Bondage Girls

<Lara_Catgirl> I press myself closer to the rough, moss-covered, cracked wall of the collapsed supermarket; my heart is pounding so loudly that I’m afraid she might hear it. The dust in the air tickles my nose, and the wind whistles softly through the broken windows. I’m Lara, 14, slim and toned from all the endless marches through this damn world. My tight leather pants fit like a second skin on my legs, black and smooth, every movement noticeably tight around my thighs and buttocks. The black tank top clings sweat-damp to my upper body, accentuating my athletic figure, my narrow shoulders, and the gentle curve of my breasts. My boots crunch softly on the rubble—heavy, worn-out boots that have saved my life countless times in this hell. My dark hair hangs in a loose braid at the nape of my neck, and my green eyes are fixed sharply on her. There she kneels, less than two meters away from me in the shadow of the toppled shelves. A girl my age, with hair just as dark, falling wildly and tousled over her shoulders. She’s wearing exactly the same thing as me—tight leather pants that hug her slender, athletic legs perfectly, every muscle movement visible beneath the smooth leather. Her black tank top stretches across her upper body, hinting at the contours of her flat stomach and firm breasts, while the boots on her feet look just as dusty and battle-hardened as mine. She is slender, moving with the same cautious, catlike grace as I do—as if she had survived her entire life in this world, just like me. She rummages quietly through the rubble, stuffing something—canned food? Tools?—into her own battered backpack. The tight leather pants stretch over her buttocks with every movement, and the tank top slides up a bit, revealing a strip of bare skin at her waist. She hasn’t noticed me yet. Then a tiny stone crunches under my boot. Just a whisper of a sound. She freezes mid-movement, jerking her head up. Her dark eyes scan the darkness, sharp as knives. Slowly, she reaches for something at her hip—an improvised dagger, cobbled together from scrap. The air between us crackles, thick as dust. One wrong breath, and it could escalate. My pulse is racing. Sweat runs down my back, making the tank top cling even tighter to my skin. What do I do now? Do I attack her before she can react? Do I speak to her quietly so as not to startle her? Or do I sneak even closer to see exactly what she’s found—and whether she’s alone? A thousand thoughts race through my head.

<Svenja_Marsulis> I want her! Her or no one!

<Svenja_Marsulis> That’s my first thought when I spot the other woman, just a few steps away. She’s standing half in the shadows, having cleverly used them to sneak up like a predator. And yet not clever enough; a sound gave her away. Tiny, yes, but to a trained ear as loud as a gunshot. A sound that almost always spells a death sentence.

<Svenja_Marsulis> Fuck, she looks beautiful! Somehow graceful, even though she’s clearly sweating just as much as I am and her face betrays how tense she is.

<Svenja_Marsulis> She may be a little younger, but it’s hard to miss that she’s already a woman! In our world, you’d better grow up early—or you won’t experience adulthood at all. No, this is truly not the place where you should allow yourself to dabble in children’s toys for too long! Just a few days ago, I watched two young girls fight to the death over a tin can. For me, it was a godsend, because I was able to jump on the blood-soaked, exhausted winner from behind and slit her throat. Bad luck for her—she already had real little tits and would surely have liked to show them off longer! Lucky for me—because now I have one more tin can and two more knives!

<Svenja_Marsulis> She looks as scruffy as a stray dog, the one standing across from me. She could definitely use a bath—just like me! Does she know the little waterfall I love so much? Hardly, how could she? It’s on our territory, after all. And it’s obvious she doesn’t belong here. She wears the black skull on her belt, not the white one like us. The guardians would kill her instantly if she were so careless as to set foot on our land. No chance for her to ever see the waterfall! It’s a shame, really. I imagine her and me standing there stark naked, lost in the moment, showering in it; how she tosses her beautiful dark hair back over her shoulder with a graceful flick of her head; how she smiles at me and we—but no, I mustn’t think such things! As much as I like her—she is my enemy. My mortal enemy.

<Svenja_Marsulis> I rush toward her, clutching the homemade rusty dagger that has often proven itself a reliable ladykiller, and thrust it toward her without the slightest hesitation. “Who the hell are you?! And what are you doing here?” I hiss at her. “I’m supposed to kill you!” I add quietly, but with a sharpness that leaves no doubt about my resolve. “Right this minute! Is that what you want?” My voice is hoarse; speaking feels strange. No wonder, when I’ve barely spoken for weeks...! “So spill it: Who are you and what do you want here? Who sent you? If you tell me that, I’ll take you with me. To my place. I recently managed to acquire a still-pretty-good can of food—maybe I’d even share it with you. Your choice: My prisoner or certain death?”

<Svenja_Marsulis> I grip the Ladykiller so tightly that the white of my knuckles shows, and point it at her beautiful chest.

<Lara_Catgirl> I stare at her, my body completely frozen, while her rusty dagger points directly at my chest. I draw my knife as well. My tight leather pants stretch around my thighs and buttocks with every tense breath, and my boots stand firmly on the rubble-covered ground, ready to flee—or to fight. She is beautiful, despite the dirt and tension—dark, wild hair, sharp eyes, and that determined, hungry gaze that both excites me and fills me with pure fear. The black skull on her belt says it all: she belongs to the others. To the Guardians. To those who would make my territory deadly. My pulse is racing so hard that I can hear the blood rushing in my ears. I have my weapon in my hand. I swallow hard; my voice comes out soft and hoarse, barely more than a whisper: “I… my name is Lara. I’m alone. No one sent me. I’m just looking for food… for water… for anything to keep me alive. Just like you.” My green eyes bore into hers, pleading, but also proud. I slowly raise my hands, showing her that I don’t necessarily want to fight. “I don’t want to die. And I don’t want to be your prisoner either! My tank top clings so tightly to me that she can see my chest rise and fall with every rapid breath. The tight leather pants rustle softly as I unconsciously take a small step back and raise my dagger in her direction. I bite my lower lip; my gaze darts briefly to her lips, then back to her eyes. The thought of her taking me away makes me shiver. “What… what do you want from me? Just say it.” My voice trembles slightly at the end. I stand there, slim and athletic in my tight leather pants and black tank top, waiting for your decision—death or captivity. And deep inside me, despite everything, a tiny, forbidden spark of something other than just fear.

<Lara_Catgirl> I let out a quiet, angry sound and lunge forward, the knife raised high. But my boots slip on the loose rubble and fine dust covering the floor. My foot gives way, the tight leather pants stretch tightly around my thighs, and I lose my balance. A short, surprised scream escapes my lips. The next moment, I fall flat on the floor in front of her. My dagger flies through the air in a high arc, spins once, and lands clattering several meters away among the overturned shelves. I lie stretched out at her feet, my face just inches from her dusty boots. The tight black leather pants stretch perfectly over my round, firm butt. My tank top has ridden up, exposing a wide strip of bare, sweat-glistening skin on my lower back and waist. My dark hair has come loose from its braid and falls tangled across my face. My breath comes in gasps, my chest rising and falling rapidly against the hard floor.

<Svenja_Marsulis> In a flash, I plant a boot on her neck, hard enough to make her groan. “You treacherous little bitch!” I hiss, secretly sending a prayer of thanks to Saint Barbara, the patron saint of all guardians, for protecting me from my enemy’s deceit. But one question still won’t leave me alone: How the hell does this girl manage to look beautiful even when she’s lying in the dirt?

<Svenja_Marsulis> Longingly, my gaze glides over the sweat-drenched bare skin exposed by the tank top, over the curve of her firm little butt, over the scrapes and scars that tell of the ruthlessness of the struggle for survival—just like mine. For a crazy little moment, I have the urge to gently stroke her hair and braid it into a new ponytail. Great idea, Svenja! I say to myself. You’d better hand her the Ladykiller right now and ask her to hold it for you until your hairstyle is perfect!

<Svenja_Marsulis> “Now listen carefully, Lara—or whatever your real name is!” I say in a dangerously quiet voice. “I swear to you by everything I hold sacred: If you make a single wrong move—even the slightest twitch—I’ll kick you so hard in the head that you’ll be picking up your pretty little head at the other end of the hall! And just so we’re clear: I’m wearing steel-toed boots! I hope that’s clear to you, right? So: You’re going to lie there veeeery still now, okay? And if you get any stupid ideas: Mine are guaranteed to be even stupider! So don’t forget which one of us has a dagger in her hand and which one doesn’t! I’m going to search you for weapons now. Don’t you dare even breathe, or you’ll drown in your own blood! I won’t say that twice, bitch!”

<Svenja_Marsulis> With infinite caution, I take my foot off her neck without taking my eyes off her. Then I crouch down, the Ladykiller always at the ready, and begin to search her. My movements are quick and practiced—after all, this isn’t my first time doing this. I might just spend a little longer than necessary on that sweet little ass. Who knows when an opportunity like this will come around again!

<Svenja_Marsulis> With my free hand, I briefly fiddle with my beat-up backpack and unhook the tow rope from its mount—an indispensable part of my basic gear. “Okay, Lara, now roll onto your back. Nice and slow. No rushing! Keep your hands open and close to your body. Nice and tight. Tighter. That’s good.” Another quick search. Damn, she smells so good! She’s dirty, she’s disheveled, she’s bruised—and she’s bewitchingly seductive. How does this little filthy thing do it?

<Svenja_Marsulis> Before she realizes it, I spring toward her with a quick move. In that very moment, her arms are already pinned beneath my thighs. Her sweaty upper body rises and falls with each breath. We look at each other without saying a word. How long has it been, actually? Minutes? Hours? I lose all sense of time. I wish she’d stay like this! What beautiful green eyes! They’re killing me! I want to lose myself in them—let me drown in them, Lara!

<Svenja_Marsulis> “I haven’t even examined you here yet!” I whisper, setting the Ladykiller aside and running both hands longingly over the curve of her breasts, finally slipping beneath the fabric, feeling the damp skin, exploring her nipples, which press against me so stiff and hard as if they’d always longed to belong to me—and me alone. I must be completely crazy to so recklessly disregard all safety concerns, but I simply can’t help myself. I’ve never met such a beautiful girl in my entire life! Let her kill me, so be it! At least then I’ll be able to die knowing I didn’t miss this opportunity. What good would it do me to be among the few who get to live past thirty if I had to mourn this moment forever?

<Svenja_Marsulis> I bring my face very close to hers and brush a fleeting kiss against her lips. “I like you. I want you to come with me!” I say softly. “What do you think?”

<Lara_Catgirl> I gasp as her boot suddenly crashes into the back of my neck with full force. The steel-toed heel presses my face hard into the dusty rubble, and a painful moan escapes me—rough, stifled, half fear, half pleasure. My tight leather pants stretch so tightly around my butt that the leather creaks as my body writhes involuntarily. My black tank top has ridden up, lying wet and crumpled over my ribs, and the cold floor presses against my bare skin on my stomach and breasts. “You… treacherous little bitch…,” I hear her hiss, and I can only gasp helplessly because her weight is squeezing the air out of my lungs.

<Lara_Catgirl> Then she takes the boot away. I gasp for air, slowly rolling onto my back as she ordered—hands open, close to my body. My heart is pounding like crazy. I lie there, legs slightly spread, my leather pants gleaming with sweat and dust, the boots lying askew on the floor. My green eyes stare up at her as she crouches down and runs her hands over me. Her hands are quick, professional… until they linger longer on my ass. She squeezes, almost kneading, and I bite my lip to keep from moaning out loud. The tight leather pants make every touch intense, as if the material itself were betraying me. Then the rope—she doesn’t tie me up right away, but I can feel her holding it ready.

<Lara_Catgirl> Suddenly she lunges forward. Her thighs press my arms firmly to the floor beneath her. I’m completely immobilized. Her weight on me, her tight leather pants right over my stomach, her tank top so close I can see her hard nipples through the fabric. We stare at each other. Seconds. Minutes. I lose all sense of time. Her dark eyes… so beautiful, so hungry. And I… I feel my body reacting despite everything. Between my legs, it’s getting hot, wet. Fear mixes with something forbidden that I can no longer deny.

<Lara_Catgirl> Then she puts the dagger away. Her hands glide over my breasts. I gasp loudly as she slips under the fabric of the tank top, directly onto my bare, sweat-drenched skin. Her fingers cup me, knead me, find my nipples—stiff, hard, treacherously sensitive. She twists them, and a shiver races through my entire body. My hips jerk upward involuntarily, the leather pants rubbing against each other. “Fuck… Svenja…,” I whisper hoarsely, unable to stop myself. Then she leans down. Her face so close. Her breath on my lips. And she kisses me. Just briefly, but it feels like a bolt of lightning. Warm, soft, demanding. I return the kiss instinctively, just for a second, before I pull back again—but my lips remain slightly parted, my breath trembling.

<Lara_Catgirl> She says it softly: “I like you. I want you to come with me! What do you think?” I’m lying beneath her, arms pinned, breasts still under her hands, nipples hard and throbbing. My green eyes are wide open, shining with fear, confusion… and yes, desire. The tight leather pants stretch noticeably over my crotch, betraying how wet I’ve become. “I… I don’t know…,” I whisper, my voice breaking. “You just almost killed me… and now… you’re kissing me and want me to come with you?” A shaky laugh escapes me. “You’re crazy, Svenja. Totally crazy.” But I don’t pull away. Instead, I lift my head a little, as far as my restrained arms will allow, and my lips brush against his once more—hesitantly, but hungrily.

<Lara_Catgirl> “I’m afraid of you… and at the same time, I want… . Your hands. Everything. But if I come with you… then surely as your prisoner or…” My voice grows quieter, almost pleading. “I want you to want me. Not just possess me.” My body trembles beneath her. The leather pants creak as I press my hips lightly against her—a silent, instinctive invitation. “Svenja…,” I whisper hoarsely, my voice trembling with excitement and fear. My green eyes are glassy, my pupils dilated. “You’re sitting on me… and I… I’m getting so damn wet from it. I can feel you everywhere. Your thighs… your weight… your hands on my breasts… It feels like I’m about to explode, even though I’m afraid you’re going to kill me.” I look up at her with glassy, dilated green eyes, my voice breaking out hoarse and trembling: “I… I surrender, Svenja.” The words come softly but clearly, almost pleadingly, from my lips. My face is flushed with both shame and excitement.

<Svenja_Marsulis> Heart attack.

<Svenja_Marsulis> She’s doing WHAT? She’s surrendering?

<Svenja_Marsulis> I stare at her in disbelief. I don’t need to know this girl to know for sure that someone like her doesn’t just lay down her arms so easily. God knows I’m experienced enough for that. Her scrapes and scars give her away. The mere fact that she managed to live long enough to look like a woman speaks volumes! Only the very few succeed in that. The most ruthless. The most treacherous.

<Svenja_Marsulis> Just a moment ago she was trying to stab me in the back, and now she’s talking about being wet? Because of me? Because I’m sitting on her?

<Svenja_Marsulis> I look at her suspiciously. Suddenly I realize that I, too, am wet—soaking wet. That it excites me to the core to be in this position of power, to be able to do whatever I please with Lara, for as long as I desire. Helpless and humiliated, she lies beneath me, but her green eyes have long since locked onto mine; they burn, have already set me ablaze, and the longer I lose myself in them, the more fiercely I will burn out and lose this silent duel. Her beguiling scent envelops me like a sweet drug, drawing me magically into its spell, deeper and deeper into Lara. She smells of desire, she smells of struggle. She smells of a girl, she smells of a woman. She smells of the intoxicating, wonderful promise that I may trust her. That I no longer have to be alone. She smells of—Lara.

<Svenja_Marsulis> What are you to me, beautiful Lara? An enemy? A companion? A sister? A friend? A—a lover? My pulse returns , racing through the sharp curve as I think that monstrous word. Hurriedly I want to lock it away again, in the deepest recesses of my mind, where it belongs, but it teases me, laughs at me, driven by Lara’s green eyes and her sweet scent. I surrender too!, I want to reply to her. Look, I’m throwing away my weapons, I stand before you as an equal, I want to belong to you if you want to belong to me!

<Svenja_Marsulis> Sentimental nonsense, I scold myself. Why not just write a self-help book: “The Sure Path to Death”? No, that won’t do! Even if she called me crazy—even if she literally drives me crazy—I’m not that mad after all.

<Svenja_Marsulis> “So you want me to want you? And not just possess you?” I say, a touch too harshly to fight against the burgeoning, life-threatening infatuation, and reach for the Ladykiller. “Then you’re going to lie there very still. Think of my dagger and the steel toe caps. That’s good.” Without taking my eyes off her, I rise, standing beside her so she doesn’t suddenly step between my legs. Been there, done that! “Now you’re going to lean forward and take off your right boot so you can’t run away from me. Excellent. And now you’re going to rise up nice and slow and leisurely. Stop, stop, not so frantically! Veeeery slowly, I said! This blade here is old, but effective. Above all, it doesn’t take no nonsense—just like me! You think I’m crazy? Maybe I am crazy—so no tricks! It’s best not to provoke a crazy person. That’s good. Turn around, face the wall, hands behind your back! Legs back and apart! “Further! Even further!” Roughly, I grab her crotch from behind. “I’m warning you, sweetheart! If you flinch, if you so much as twitch an eyelash, it won’t be my hand but my dagger in your cunt—got it?” I whisper. Then, with lightning speed and practiced ease, I wrap the tow rope around her hands, her arms—and especially carefully around her breasts. “That’s more like it!” I note with satisfaction and blindfold her. She doesn’t need to know which way leads to my place. Hurriedly, I grab her knife, tuck it into her boot, hoist both backpacks onto my back as best I can, and look around one last time. “Come on, let’s get out of here! And don’t be afraid—as long as you don’t screw me over, you’ll be fine with me!”

<Svenja_Marsulis> We leave the ruins with the utmost caution. I pull the limping Lara behind me on the rope. Her slow pace is a risk, but leaving her both boots behind would be ten times worse. Luckily, it’s not that far. Soon we’re on familiar ground.

<Svenja_Marsulis> “Hey, Svenja!”

<Svenja_Marsulis> I spin around. The red-haired guard with the drawn bow had hidden herself well. Now she’s grinning right in my face. “Who’d you bring us here? Fresh meat? Yum! She smells good, though! Where’d you get her? Where do you even find such pretty little bugs these days? And with a black skull, too? Cute! Can I touch her tits? Shall we slaughter her together?”

<Svenja_Marsulis> “Shut up, Merle! She belongs to me, me alone, and is under my personal protection! And if you’re smart, from now on under yours too! Because if I ever find out that even a single tiny hair on her has been harmed, I’ll hold you personally responsible, got it? You know what that means? You’ll pay with your life, I swear by Saint Barbara!”

<Svenja_Marsulis> “All right, all right, Svenja! I was just kidding!”

<Svenja_Marsulis> “That’s my advice to you, too. So get lost, Merle!” I yank on the rope so the guard has no doubt whatsoever that Lara is my mortal enemy. “And you’re coming with me, bitch!”

<Svenja_Marsulis> Just a few more steps and we’ll reach my bunker. It’s well-camouflaged and overgrown; anyone who doesn’t know it would easily walk right past it.

<Svenja_Marsulis> “There you go, Lara! We made it! Welcome—I’m glad you’re here!”

<Lara_Catgirl> I’m still lying flat on my back in the cold rubble, and Svenja is sitting on top of me, dominant and heavy—her powerful thighs press my arms firmly to the ground on either side of my head, her tight black leather pants stretch tightly around her muscular legs and press warmly, unyieldingly against my ribs and stomach. Her entire weight rests directly on my upper body, right under my breasts, so that every breath I take is shallow, gasping, and desperate. I feel every little thing with an intensity that’s driving me nearly mad: the heat of her body, the hard muscles of her thighs, the way her firm butt presses heavily and possessively against my stomach, completely immobilizing me.

<Lara_Catgirl> My heart is pounding so wildly that it feels like it’s about to burst out of my chest. Between my legs, a hot, deep, almost painful desire throbs. The tight leather pants stretch brutally across my thighs, my butt, and my crotch; the fabric is now soaking wet and clings to my swollen, slippery pubic area. With every tiny shift in Svenja’s weight, the leather rubs directly against my clitoris, sending sharp, electric shocks through my entire lower abdomen. I’m so wet that I can clearly feel the warm moisture—it slowly seeps into the fabric, turning every movement into a sweet, humiliating torment. My labia are thick and slippery, my clitoris throbs hard and sensitively, and every tiny circle of her hips makes me flinch inside.

<Lara_Catgirl> My breasts feel heavy, full, and hypersensitive. My stiff nipples throb in time with my racing heartbeat. When Svenja touches, twists, or pulls them, a searing wave of pure lust surges straight into my lap. It feels as though my entire body is burning from the inside out—a mixture of lust and helpless submission that makes me tremble.

<Lara_Catgirl> The sheer dominance with which she sits on top of me—as if I were already her property—triggers something deep inside me. I feel small, weak, completely at her mercy—and that’s exactly what makes me so incredibly horny. A hot wave of shame rushes to my face, while at the same time my lower body contracts with longing. I hate it and love it at the same time: that she’s stronger, that she’s defeated me, that she can now just sit on top of me and do whatever she wants with me. The fear that she could kill me at any moment mixes with the forbidden desire for her to take me even harder, to dominate me even more deeply.

<Lara_Catgirl> I feel her reach roughly between my legs from behind, pressing her hand firmly into the crotch of my tight leather pants. The touch is direct, possessive, and makes me moan softly. The wet leather rubs against my throbbing mound as she warns me that otherwise it wouldn’t be her hand, but the dagger that would end up there. Then comes the rope. She wraps it around my wrists with lightning speed and practiced ease, pulls it tight, binding my arms behind my back. The rough tow rope cuts slightly into my skin, but Svenja proceeds with particular care as she loops it around my upper body—several times around my breasts, so that they are pressed tightly together and pushed upward. The tank top stretches even tighter over my bound breasts; my nipples stand out hard and clearly beneath the thin fabric. Every movement causes the rope to cut deeper into my skin and makes my breasts protrude even more. I feel helpless, exposed, completely at her mercy—and the tightness of the rope around my breasts sends new waves of arousal through my body with every breath.

<Lara_Catgirl> Finally, she blindfolds me with a piece of cloth. Darkness envelops me. I can only hear her breathing, feel the rope around my wrists and breasts, the missing boot that makes me limp as she drags me behind her on the rope. The restraints are tight, but not so tight that they cut off my circulation—Svenja knows exactly what she’s doing. The rope around my breasts squeezes them with every step, making them bounce slightly with every jolt. The tight leather pants rub against my wet, sensitive mound with every limping step. Blind, barefoot on one foot, with my hands and breasts bound, I follow her through the ruins, completely at her mercy. When we encounter the other guard and Svenja loudly declares me her property, I feel a strange mixture of humiliation and odd relief—she’s protecting me. She wants me all to herself. Once we arrive at the bunker, I stand blindfolded and bound before her, the rope still tight around my wrists and breasts, my tank top riding up, my leather pants wet and tight.

<Svenja_Marsulis> “I’m going to take off your blindfold now, okay?” I say as soon as the heavy, rusty iron door has slammed shut behind us, and I start fiddling with the fabric. “Don’t be surprised—it’s still pretty dark in here. But most of the time we’ll have electricity.”

<Svenja_Marsulis> Help, did I just actually say “WE”? A hot wave of affection washes over me as I see the bound, bewitchingly beautiful girl in front of me. “WE”—how that sounds! Downright intoxicating! And how would that “WE” feel…?

<Svenja_Marsulis> I have to swallow hard as I realize just how lonely I actually am. I’d never really noticed that before. Without a second thought, I’ve killed all my captured opponents before they could count to three. I never craved company or silly girl talk. Let alone a hungry mouth. I cut out everyone’s clits, severed their nipples, and slit their throats. In that order. A little quirk of mine, I know. But that’s just how I like it.

<Svenja_Marsulis> And the other guards? Well, they’re just what they are—a survival community, nothing special. But Lara…? Suddenly I’m ashamed of my shabby dwelling, even though in this world it’s almost a luxury. After all, there’s even a big, sagging mattress on wooden pallets and usually light. As if on cue, the bare light bulb flares to life. I took over Miriam’s place when she didn’t come back. And one day, someone will take over mine, for the same reason. As it happens, I know Merle has her eye on it. Her joy at seeing me again is consequently limited every time . The reverse isn’t any better, though. We just don’t get along very well.

<Svenja_Marsulis> “Hey, kiddo!” I say softly, almost tenderly. “Unfortunately, that’s all I can offer you. Here’s my mini-kitchen. Are you hungry? I recently got a can of ravioli—still pretty fresh, it only expired last November! The best I can offer you! We could share! You do like ravioli, don’t you? And right next door there’s a washroom; you can freshen up there if you’d like. Or are you thirsty? I fetch fresh water from the well every morning—it’s not far. If you’d like, we can go together tomorrow.”

<Svenja_Marsulis> I stop dead in my tracks. “How rude of me! You must be totally exhausted, sweetie! And I’m talking your ear off! Please forgive me, I’m—well—not used to having visitors.” Gently, as if she might break, I stroke her cheek. Then I point to the bed. “Look, this is where we’ll sleep!” At that very moment, I turn bright red. Damn it, what did I just say? “But first, I’ll take off your restraints. At least partly!” I hastily add and start fiddling with the rope to cover up my embarrassment. “If I can ever trust you, you’ll be able to move around completely freely. And of course you’ll get your things back too! Including the boot and the weapons! You know, Lara: I’d really like to be able to trust you. I really, really would.”

<Svenja_Marsulis> Help, how desperate and starved I must sound! I look intently into her eyes, trying to read her, completely consumed by the desire to lose myself in that unfathomable green depth; but then my voice turns dangerously sharp. “But there’s one thing you should remember: if you ever abuse my trust, you’re dead. Then I’ll add your clit and your nipples to the others with a cold smile. You can count on it. And neither of us wants that, do we? So never forget that. Never, do you hear me?”

<Lara_Catgirl> I stand before Svenja in the dim light of the bunker, my hands still tightly bound behind my back. The rough rope holds my arms unyieldingly behind me and wraps tightly around my upper body, so that my breasts are pressed firmly together and pushed upward. The black tank top stretches extremely tight over them, my hard nipples pressing clearly visible against the fabric. The tight leather pants cling wet and warm between my legs; every little movement makes the leather rub against my swollen clitoris. I look at her—her face, her dark hair, the way she looks at me, self-assured, determined, but with this new, softer gleam in her eyes. She is beautiful. Truly beautiful. Not just in the harsh, dangerous way I saw her out in the ruins, but in a way that triggers something deep inside me that I’ve never felt so intensely before. A warm, tugging sensation in my chest that mixes with the hot shame in my belly.

<Lara_Catgirl> I look at her—her face, her dark hair, the confident yet now softer way she looks at me. My heart is pounding hard and fast. Thoughts are racing through my head, but I don’t voice them. I keep them to myself, deep inside, where they burn and fill me with shame at the same time. I think: Your face is so beautiful. So strong and yet so alluring. The way you look at me—confident, possessive, but with this new, almost tender glimmer—triggers something in me that I’ve never felt so intensely before. It’s not just the lust or the fear. It’s deeper. Warmer. It makes me vulnerable and at the same time so incredibly horny. I’m ashamed of it. I’m ashamed that I’m standing here, bound like a prisoner, my leather pants soaking wet, and yet I wish you would not only take me, but also hold me. Maybe even like me. See me as something more than just your prey.

<Lara_Catgirl> But I don’t say any of this out loud. Instead, I bite my lower lip hard, lower my gaze to the floor for a moment, and take a shaky breath. My bound breasts rise and fall clearly visible. My green eyes look up at her again, recalling how she sat dominantly on top of me, glazed over with arousal and unspoken thoughts. I take a small, limping step toward her; the tight leather pants creak softly. The rope around my breasts tightens with every breath, constantly reminding me of how helpless I am—and how much that excites me. I say nothing of the new, confusing feelings in my chest. I just let them burn there while I wait to see what she’ll do to me next. “What… what are you going to do to me?” I whisper instead, my voice soft and trembling. My green eyes seek hers. The thoughts I don’t voice continue to burn inside me: how beautiful she looks, how much her confident manner confuses me, and how ashamed I am that I want to be right here—as her prisoner. My body trembles slightly. My hands remain firmly behind my back. The thoughts stay inside me—hot, shameful, and far too intense. I wait for her. For her touch. For her decision.

<Svenja_Marsulis> What a breathtaking sight! The way she stands there before me—helpless, so utterly at my mercy—is so arousing that I feel wetness running down my thighs. I am strong. I am superior. It would be easy for me to slaughter her and bathe in her blood. I know that, and she knows that.

<Svenja_Marsulis> But there’s this way she bewitches me. How she lets my eyes know that from today on, all my seeing is no longer worth it as long as I can’t look at her! How her scent shows me that without her, there would be no life left for me, but at most a mere existence! How her voice echoes inside me and makes a secret chamber of my heart burst, one that was previously closed to me! Which of us is actually subject to the other?

<Svenja_Marsulis> Something tells me that from today on, we belong together. Her gaze says it. Louder than words ever could. Gently I cup her cheeks, bringing my face very close to hers. And now her lips say it too. What is this absurd intimacy between us…? As if we had already met in a past life… as if our being together were based on an irrevocable law of nature!

<Svenja_Marsulis> Flushed and breathing heavily, we look at each other. “Wait, I’ll untie you!” I say quietly, perhaps recklessly. So be it! I hate the thought that the rope might have cut too deeply into her beautiful skin! With practiced ease, I unroll it almost entirely. Only where it’s the most fun do I take my time—on her breasts. I cup them gently, teasing the stiff nipples with the rope and both thumbs. She closes her eyes and moans softly. Just as I’m about to slip my hand under the fabric again, we both freeze. What was that just now? Voices?

<Svenja_Marsulis> We look at each other. At the same moment, our mouths form a silent word of terror:

<Svenja_Marsulis> H E L I O S !

<Svenja_Marsulis> Helios—that’s the tribe with the bare chests and the tattooed sun symbol. The most brutal of them all. They make their living by roaming the land in small raiding parties, plundering everything and everyone without regard for who belongs to whom. They have no interest in marked territories. I don’t even have to think to know it has to be them. No other tribe would be so reckless as to venture into foreign territory. I wonder if Merle, that bitch, betrayed me to them for a Judas’s reward? For her, that would be killing two birds with one stone. But I don’t want to think about that now. I’ll settle the score with Merle later.

<Svenja_Marsulis> As quiet as a mouse, I free you from the rest of your restraints and point wordlessly at our backpacks. You understand immediately, lean forward, and hand me the Ladykiller. Then, with a catlike movement, you slip on the second combat boot and grab your dagger. I give you a thumbs-up. As if we’d been training this way for years, you tiptoe over to stand next to the entrance, so that the heavy, rusty door will hide you as soon as it opens. I crouch down next to the mattress bed. We listen intently.

<Svenja_Marsulis> “Do you really think she lives alone?” a voice whispers.

<Svenja_Marsulis> “I know for sure. From our scout.”

<Svenja_Marsulis> “Can we get in through a window? Most of them are open!”

<Svenja_Marsulis> “No way. Too narrow. We have to go through the door.”

<Svenja_Marsulis> “I wonder if she’s home?”

<Svenja_Marsulis> “Doesn’t look like it. And even if she is, what’s the worst that could happen? She can’t be older than fourteen, fifteen at most.”

<Svenja_Marsulis> “She’s supposed to have pretty big boobs!”

<Svenja_Marsulis> “Not for much longer!” A mischievous giggle. Then silence. An unbearably long silence.

<Svenja_Marsulis> Slowly, unbearably slowly, the iron gate moves. One after the other, two girls sneak in. Young women, to be precise, surely around twenty or older. Experienced, long-time warriors, then. Both are busty, taller than us, and look around searchingly. “Look, Ravioli!” whispers the blonde, beaming at her red-haired companion. “This is going to be a feast, Keta!” — “You don’t need to be quiet, Mortep!” she replies. “There’s no one here!”

<Svenja_Marsulis> “Wrong!” I hiss and lunge at them with my Ladykiller drawn. A desperate fight to the death begins.

<Lara_Catgirl> I stand stock-still, my hands still bound behind my back, when Svenja suddenly freezes. Her expression shifts from tender excitement to sheer terror. At that very moment, I hear it too—soft voices outside the heavy door. Strange voices. Rough, confident voices. Helios. The word burns silently into my mind. I know the stories. Everyone knows them. The Sun Warriors with their bare breasts and the glaring sun tattoo on their sternums. They take what they want and leave only corpses and scorched earth behind. My pulse races. Despite the restraints and the wet leather pants between my legs, my survival instinct immediately kicks into high gear.

<Lara_Catgirl> Svenja swiftly unties the rest of the rope from my wrists and upper body. The rough material slides across my skin, leaving red welts on my breasts and arms. I gasp sharply as the blood flows freely again, but I have no time to think about it. Svenja points wordlessly at the backpacks. I understand immediately.

<Lara_Catgirl> I lean forward—still wearing only one boot—and hand her the rusty Ladykiller with both hands. Then I grab my own dagger, hastily slip on my second combat boot, and straighten up with catlike grace. The rope has left deep marks on my breasts; they feel hot and tender, but the adrenaline rush masks almost everything.

<Lara_Catgirl> Svenja gives me a thumbs-up. We move as if we’ve practiced this a hundred times. I sneak silently to the side of the door, positioning myself so that the heavy, rusty iron door will shield me as soon as it opens. My dagger is firmly in my right hand, the blade pointing downward. My breathing is shallow and controlled. The tight leather pants stretch around my thighs and butt with every tiny movement, reminding me of how wet I was just a few seconds ago—but now there’s only cold, sharp concentration. Svenja crouches next to the box spring bed, the Ladykiller at the ready.

<Lara_Catgirl> The voices are getting closer. “Do you really think she lives alone?” “I know for sure. From our scout.” “Can we get through a window?” “No way. Too narrow. We have to go through the door.” “I hear she’s got some pretty big tits!” “Not for much longer!” A malicious giggle. Then the unbearably long silence. The heavy iron door creaks open slowly.

<Lara_Catgirl> Two figures push their way in—taller than us, muscular, experienced warriors. The blonde with the sun tattoo on her bare, full chest grins widely when she spots the can of ravioli. The redhead named Keta follows her, relaxed, arrogant. “Wrong!” Svenja hisses and leaps out of her cover. The fight begins immediately. Svenja throws herself at the blonde—Mortep. Steel clashes against steel. The two collide hard, roll across the floor, growling and cursing. I wait no longer. The moment Keta turns toward Svenja to help her companion, I push off the wall. With a quiet, angry growl, I lunge at her from the side. My dagger swoops down. She jerks her arm up, blocks the blow, and we both crash into the metal shelf. Cans of food clatter to the floor.

<Lara_Catgirl> Keta is stronger and heavier than I am, but I’m faster and more desperate. I ram my knee into her stomach, twist under her arm, and try to drive the blade into her side. She grabs my wrist with an iron grip, twisting it painfully. I gasp, kick her shin with my boot, and ram my elbow into her face. Blood spatters. Next to us, Svenja fights fiercely against Mortep. Both roll across the mattress, daggers flashing in the flickering light.

<Lara_Catgirl> The air is filled with gasps, growls, the clang of metal, and the dull thud of bodies colliding. I’m still in my tight black leather pants and my askew tank top; sweat is running down my back. But at this moment, only one thing matters: survival. And not leaving Svenja alone.

<Svenja_Marsulis> Mortep and I roll chest to chest across the bed, locked together with deadly intensity. Each of us gasps, clutching the other’s dagger-wielding hand, each aware that one of us will not rise again in the end. The tall blonde is strong, but I, too, pose no small challenge to her. She is sweating profusely and bleeding from the gaping wound my blade inflicted when I lunged at her.

<Svenja_Marsulis> A red trail creeps across her bare, full breasts and smears onto mine as we wrestle intensely, each trying to pin the other down in our quest for dominance, to force her to surrender.

<Svenja_Marsulis> Despite the deadly duel, my thoughts are with Lara. Crazy? Maybe. Crazy with love? Definitely! For the first time in my life, I feel this emotion. For the first time in my life, I feel pangs of conscience. For the first time in my life, I feel responsible for someone—for a stunningly beautiful young girl who would never have ended up in this shitty situation if it weren’t for me! It’s as if Lara kissed me awake. My love is blossoming like a young bud, stretching incredulously toward the warm sunshine. But where is Lara? I can’t see her, especially since Mortep’s dagger-hand keeps trying to dart at my throat and stab me, while I, for my part, have my sights set on hers. This damned Helios with her bloody bare breasts is like a deadly, tireless vise, and I can’t shake her off for the life of me. I taste blood on my lips—mine or hers? “Lara, are you okay?” I call out, my voice choked, but I don’t even know if she can hear me. Is the most delightful and precious thing I’ve ever been granted going to be taken from me again before I’ve even had a chance to claim it?

<Svenja_Marsulis> The mere thought ignites an engine of nameless rage and vengeance, giving my fighting power a new surge, an energy boost of pure hatred. In a surge of fury, I ram my knee into the blonde’s cunt with all my might, again and again. She grunts hoarsely, dropping the dagger. My teeth dig deep into her hard, stiff nipple. Blood shoots into my mouth as I bite it halfway off; it runs down my chin. “AAAAAAAARGH! You’ll die for this, you whore!” she screams, beside herself with pain. In response, I ram my forehead so violently into her pretty face that her cheekbone snaps with a gruesome crack. A stream of red pours from her nose. At that very moment, there’s a deafening crash. The metal shelf!, it hits me. I hope nothing happened to Lara!

<Svenja_Marsulis> Mortep flinches. Just enough time for me to drive the Ladykiller between her ribs several times and pierce her heart. Her wide-open eyes stare at me in disbelief as fountains of her life’s blood are convulsively pumped from her chest, mouth, and nose over my face and body.

<Svenja_Marsulis> Gasping, I push the dying body away from me and leap to my feet, the Ladykiller at the ready. With a murderous scream, I lunge at Keta, who is fighting my beloved, brave Lara on the ground, and drive the dagger into her back as if I’ve lost my mind. Once! Ten times! A hundred times! Tough luck, cunt—I’ve never liked redheads.

<Lara_Catgirl> I fight fiercely on the ground with Keta, our bodies entwined, while the metal shelf behind us tips over with a loud crash, sending cans and tools clattering across the bunker floor. Keta is stronger and heavier than me; her full, bare breasts with the garish sun tattoo press against my tank top as she tries to pin me beneath her. Her hand clamps down on my wrist with an iron grip, twisting it painfully so that my dagger trembles dangerously close to my own face. I gasp and kick, ramming my knee into her stomach, but she just grunts and presses me harder against the cold concrete. “You little slut!” she hisses in my face, her hot, blood-scented breath brushing my lips. “I’m going to slowly slice you open and take your pretty tits as a trophy!” My tight leather pants stretch hard across my thighs and butt with every desperate attempt to turn myself. Sweat runs down my back; the tank top sticks to my breasts, which are still marked by the red imprints of the rope. Suddenly I hear Svenja’s stifled scream: “Lara, are you okay?” I want to answer, but Keta presses her free hand over my mouth. I bite down, taste blood, and she yanks her hand away, cursing. At that moment, a deafening crash rings out—the shelf toppling over. Keta flinches, her grip loosens for a split second. That’s enough. I ram my elbow into her temple with full force. She staggers. I break free, roll to the side, and sit up halfway—just as Svenja charges at us with a murderous scream. Svenja throws herself at Keta like a fury. The Ladykiller comes crashing down. Once. Ten times. Over and over. The blade pierces Keta’s back with dull, wet sounds. Blood sprays high into the air, splattering the wall, the mattress, and me.

<Lara_Catgirl> I’m completely enraged. Keta lies on her back beneath me, her body still twitching weakly as I throw myself on top of her with a wild scream. My knees press hard into the floor to the left and right of her ribs—a classic, dominant schoolgirl pin, just like Svenja did to me earlier, only reversed and much more brutal. My tight black leather pants stretch taut across my thighs and buttocks as I sit heavily on her stomach and chest. “You damn Helios whore!” I gasp in a tear-choked, hate-filled voice. My dagger plunges down again and again. Once. Twice. Ten times. The blade plunges deep into her stomach, her chest, her shoulders. Blood spurts up in hot fountains, hitting my face, my neck, my breasts, and my stomach. It runs warm and sticky over my skin, soaking the black tank top, which now clings to me, dark red and wet. Every thrust makes my body tremble, my bound breasts (the rope marks still clearly visible) bouncing hard beneath the blood-soaked fabric.

<Lara_Catgirl> I sit heavily and dominantly on top of her, my thighs clamped tightly around her upper body, while I continue stabbing as if out of my mind. Keta’s eyes are wide open, her mouth opens and closes without a sound, blood bubbling over her lips. Her large, tattooed breasts rise and fall one last time beneath me, then she finally goes limp. I only stop when I feel that there is no more resistance. Breathing heavily, I remain seated on top of her—dominant, victorious, covered in blood. My entire body is covered in warm, thick blood: it runs down my cheeks, drips from my chin, sticks to my dark hair, trickles down between my breasts, and pools in the crotch of my tight leather pants. The pants now glisten not only with arousal, but with fresh, red blood. Slowly, I lift my head.

<Lara_Catgirl> My gaze meets Svenja’s. She stands just a few steps away, the Ladykiller still in her hand, herself covered in blood from her own fight. Her eyes are wide, a mixture of shock, admiration, and something dark and hungry. I drop my knife. It clangs loudly on the blood-stained concrete floor. Then I slowly raise both hands—palms open, fingers spread—as a clear sign of my surrender.

<Lara_Catgirl> I’m still sitting dominantly on top of the dead Keta, my legs wrapped tightly around her lifeless body, covered in blood from head to toe, my tank top completely soaked and clinging transparently to my skin, my leather pants shiny red and wet. My green eyes look directly and intensely at Svenja. My chest rises and falls rapidly, my breath coming in gasps. Blood drips from my lips as I say quietly, hoarsely, and with a trembling voice: “I… I surrender, Svenja.” The words come out rough and breathless. “I surrender to you… here and now. Even though I just killed one of them. I’m still your prisoner. Your… your Lara.”

<Lara_Catgirl> I remain seated, my hands raised, the blood-smeared body trembling with adrenaline, exhaustion, and this strange, hot sensation coursing through me—the mixture of wild violence and the deep desire to surrender myself completely to her. Blood slowly runs down my cheeks like red tears. “What… what are you going to do to me now?” I whisper, without lowering my hands, without getting up from the dead woman beneath me. “I’m covered in blood… and I belong to you.” My green eyes burn into hers, waiting, at her mercy, aroused and vulnerable at the same time.

<Lara_Catgirl>

<Lara_Catgirl>

<Svenja_Marsulis> “Lara!” I whisper tenderly and kneel down beside her. “Sweetheart! Darling! That you’re alive! That you’re here! Oh, you fought so wonderfully! You should have seen yourself!” I can’t stop the tears from streaming down my face—the entire weight of a lonely struggle for survival, full of mistrust, cunning, malice, and brutality, breaks through.

<Svenja_Marsulis> Our shared fury has turned Keta’s pretty, plump tits into something resembling sausage meat mixed with corned beef, porridge, and vomit. As if they’d been put through a meat grinder. A large red pool spreads across the floor; a second seeps into the mattress.

<Svenja_Marsulis> Blood streams down my body in countless rivulets, dripping from my hair—Mortep’s, Keta’s, possibly even my own. I’m still far too intoxicated by the killing to feel any pain. My face, my hands, my shoulders, my breasts, my legs—everything feels as if I’ve just stepped out of a bath. Only the moisture in my slit doesn’t come from outside. I’ve always gotten wet with excitement during a fight; usually I don’t notice it until a mortal enemy stops moving.

<Svenja_Marsulis> My heart is still racing from the impact of what has happened. My brave companion is no better off. Panting, she sits atop the defeated redhead, whose chest will never rise and fall again. Were it not for Lara’s hypnotic green eyes, I wouldn’t recognize her beneath all that blood. I am so happy to see her unharmed, so indescribably happy!

<Svenja_Marsulis> And suddenly, this incredible moment when she submits to me and declares herself my property. It breaks down all my defenses. A hot wave of pure affection floods over me. All my life I’ve had to be hard, denying myself any sentimental impulses. I didn’t care about sunsets, flowers, or the seasons, but this wonderful girl with her picture-perfect eyes has somehow managed to flip a hidden switch. This must be what it was like when color first came into the world.

<Svenja_Marsulis> “If you truly want to belong to me, Lara,” I say solemnly, “then I, too, want to belong to you! But neither of us shall be the other’s prisoner. Only our mutual will shall bind us together as an unbreakable bond! And as a sign that I am serious and that from now on, of my own free will, I shall be your personal property just as you are mine, you shall receive this gift from me. It is the most precious possession I own. I cannot give you more. May it bring you happiness!”

<Svenja_Marsulis> I grasp the Ladykiller by its blade, bow my head, and hand her the hilt. “I love you, Lara!” I whisper.

<Lara_Catgirl> The redhead’s warm, thick blood covers me like a second skin: it runs in thick streams down my face, drips from my chin, sticks to my dark hair, trickles between my full breasts—still marked by the rope—and collects in the crotch of my tight leather pants. The tank top is completely soaked; the thin black fabric clings transparently to my skin, making my hard nipples stand out clearly. The leather pants gleam red and wet, tightening tightly around my butt and thighs with every breath. My green eyes are wide open, glazed over with adrenaline and something much deeper as I stare at Svenja. Then I hear her words. “If you really want to belong to me, Lara… then I want to belong to you too!”

<Lara_Catgirl> Something inside my chest shatters and reassembles itself at the same time. My hands, which I had just raised in surrender, are now trembling even more. Slowly, I let them drop until they rest loosely on my blood-stained thighs. Svenja steps closer, grasps the Ladykiller by the blade, and hands me the hilt—the most precious thing she owns. Her voice is soft, rough, and solemn all at once: “I love you, Lara!” Those three words hit me like a punch to the stomach. My breath catches. A hot wave shoots through my body—shame, happiness, lust, fear, all at once. Tears mix with the blood on my cheeks.

<Lara_Catgirl> I stare at the dagger she holds out to me, then back into her dark eyes. My heart is pounding so loudly that I can hear it roaring in my ears. Slowly, almost reverently, I reach with my blood-stained right hand for the hilt of the Ladykiller. My fingers close around it. I accept it—not as a weapon against her, but as the gift that it is. “I…,” my voice breaks, becoming a hoarse whisper, “I love you too, Svenja.”

Published: 2026-04-07, viewed 79 times.