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It was hard to truly fall asleep on the Throne, with eyes watching from the shadows, and constant, mind-numbing ragtime music, and a thousand nagging aches, but it was possible to doze, if one was tired enough. Webberâs eyes slid shut, one pair at a time, and their shared mind slipped down into welcoming, temporary oblivion -
Whatever dark, fleeting shadows of dreams the Throne brought were abruptly wrenched sideways, and the monarch found themselves lying flat on their back under the eyes of a leering stranger, a new set of restraints in the process of tightening over their limbs.
Disoriented, with a sickening mixture of anger and fear curling in its gut, Webber ignored the warning and lashed out with a sharp hiss, all eight limbs thrashing in an attempt to sink at least one set of claws into the demon before they could be totally immobilized.
âI said--â the demon started, roughly snatching his newly captured toyâs free limbs and jerking them back into place against the table they lay splayed on, â--stop. Squirming.â
The table was like any other youâd find in a laboratory-- plain and simple, and mostly clean of earlier gore. The restraints, however, beckoned eyes as they gently pulsed a perfect image of the stars in the night sky, long tentacles obeying their ownerâs orders and tightly securing the spider onto the flat surface. Not to mention, the soft sizzling as they burned their captiveâs skin.
Stareye wiped the blood from the fresh cut on his cheek and licked the finger clean. âThatâs better. All tied down and helpless. Youâre welcome to waste energy and writhe around all youâd like now! In fact, I welcome it.â
âBut, just a warning-- the more you squirm, the worse those things are going to sear you.â