Thread: A Game of Cat and Mouse [AlluringEnigma x Iron and Wine]

Despite the intense disadvantage Mr. Dalmere had the young vigilante at, there was something about her audacity that crawled under his skin, a sort of denial and false resilience that irked him more than it should. He could remember when his own father had said put on a brave face, Wallace. Never words he wanted to hear after one of his fathers benders. To see this vigilante, this Crystal, putting on a brave face infuriated him, and his inexplicably strong reaction just made the heavyweight criminal more frustrated. Those blue eyes were too full of conviction, would never concede that her way of the mask-and-fist didnt work, that there was no world in which it could work, at least none that Mr. Dalmere could conceive of. Before coming to the meeting place, he knew he wanted to use her to send a message, but now it was more than just that. He wanted to fucking break her. There were easily thirty thugs, maybe more, gathered in the abandoned parking lot flooded with headlights and smelling of masculine sweat and idling engines. Red marks were left on her skin from how hard they had to grip her to keep Crystal pinned. The hood of the old car was cold against the bare skin of her back, as it was one of the many rusting cadillacs littering the parking lot. Quit struggling, you little cunt, I saidrrrrquit your fucking struggling! growled one of the men, a heavyset latino man who secured her left wrist with black rope to the valley where the hood met the windshield and the rearview window. When her other wrist was forced to follow suit, it pushed her ample breasts outward even as the cool night air stiffened the peaks of her nipples. Of course, the thugs interpreted this in a way that would favor them, Look Diego, shes already getting turned on by this, the little slut! Plenty of hands took advantage of groping her young body at first, but the more violently she struggled, the more it became a simple matter of binding her securely. In his irritation at Crystal and at his men making a mistake in how they bound her ankles, Mr. Dalmere nearly stepped into the light of the cameras. He caught himself at the last minute, his leather shoe sliding back out of the light so he could receive a black ski mask from one of his men, which he secured over his angular head, leaving only his eyes and cruel lips visible. Not like that, he growled at the trio of thugs attempting to tie her legs down. Secure her ankles to her thighs first, then you can secure her knees to the fender and force her wide open. It took the brutish leader repeating himself for the thugs to get what he meant, and by then another one of them had taken a kick to the face, leaving a dribble of blood down his lip. With the cattle prod causing her body to go limp for a moment, they had the window they needed. By the time the men finished tying her down, Crystal would feel her knees straining toward contact with the hood, on vulgar display in a position that she would only assume of her own volition if she wanted to give her partner full access to go as deep as he liked. The massive Mr. Dalmere smoothed his rough hands down her hamstrings, double-checking the knots, a topic he knew a great deal more about than the men in his employ. Even her thighs felt small compared to his grasp. Sneering at the idealistic supremacy in her voice, Mr. Dalmere beckoned the thugs with the largest cameras to come forward. All around her, from her peripheral vision, Crystal would be able to make out hardened men white, black, latino, chinese, in their 20s, 30s, and 40s holding clubs, cattle prods, straps of leather, nipple chains, o-ring gags, spurs, and bottles of lubricant. Even though the deep shadows cut by the headlights didnt let her see all the details, it was evident several men had unzipped their pants and begun stroking themselves to hardness. Is the camera running? Audio? When the thugs gave him the go ahead, the husky man turned to face the camera, speaking through the black ski mask. I received a challenge from a heroine of our city. You know her as Crystal. One of the cameras zoomed in on Baillie strapped to the hood of the car, with her ankles tethered to her thighs spread wide, her tight booty shorts riding up hard from the struggle shed just lost. I have a message for all these vigilantes who think the City belongs to them, who think that they are going to make some difference besides creating chaos, said Mr. Dalmere with that same conviction which made the veins run cold, the sort of patronizing certainty that poorly concealed the hostility in his voice. Approaching Crystal, he drew the switchblade once more and nodded to the two thugs at either side of the teenager. The men brusquely grasped her black shorts and the panties underneath, pulling them down her legs just a bit, for in her spread position thats as far as they would go, till the elastic dug into her thighs. Theres only one power in this city that matters, one Mastermind, he growled, slicing once, twice, with precision so that the black fabric was torn away in Mr. Dalmeres thick hands, leaving her sex utterly exposed for the cameras and thugs alike. Sliding the knife along her belly, his voice was like ice, Now youre going to learn theres a price for trying to upstage me, girl Slowly, he stepped away, each step like a pendulum swing that brought the leering thugs attention to her nudity. Only the mask was left to preserve her identity, if not her decency.