#valagatha

Left to right, how her arms around bound behind her back, how Agatha attached them, and how her legs are tighted from calf to thigh.

Nothing ever prepares you for someone like Agatha. Valentina hates it when she visits. She always ends up at the mercy of her goddamn magic.

So here she is. Belly pressed to the cold desk, skin bare, arms pinned in place behind her back by purple shimmering bands of Agatha’s magic. Her legs are spread wide, magic binding her thighs open. The strap sits buried inside her, the toy thick and heavy. Something Agatha said was more a statement than comfort. She can feel herself clench around it, pulsing with every heartbeat, every deep inhale. She aches to move, to grind down, but she can’t. The ropes hold her up, hips arched, back curved, and then there's the intricate ropes bounding her tight to Agatha’s hips. A near cruel and unusual punishment.

Agatha stands behind, voice patient but there's a growing edge. She doesn't know how long they've been standing here but it's enough.

"You’re going to tell me what I need, Valentina.” She's getting impatient.

Val only laughs, tries not to pound her head down on the table from the sensation crawling down her legs- just a blooming slow throb down her legs.

“Ask nicer.” she doesn't sound the way she feels- irritated, breathless, and so, very, turned on.

Agatha’s magic tightens. The strap shifts just a little, not enough, and Val inhales sharply, hips jerking back, but it's useless. Her and Agatha are tied together at the hips, intricate knots binding trapping the strap deep inside. She grits her teeth. The pressure is nearly unbearable. The wetness slick between her thighs, the heat crawling up her stomach, then there's the need carving her hollow, all of it, dims her thoughts. She tries to twist, to work the strap for more friction, but the ropes hold her tight.

Agatha’s hand moves down, palm flat on her lower back, tracing the muscles there.

“You’re stubborn.” The other hand dips lower, sliding around her waist, over her hips, "So, so stubborn. You'd think you'd grow out of this. What has it been...decades?"

Val rolls her eyes even if Agatha can't see from her angle. Huffs, barely holding in a moan.

Her voice is tight, rough. “Some of us don’t have magic.”

"Hm." Agatha’s nails dig into the softness of her stomach, "Sure but you'd think age would make you more docile."

Val rocks her hips as much as the ropes allow, frustration bleeding into every syllable. The feel of the strap buried deep is beginning to drive her a little insane. The ropes binding her arms, legs and body enclose her, making the slightest movement a chore.

“Maybe you should’ve picked someone else if you wanted easy. Or did you forget I don’t do obedient?” She lets out a low, shaky laugh, head pressed into the desk. “All this, and you still act surprised every time.

Her voice breaks on the last word as Agatha’s fingers circle slower. Val begins to lift. The purple glow of the ropes pulls her head away from the desk and she gasps as the strap moves, adjusts as she shifts upright, back against Agatha’s chest. Soft breasts press to her bound forearms behind her back. She hums, warm fingers traveling between Val's legs- two fingers glide over her clit.

"You’re not making this easy on yourself.”

Val shudders. Her cunt spasms around the strap, every tiny movement sending sparks through her. But Agatha only rubs gentle circles, barely touching, her magic keeping everything restrained.

“Tell me what I want,” Agatha whispers, voice brushing the hair by her ear, fingers slowly sending little pleasurable sparks down her legs, “and I’ll fuck you how you need.”

Val shakes her head, words cut off by a sharp gasp when Agatha’s fingers press harder. “Ah-" she closes her eyes, "You don’t get to-”

But Agatha’s hand leaves her clit, snaps up, taking her by the jaw, tilting her head back. Then, harshly she slips two fingers into Val’s mouth, pressing down on her tongue. Her words get lost as she tries to turn her head but to no avail.

“God, you're such a bore sometimes. We could put that mouth to better use. Hm?"

Val groans, humiliated, heat flooding her face. The taste of Agatha’s skin and her own heady arousal fills her senses. Her cunt pulses around the strap, slick and demanding, and she squirms uselessly against the bonds. Agatha leans into her, breath warm on her ear.

“Listen. I want to fuck you, Valentina. On this desk. All you have to do is tell me what I need. Say it, and I’ll give you everything. I’ll take the ropes off, let you ride, fuck you as hard as you beg for, eat you out, your choice. Just one little name.” She rolls her hips, grinding the strap deep, the slow drag pulling a little humiliating whimper out.

But all she thinks about is how it's not enough. Not enough.

Val tries to arch, breath turning ragged. The movement is too small, the fullness dizzying, need and frustration knotted inside her.

Agatha’s lips brush her ear. “Last chance, Val. Tell me. Or you’ll stay right here, dripping and desperate, until you do.”

Val gags as Agatha pushes her fingers further in. Her eyes squeeze shut, drool slips her lips. Her whole body is shaking, trapped between the ache of denial and the humiliation of being held against her will, filled and coerced into giving out information. The only relief Agatha gives is the slow, cruel grind of her hips and the constant taunting- every word another tease. She hates it. Enjoys it. Sometimes the conflicting definitions are all the same with Agatha.

"Come on, Val." She takes her fingers out.

Agatha’s magic hauls Val up further, back to chest, the purple bands tightening around her thighs and ribs. The strap inside her shifts, still not enough, but every lift and drop makes it grind a fraction deeper, a fraction higher. Agatha’s hands stay busy, one tangled in Val’s hair, the other gripping her chin, fingers slick from her mouth. The drool drips down her chin, her throat and a cool line goes down until it hits the ropes around her breasts.

Then Agatha starts to bounce her. It’s not a rhythm, not real movement, just a slow little jerk. A rise and fall. The strap moves only a little with each motion. Each time Val is dropped back down, the toy grinds against her walls, the blunt head catching, dragging so shallow it’s cruel. The heat spirals, tension ratchets up, need flickering along every nerve. Val’s thighs tense, muscles quivering, jaw locked between Agatha’s fingers.

Her voice is close, teasing now, an annoying buzz in her head. She takes a shaky inhale.

"That’s it. Look at you. All tied up, stuffed full, still pretending you have some self-control left.” Her lips curl against Val’s shoulder, tone warm with amusement. “Is this what you wanted? You always did have a flair for dramatics.”

The bouncing continues. Tiny little bumps.

It’s. Not. Enough. The strap teases her, never giving the friction she aches for, each bounce another spike of frustrating, narrowing need. Wetness drips down Val’s thighs, pooling where their bodies meet, creating sticky skin against skin. Her hips buck, involuntary, but the ropes keep her movements shallow, and painfully controlled.

Agatha hums, voice mock-pleading. “Val- Valentina. I could do this all night. Just a little more, just a little deeper, we could have so much fun. If you’d just cooperate. For once.” She shifts her grip, palm splayed low over Val’s stomach, feeling every tremor. “You really are determined to make this difficult. Does the power trip taste that good? Or are you a masochist?”

She bounces Val again, the strap nudging deeper. “You know what I want to hear. Just say it." Another bounce, a ragged whine punches out of Val’s throat. “Otherwise," she sighs, "I think you want to stay here, strung out, stretched out on my strap. Is that it? Little masochistic tendencies.”

Her words come low, prickling over her body, every syllable digging into her sexual frustration. Fuck, her resolve begins to crumble as her fingers leave her jaw, traveling down, over her binds to grip her waist.

“One little confession and it’s yours. Say it, and I’ll fuck you the way you want. Until then, this is all you get.”

She bounces her again and it's hard not to make a noise, but she's determined not to say a word. The strap barely moves, each shift making Val see white behind her eyes. God, the sensation of it all begins to overwhelm her.

“Come on, sweetheart,” Agatha purrs, voice annoyingly delighted. "I could do this all night. Doesn’t matter to me."

Val grits her teeth, sweat beading on her forehead, body trembling from the strain. The room smells like perfume, slight sweat, magic and frustration. She doesn’t want to give in. But Agatha’s voice is grating, the strap tormenting, her own body traitorous with need.

What Agatha wants is clear. Information, a name, that's it but it sounds off to her. Sure she has it but then there's the why. She’s not here for pleasure, not really. She wants Val’s secrets.

But Agatha keeps bouncing. The little movements inside sends hot, blinding, irritating need crawling up into her chest, down her legs. Little puffs of air begin to leave Agatha’s lungs, and brush into the white streaks of her hair. She tries to close her eyes again but it keeps coming, just wave after wave of intense need. Jesus, she wants to be fucked now. Wants to give in. The ropes feel claustrophobic now. The toy inside drives her crazy, sitting thick inside.

It keeps going and going and going- Agatha bouncing her, the strap tormenting, her little annoying exhales against her hair. Like a cycle of cruelty, over and over. Until it happens.

A name spills out of her mouth as she begins to wiggle. Needing out. Needing to just be free and able to feel the bulge inside her slipping out and giving her body exactly what it's craving so harshly for, it drips down now, a leaking line of pleasure down her thighs.

Agatha only hums, slows down, her magic still holding Val tight. “Good girl. Was that so hard?”

The magic snaps. The purple ropes dissolve from her back and waists, a soaring relief fills her aching muscles. She drops forward, cheek pressed against the cool desk, body trembling. Her legs are still tied calf to thigh by shimmering rope, hanging wide in the air, forced open by lingering spells. The ropes binding her and Agatha come off and she moans as the pressure subsides.

For a heartbeat, she sags, breath shaking, skin burning from denial and shame and need.

Then Agatha’s hands seize her hips, grip iron-tight. In one motion, Agatha pulls back, the toy easily sliding out before slamming back, burying it to the hilt. All the teasing, all the frustration, crashes together until only the relief remains, a pleasurable sparkling light between her thighs. The sudden, hard rhythm is dizzying, every thrust sending shockwaves of lustful tingles through nerves left strung out and aching.

Val gasps, traitorous little moans crawl out, the sound loud in the quiet room. The fullness hits her so hard she bites her bottom lip. Her cunt clenches down, finally grinding, finally feeding what she’d been starved for. The friction is delicious inside, blooming into a nice shiver all around. Her body jerks with every slap of skin, every wet drag of the strap, wet and messy from how much she’d been leaking.

The magic still holds her legs in the air, assisting Agatha. She can’t close them, can barely push back, can only take what Agatha gives. The sensation is blinding. Heat spikes through her, building faster and faster, her head spinning with every hard stroke.

Shame mixes with the humiliation of giving in and the pure, animal satisfaction of being fucked the way she needs. Her fingers curl, nails scraping at the desk, every sense focused on the drag, the stretch, the little dots in her vision.

Agatha leans over her, breath hot at her ear, voice heavy and low, “Was that so hard, Valentina? Look how pretty you are when you break.”

Val keeps her mouth shut, can't really speak past the relief, all her feelings- part frustration, part joy, body bucking as Agatha pounds into her. She comes hard with a shudder, intense pleasure tearing through her so violently she sees nothing but the magic crackling at the edge of her vision.