Falithas smirked thinly toward the defiance in the woman's eyes. There was humour playing across his face at what was left of her meaningless little struggle. Now -bound with her hands behind her back, with her mouth stuck in a fuckable circle and with her body burning - her protests were ignorable glares that had no chance of stopping him from doing *exactly* what he wanted.<br/><br/>He snatched one of her neatly curved horns, and ruined her balance by crossing the room with it in his grip. After he'd hauled her inelegantly across the room to a wall, Falithas dragged her up front first into it so that her face, chest and the front of her thighs were pushing it, and she had to stand on her knees. He then wrenched her head back, to face the ceiling.<br/><br/>But that was merely the preparation. If L'lara disliked that, then she was going to hate what happened next. Falithas snatched one of several large pricks crafted in wood and coated in the addictive, mind-addling weed known to the elves as mana thistle. The thing looked vaguely trollish in that it was more of a crude caricature of a cock than the sleek reproduction of one the elves might make. As such the head of it was improbably swollen and thick; something L'lara realised all too soon when he let it fall down toward her open mouth.<br/><br/>Falithas didn't push on it. He let gravity pull it down while L'laras tongue and gag reflex tried unsuccessfully to force it back out. It was fat and rather heavy, and it pushed itself hard into the back of her mouth.<br/><br/>All he did, apart from holding her horn to keep her head angled uncomfortably far back, was to push his boot against her slick, glistening sex. "Disgusting creature... Look at all this mess... " he mused, mostly to himself.<div class="messageTextEndMarker"> </div>