. It felt disappointing. Kordavo had been looking forward to theeducative experience he was about to inflict on her. She needed to know her place. Perhaps he would do so anyways. She was beautiful. She had a spirit of fire he wanted to tame. And she had kissed him. By all means, Kordavo may have already been seduced by this enemy combatant. He just needed to justify his taking of her in his own terms. There was no needed for him to remain disappointed, as Solstice swept up with renewed defiance, giving him all the reason he needed. She refused to accept her place. She refused to acknowledge him as superior. He kept his boot on her chest, pinning her down. He looked at her without compassion or pity, tilting his head in a is that all you have to say? gesture. No, she had one more remark to make. Fuck you, you miserable pawn. Kordavo stepped off of her and holstered his gun. He drew out his knife and crouched upon her, legs straddling her hips as he sat right on her abdomen. He grabbed her arms and forced them above her head, pinning them down, wrist over wrist, and locking them there with one strong grip. His other held the knife, which he put to her cheek. Open your eyes and look at me, girl. He said in a fierce tone, pressing the knife to her cheek to draw a little blood. Im not asking for your respect. He said with a sneer. What I want, Im simply going to take. Do you understand me, girl? He let his eyes wander down from her face, to her chest, and back again, letting the implication sink in. There was one way to put a girl in her place that he knew of. First, lets start with these trouble making hands of hers. Kordavo said, tucking his knife away. Her hands, which had used the controls to shoot him down, which had struck him many times, which had stabbed and cut him. They needed a lesson. He separated one of her hands and brought it down, pinning it under his knee. He took her right hand, which he deemed to be her dominant arm, and raised it straight up where she could see it. He forced her fingers apart if she tried to clench her hand into a fist. He wrapped his hand then around her index finger. He looked at her, into her face. And then he broke the finger, snapping it in one quick motion to dislocate it, right at the second knuckle. Poor thing, does it hurt? He mocked her. Call me Sir and Ill stop. He said, before wrapping his hand around her middle finger next. Whether she did or not, he dislocated it as well, breaking it with sheer strength right at the middle knuckle, bending it out of shape. Call me Sir and Ill stop. He repeated, moving to her next finger. He looked at her a moment, letting her recover from the first two. Oh he took his sweet time, squeezing the finger, pretending to be about to break it, before releasing pressure. He kept her on edge, grinning to himself. When was he going to do it? He did it. With a yank in an unnatural direction, he dislocated her ring finger at the middle knuckle. You are my property. These hands belong to me. And Ill do with them as I please. He said to her, moving on to her pinky. That was the easiest and a fourth crack echoed in that small place as he broke it as well. He released her hand. It was useless, the fingers all bent and broken, except her thumb. He chuckled, reaching to her face and cupping her cheek. He used his thumb to wipe away any tears, while he smirked down at her. He was only getting started. His hand moved to her other cheek, using the back of his palm to stroke her flesh and wipe away the tears there as well. Leave it pristine for the fresh ones to come. Both his hands then cupped her face and he bent downand kissed her. As she had kissed him. He pressed his lips, warm and hard, to her own and joined them in a long but chaste kiss. He drew back with a grin. You thought it was over? He then asked, grabbing her hand suddenly and yanking it back up, staring at her fingers. Usually a doctor administered a painkiller when relocating fingers. He had none. This was going to be even more painful than the breaking. Holding her hand between both of his, he reinserted the bone into its proper positioning on each finger, a softer crack emitting as he forcefully did so. He would always delay and hesitate before the next one, letting the sensation of what he was about to do sink in. He always watched her, drinking in her expression whenever he did set the bone correctly, looking for that anticipation of hurt and fear in her face. Call me Sir and Ill stop. He simply said in a much more casual tone. When he finished with her pinky, her fingers all proper but no doubt feeling stiff, he released it and grabbed her other hand. Say it. He demanded, yanking her left hand up. Could she endure another?