Goosebumps

Your opponent’s thighs are wrapped around your neck. Despite the ferocity of your passions and hatred, you find that after her latest constriction you can only barely stand the pain, let alone breathe within her confines. You have tried to pry her legs apart, and to capture her head between yours, but to no avail. And so as the world begins to dim, you find three options from which to choose.

Resist, and fight her to you last breath – refusing to surrender though you know you have been defeated.

Submit, and hope that whatever punishment she has in mind is less painful and humiliating than unconsciousness.

Or three, take the lead in choosing your torture, by beginning by please her, sealing your lips to hers, and your tongue to her clit, which sits not inches from you already. Unlike the other two options, this one ends the battle with the presentation of an olive branch, rather than a reminder that it is her opportunity to punish you.

It is a choice your rival knows you have, a knowledge that covers her body in goosebumps, as she waits for your decision, and in truth, the application of your tongue.

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