Megan Falling for You

You step so close that she can feel your breath on her skin when you say, "Sit back, Megan." She sits back, and removes the bra without your even recommending it. Still, her look is uncertain and you're pleased that you've extended the enslavement process this long. She didn't look like she'd put up any kind of fight at all.

"You look a little nervous, Megan," you say, still leering.

"It's just, I know you're no good for me," she tries to explain. "You've got lame pick-up lines and you look at me like I'm some kind of toy."

"And even with all that, it makes you feel good when I tell you to sit back and you obey," you finish for her.

"I...yeah. Pretty much," she admits. You take off your shirt and she freezes up, a mix of too frightened and too impassioned to move.

"Well, you've got it all wrong," you say. "Nothing I said was a lame pick-up line. They were all dead-to-rights truth."

" really call your lovers 'slave' to their faces?"

"Oh yes," you say. "They love it." You put a hand on your nipple and she watches, entranced, as you poke at it, wiggle it, pinch it. "You were also wrong about me being no good for you."

"Oh," she says, her attention too consumed to even question you.

Suddenly you lean close, your lips a hair's breadth from hers.

Do you want to:

ask - "And why do I look at you like a toy?"

Script by Tilde