Cosplay

by SithLordWiccan

Copyright © 2006

decepticons_4_ever@hotmail.com

Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: "Buffy the Vampire Slayer" characters belong to Joss Whedon and Mutant Enemy. She-Ra characters and concepts belong to Mattel/Filmation. The scene I am paying homage to comes from the aforementioned fic, copyright 2006 Chris Cook.
Distribution: The Mystic Muse: http://mysticmuse.net
Through the Looking-glass, The Kitten Board
Feedback: Oh, pretty please. I live and die by the feedback I get.
Spoilers: Spoilers for the fourth WTTV commercial and, to a lesser extent, The Sword of She-Ra by Chris Cook (Artemis).
Author's Notes: Thanks to the WTTV crew for the inspiration, particularly Chris (Artemis), for first putting the idea in my head, then giving me permission to run with it and for doing an early beta read. Thanks also to Sally for her other "inspiration," even though I didn't totally stick with it in the end and highlandlass25 for a quick second beta read.
Note #2: For more information on the whole concept of Cosplay, check out the Wikipedia entry.
Thanks to Chris Cook for the title graphic!
Pairing: Willow/Tara

The blonde lay on the bed, shackled to it by the four pairs of satin lined restraints that secured her ankles and wrists to the bedposts. She had briefly struggled against them, but had long since given up. The power of her captor was too great for her to resist for any large amount of time. Eventually she would succumb to her charms, and that would leave her vulnerable.

Her breath came in ragged gasps. She should try to attempt to break free, but for some reason, she did not feel an overwhelming need to do so. Being held a prisoner was degrading enough, but the idea that she was somehow enjoying what was happening was too much for her to bear.

She looked across the room to where her uniform lay crumpled, tossed away as casually as a piece of paper or trash that had been left unattended. She knew that she should be embarrassed at being naked in such a prone position, but instead, it was rather…liberating.

The door opened and the blonde saw a figure step into the room. Whoever it was wore a cloak, the hood of which was raised, covering the newcomer's face completely. The figure's size and build, however, betrayed her captor's identity as a woman.

The blonde immediately knew who it was. "I'll never talk," she spat. "You and your magics have no affect on me, witch."

"Oh, I do believe that you are correct," the figure's voice said, her voice a mixture of unbridled power and distinctive femininity. "That's why I've decided to employ more…creative talents."

From within her robe, the woman retrieved a feather, rubbing her delicate fingers across its surface. The blonde's eyes widened slightly at the sight.

"You see, unlike the others, I have a problem with torturing prisoners," the robed being said as she sat down beside her prisoner. "It's all about harming other people and making them bleed. It upsets the delicate balance of Etheria. And I have a problem with that, being part of the whole 'we are one with the land' belief."

Slowly moving the feathered hand to the blonde's leg, she continued, "This, however, is a more preferable means of extracting information, I think. It doesn't harm anyone, it's uncomfortable without being painful and…"

The cloaked woman paused as she brought the feather down on the blonde's exposed thigh. She noted a small sense of pleasure in the blonde's eyes at the touch, which increased as the feather stroked her thigh. The blonde shifted slightly, the chains holding her in place rattling at her movement.

"It brings about pleasure in both the giver and the receiver," she finished breathily.

The blonde twitched, the touch bringing her illicit pleasure that, given the situation she found herself in, seemed out of place. "This is not possible," she thought. "She can't touch me like this. This is wrong. Wrong. So very, very…"

The ticklish feeling moved suddenly from her thigh to her foot. "Right. So very, very right."

Oblivious to the blonde's internal dialogue, the cloaked woman continued. "Ah. I see that you are beginning to enjoy this." Taking a moment to tickle her feet, she moved to the nightstand and placed the feather down on. "Guess that means it's time to stop."

The blonde let out a half-whimper, half-moan at that. Unseen, the mysterious figure smiled. "Don't worry. We have ways of making you talk."

Moving to the dresser, she withdrew a small candle and a matchstick, placing them out of sight of her prisoner. She then withdrew a small blindfold, which she held onto as she moved back to her captive.

"I'm sorry," she said, although her tone indicated that she was anything but. "I'm afraid I'll have to make sure that you can see no more of what's going around you. You understand."

The blonde didn't struggle as her captor moved to sit, her hands moving to place the blindfold over her eyes. As she did so, her captive whispered one word.

"Adora."

Out of sight of the blonde, the cloaked figure smiled. The word held such power. It was interesting how, in the space of a single moment, the power could shift, ever so briefly. And the hauntingly breathtaking way in which the blonde said the word sent a shiver down her back.

Sliding the blindfold over the blonde's eyes, the cloaked woman returned to the dresser, picking up a match and lighting the candle. "Now, my dear, as I was saying, there is more than one way to get you to talk. Touch, for example. We've already seen this act at work. But that was with something soft, and gentle." Her exquisite hand lowered the candle beside the blonde's head, dangerously close to her ear. "But what if we tried…something hot?"

The blonde's head turned away, trying fruitlessly to halt the intense heat that was being radiated across the right hand side of her face. Tenderly, the cloaked woman brought her hand to the blonde's chin and slowly, but forcefully, brought it back.

"Mustn't do that," she whispered.

"But…" the blonde whimpered, showing a degree of discomfort. An obviously fake discomfort, given that she did not safeword, but an unarguable discomfort nonetheless. "It's…it's too hot…"

"Really?" the cloaked woman asked, bringing two fingers up to her face and dipping them inside the hood. They emerged several seconds later covered in a fine film of saliva. With her other hand, she moved the candle to the nightstand and, after rubbing her wet fingers against her thumb, began to massage the left hand side of the blonde's face.

"Better?"

The response was immediate. "Oh, yes. Thank you."

"A strange concept," the cloaked woman replied, causing the blonde's head to arch up in surprise.

"Y…yes?"

The cloaked woman stood up. "A prisoner thanking her captor for the punishment she so rightly deserved. Does that seem…strange?"

The blonde started. "I…I…"

The cloaked woman bent over and began to unshackle her prisoner "I think we need to teach you to not enjoy the pain. I need to free your arms and legs in order to get you…ready. Don't even think about trying anything."

The blonde didn't try to move, not that there was anything she could do about it, as the cloaked woman unlatched her arms and legs. The blonde knew that this would be the perfect moment to attack her captor. Or, at the very least, do something to protest her actions.

She kept her arms away from her body, and lay in silence as the cloaked woman shifted her, turning the blonde on her back. She involuntarily began to fight the movement, only to have a hand hit her raised and exposed rear.

"I warned you, girl," the cloaked woman hissed, all pretense of kindness and empathy abandoned. "But you chose to disobey me. Now you will have to pay the price."

Reaching over, she moved to reattach the blonde's arms to the bedposts. Then, once she was assured that her prisoner was not going anywhere, she reached for the candle. "I was planning to be patient, girl. I thought that you could be tamed. Apparently, I was wrong. And now…you will have to suffer."

And, without a second thought, her hand turned. And the pool of wax that had been collecting on the melting candle dripped onto the crevice of the blonde's perfectly sculpted hindquarters and down her back. She howled in protest, and the screams continued for several seconds as the cloaked woman moved her hand to drip the melted wax all across the exposed flesh of the blonde's back. Gradually, however, the blonde's screams dissolved into a perverse mixture of arousal and barely restrained pleasure.

"This won't do," the cloaked woman muttered, as she brought the candle to her face, blew it out, and unceremoniously tossed it aside. "It looks like you've developed a resistance to tools such as these." She bent forward and brought a finger down to the wax on the blonde's rear, casually wiping it aside as easily as she would have a few spilled drops of water. Her hand then moved to the apex of her captive's mound.

"I would say that it is time for a more…personal approach."

Cupping her flesh, she inserted a finger passed the outer lips, stroking her inner walls. This brought a sharp gasp from the blonde, whose hips bucked at the touch. Continuing the erstwhile probing of her captive's nether regions, the hooded female felt the blonde's vagina walls clenching around her finger as she inserted another, feeling the wetness that was building inside.

"I…I…I can't…can't take…"

The unknown woman brought her head up and, with her free hand, brought the hood down, exposing her features for the very first time. Of course, since the blonde's eyes were still covered, she remained ignorant of this.

"I had a feeling that you might not," she said, flashing an evil grin. "Perhaps, then, I should release you?"

"Y…yes…"

A painful slap on her backside brought the response to a quick end. "No! You're my prisoner. And I will do to you what I wish." Another slap, this one more gentle than the last, followed those words. The redhead then began to casually explore the bound girl's nethers, teasing her exposed clitoris with her thumb and forefinger at random intervals, each touch bringing a gasp of pleasure from the blonde.

"Do you feel it?" she asked the blonde. "The overwhelming need to please yourself? The burning desire to prove your love? The buckling of your chains as you yearn for release?"

The blonde shook her head. "Yes…yes. I am…I am…"

"Say it."

"Yours. Now and forever. Yours."

The redhead smiled. The prisoner had finally accepted her place. "Now, my prisoner, show me how much you belong to me."

The blonde could no longer contain the raging inferno within her. As the redhead's exploration of her intimate area deepened and grew more furious, she found herself less in control of her instincts. Her ability to hold off the unwanted advances finally collapsed and she came, her core clenching hard on the redhead's fingers, the liquid heating her core gushing out onto her captor's fingers. She moaned a deep seated sigh of contentment.

And the redhead watched it all with a smile on her face and a song in her heart.

Ten minutes later, the redhead sat on a chair, reading a document on the computer screen in front of her. The blonde, wearing a purple robe, walked up beside her.

"You really like that story, don't you?" she asked.

The redhead chuckled. "What can I say? I was always into the cartoons of the 80's."

The blonde smiled. "I don't think any cartoon I ever watched had quite that sort of 'action' involved."

The redhead laughed as she wiped several wayward strands of hair from her eyes. "Well, we've already put our spin on the 'prisoner' scene. What should we do next?"

The blonde thought for a moment. "How about the scene where she's attacked by that cat creature?"

The redhead turned to look at the blonde, her gaze casually going up and down her body. "I can get into that. You'd look great in that superhero costume."

"You're just saying that because you want to wear that furred body stocking," the blonde pointed out.

The redhead blushed. "Don't try telling me I don't look hot in that. And besides, you know what they say about evil."

The blonde walked over and kissed the redhead full on the lips. The pair then got up, retrieved the articles of clothing in question from the shopping bag on the sofa, and walked back down to their bedroom.

"Evil's…good."

The End

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