[ Her head snaps when she hears the slither of snake-like metal, vipers are her back that are interrupting her teaching them exactly why they had best keep their hands to themselves.
Save for the change of her direction. Nothing changes in her face, the woman he'd seen in the chair where it's stripped back, stripped away, nothing else left, when she's pushed back - it's not her fault, she might say, no one left her with much when they stripped her down to the bone. Her eyes fix first on Washington, when he speaks to her, then the soldiers as they turn between crude insults instead of getting on with it like they should and skip straight to begging. Her foot doesn't lift, her gaze doesn't flicker from disgust to pleasure to anything at all.
He screams and screams and screams. It's going to start getting more attention, soon. She doesn't so much as blink. ]
Thank you, Agent Washington, I was hoping to give a demonstration. [ Her voice is even, measured, because in the same way she had carried Washington back to camp, so she trusts him to stand beside her now, no matter what her personal opinion was.
No, if she had a problem with a situation, she dealt with it directly. She always has. ] Have I ever told you, Agent, I once saw a man crushed by an elephant? Not just in battle where they are often used, but to execute a criminal. It was both slow, and then quick. The pressure built and built and built, then his head simply ah - how would you put it? Splattered.
[ The men watched her, then their friend who is somehow hearing her over that din, as her heel pushes up that little bit more on his cock and he begins to thrash in true desperation as she hoped he imagined his lack of future children if she had her way. ] Of course, as Queen, I never ordered such a death, but I was the only one allowed to do such a thing. I thought I would keep it in reserve for particular crimes.
[ The man on the ground was starting to muddle himself through the pain, and he was particular in his request: 'get off my dick, you bitch'. ]
I’ll be your number one with a bullet
Save for the change of her direction. Nothing changes in her face, the woman he'd seen in the chair where it's stripped back, stripped away, nothing else left, when she's pushed back - it's not her fault, she might say, no one left her with much when they stripped her down to the bone. Her eyes fix first on Washington, when he speaks to her, then the soldiers as they turn between crude insults instead of getting on with it like they should and skip straight to begging. Her foot doesn't lift, her gaze doesn't flicker from disgust to pleasure to anything at all.
He screams and screams and screams. It's going to start getting more attention, soon. She doesn't so much as blink. ]
Thank you, Agent Washington, I was hoping to give a demonstration. [ Her voice is even, measured, because in the same way she had carried Washington back to camp, so she trusts him to stand beside her now, no matter what her personal opinion was.
No, if she had a problem with a situation, she dealt with it directly. She always has. ] Have I ever told you, Agent, I once saw a man crushed by an elephant? Not just in battle where they are often used, but to execute a criminal. It was both slow, and then quick. The pressure built and built and built, then his head simply ah - how would you put it? Splattered.
[ The men watched her, then their friend who is somehow hearing her over that din, as her heel pushes up that little bit more on his cock and he begins to thrash in true desperation as she hoped he imagined his lack of future children if she had her way. ] Of course, as Queen, I never ordered such a death, but I was the only one allowed to do such a thing. I thought I would keep it in reserve for particular crimes.
[ The man on the ground was starting to muddle himself through the pain, and he was particular in his request: 'get off my dick, you bitch'. ]