He was unabashedly enjoying the power he had over her, both in a psychological and far more visceral sense. It made her bristle with impotent rage, just as much as it frightened her. She still resisted the idea of "submitting", even though in the back of her mind, she knew that keeping her independence had gone out the window when she sucked his cock in front of an army. He had won, she just refused to acknowledge her defeat. She could present the front of indomitable spirit all she wanted, but it was a thin shield over the cold reality of the situation. It was hard to call yourself free when you were stripped and shackled.<br/><br/>She was ever stubborn, though, and tried to turn her body to roll out from under him, but he quickly put a stop to that when he had the audacity to<i>sit</i>on her. She cried out sharply as his weight pressed down on her lower spine, grinding her bruised flesh into the carpet and stifling her ability to breathe. Out of reflex, she twisted her arms back to try and grab at his ankles, but it was an awkward position, and incapable of doing much actual damage. Had her wings not been bound, they would have been flailing in indignant anger like two feathery bludgeons, the allula-claws at their "wrists" twitching with a desire to gouge his eyes out. Instead, he took hold of the shackled limbs and pushed down, pressing her chest against the ground. Her breathing had grown heavier as she tried to get air despite the weight atop her, her arms now used more to try and prop herself up rather than claw at his ankles, but it barely helped. "Get<i>off</i>me, damn it," she hissed through gritted teeth, knowing full well that he had no intentions of doing so.<br/><br/>Even those few moments of being flattened against the ground were starting to have an effect on her. Suffocation always brought with it a very particular sort of panic, at least for her. Fire couldn't burn without oxygen. As he offered her a choice of two different torments, already anticipating following through if the sudden warmth she felt on her back was any indication, Aryel's vision began to narrow, a red haze creeping in at the corners of her mind. Evidently, she wasn't getting out of this without him getting what he wanted.<br/><br/>She just had to decide how much she wanted to make him work for it.<br/><br/>This was almost certain to end poorly for her, but Aryel had been pushed past the point of reason. She didn't think now, she just acted. With what reserves of strength she had left, she twisted her upper body sharply, doing her best to ignore the pain it invoked in her gut muscles. Her right hand reached out for his calf muscles, but rather than simply trying to scratch him again, this time she now called upon her magic as she sought to grip the pale skin there. Aryel's flames were a reflection of her emotions, and while fear and despair could quench them,<i>anger,</i>as she felt now, only stoked them higher. At any rate, she didn't need an inferno right now, just a palm-sized flame in the center of her hand to sear through flesh and muscle. At the same time, she would also try to bring her right leg, formerly laid out behind her, tucked under her body with the knee bent to give her a bit more leverage. Doing so would be difficult in her current position, but she was counting on any flinch or reaction he might have to her attempt at burning his leg--if any--to make it a bit easier.<br/><br/><i>That</i>ought to be answer enough.