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High Profile (ShadowOfDesire and Catalyst)

He lifted his own finger right back at her in response, and then, just to add insult to her already injured ego, he brought it to his nose and feigned sniffing it, alluding firmly to where the both of them knew all to well it had been. Of course, he did catch a hint of her scent in the process, and the sweet smell was very nearly enough to entice him to do it again.

"Oh, you think I'm leaving?" he laughed, turning to face her as she tended to the mess of her own making left behind in the living room. "That's adorable." he taunted. "No, no, sweetie, I'm not going anywhere. Certainly not tonight. I'll be conducting my business from right here." He pointed to the ground as he feet. "So sorry to disappoint you!" As if I'd leave you alone that easily. He scoffed to himself.

He glanced back at the gun when she mentioned it, picking it up from the counter and waving it at her daringly. "What, this old thing?" he looked her over, letting her sweat it out for a moment, and then stuffed it back in its holster. "Nah...I think we have an understanding...for now. But now that you mention it, I think I will join you. With all of these distractions, I never even got a chance to eat my own damn dinner..." he recalled, knowing that he'd left both his meal and his important briefing files sitting atop the machines a couple of hours earlier. "What a shame...I mean, who the hell likes fish warmed-over?!"

He pushed himself up off of his elbows, walking toward her slowly, casually as he sipped from his beer, and then started toward the laundry room, having already long since discovered it for himself. "Well come on, I don't have all day." He had the audacity to lead the way, as though he was showing her where to go. As he reached the swinging door, he pushed it inward, going so far as holding it open for her. A true gentleman...
 
She rolled her eyes at him. Of course, it'd been too much for her to hope that he'd leave her alone in the apartment. If he'd left her tied up or duct taped to a chair, there'd always be a chance she could break free. Or cut herself free with a bit of glass borrowed for a certain beer bottle. She considered it, but she had no where to hide any such shard without him seeing.

Ignoring his chivalry, though her jaw tightened in annoyance, she moved into the laundry room to tip the dustpan into the laundry sink set low into the floor. Beer and glass poured out into the shallow pan. The liquid drained away, leaving glass shards in the bottom. She left them there to deal with later. They were out of the way for the moment and less important than cleaning the rest of the floor. She left the broom and dustpan by the door, though paused as she spotted the dinner he'd mentioned. Her frown deepened as she realized he'd been hiding there as she walked through the house.

"You're a fucking bastard," she said suddenly, one finger pointing accusingly at his bag of food. Snatching a pair of towels from the rack, she swept past him in a huff, off to soak up the rest of the beer on the floor. "So we established that you made yourself at home and were lounging about my balcony while I was away. What other parts of the house did you use? Hmm? Which bedroom did you claim as your own? Was the bed comfy enough for you? Did I need to set out some extra towels for you? Maybe turn down service with a mint on your pillow?"

She was scowling at him as she laid down the towels on the wet floor and moved them around with her foot to catch all the moisture. Her anger had returned in full force as she realized that he'd probably poked about every part of her house before deciding. What had he touched? What hadn't he touched? That was probably the shorter answer.
 
"Well excuse me!" he called out sarcastically after her. Not that he was surprised by the revelation. He grabbed his meal and his files from the machine where he'd left it and walking back out into the kitchen, watching her over the island counter. "If you must know, I took one of the ones upstairs. And yes, it's been absolutely fuckin' grand! Though I wouldn't complain about a nice mint and some complimentary room service, now that you're here anyway!"

"I used what I needed to use. And if you woulda been gone until you were supposed to be, you would never have even known I was here, in the first place. Would have just gone on about your perfect, pristine little life in the sky, never so much as knowing I existed. But that ain't the way it went down, now is it?" He finished off his bottle, setting it down on the counter in front of him beside his papers and bag of food with a clank.

"But don't you worry your pretty little head, Miss Diaz. I didn't go through your drawers or go digging through any of your shit any more than I had to. I picked a room that looked like it was unused, and that was that. I mean, God damn, I can't even describe to you- you could not possibly fathom how little of a shit I give about some snobby rich kid's personal belongings. I ain't some petty burglar. Stealing just makes shit more complicated. Hell, not like I would found anything worth findin' anyway. Probably just a few more rubber dicks and vibratin' things, huh?"
 
"I didn't say you'd stolen anything, but you just being here is an invasion of privacy," she snapped back, coloring slightly at the mention of her toy. "I wish I hadn't come back far more than you do! I should have just taken out the yacht like I'd thought about doing in the first place. Asshole. This is his fault. I wish he was here so I could kick him in the balls again." She muttered more to herself than to him as she cleaned, eventually bending to pickup both sodden towels.

As her feet scuffed across the edge of the rug on her way back to the laundry room, an unnoticed sliver of glass pierced her heel. Sofia swore loudly, stringing together several colorful Spanish curses that didn't quite translate to her level of frustration. Lifting her foot, she hissed as her fingers brushed across the edge of the glass, which pressed the sharp edge deeper into her flesh. She swore again and limped to one of her dining room chairs, leaving droplets of crimson scattered across the white marble.

Tears welling in frustration, she pressed one clean corner of her towel against the blood that welled up from the wound, wincing again as even that slight pressure sent another shaft of pain rolling through her. Closing her eyes, she angled her head away from him so that he wouldn't see her cry. The last thing she needed was to give him even more ammunition to use against her.

Damn him! What did I do to deserve this? she screamed silently.

Sucking in a breath, she removed the towel and ran her fingernail over her heel, trying to ease the glass free without pushing it even deeper. To distract herself, she latched on to whatever question came to mind. "What sort of business are you conducting? And where am I supposed to be while you're conducting it?"
 
Huh? He cocked an eyebrow in confusion. He wasn't sure what exactly it was he had just heard, or what it was about, but clearly, somewhere along the line, there, she'd begun to travel down some other rogue trail of thought. One that had very little to do with him, and a lot more with something else. Someone's got issues...

Her erratic swears didn't exactly help that image, though he was confident he had an idea of what caused that. Tilting his head to look down at her foot as she lifted it only confirmed that suspicion. Ouch. That's gotta fucking hurt. It was a lot of blood for such a seemingly small wound. It must have been pretty deep. But hey, she was handling it, well...not the worst he's ever seen, at least. Though it was pretty evident she was ready to boil over in one way or another.

"What business I'm conducting has nothing to do with you. And I seriously doubt you want to know..." he answered back, but he was unable to help but continually glance down at her foot. "As for what I'm going to do with you...I haven't figured that out, yet. I wasn't exactly planning on the company. And I damn sure-" he stopped himself mid-sentence when a wrong move caused a small gush of blood to come forth from her wounds. 'Jesus Christ.' he muttered to himself, a low sigh following. "Need help?" he asked annoyedly.
 
Her nostrils flared with irritation as she pressed the towel against her foot to staunch the bleeding, wincing at the slight pain the pressure caused. She didn't bother telling him that she couldn't stand the sight of blood, especially her own. She'd turned white beneath her tan and had to close her eyes. Of course, the buzz she had going from her two screwdrivers didn't help, either.

"There's a kit under the bathroom sink," she muttered. She didn't tell him which one, but it didn't matter. The place had come stocked with first aid kits and fire extinguishers, none of which she had to maintain. A company did that for her. Same as with her smoke and carbon monoxide/dioxide detectors.

If she hadn't been ready to throw up before, she certainly was now. Could the day get any worse? She doubt it. Not unless he decided to just finish the job and kill her. Then again, if she was dead, she wouldn't have to worry about passing out from a simple cut to her foot.
 
Oh, that must have hurt to admit. Part of him half-expected her to outright deny him, just out of spite. To continue to struggle with it herself just to somehow avoid him coming near her. Of course, doing so wouldn't have gotten her very far. Not from the looks of that.

He didn't say anything else to her directly, instead just muttering something else indiscriminate beneath his breath as he made his way past her, around the kitchen counters and toward the small bathroom located right across from the stairway, and beside the foyer doors. He made quick work of rifling around underneath the sink, finding a little white box that contained bandages, alcohol wipes, tweezers, and all sorts of other little pieces.

He returned a short time later, walking right up to her until he was standing over her where she sat. Then, he kneeled beside her, dropping the box onto the ground with a thud, and clicking it open with one hand, while the other reached for the towel in her own. "Let it go." he said, takng it from her and lightly dabbing away the blood once more before setting it on the floor.

The blood didn't bother him in the least. He'd seen it a million times, and seen it a thousand times worse than this. If there was a God above, he'd have personally witnessed him spill far more himself on many, many occasions. Suffice it to say that comparatively, a foot wound, no matter how egregious, was not exactly something that phased him.

But why the fuck am I even bothering to help her? If anything, this oughta keep her still for a little while...until she ends up passing out...or bleeding out...

Surveying the shard of glass that had embedded itself within her heel only for a moment, he brandished the tweezers from the box. Not exactly rocket science, he thought. Can't stay in, so it's gotta come out. He gripped the edge of the glass with the tweezers, moving it just a fraction of an inch to be sure that he could get a good grip upon it. Once he was comfortable with that, his eyes flicked upward toward her, as he gave her his one and only warning. "This is gonna hurt like a motherfucker." he told her straightforwardly.

He grabbed her ankle, squeezing it tightly, both to steady it and to prevent her from jerking it away. And then, slowly, but in one continuous motion, he pulled back on the shard. The cut began to bleed more as it budged, bit by bit, until he no longer needed the tweezers at all, and he set them aside in favor of grabbing the piece between his two fingers to extract it the rest of the way.

That single jagged piece of glass was long and thick, stained red with her blood. He dropped it to the floor and pressed the towel she'd been using back against the wound to stop the bleeding.
 
He was right. It did hurt like hell, and Sofia gritted her teeth as he worked. The damn thing couldn't have been more than a sliver. So why did it feel like she'd cut off part of her foot? The more he wiggled, the more she hissed and scowled. Her foot jerked involuntarily, but his grip kept her from pulling free.

Trying not to look at what he was doing, she stared at his face instead, watching every nuance as he worked. If he wasn't such a shithead, she might have actually called him handsome. She hadn't really noticed before then, because she'd been too intent on getting away. Now that he wasn't jeering at her, she could study him to distract herself. She still wanted to punch him right in the nose, but maybe a little less than before. At least he was helping. Why, she didn't know, unless it was some angle he was trying to work.

That made her frown even more. A sudden jab caused her to jerk and she swore under her breath, wondering if he'd done that on purpose. When he finally plucked it free, she yelped and then sagged in relief. Her foot was throbbing, but it wasn't a sharp, stabbing pain any longer. She couldn't feel the glass grinding into her heel with every step. A couple of days and it probably wouldn't even be that sore. Damned if she was going to offer any sort of appreciation for what he'd done, however. As far as she was concerned, it was his fault. If he hadn't broken into her apartment, she wouldn't have had to throw a bottle at his head.

"I think that's all of it," she said, glancing down at the floor where he'd thrown the shard. That proved to be a terrible mistake. Seeing the blood-covered glass, the smear of crimson on the pristine white floor where she'd been walking, and stain slowly soaking into the towel, her head began to swim. She began to lean to one side, head bobbling.

"Oh... fuck...," was all she managed before darkness swam up to claim her. Her eyes rolled, and she slumped sideways, completely unconscious.
 
Are you fucking kidding me..?

Her limp body very nearly fell from the dining room chair and onto the cold, hard stone. The only thing stopping it from doing so, ironically enough, was the realization and quick reflexes of the very man she cursed. He caught her with his arm just as her ass had started to leave the cushioned seat, causing the chair to slide out from beneath her with a skid. The expression upon his face told the entire story as he slowly lowered her to the floor, keeping her back upright against his forearm.

...Jesus fuckin' Christ... He shook his head, letting out a long and heavy sigh. ...maybe I should have found a different place... He looked down upon the source of his annoyance, as things suddenly seemed to fall much quieter with her eyes closed and her lips shut. A rare sight, I'll bet, he scoffed. But at least maybe she'll finally shut the fuck up...for now...

_______________________________________

"Gotcha." he whispered to himself, grinning from ear to ear as he vigorously took note of what he'd just heard. In that upper-level bedroom he'd claimed as his own, he had quite the set-up already lain out for his needs. The bugs that had been scattered all throughout the hotel suite across the way had been working like a charm, and both of their voices were crystal clear in his headphones. What's more, the hidden camera he'd set up in the lobby with the 'help' of the doorman had already produced some very useful pictures. As had his own high powered camera, capturing shots of his car as he drove into valet, just like he'd known he would. Everything was going perfectly...Almost too perfectly, in fact. For two supposed big dogs like these, could they have made it much easier to track them?

There was a lull in the conversation he'd been dropping in on shortly after one of them declared aloud their need to 'bleed the lizard'. Stretching after having been in the same spot for some time, he took that opportunity to turn and briefly check in on his little guest. Good, she's still out.

The fine wooden armchair in the opposite corner worked wonders for securing her, with plenty of room for him to wrap a generous length of rope around her body and its back several times over, with plenty extra to bind her wrists together behind it in the process. Each of her ankles, too, had been bound to the chairs sturdy legs. It was not his best work, not by a long shot. It had been done with haste. And yet it was more than enough to ensure she'd stay put, and that was his primary concern, for the time being.

The thick strip of duct tape over her mouth, well, that was just an added bonus; a small favor to himself. At the very least, though, he'd done her the service of caring for her foot, which was now all cleaned up and thoroughly bandaged. That seemed like a fair trade, to him. Satisfied at the sight, he turned his focus back to more present matters.
 
How long she remained unconscious, Sofia couldn't say. It was usually only a matter of minutes, but that was when someone tried to intentionally rouse her with smelling salts or cold water. She sat limply in the chair, head lolling forward, long hair spilling about her face. When she finally began to come to her senses on her own, she woke slowly with a soft groan. Her head tilted backward as her eyes fluttered open, glassy with confusion. The room was disorienting. Where was the table beside her? The light was spilling from a different direction. She could feel carpet beneath her feet rather than cold marble.

What the fuck happened? Then she remembered the blood, and her stomach flopped over. She groaned again as the room swam into focus. Where the hell am I?

It was only then that she realized what he'd done to her when she'd passed out. She tried to pull her arms about and found them securely tied behind her chair. Squirming to kick her feet, she found she could barely move them away from the chair's legs. The tape pulled at her mouth as she tried to open her lips to scream, but her cries sufficiently muffled as he'd intended. Finding him bent over several monitors that he'd set up in her guest room, she scowled angrily and loosed a string of muffled curses. Her arms jerked and twisted, trying to find some way to pull free of her bonds. The chair jumped a fraction as she strained against the ropes.

It didn't escape her that she was in an extremely vulnerable position. She was surprised that he'd not stripped her the moment she'd passed out. Though she was still wearing her pajama shirt, it was bunched up about her waist, allowing for an unimpeded view of her panties. Smooth thighs flexed as she strained against the ropes about her ankles, trying to bring her knees together.

"Mmmmffffffffhhhmm!" she yelled. Her nose flared as she drew in a deep breath.

Whatever peace he'd been enjoying was quickly shattered.
 
The large over-ear headphones that he had been wearing did a great deal to muffle the world around him, allowing him to hone in on the focus of his work. Those first few moments as she slowly regained consciousness and began to squirm in her seat had gone completely unnoticed because of them. He was far too heavily concentrated on the conversations being had just on the other end of his connections to notice. That was, until she made herself known, destroying that concentration and forcing his attention.

His eyes slammed shut as his teeth clenched in quiet frustration. And there it is, he noted with a long, exaggerated breath in and out through his nose. Was only a matter of time. He knew she would not remain out for too much longer, but that hadn't stopped him from hoping she'd be sleeping it off until he could see to the end of his reconnaissance. Alas, no such luck.

He slid the headphones off of his ears and down around his neck as he turned in his chair to face her. "Good morning, there, Sleeping Beauty." he said sarcastically. Clearly, it was far from morning. Through the massive windows, the deep blue night sky was lit up by the moon and thousands of stars. From this high, even the pollution from the millions of lights down below could not prevent them from being seen. Beneath them, South Beach was as bustling as ever, including just outside of that hotel across the way. In the distance, the entire city of Downtown Miami could be seen in all of its brightly lit glory, its colors reflecting in the waters of the channel.

He scanned her from top to bottom with a quick glance, checking to be sure that she was still secure, now that she was capable of fighting against her restraints. "As much as I enjoy chatting with you," he remarked with an equally dry tone, "As you can see, I'm a little busy at the moment. So I'm going to need you to shut the fuck up for a little while longer."

If only it were that simple.
 
"Mmmmmmfhhhhhh!" she yelled against her gag.

If her feet had been free, she would have stomped them for emphasis. As it were, she could only shake her legs back and forth. The rope bit into her ankles as she pulled against the strength of his knots. After another few moments of straining, she sagged in the chair, breathing heavily through her nose. Her angry brows dipped even lower.

"Ffffffffuuuuuhhhhhnnnggg uuuunnnnnooooonnn mmmmuhhhheeeee!" Her tone rose higher in pitch and volume, though it was impossible to make out what she was saying behind the gag. Her fingers curled into fists behind her as she screamed in frustration.

She didn't know what kept him so engrossed, but she was determined to interrupt and make it impossible for him to work until he removed her gag. She couldn't speak, but she could make enough noise to distract him, clearly. If he thought she'd simply shut up just because he'd told her to do so, he would soon learn differently. Sofia was nothing if not persistent when presented with a reasonable goal. In this case, that goal was to annoy the fuck out him until he was forced into action.

For a moment, she cursed the manufacturer of the chair he'd tied her to and their well made design. Despite her struggles, the thing hadn't budged in the slightest. It was as sturdy as ever, and it'd take a much larger effort to loosen any of the sturdy parts.
 
He tried to ignore her at first, pulling his headphones back over his ears and turning back to the monitors. Unfortunately, noise-canceling technology could only do so much, and the exceptionally loud and shrill noises coming from the corner of the room clearly far exceeded those capabilities. It became obvious to him within seconds that he would not be able to focus on the task at hand; not with her unintelligible, unrelenting screams overpowering the already relatively quiet voices coming through his equipment. The longer she kept it up, the more potentially vital information he stood to miss out on.

"Son of a bitch!" he muttered to himself as he removed the headset and dropped it on the desk. He pushed himself back in his chair and rose, marching toward her with intent. Had she been a little more cooperative with his 'request,' perhaps he would not have been so inclined to cause her pain when removing the tape from her lips,. But she had not done herself any favors, in that regard, and so instead, she would feel the full effects of the adhesive as he grabbed the loosest corner and ripped it off with one rapid, forceful flick of his arm.

"Alright, listen. I'm going to tell you this one time, and one time only..." he spoke in cold, calculated fashion, grabbing her face and leaning forward toward her. "THIS...What I'm doing right now..." he pointed toward his set up. "...is really, really fucking important. Vital, actually. Now I know you're not exactly pleased right now. I probably wouldn't be either. But the more you squeal, the more you're screwing it up for me. And the more you screw things up for me, the more I'm going to have to screw things up for you. So I think you would find it very beneficial to hold your complaints until the end. Don't you agree?"
 
Sofia shrank back in her chair as as he stalked toward, expecting him to hit her, though ripping off the tape was almost as bad. She yelped as it came free, leaving her face red and raw. Jaw set in anger, she stared up at him and then over to his equipment. Her dark eyes were full of anger as she glared back at him sullenly.

"I have to pee, you sonovabitch! For fuck's sake, let me up so I can go to the bathroom, and you won't hear another peep from me while you're working. I promise." Her eyes flicked to the side door that led to the room's private toilet. "You can tie me back up afterward, if you want to be an asshole about it, but just let me loose, or I'm going to end up pissing myself and this chair. You really want that in the room with you?"

She huffed, pulling out of his hand as she sank back into her chair. Her legs were too far apart for her to press her thighs together to hold it in. "Please... I really have to go," she begged, squirming in her chair.
 
He went quiet when she finally spoke up, just...looking at her. He pressed his tongue against the inside of his cheek, releasing her face with a slight push that forced her head to one side as he straightened up. A quick glance downward toward her bare thighs later, and a low, throaty laugh of incredulity began to escape him. He clutched his own face with his own hand, closing it until he was squeezing the bridge of his nose between his finger and thumb.

"Are you fucking kidding me?" he asked in disbelief. "THAT'S what you've been over here bitching about?!" He let his hand fall back to his side, tilting his head back to glance up at the ceiling in dramatic fashion. "God, I should make you sit here and piss yourself. I really should, just for you trying to throw that shit at my face earlier..." he remarked, sighing to himself. She'd be able to see the wheels turning in his head as he decided if she was even telling the truth, and if it would be worth the mess he'd have to deal with if she was. "You're lucky I'm such a fuckin' nice guy!" he relented finally.

He knelt down and untied her legs first, one by one, and then made his way around the chair to where he'd done the majority of the work. His experience made it easy for him to undo the knots he'd tied rather quickly, but he made a bit more of a show of it, anyway, before freeing her hands. That included wrapping one of his own about her arm and squeezing it as he fiddled with the rope. A small, but subtle reminder of his strength. "Hurry up!" he demanded once he'd released her. "You got about a minute, maybe two before I come in there to get you myself."
 
Her cheeks flushed as he laughed at her, more than a little irritated that he'd find her discomfort humorous. Still, the pressure on her bladder kept her from snapping back at him, else he'd take insult and leave her to piss herself out of spite. Her shoulder's sagged in relief as he bent to untie her ankles, and she immediately pressed her legs together as he moved around her to untie the rest of her bonds. All but bouncing in her chair by the time he'd finished (taking his sweet ass time about it, too!), she was up and out of her chair in a shot, streaking across the room to the bathroom. She closed the door hurriedly behind her, but didn't bother with the lock. He'd just break the door down, and she really didn't want her apartment damaged.

Rushing for the toilet, not bluffing in the slightest, she sighed in relief as her bladder emptied -- all of which he could likely hear if he was listening. It felt as though she'd peed an entire gallon by the time she'd finished and cleaned up. After washing her hands, she used the glass on the counter to take a few swallows of water to soothe her parched mouth. Amazing how one could be drowning and dying of thirst all at the same time. Feeling much, much better, she turned the light off behind her as she rejoined him in the bedroom.

She threw a glance at the monitors he'd set up, curious at what he was watching and listening to. She recognized the view, noting that he was watching another building nearby, though couldn't discern for what purpose. Is he planning to kill someone over there? Was that why he needed my apartment?

Lips pressed into a thin line, she returned her attention to him, gaze flitting from him to the chair as she wondered if he'd really intended to tie her up again.
 
He hadn't been expressly listening, per se, however in the silence of the room, he would have to have been deaf not to hear the business she so urgently tended to. He shook his head. Well, she wasn't lying.

He glanced back at the monitors sitting atop the desk, and in particular, at the live microphone feeds that had been running on one of them. He could see the subtle waveforms of speech, but otherwise, there was little of note. Much of their conversation thus far had been pointless, idle bullshit, with just a few trickles of important, sometimes crucial information sprinkled in. Hopefully, these short couple of minutes would be more akin to the former, than the latter. The way his luck had been going today, though, he was not so sure.

At the least, she had heeded his warning and been expedient about her needs. He was sure there was no way for her to escape from in there- especially not without giving herself away with noise, but he still did not trust her. That sentiment would become clear as he met her eyes, and then looked back to the chair expectantly, raising an eyebrow. "Well?" he asked. "What are you waiting for?"
 
She sighed and reluctantly moved back to the chair, plopping down dramatically. "Really? You're picking the asshole route? You could just as easily tie me to the bed so I could at least be comfortable and take a nap or something while I wait for you to do whatever it is you're doing. Or, you know, tie me to a chair out in the common room so I could watch TV without bothering you?" She realized she was going to be extremely bored just watching him work. She hated to just sit around and do nothing, especially without anybody to talk to.

Slumping in the chair, she threw him a glance as she voluntarily put her hands behind her back. He'd already shown how rough and cruel he could be. She didn't want to give him another reason to hurt her.

Her head tilted slightly. "You're just going to make me sit here and stare at you while you work?"
 
"Oh, so now you want me to tie you to the bed, hmm?" He scoffed at the notion, watching her as she readied herself in the seat. "I knew you liked what I did to you earlier, but damn..." The tone of his voice was about as smug as humanly possible. "Yeah, that's the plan," he answered her readily, at first, and yet the implication she'd unintentionally alluded to had planted some other ideas in his head, and his depraved mind was far from beyond indulging in them. He had just started to walk around the chair as he caught a glimpse of the bed out of the corner of his eyes.

He looked over at the monitors once more, pondering. There would be plenty more to hear yet. Surely, the extra minute would not make nor break his mission. "Well..." he thought aloud, an image clearly materializing in his head as he grabbed ahold of the coil of rope in his hand. "On second thought...If you insist..."

He grabbed her by the arm suddenly and harshly, pulling her up out of the chair and dragging her toward the bed. "This what you want?" he asked her, shoving her down onto it.
 
"Hey! You don't have to be so rough about it," she protested as he pulled her across the room. Her bare feet scuffed against the rug as she lagged behind.

Physically manhandled onto the bed, she struggled to sit up, one hand propping her up on the mattress. "It wasn't a damned invitation to do whatever you wanted." Knowing she'd given him the wrong idea, she looked at him with no small amount of wariness. He was a devious one, and she was afraid of the thoughts that were surely rolling through his mind. She definitely didn't like that dangerous gleam in his eye.

"It's not what I 'want'. I don't 'want' to be tied up at all. I just thought the bed would be more comfortable, that's all." She pulled one foot up, a bit further from him, afraid he was going to lash her down to all corners or something equally humiliating.
 
"No, I don't. But it's more fun for me that way." he remarked. "besides, if I didn't need an 'invitation' to be here in the first place, what the hell makes you think I need one for anything?"

He shoved her down not a moment after she'd sat herself up, forcing her down flat onto her back with her head falling more or less back onto the pillows. He found that familiar position of control by climbing atop her and straddling her at the hips as he wasted no time at all in grabbing her firmly around her wrists, meeting her eyes will all manner of intent. Any attempt to struggle would do her little good, from the position she was in, now, the combination of pure strength and leverage giving him all but free rein to manhandle her to his whims. Yanking them upward above her head, he undid a length of rope and began to bind her wrists together around the center ironwork of the ornate headboard, restraining them just tightly enough so that she had plenty of room for her blood to continue to flow, but not much extra.

Then, with no warning, he reached down toward his waist and brandished a folded blade that sprung open eagerly with the push of a button, coming much to close to her face for her own comfort. He scanned her eyes knowingly, well aware of what he'd just done, before reaching up to cut through the excess rope. Afterward, he leaned back, his weight still atop her, admiring for a brief moment his handiwork. With her arms pulled so helplessly, he could subject her to just about anything he so chose, and that fact had not eluded him. In fact, the thought alone gave rise to quite a number of other ideas.

"There. That's much better, isn't it?" he spoke down to her, with a cocky expression upon his lips.
 
She gasped as he was suddenly atop her. The bastard is quick! As he grabbed her wrists, she tried to yank them free, but his iron grip didn't budge. She wriggled under him, trying to buck him off as he tied her hands, though that also had little impact. Her head head tilted up to watch, though her attention shot back to him as she heard the flick of his knife. Her eyes widened in fear as it passed extremely close to her face.

Sofia realized her mistake a bit too late. Simply because he'd afforded her a couple of courtesies, she thought he might be swayed by her logic. That clearly wasn't the case. If anything, she'd made it worse for herself by giving him ideas. She could see those in his eyes as he stared down at her with that same smug expression he always seemed to wear. Her expression darkened as she tugged at the ropes holding her, but there was little slack she could use to wriggle free. Perhaps, if he wasn't sitting on her, she'd have enough maneuverability to turn over or sit up, though she'd still be attached to the headboard.

Her fiery gaze met his, chin tipping up petulantly as she scowled. "No, not really. You really are a fucking asshole, aren't you?" Another pointless jerk at her wrists made her seethe. She could think of a dozen other ways he could contain her without tying her to the bed, but she wasn't about to give him any other ideas. "Can you get the hell off me now?" She planted both feet flat on the bed and suddenly lifted her hips to try to dislodge him.
 
He was surprised by the sudden movement of her hips, which pushed him forward, nearly throwing him off balance. Instead, he managed to catch himself on either side of her, planting his hands on the soft, plush-like mattress. His eyes narrowed at the girl, exhaling a sharp breath through his nose as he adjusted himself atop her, pressing down with his own weight at his hips to counter her own. Satisfied that she would not be able to maneuver away from him, he felt more than comfortable now to lean in close, coming face-to-face with his captive. "Well, that's what they tell me." he agreed, speaking cooly. His breath fell against her neck as he looked her over with daring eyes, drawing closer and closer to her, and coming to a stop mere inches from her. "Personally I think I could be much worse."

If I was really that bad, I could have done a lot more to you by now. He justified to himself. And I certainly have ideas.

"And just why should I?" he asked her, leaning back just slightly, feigning curiosity. "I gotta say, you do look better like this...Hell, someone like you? I wouldn't be surprised if you loved this kind of shit." he reached and grabbed at the rope to make his point. "Course, you probably wouldn't even know it if you did." he grinned. "No, you strike me much more as the type to just lay there and take it. Let your little boyfriend do all the work and get his rocks off until you end up just faking it to get him off you...Bet that's why you have to bring a toy with you wherever you go, too."
 
She swallowed as he leaned in close, stomach quivering slightly. Her plan to throw him off hadn't been well thought out, had it? She'd only succeeded in bringing him closer. With his weight atop her, she could do little more than wriggle, and she already knew what impact that would have on his body. So she went completely still, though her hands did curl into fists as she narrowed her eyes.

"You've seen my pictures, read some things about my social life, and suddenly know everything there is to know about me? You don't know shit. Just like you want to judge me by my apartment or my parent's money. That's not all I am. And you certainly don't know anything about my love life," she shot back, though her cheeks colored at the mention of her toy. "Or what I like or don't like, and what sort of fun I like to have. Don't pretend that you know everything about me, when you clearly don't. You're just taking shots in the dark based on stereotypes."

"Don't you have a job to do or something?" Her nostrils flared in annoyance, and she turned her head, refusing to look at him.
 
"Hmph...Say what you want, but in my experience, my judgements tend to be pretty damned accurate," he responded confidently. "I wouldn't have been doing this for so long if I wasn't good at it, now would I?" He reached down and touched the hem of her shirt, which had already been pulled up by virtue of her arms being outstretched over her head, revealing the skin just above the line of her panties, never breaking eye contact as he slowly inched it upward, a small reminder of just how easily he could expose her once more.

"I'd venture to say I might just know a little more about you than you think..." he said to her ominously. "and what I don't know....I can learn very quickly." His gaze finally wandered downward, leaving those words to hang in the air for her own interpretation as his fingers glided over the lowest couple of inches of her stomach, before stopping.

He glanced back at his monitors, not having forgotten about his work, but admittedly having taken just a little longer than he'd originally intended to subdue her once more. While there seemed nothing in particular to note, there was still much more to be done, and he knew that. He did not provide her with a verbal acknowledgment, but redirected his attention, closing the blade he'd set down beside them, tucking it away, and then slowly beginning to push himself off of her. He did, however, pause to look back as he stood over her, tied down and left all but helpless.
 
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