Chapter 2: Tied with Green Silk
The scent of her own arousal, stale and intimate on her skin, still lingered from her shower. Kim lay in the dark of her bedroom, eyes open, staring at the ceiling. Her body was tired, but her mind was a live wire, crackling with purpose. She wasn’t going to wait passively for the dream to take her. Tonight, she was going to walk into it.
She focused on the memory—the cold marble, the amber light, the arrogant curve of Shego’s smile. She dragged the degrading, delicious sensations to the forefront of her mind: the warmth, the bitterness, the shocking intimacy of the mark. She invited them. She craved them.
Sleep came not as a gentle surrender, but as a deliberate step off a cliff.
And the dream caught her.
The cool, smooth texture was different this time. Not marble, but silk. Black, slick silk beneath her back. The air was warmer, carrying a faint, expensive perfume over a deeper, muskier note. Kim’s eyes opened.
She was in a vast bed. A four-poster, the canopy above a dark void. The city glittered beyond floor-to-ceiling windows, a distant tapestry of neon and shadow. Emerald accents glowed in the low light from hidden sources.
She tried to move, and the tension registered instantly. Her wrists were pulled above her head, bound together by something impossibly soft and strong. A silk tie, shimmering with a familiar toxic green hue. She tested it. It gave no slack. Another pull at her ankles—spread wide, cuffed to the bedposts with sleek black leather. The cool air kissed her naked skin. Almost naked.
The white cotton of her panties was a stark, vulnerable flag against the dark sheets. And at their center, a damp, dark bloom was already spreading, betraying her the moment the dream formed.
“Eager tonight, aren’t we?”
Shego’s voice came from the foot of the bed. She was a silhouette against the city lights, leaning against a post, arms crossed. She wore a black leather harness over her bare skin, and nothing else. Her pale green body seemed to drink the ambient light and re-emit it as a subtle, predatory glow.
Kim’s heart hammered, a frantic drum against her ribs. This was it. The violation. The attack. She met Shego’s gaze, letting every ounce of her anger, her defiance, show in her eyes. She let it burn. It was her fuel.
Shego uncrossed her arms and crawled onto the bed. The movement was lethally graceful, a panther on the prowl. The leather creaked faintly. She moved up Kim’s body, her weight settling between Kim’s splayed thighs, her black hair trailing over Kim’s quivering stomach.
“Miss me, princess?” Shego murmured, her face inches away.
Kim’s reply was a gritted teeth snarl. “Go to hell.”
Shego’s smile was a wicked slash. “Later.”
She closed the distance, crushing her mouth to Kim’s. It was nothing like the messy claim from the first dream. This was precision torture. Shego’s lips were demanding, her tongue plunging deep, tasting, claiming. The waxy bitterness of black lipstick smeared, painting Kim’s mouth, marking her anew. Kim moaned into it, a sound of furious, helpless want. Her body arched against the restraints, her hips lifting, seeking friction.
Shego broke the kiss, panting slightly. Her emerald eyes were dark pools. “Your mouth says no,” she whispered, her hand sliding down Kim’s taut stomach. “But this…” Her palm pressed hard against the soaked cotton. “This says please.”
Kim gasped. Shego’s fingers found her clit through the damp fabric, circling with a ruthless, knowing pressure. “You’re so fucking wet for me already. Dripping. Like a cheap whore.”
“Fuck you,” Kim choked out, even as her hips rolled, fucking herself against Shego’s hand.
“That’s the idea,” Shego growled, and increased her pace. Her fingers moved in tight, brutal circles, the wet cotton rubbing, chafing, sending sparks of pain and pleasure shooting up Kim’s spine. Shego watched her face, devouring every twitch, every falter in her defiant mask.
It was too much, too fast, too exactly what she needed. The coil in her belly tightened, snapping with shocking violence. A strangled cry ripped from Kim’s throat as she came, her body bowing off the bed, shuddering violently. A hot gush flooded her panties, making the wet patch spread, soak the silk beneath her.
Shego didn’t stop. She pressed her fingers down hard, milking the spasms, drawing a sobbing gasp from Kim as the sensitivity tipped into raw overstimulation.
Finally, she pulled her hand away. She brought her glistening fingers to her own mouth, then offered them to Kim’s lips. “Taste. Taste what you do to yourself for me.”
Kim’s tongue darted out, licking her own salt-sweet essence from Shego’s skin. The humiliation was a fire in her gut, but her eyes never left Shego’s. She sucked the fingers clean, one by one, with a deliberate, slow obscenity.
A flicker of something—surprise, intrigue—crossed Shego’s face. It was gone in an instant, replaced by colder hunger. With a quick, sharp motion, she hooked her thumbs into the waistband of Kim’s ruined panties and yanked them down her thighs, past her ankles, off completely.
She held the soaked wad of cotton. Kim panted, exposed, utterly vulnerable.
“Open,” Shego commanded.
Kim hesitated for a fraction of a second, then parted her lips. Shego stuffed the damp ball into her mouth, pushing it in with her fingers until it pressed heavily against her tongue. The taste of herself, intimate and overwhelming, flooded her senses. The cotton muffled her breathing to ragged, nasal sounds.
“Keep quiet,” Shego whispered, a final, mocking order.
Then she lowered her head.
Her tongue was a brand. It laved a hot, broad stripe up Kim’s soaked slit, then zeroed in on her clit with devastating focus. Shego didn’t just lick; she feasted. She sucked the sensitive nub into her mouth, flicking it with her tongue, grazing it with her teeth. Kim screamed against the gag, the sound a helpless vibration in her throat. Her hips jerked, but Shego’s strong hands clamped on her thighs, pinning her in place, holding her open.
The second orgasm didn’t build. It detonated. It tore through her with a seismic violence that blotted out the city lights, the room, everything but the white-hot point where Shego’s mouth was fused to her cunt. She convulsed, her vision tunneling to black at the edges, her muffled screams endless. Wave after wave of brutal pleasure-pain racked her, until she was a limp, twitching thing, sweat-slicked and tears cutting tracks through the smeared lipstick on her cheeks.
Shego finally pulled back, her chin glistening. She looked… unsettled. The cool control was fractured by a pulse beating wildly in her throat, by the heave of her own chest. She yanked the gag from Kim’s mouth.
Kim sucked in a ragged, sobbing breath. She felt ruined. Hollowed out and remade. Through the haze, she saw the doubt in Shego’s eyes. The plan was failing. The corruption wasn’t sticking. She met that doubting gaze, and with the last of her strength, she let a slow, slick, utterly victorious smile spread across her ruined lips.
“Is that all you’ve got?” Kim whispered, her voice hoarse and raw.
Shego flinched as if struck. The anger that flooded her features was pure, incandescent. It wasn’t the amused cruelty from before. It was real. It was personal.
“You have no idea what’s coming, you little bitch,” Shego hissed, her hand snaking out to grip Kim’s throat, not hard enough to choke, but hard enough to promise everything.
Kim just kept smiling, her eyes fluttering closed, throwing the echo of her own words, her own challenge, into the charged dark between them.
“I can’t wait.”