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What they have right now— it's a strange little arrangement, honestly. Himeko doesn't know what to call it, but she's sure as hell enjoying all of whatever this is.
She kneels naked and tied on the floor below Kafka, red hair adorning her shoulders as she pants lightly, flushed, head tilted up by the tip of Kafka’s shoe. In contrast, Kafka is very much clothed, leaning back on the chair in front of Himeko and lazily tapping her finger against the armrest while she rests her hand on her fist. Magenta eyes inspect every inch of Himeko, to the matching purple-red color of the bindings along her wrists kept behind her back, to the small, pink vibrator sitting nicely on her clit, to the chin resting softly on the tip of her shoe as little gasps leave Himeko’s mouth. She nudges it up ever so slightly, and hums, pleased when Himeko obliges with her and looks up.
“So— Kafka— are you going to fuck me or what?” She challenges Kafka’s steel will with her golden eyes, grinning ear to ear and subtly telling her to hurry up.
“It's on my to-do list,” she responds in a monotone voice, eyes dull and looking actually, bored, right now. Himeko almost gets angry— if it wasn't such a priority for her to get off right now, she would tell her off for the utter disrespect. So, she huffs a bit and returns to struggling against the bondage. What she fails is to notice is the hand with the remote nudging the setting to max, combined with the Kafka’s dangerous gleam in her eyes and the sharp bzzt sound suddenly echoing through the empty of the room. Himeko chokes as she tries to bite back a moan, eyes squeezing shut and tilting her head downward, but when Kafka forcibly nudges her chin up with a little tch, she's given no time to adjust to the immense pressure.
“C’mon, Himeko…” Kafka whispers, almost to no one as the moonlight illuminates her face, “…you’re doing so well,” She’s left a little breathless and shaky in response.
She's really not doing well. Himeko has been playing this game on the edge for about an hour, and all Kafka can blab about is how good she's doing, but still— taking away her reward every time she gets close. She grunts, frustrated, desperately rutting her hips into the floor to get something to tip her over if it wasn't going to be Kafka. Himeko whimpers pathetically— she's just so close, just one more roll of her hips away, just—
—And with that, Kafka shuts off the vibrator completely, not bothering to respond to the sob Himeko yells out as she's denied of her orgasm for the second time tonight. Kafka releases her chin of her shoe and scoffs, clearly enjoying the way Himeko pleads to her with a pathetic expression. “Look at that,” she sneers, getting up from her chair, “Two ruined orgasms and you're screaming like a whore.” Kafka circles Himeko’s tied up body on the ground, and kneels behind her, pushing her front against her back, nearly laughing at the lewd moan Himeko lets out. Two of her fingers delve deeper as the other hand cups her breast and tweaks at her nipple, watching her arch her back at the sudden stimulation.
“Ah— then, fuck— fuck more screams out of me,” two fingers remove the vibrator and circle her clit roughly as the other hand moves down to tease her entrance, “—right there, Kafka, please!—” but her hands don't bother to move any faster. All she does is move agonizingly slow, letting her slick gather on the tips of her fingers, holding her down by her stomach with her other hand. She doesn't mind playing with her patience a bit, nose almost bleeding at the thought of Himeko all messy and desperate for her, so pathetic. So she teases, and teases, barely moving her fingers and breathing down Himeko’s neck, peppering kisses to her collarbone as a finger teases her entrance playfully and her thumb rubs her clit around.
"Go faster— please, just,” Himeko fights against the bondage as much as possible just to let Kafka get the hint that she needs her now, and if Kafka wasn't such a fucking tease, she'd get what she needed. Kafka takes it, but she doesn't give Himeko the satisfaction, she just keeps teasing, and teasing, until Himeko breaks. With the lipstick staining her neck and her eyes half lidded, Himeko is going to break very soon.
“Shh, shh, you can handle this, love,” she nuzzles into the crook of her shoulder, unexpectedly speeding up her movements and fucking into Himeko’s hole with two fingers, feeling how she clenches and writhes under her, circling her clit faster. “Do you hear how wet you are?”
Himeko cringes when she realizes the sound of Kafka ruining her with nothing but her fingers echoes in their chambers. “Ah— that's— fuck, don't stop— that's embarrassing— right there, oh, Kafka, don't say— mmh!” Kafka knows there’s no point in listening to her anymore, when her mouth is open, eyes glazed with lust, whimpers leaving her rhythmically. Because fuck, it feels right, how Kafka skillfully scissors her fingers inside and effortlessly slides in a third one, how Himeko feels the stretch and adjusts to it until it becomes nothing but delicious friction, how she hears sweet nothings whispered into her ear and how her lipstick is probably smeared like how Kafka’s lipstick is scattered in kisses around her jaw and collarbone, how she lets her back arch and toes curl as she’s so, so lovingly close.
“Are you about to cum?” Kafka mumbles in her ear, biting her earlobe softly, then suckling on a sensitive part of her neck.
“Mmh- yes, yes, please let me— ah— cum, Kafka, please—” It does nothing but add to the sensation, and she lets her do her thing, bitemarks appearing just underneath the hem of her clothes. So considerate. “Oh, so close,”
“Go on then,” Kafka replies languidly, “Cum for me.”
“Gonna— gonna… ah—” Himeko speaks incoherently, mixed with sobs and moans she can't quite bite back, so she gives up on it and breaks, cumming all over Kafka’s fingers and almost seeing stars in her vision. Why doesn’t she do this more often?
Kafka lays more kisses on her upper back and nape and brushes her crimson hair aside, pulling out her fingers. Himeko sobs a little, gasping when Kafka’s hand then shoves itself into her mouth and forces her fingers deeper in. “Look at you,’ she chides, “dripping all over my hand.” Himeko relaxes a bit and allows Kafka’s three fingers to fuck her mouth, choking a little when her other hand starts circling her clit again.
“Clean it up for me, won’t you?” Kafka urges her, voice hushed, talking into Himeko’s ear and nibbling at it. She wants to tell her she’s still sensitive and to wait a little, but it feels so overwhelmingly good that she can’t help but listen to orders— her tongue moves around in her mouth and she sucks on her fingers, tasting herself like Kafka wanted. Though from this angle, she can’t see Kafka, she knows she’s smiling mischeviously while she fucks her fingers in deeper— so deep that when her hand is pulled away with a heavy gasp and pants from Himeko, there’s a little tendril of saliva still connecting the two. Kafka rests her head on Himeko’s shoulder teasingly, bringing her hand to the kisses along her upper body, pressing down on her abdomen with her other, using her wet finger to trace the shape of a heart along her collarbone slowly. “Messy,” she chides, “but the best I can take from a whore like you, if anything.”
"Yes,” she says, panting, “anything for you, Kafka,” Kafka grins at her, retracting her hands, instead caressing every sensitive part of her body with ghostly touches. She kisses her cheek, the nape of her neck, even picking up a lock of her hair and giving it a little peck. She’s gentle when she stands up and kisses along her back muscles, lifting her up by the wrists and moving her to the bed near them. Himeko now waits comfortably on the silk sheets, face buried, knees bent and ass up, surprisingly facing the other end of the bed instead of the headstand.
The latter stands in front of her and throws her clothes to the side quickly, exposing the leather harness around her waist and the garter belt that connects it to her lower thigh. She gives Himeko a charming wink, silently asking you like what you see? and sauntering over to the drawer in the nightstand table by the bed. Himeko really can’t do anything here but wait for her, wrists still bound in purple-red ribbon and basically on all fours— all she has to do right now is beg, and she’s half sure Kafka will be making her do that very soon.
In the meanwhile, Kafka ruffles around their private drawer, noticing the way Himeko squirms just a little, patience running thin. She scoffs jokingly, and pulls out a thick, black dildo, matching with the leather around her hips. Himeko’s favorite— her little reward for tonight. It’s attached to the harness quickly before Kafka places herself on the bed before Himeko, and letting her notice her last surprise for the night.
The mirror in front of Himeko is nothing but humilating, as she opens her eyes to her reflection laid out in front of her, ass up, back arched, red locks falling all over the bed around her, golden eyes staring back at her clouded with pure, unfiltered lust, ribbons binding her wrists that match the cherry purple lipstick Kafka has kissed all over her, her own lipstick smeared with drool falling from her lips onto the sheets, Kafka’s slender hands running up and down her back to her ass lightly, the dildo resting just at her clit. It’s humiliating, but all so perfect, like the final piece of the puzzle. She stares into her own reflection’s eyes, and maybe, just maybe, loses her last scrap of dignity.
“So?” Kafka asks her, running her hand up and down from the tip to the base, pressing ever so light pressure against her clit, lubricating it with her slick. “What do you think, cutie?”
She’s already hot for it. Kafka doesn’t even have to fuck her senseless yet. Himeko responds in whimpers and open mouthed whines, but Kafka doesn’t seem to get the fucking hint. “Use your words, Himeko,” she taunts, still stroking the strap against her pussy and lightly pressing on her abdomen, bending down and once again, kissing the curve of her spine as her back arches into the bed and her hips rut into Kafka. “Do you want me to fill you up, hm?”
“Yes! Kafka— fuck, I want— I need—” she sobs, broken, pathetic, but Kafka really wants to play with her just a bit more, just until she reaches that one level of desperate that only Kafka can see, can experience. “Want, want, need,” Kafka scolds, “If you’re so needy, then do it yourself.” Himeko outright moans at Kafka’s words, her demanding glare, her hands grazing her thighs and the slick that drips down onto them.
When Kafka moves the tip up to her entrance, she doesn’t hesitate— immediately moving her hips back and forth slowly, taking in its whole length gradually. And fuck— it’s amazing, the stretch of it, the hand pressing on her womb, the feeling Himeko gets when Kafka finally bottoms out, the feeling she gets especially when she looks at herself in the mirror, legs obscenely spread, slick glistening as it drips down her thighs, the little sounds she makes whenever she moves back and forth, the way her reflection’s and Kafka’s stare pierce her just where it hits. “Ah… Aeons, Kafka—”
“Look at yourself, Himeko.” Kafka runs her hand along the sides of her waist, aiding her as she thrusts back and forth on her length. “One command, and you’re following it like a mindless dog.” With a sudden yank, Himeko’s head is pulled up by her hair, drool sticking to the sheets below her. Kafka takes her other hand and leans down, holding her by the chin and the hair, roughly tugging to emphasize her point. She picks up the pace herself, bottoming out with every snap of her hips and tight grip on the side of her waist. “Really, look at you,” she smirks, fucking lengthy moans and short whines out of her with every thrust, “Someone as important as you so, so desperate for me, really. How badly did you want this?”
“Y… yes, fuck, Kafka, Kafka, f—fuc….k….” With every sound of their skin slapping together echoing into the night, the dildo beginning to easily slip in and out because of how wet she is, she can’t respond with a coherent sentence while she mumbles indistinctly, so Kafka decides to leave it be and plant more kisses along her shoulders.
“Oh, honey…” Kafka nibbles along the nape of her neck, still roughly pulling her up by her hair, “taking me so well, so, so, good… good girl…” Himeko can’t think about anything else anymore— oh, she loves the way the strap fucks her out, the way she squeezes and clenches around it, the way Kafka looms over her with her shadow, pulling her hair roughly so she can see the way her mouth is held in an O shape in the mirror, the way drool dribbles down her chin, the way her Kafka’s eyes shine hungrily at her, the way Kafka’s so focused. She loves the way her arms ache and her legs threaten to give out, the way electric shocks rush through her body whenever Kafka bottoms out, the way she’s moaning Kafka like a prayer.
And like that, again, she’s close, she’s just so close, as Kafka releases her hair and instead grabs the ribbons on her wrists, furiously thrusting harder and deeper, a hand sneaking down to rub her swollen clit. “Kafka, my— ah, yes, t—there, Aeons, please…lease, just— don’t— ah, don’t stop,” her words are broken, pleading to Kafka for Aeons knows what, back inappropiately arching, desperately, looking for her release, finding herself in the mirror broken— a remnant of what the real Himeko is like. She looks like nothing but a fucked out toy right now, cherry purple kisses spread all around.
“I won’t, love,” Kafka indulges her, hitting all the right places, quickening her pace until she notices the telltale signs of how Himeko is gonna cum— her quaking legs, the way her moans turn to sighs, gasps and whimpers, how she forgets to try to struggle to get out of her bindings. “You’re doing so well, Aeons, Himeko…” Kafka leans down and indulges herself now, locking lips with her until Himeko’s makeup is ruined, she drools more out of the corners of her mouth—
“Ah— ohh…. Kaf—Kafka, really— close— I’m, ah, I—” Himeko tries to find the words, lost in the pleasure and heady lust.
”Cum for me, Himeko.”
—she’s squeezing hard on Kafka’s cock, legs giving out, screaming Kafka’s name and repeating it in little breaths until she can’t think straight enough to formulate words inside her mind. She sees white little stars in the back of her eyes, she feels breathless and she feels mindless when she looks back into the eyes of her reflection in the mirror, empty and so hungry, she hears Kafka pulling out of her with an obscene, lewd sound that she won’t be able to forget for the next couple of weeks. Her legs are weak, like she won’t be able to stand up properly tomorrow, and she starts chuckling a bit insanely. Kafka removes the harness and the dildo, cleaning them off before putting it to the side, sitting by the top of the bed with the pillows, while Himeko struggles to get up a just a bit and kneel, turning to face her, speechless.
“Aeons— Kafka, that was so,” she giggles to herself, a little taken back.
”Did you like it?— I mean, was the mirror okay—?”
“Yes, of course, it was beautiful, don’t worry your pretty little head off about it.” Himeko weakly gets up a bit and snuggles against Kafka’s chest, adjusting the glasses on her head and giving her a peck on the cheek. “I’ll have to return the favor someday, of course.”
”Not now, Himeko,” and this time, it’s Kafka’s turn to whine the other’s name, “I wanna stay like this, with you,”
The way she says it is a bit dreamily, and Himeko rests onto her chest more as Kafka strokes her back, tracing her forefinger over the smeared lipstick marks and the hickeys she’s left. It’ll be a pain to cover those up.
“For now,” Himeko talks into the night, moving to hold, then kiss Kafka’s hand.
”Let’s get cleaned up now, shall we?”