AlchemicCereza

The Casino is dark. Liquid highlights of deep red shimmer along the walls, basking everything it can't touch in deep darkness. The taste of anger and betrayal is hot on your tongue. Sour. You had a feeling you knew where she went and now all you can do is wait. Like a wife waiting for her cheating husband to return, you sit in a chair in the darkness, your hands in your lap because they’re still fucking cuffed.

You’re stupid. I mean- really fucking stupid. But that’s why you’re here now, waiting in front of the dark corner. The Door that never seems to be in service, now with its tape ripped off. Its weak efforts to deter are no match for someone like her. The tape lays limply against the linoleum but you are as rigid as can be. Your arms ache to cross but- again- you let her cuff you. You’re at her mercy until she returns which only serves to make your anger blister even more in your stomach. Stupid.

You might have wished for her to catch trouble in the Door- it’s off limits for a reason. But ENA don’t think, do they? It’s all ‘go, go, go.’ Stubborn as a million mules and as unkillable as a cockroach. But you need her to return. You need her to uncuff you and you need to… do something. Hit her? Scream in her face? What would be more effective to a being like her? You don’t think she’d particularly care either way- she’s proven she’s nothing more than a tool for services. She is not your lover or your fling or your friend or whatever.  She’s an ENA.

Luckily for you, it doesn’t take too long until the Crowd Door begins to shift. The mass of bodies move in the dark corner, prominent features barely being highlighted with the red color of the vivarium tanks. The Door spits her out piece by piece. Her hand slides against the floor towards you as if the Door were a mutt and even the taste of Ena made it turn its nose. Her leg is spat out, crooked at the knee. Her pelvis. Another arm. The many voices of the Crowd Door moan as they spit out what’s left of her.

You lean forward to claim her closest arm, the pale one. There’s no reaction in her hand, either comfortable or not yet regaining her senses. Good. Her head is finally cast away and towards your feet. Ena groans quietly before you, but the feminine sound is echoed in the high room. Her head rolls to the side, ignorant of your presence. She lies there in pieces and the tiny stirring of pity that gathers in your chest is squashed by the cold reminder of handcuffs biting your flesh.

You gently bob her arm in your hands, almost like a fishing rod bobbing its bait to tease the foolish creatures. Ones meant for devouring. Her fingers dangle and sway with the motion, both of your hands clasped around the bicep. You don’t completely know what you want to do or say to her. You just know that you’re mad. Mad she left you there, mad she played you like a fool- mad that you are one. How will you ever live this down? Not just fucking but really going out of your way to seek an ENA’s attention like you are the dog and she is the man.

“Ah,” She makes a soft sound as she regains herself a little, pushing up onto her red elbow and looking up at you. The hat is crooked on her head, the black tufts hanging low on her head as if deflated. “Lending me a hand, are we?” She gives you an awkward smile. You do not return it.

There are a million things you want to say back to her. Words ripe with sarcasm and betrayal. Mockery and condescension. Perhaps a genuine question of ‘why?’ But you stay mute for the time being, just bobbing her arm idly, your energy displaced into the motion.

Ena looks up at you and cracks a breathy chuckle, pushing herself up. “Free of your own accord? Well, that makes my job easier!”

Your brows scrunch. “What the fuck does that mean?” She has no opportunity to answer you as you lean forward towards her. Man speaking to dog. “I got them clipped through the headboard since you wanted to fucking leave me cuffed up to-” You look up and laugh at the sight of the no-longer-barred Crowd Door. “To come and break the rules? Don’t tell you me you had some fucking job in there.”

“There were matters beyond my hands that needed attending to. Speaking of which… may I reclaim mine?” She nods towards her right hand which you hold hostage. Your grip tightens.

“Fuck you, no.”

Ena pushes herself up, her pieces returning to their proper positions. “Let’s not sever the mule's head before we ride it-” She begins carefully but you have no interest in careful conversation.

“No, stop. Just stop. You fucking did it on purpose, didn’t you? You needed to come to the Crowd Door despite knowing it’s off-limits.” You growl out. “Did you just need a pitstop fuck?” The words leave your lips like daggers, because that idea makes you as furious as it does disheartened. How foolish of you to fall for someone like her- to allow yourself to want her company even just a little. To think an ENA capable of harboring proper feelings.

Her weary smile flips to a tucked frown on the white side of her face, her temperament sure to change with it. “Don’t you dare look at me like that!” She snaps in a way that reminds you of a growling dog. But you do not fear her. She has paraded the master for far too long.

You shake your head, a small laugh emanating from you. Tired and angry. “Just get these off of me.”

Ena scowls beneath you and the hand she still possesses slams against the ground before she starts to push herself up. She looks like she wants to argue but must know that she at least owes you your release. Good, but it’s not enough to sate you. Ena rises and produces your way out. The little key slides into the cuffs and they fall to the floor, sounding like plastic when they hit the tile. Plastic to the ears and metallic to the flesh, it seems. Though she severs your binds, she doesn’t let her gaze stray away from you. Her dark, inhuman eyes burn with annoyance. A familiar sight. But you allow yourself to sink deeper in the depths to find something more satisfying. Guilt. But not much of it. It is a juxtaposition to the rigidity of her body, poised to fight likely. She’s never lain a hand on you and you doubt she will especially after freeing you, but you can tell Ena is coiled up tight for rebukes and defense.

Ironically, you feel a sort of pleasure bloom at the sight. The way she has taken on the role she had tried to hand to you, tease you with just hours before. But you are no longer the mutt and she no longer bears the hand of authority. Not with her cheap tactics. You throw her hand down towards her, your jaw a rigid line as you watch her reaction. It delights you almost perversely to see her lip pull back in snarl- and yet you know she will not bite.

“Gee, gratitudes must be in order.” Ena bits out, letting the arm return to its proper place. Though as if she knows her own, remains on her palms and hips before you.

“I’d really just prefer answers, because that all seemed like more than a ‘romantic spur of the moment.’” You respond.

Her scowl recedes into a closed frown, angled tightly downwards. A subtle confession of guilt, otherwise she would still be primed to fight, to bare her teeth. Of course it was a scheme- it always is, isn’t it? Is there a genuine bone in these polygonal bodies that they inhabit? Ena sits up straighter, taking her palms off the dusted tiled floor.

“You were a necessary component to my task- but make no mistake: I do regret the timing and necessity of your involvement.” She says it with a hint of a smile in her words, even if there is none on her face. Ever the slippery sales figure, her apology as earnest as a company making a PR apology.

“Necessity of my involvement, huh?” You drawl out, unimpressed. Your arms finally cross now that you are unbound.

Ena smiles on her left side, almost coyly. “Are you familiar with the Pythagorean Theorem?"

You tut in annoyance. Only a flicker of your heart is endeared and you tamp it down with the ache that has yet to recede from your wrists. “Why are you changing the subject? Stop dancing around your fucking words all the time.”

“You,” Ena says with a point towards your form. “Were my way through. My diagonal line of progress, if you will!”

Your brow flinches in further annoyance before realization calmly washes over you. The Casino is closed. Or at least, it should have been. You should have needed to free your keys from your pockets to open the door but alas- you had no need. So caught up in your anger and thirst for answers and maybe a bit of retribution, you didn’t even think about the oddity of the unlocked doors.

Ena needed your keys and she knew it. You are the straight line because she knew she could subdue you, get close and steal them. The other employees wouldn’t have been so easy to take from, not like you. Your trust was a slide for her to reach her end. And aren’t. You. Always.

You should have known from the moment she walked in the door. You should have known that things were off. You had noticed the odd scent, you heard her purred remark about ‘pushing into the olfactory market.’ But by then it was too late.

By now, you're already a mess at her feet, your hands wrapped around her red leg as you press yourself against the top of her shoe.

“Ena-” You pant out, your clothes making the friction frustrating in how easy it is to lose your pleasure.

“You're my next customer, please hold.” She murmurs, condescension lining every letter of her words. She reaches down to pet your head, an action that is not kind as it is patronizing. Demeaning. Like you're a dog rutting against her leg in heat- and well, you kind of are.

Your hips roll forward roughly, trying to rub your clothed hole over the raise at the toe-end of her shoe. Trying to push your swelling clit into the line of the top of her foot. Of course, what you really want is her cock. You feel the ache deep in your pussy, eager to clench even if it's around nothing. It just needs something.

Ena smells almost sickly sweet but it's not your nose that needs to find it palatable but your brain. With a good few whiffs, she's turned you into slush at her beck and call just like she had on that job. Except she understands the extent of its effects now. The little entrepreneur has crafted a perfume that she knows will drive your stupid, animalistic brain crazy- and crazy you are. 

Your fingers dig into her red surface, a whine of impatience slithering out from your throat. Looking up at her, your brows twist together pathetically, begging for her pity.

“No, nooowww…”

She glances at you from the bottom of her eyes as her phone begins to ring, the tone echoing through the room gratingly. “Do we need to correct this behavior before I take my call?”

Despite your body screaming and throbbing to be a brat, you pull together all the remaining, miniscule shards of your control and shake your head in denial slowly. Ena rewards you with a thin, long smile and pets your head.

“Good girl…”

Then her attention snaps away from your pathetic, dripping form as she answers her call.

Below, you mewl quietly, pressing your face into her calf. Even her voice makes you antsy, makes you throb. You want that voice muffled against your tender lips, groaning into you as you fuck your hips forward into her face. Your imagination will have to do well enough for now while your body is relegated to your needy humping of her foot. 

How dare she come to your home- all sweet and playful- wearing that aphrodisiac as a twisted perfume? No warning either. You knew that vial was going to be trouble. But it doesn't matter much when your annoyance and anger burns and melds with your arousal. The two flames in your chest become indistinguishable and soon enough, your thoughts wrap around back to how much you need to be fucked…

Your breathing has long since become heavier, your cunt slick and swollen. Above you, the anomaly of your dreams and nightmares chatters away with someone on that stupid cup phone, her free hand waving and circling through the air as she talks. Her hair sways as she leans her head to the side and you ache to wrap your fingers around a section and yank until she gives you attention.

This is bullshit and you both know it. The asshole… you don't give it a second thought when you reach down to start tugging your bottoms off. It only gets troublesome when you realize you have to lift your hips off of their favorite grinding spot to actually get them down your thighs. You whine in protest and keep rocking, but it's only a few strokes later before impatience catches back up with you and you start to lift yourself up to shed the layer.