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She's leaving Tim Hortons with several cups of coffee in her hands, big black bags under her eyes, and blank expression on her face. She's not doing a great job at looking where she's going.
cara's awakening goes less well
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And for her part, she's going to press the thing's head closer against her, a slight gasp escaping her lips.
Cara is really going at it! For a doll with no agency, she sure can use her tongue well.
She loves doing this, loves serving her master like this, loves being a perfect little doll, used and ordered around by her Vera...
She's going to use this. Fingers tightening in Cara's hair, breath coming faster now.
Just this. Just the feeling of Cara's mouth on her, the mechanical perfection of someone following orders without thought or hesitation. No choices to make except whether to pull her closer or push her away.
She rocks her hips forward, chasing the sensation.
The sensation continues to mount! Cara's body sure seems like it knows what it's doing here, and the guiding makes it feel better than anything Vera has ever experienced before.
Her legs are trembling. She grips Cara's hair tighter, using her as an anchor. The room spins slightly - too much sensation, too much everything.
"Don't stop," she gasps out, even though she knows Cara won't. Can't. Not without being told.
The world narrows down to just this point of contact, just the relentless motion of Cara's tongue and the way her body responds without her permission. She's close, so close, and she can't think about anything else.
"Fuck," she breathes, and then she's coming apart, hips jerking forward as the pleasure crashes over her. Her fingers tighten painfully in Cara's hair, holding her in place through the aftershocks.
When she finally releases her grip, she's breathing hard, legs shaky. She looks down at Cara, still kneeling there with that vacant expression, face wet with Vera's arousal.
come-hold-my-hand
Cara is decent at controlling her reactions and has a few seconds warning, and so by the time Vera's eyes meet hers she's mostly managed to return her face to something passing neutral.
Internally, she's squashing a debate on how to internalize what just happened to her in favor of figuring out how best to stay a person keep Vera calm, happy with her, and guided. The smile is a good sign!
She reaches down, traces a thumb across Cara's wet lips. The gesture is almost tender, if you ignore the context.
"Good," she says quietly. "You did good."
The praise feels strange in her mouth. She's not sure why she said it.
come-hold-my-hand
ughughugh she needs do something before Vera spirals...
Cara licks her lips, and presses her face against Vera's legs.
"That was niiice", she murmurs, sighing happily.
She jerks back like she's been burned, stumbling slightly as she pulls away from Cara's touch.
k. Panic!
"Don't—" The word comes out sharp, panicked. She backs up until she hits the desk, gripping the edge hard enough that her knuckles go white.
The girl's still conscious. Still aware. Still capable of having opinions about what just happened.
Her chest feels too tight. The room is too small.
come-hold-my-hand
She suppresses an eyeroll, because as stupid as it is, Vera looks scared. Probably she shouldn't reach out, even though the guiding would probably help the poor thing, but -
"Hey, hey, hey, it's okay. You're safe. I'm not going to hurt you." a short pause. "...breathe with me?"
"Stop fucking talking."
The words come out strangled. She's pressed back against the desk like a cornered animal, eyes darting between Cara and the door.
"You're not supposed to-" She cuts herself off, breathing too fast, too shallow. Her hands shake where they grip the desk edge.
This isn't how it's supposed to work. The girl is supposed to be empty, vacant, safe. Not kneeling there naked with blood on her shoulder and concern in her voice like she's trying to help.
come-hold-my-hand
ARRRRRRGHHH.
Now she rolls her eyes, clearly annoyed.
(Then she closes her eyes and starts breathing slowly, both because most people find that calming, and because it'll make it easier to avoid doing something else that Vera will make her regret.)
She watches Cara's exaggerated breathing with growing rage. The eye roll. The attitude. Like she's dealing with a child having a tantrum.
"Get out."
The words are quiet, flat. She can't look at her anymore. Can't stand the sight of her kneeling there, naked and bleeding and judging her.
"Get your clothes and get the fuck out of my room."
come-hold-my-hand
Fuck.
Her eyes snap open, and she looks around for her clothes.
... her clothes aren't here. They're back at the pool.
She opens her mouth to - but she can't talk, was ordered not to, so she just looks at Vera helplessly.
"You can talk. Jesus."
She's still pressed against the desk, hands white-knuckled on the edge. The brief contact from the slap makes her skin crawl.
come-hold-my-hand
Thank fuck. Okay, okay,
"T-thanks. ... My clothes aren't here," you "I left them back at the pool."
She's trying her best to be small and nonthreatening. (It helps that she is actually rather scared of Vera.)