Thread: The Bimbo Doll (Devilla Roche x October Screams)

Clearly someone had done there homework here, or as the saying went anyway. Whether it had been Devilla herself or associates of hers, someone was very good at knowing what she did and where she usually was. The further she walked down the red carpet that led to the exit the more humiliated she felt. It wasn't the humiliation however that got to her it was the fear of being swept away by someone who may very well have been obsessed with her poor habits and dishonest character. She couldn't imagination what someone like that might do to her once they had her in their clutches. She felt to some regard that she was being punished for something, something that had been particularly delayed up until now. That's what troubled her the most, the aspect of not being able to take responsibility for her own actions and having to resort to her usual difficult habits to try and escape them before it was too late. She didn't exactly have too many options quite honestly, it was walk the line or take a bullet in the back and she'd just be another newspaper causality with little importance. Honestly the thought of simply being smited out by the insignificance of a pistol in her spine bothered her as well, she felt much to proud to go out like that. She found herself in a rather taxing situation, her pride and dignity for her own security, which one was really more important to her in the end? She could let this woman basically kidnap her under the nose of a dozen watching people and go unheard of for god knows how long or simply just roll over and die right there.. Of course as expected, the answer she'd pick was the one most would expect, though not for the same reasons. She was scared to die of course but more so scared of desecrating her own egotistical sense of pride over a meaningless death.. She'd rather take her chances in the clutches of a rich kidnapper. As scared to death as she was she couldn't help but be slightly curious in the whole situation. What did she plan to do to her? Rape her? Sell her? More then likely, she knew how under the table crime was suppose to work, at least from the impression she got in the media. Or maybe Devilla had more eccentric ideas in mind to present to her captive? But she could only wonder what those could be, despite being one of the most simple minded and selfish woman in France, Clarissa's imagination was actually rather limited within its own boundaries.. just another downside to thinking so highly of ones own self naturally of course. She stumbled along the fancy red carpet towards the exit of the club and was introduced to a rather build looking woman in a pantsuit, who seemingly grabbed her like she were a plastic barbie doll and strapped handcuffs on her. She couldn't help but gasp aloud, though she heard nothing more then a peep escape her lips as the cuffs were strapped to her wrists tightly and she'd watch them lock into place. She was then forced into the mysterious black car with ease and immediately served to shuffle her body to the furthest corner of the backside as if she were trying to hide from the others in the car. She felt the attempt to speak, never-mind scream impossible as she was addressed by Devilla and retold the details of her life she thought to be kept secret under lock and eye somewhere in the deepest further reaches of her imagination. When asked if she had questions she felt the urge to respond had become lost in an abyss of bewilderment and said nothing, simply staring back at Devilla with a widened terrified expression of utter disbelief.