Dillon Hunt: Before the Fall Ch. 02

"You're absolutely adorable, you know that Dilly?" Tiffany's voice grunted with the hint of effort as she used Dillon's wrenched arm like a handle, spinning his whole body toward her bed. "I must have been a very good girl to get a toy like you to play with."

Heat rose to Dillon's face at the implication, and his struggles redoubled in intensity. "Yeah fucking right," he yelled in response, his voice expressing a confidence that his body simply could not deliver on. But the impotence of his flailing limbs only steeled his resolve to prove that he wasn't intimidated by the schoolgirl. "Like I'd listen to a floozy like yo-ooh!"

The words of defiance were pressed from his lips by a sudden impact on his sternum. It wasn't painful, but it was certainly enough to knock the breath from his lungs. Before he could even recover his first gasp of air, he felt himself pressed into suffocating softness. He tried to inhale through the layers of downy bedding, but served to only get a face full of floral perfume.

Weight on his back held Dillon firmly in place as his hand was suddenly released. He once again flailed, the dull ache in his right arm doing little to prevent its aimless scrabbling. A smarter part of Dillon recognized that he had no chance of resisting the leverage on his back, but that part of him hadn't been making decisions for at least a full minute. He was operating strictly on instinct, and all that instinct could consider was standing up by whatever means available.

But there were no means available. And what little means might have existed for a more cognizantly aware Dillon also vanished when he felt the firm grip on his left hand, followed by the sharp firmness of something hard and cold being wrapped around his wrist.

His second breath came less confidently than the first, the weight on his chest turning the normally-automatic task into an effort of Sisyphean magnitude. His thoughts began to lightly swim as his struggles dimmed. He diverted all of his attention and energy to lifting his face. He almost succeeded, too, but a hand against the back of his head firmly prevented such a liberty as free breath.

The second hand was bound far more easily than the first, and the sharp metal bracelet soon prevented the meager efforts of which Dillon was still capable. The weight left his chest, and his head was released back to its own devices. Not that there was much he could do with these new releases besides feebly turn his head to the side and draw in a long, precious breath of sweetly-scented air.

Dillon's body focused on breathing. Despite the fact that he could feel something being done with his ankles, his limited mental capacity insisted on supplementing itself with oxygen before trying to wrestle with any other information.

It wasn't until he felt his legs forcibly spread and held in place by similar restraints to those on his wrists that Dillon finally snapped-to. "Huh?" He slurred. He'd wanted to say something more biting, but his mouth hadn't quite gotten the message in time.

"'Huh?'" Tiffany's voice mocked from behind his bent-over form. "Is that the best you got, big guy?" She punctuated the question with a vicious bare-handed slap across her captive's ass.

"FUCK!" Dillon shouted, no longer concerned with maintaining any sense of decorum or control.

"You wish, cutie." Tiffany smarmed as Dillon felt the slight pressure of a finger at the cleft of his latex briefs. "You gotta earn that kind of fun."

Dillon blushed at the implication, then immediately thrashed in defiance of it. "Not on your life, you stupid fuckin-"

SMACK!

The impact was somehow worse than any of those that came before it, and Dillon could do little more than turn his head into the spittle-damp, soft, bedsheet and hope that the cushiony warmth would be enough to baffle the intensity of his screaming.

"You are a proud little boy, aren't you?" Tiffany soothed as she gently rubbed the point of impact with the pads of her fingers. "Delicate, too. That's not a great combination, Dilly-pop. One is going to have to give way to the other."

Dillon huffed into the soft pink blanket, his clamped eyes working vainly to keep the hints of tears from staining the cotton beneath.

There was a shifting of weight to Dillon's right. "I'd be willing to help you work on the latter, but you gotta give up some of the former, first." Dillon felt familiar fingers on his cheek, drawing under his jaw and coaxing him to face right. "Chin up, buttercup. Let's have a little chat."

Dillon thought about resisting, but it wasn't a fight worth fighting. He needed a minute to recuperate if he was to put up a proper fight later. That didn't keep him from expressing his fury through his eyes as they finally met Tiffany's own. The dichotomy between their postures and positions was not lost on him. His face was barely inches away from where she sat comfortably on the bed. While he was bent over and exposed and vulnerable, she seemed so effortlessly in control. He was no threat to her, and she knew it. Her smile, like that of a playful cat to her most recent prey, conveyed that more readily than even their respective postures.

"Good boy." She patted him gently on the cheek, her fingers softly caressing his blood-tinged skin. "Now, it would be remiss of me to not remind you of your option to stop here. All you have to do is use your safety phrase and I'll let you up, give you back your clothes, and get you cleaned up and on your way home." She canted her head to the side, her long ponytail draping across her shoulder. "Hell, I may even give you a quick blowie, for being so much fun to play with."

Dillon's eyes widened as they immediately fixated onto Tiffany's pink lips. The gloss that colored the full, soft flesh was slightly marred, but that only gave her already striking face a sort of feral beauty. The idea of those lips wrapped around his cock gave rise to Dillon's libido and rekindled his spirits. 'I bet she's an eager cock sucker, too.'

"However," Tiffany's teeth shone from behind those lips as she grinned down at him. "That would require you to fully admit that you just aren't man enough to handle being submissive. I wonder," she traced her long nail delicately across the ridge of his ear. "Would that taint the experience of dominating someone else, to know that you can't take what you dish out?"

"I-"

"Shhh." Dylan flinched and fell silent as Tiffany's hand shot towards his face, only to press softly against his lips with a single outstretched finger. "It's not your turn to talk yet. I'll let you know when you're allowed to respond." She slapped his cheek affectionately.. "Before you decide, you should know that it doesn't have to be like this." She motioned to his half-prone form bent over the side of the bed. "I don't want to hurt you, Dilly-boy." Her eyes drifted sideward as her lips pressed together coyly. "I mean, I do enjoy it. You mewl beautifully." Her eyes drifted upward as her lip found itself clenched suggestively between her teeth.. "But having to use such force for something so simple as getting you dressed?" She shrugged, blinking slowly in thought. "I mean, it just displays a lack of control on my part."

Tiffany pulled her legs up and turned to face Dillon more directly, her legs folded underneath her in a clearly-practiced demure posture. Dillon's eyes drifted to her skirt, his instinct hoping to get a peek beneath.

"Eyes up here, cutie." Tiffany admonished, flicking Dillon gently on the forehead. He complied immediately, and was rewarded with another smile. "Good boy."

"You have three options, far as I can see." Tiffany continued, her fingers playing errantly in Dillon's hair. "First, you can quit. Just give up the ghost and go home with your tail tucked between your legs. This feels like it's inevitable, more a matter of 'when' than 'if'. But, you have the option to save me and Mistress lots of time and energy and just give up your delusions of dominance now. We'll call that 'plan A'.

"Second, you can resist. I don't mind that option as much, but it's only going to make things less comfortable for you. You're still going to do everything I tell you to. You're just going to help me burn a few extra calories in the process before you eventually puss out. Or, hell, maybe you'll actually start to grow a pair and be able to stand up to it. I don't mind finding out, either way.

"Third, you can do what it is that you came here to do and learn something. Put that ridiculous unearned sense of pride away and let your betters teach you a thing or three about what real dominance is."

Tiffany stretched her legs out, leaning her head against the backboard of her cozy pink bed, her feet draped across Dillon's back. "So, what'll it be, Dill-doe?"