Liliaceae
Her dark eyes clashed with amber orbs-flecks of honey and irises hued in shadowed gold that made Madoka’s breath hitch, rimmed with red- glistering with unshed tears that threatened to mar the curves of her cheeks. Her eyelashes fluttered slightly, a visceral reaction betraying her best efforts to hold steady, unflinching eye contact.
"Keep your eyes open," Ayako’s voice would growl into her ear, her words a soft yet calculated threat, her breath tingling on Madoka's neck. She was prettier when she cried, or at least that was the shared sentiment each time Madoka succumbed to her stressed tears - the hushed murmurs of approval as Madoka struggled to calm herself down, the pleased titter-deceptively cordial.
Ayako's fingers, adorned with elegantly maintained nails, pressed solidly into the contours of Madoka's flushed cheeks, the threat of breaking skin palpable as she gently guided Madoka's gaze upward, and she obliged her, tilting her head under Ayako's expert hands, her hands wringing anxiously.
The first time Ayako had forcefully dragged Madoka into this room, she had grasped tightly onto her hair, winding the dark strands tightly around her fingers, ensnaring them within her grip-dragging her across the floor, her throat raw from crying.
Madoka had learned since then that compliance was the only way to appease Ayako's volatile temperament. A refusal to play would incur one of Ayako's tantrums. To come obediently and be the submissive doll that the other girl coveted so much. If Madoka was particularly good, which was not even dependent on Madoka herself- but rather Ayako's mood- If Madoka pleased her, she could choose the weapon that Ayako hurt her with. And Ayako would watch as she selected, never blinking, always dead-eyed and uninterested as Madoka would pick the safest options.
Today, however, Ayako took matters into her own hands, a malicious sneer etching its way onto her delicate countenance, beautiful white face framed by long black hair. Her doll-like fingers eagerly twirled the handles of the scissors, the blades glimmering ominously in the room's warm, orange glow.
Madoka's heart skipped a beat as she watched them open like jaws, hovering dangerously close to her vulnerable throat. A tremor coursed through her lip as it quivered, wondering if, perhaps this time, Ayako would mercifully end her suffering. The frigid touch of the metal grazed against her collarbone, and only then did Madoka realize the disappointment that must have emoted without her realizing it. Ayako, in response, clicked her tongue in irritation.
Madoka obediently kept her eyes open as instructed, her body limp and compliant in the other girl’s firm grasp, resembling nothing more than an idealized plaything, a lifeless doll. It was only when the cold, metal blades of the scissors began to slice through her precious dress, the only remnants of her former life, that she started to exhibit a faint reaction. Her mother had sent her to this desolate island with minimal personal belongings, and those dresses held sentimental value.
"A... Ayako," she pleaded quietly, her voice trembling with a tinge of desperation. But it was as if her words vanished into thin air, evoking no sympathetic response from Ayako. If anything, her plea only stoked the resentful embers of Ayako's destructive intent, fueling her to tear the fabric into tattered shreds with even greater fervor. Madoka shivered in the raw, open air, her body now susceptible- a clean, deliberate cut tracing a path from her delicate neck down to her lap.
Ayako's voice carried an indignant tone as she mused a response, "My mother doesn't visit me." Madoka felt a twinge of empathy, now comprehending the underlying reason behind Ayako's disdain for the clothing. Unlike Madoka, Ayako did not experience the affectionate attention and pampering from her mother. Infact, Madoka had never seen any of her family come to see her.
In her twisted logic, Madoka's possession of nice things seemed unfair, a stark reminder of the disparity between their lives. Madoka's thighs tingled with a chill as Ayako completed her self-imposed mission, the remaining cotton fabric of her dress roughly pulled down her shoulders, leaving her exposed and vulnerable.
Madoka's small breasts, while not a source of great embarrassment, paled in comparison to the acute self-consciousness she felt about her hardening nipples. Instinctively, she raised her hands, intending to shield them from Ayako's prying gaze.
However, she halted abruptly as Ayako narrowed her eyes, a silent warning that froze her in place. With a mix of apprehension and resignation, Madoka allowed her hands to fall limply to her sides.
Ayako, seizing the opportunity to exert her control, nudged the small, pink nubs with the abscinding tip of the scissors, eliciting a shiver of trepidation that coursed through Madoka's body. In that moment, she couldn't help but wonder if Ayako would go as far as to sever them, much like the cruel fate she had inflicted upon Madoka's beloved canary's head.
"You're my favorite toy," Ayako told her in a low, almost possessive tone, her words dripping with a twisted sense of affection. Leaning in closer, she pressed her lips against Madoka's cheek, her tongue tracing a path to taste the lingering saltiness of her tears.
Madoka remained silent, paralyzed by fear, unable to utter even the faintest sound. Ayako, taking advantage of her vulnerability, exerted her dominance by pushing Madoka back against the softness of the comforter on her bed, the one in the exposed bedroom that concealed no evidence of the bloodstains that adorned her actual bed hidden behind a small door.
With deliberate intent, the sharp blades of the scissors trailed down Madoka's stomach, halting at her hips. In a rush of confusion and uncertainty, Madoka's mind barely had time to process what Ayako was doing as she ruthlessly cut through her panties, leaving nothing but scraps of fabric that barely concealed anything from Ayako's scrutinizing gaze.
Madoka's face flushed with embarrassment at the audacity, her thighs involuntarily squeezing together in a feeble attempt to shield her modesty.
“A....Ayako,” Madoka's voice quivered with a soft, pleading whine as she spoke her companion's name, though she recognized the futility of protesting, especially when Ayako wielded a weapon in her hand. Ayako's amber eyes shifted towards her with a hint of curious irritation, her knee subtly nudging Madoka's legs apart, further asserting herself.
"What is it now?" Ayako's voice carried a tone of impatience, tinged with a touch of annoyance.
Madoka hesitated for a moment, her fear and exasperation battling within her. Summoning what was left of the remains of her courage, she finally asked, "Just...what are you doing?" There was a tremor of uncertainty in her voice, a genuine desire to comprehend the motives behind Ayako's mood.
Ayako responded with a simple explanation, her tone matter-of-fact as if it should have been self-evident. "I saw one of the nurses doing it," she stated, as if that single observation was enough to justify her actions, as though it explained everything. It didn’t, Madoka thought.
"She was using something, pushing it inside to...to feel good," Ayako continued, her expression haughty, as though she were sizing up her prey in case Madoka dared to make a futile attempt to run for the door. Madoka didn’t do that anymore
A sharp cry escaped Madoka's lips as the closed scissors were slowly and deliberately pushed between her folds, the frigid touch of the metal against her heated flesh causing her entire body to convulse involuntarily. Ayako giggled, her grip on the scissors loosening slightly, leaving Madoka lying there with the crude protrusion of the shears jutting out from between her legs, as if it belonged there. "Ayako!" Madoka's plea was a mixture of desperation and disbelief.
Ayako's impatience laced her words as she proposed an alternative, "If you don't like that hole, then I can shove it into the other one." Madoka instinctively clenched her lips shut, unable to voice her objections. However, Ayako's tone softened as she whispered, "You look cute," while using her finger to trace up the delicate slit between Madoka's legs, gently caressing her swollen clit in slow, tantalizing circles. Madoka's conflicted emotions swirled within her as she felt a mixture of offense and undeniable pleasure despite the predicament she found herself in.
"I couldn't try this for myself, so you have to tell me if you like it or not," Ayako expressed with a subtle, genuine interest that Madoka rarely witnessed in the impassive girl. Leaning closer, her expectation evident, Ayako awaited Madoka's response. At first, Madoka struggled to find the right words, her mind clouded with a mixture of fear and arousal. But as Ayako began to twist the scissors, Madoka forced herself to be vocal.
"It... it's okay," Madoka managed to utter, her voice tinged with uncertainty. The initial discomfort had not yet transformed into pain. "It doesn't feel bad..." Yet. And she whimpered as she felt herself clench around it. She was fearful, of course, she was, the slightest move could go terribly wrong after all.
"I wish you had more places..." Ayako's musing words to her hung in the air; a wistful longing evident in her voice. Madoka forced herself to concentrate on the significance of the conversation, the words coming out of her mouth.
"Well, I don't," Madoka breathed out, her voice barely above a whisper. She couldn't help but tense up as Ayako retracted the scissors from between her thighs, a momentary relief washing over her.
"I could make more," Ayako muttered, her normally stoic tone carrying a hint of a pout. Her gaze roamed over Madoka's body, as if searching for the ideal spot to create another opening. Madoka knew she had to divert Ayako's attention, to distract and steer her away from further impulsiveness.
"Ayako..." Madoka's voice trembled as she took another shuddering breath to calm herself. "How about... your thing? You could just put it in instead..." Her cheeks flushed with embarrassment, and she averted her gaze, unable to meet Ayako's intense stare. After a moment, she glanced back at her, only to find the enigmatic girl staring at her with an intensity that sent a shiver down her spine.
Madoka never asked for it directly, she was probably processing the request. Suddenly her lips curled, a pleased expression on her face as she pressed Madoka more firmly onto her back.
The word "fine" slipped from Ayako's lips, devoid of emotion aside from the lilt in her tone as she raised the hem of her own dress, discarding her tights to expose herself to Madoka.
And she swallowed thickly, the sight before her was intimidating, Ayako's length lining up with Madoka's quivering arousal, entering her fully in one jerk of her hips- and Madoka felt the breath forced from her lungs like she had been punched. It hurt, it hurt.
Ayako set a pace that was self-indulgent and unkind, the heel of her palm pressing forcefully over Madoka's mouth to stifle her. "If I get in trouble with the head nurse again..." Ayako's warning hung in the air, and Madoka bit down on the inside of her cheek, suppressing her voice to the best of her ability. Because it was more than a warning; it was a threatening promise, a reminder of the power Ayako held over her, one that left her feeling trapped and helpless.
“I..I’m sorry...” Madoka's voice trembled as she offered a feeble apology, though she could not comprehend why she felt the need to placate Ayako, to seek her approval and comfort her even in this situation. As the warmth in her lower belly coiled and intensified, causing her toes to curl, Madoka squeezed her eyes shut to concentrate on something, anything else.
"You like it," Ayako husked, a taunting edge lacing her words. "You act like you don't, but your body betrays you. You're tightening up so much..." Ayako's thrusts momentarily stilled as she released her climax inside Madoka, marking her territory, marking her as her property. And Madoka found the accusation as searing as the release gathered inside her.
“I...” Madoka worried her lower lip with her teeth.
Ayako lazily rolled her hips, driving her cum deeper inside Madoka, leaving an indelible mark of ownership. Madoka's body trembled beneath Ayako's weight, her mind consumed by a mixture of sensations and conflicting emotions. The pain and discomfort lingered, but beneath it all, an undeniable, shameful heat pulsed through her veins. She couldn't deny the physical response, the way she involuntarily tightened around Ayako, her body wanting her to stay even when Madoka herself wanted her to be far away from her.