She wants to do it. Wants to wait until the last possible moment before she rips this bitch's finger off. It'd take some work, with Lenore poised as far from her as she's able to be whilst keeping the cake in reach, but could she do it? Maybe. At the very least she could take a bite of the pastry, chew it up and spit it right back in her captor's face. It might earn her a backhand to the mouth, another bright flare of pain to add to the myriad she's currently feeling, but would it be worth it just to see Lenore's composure crack apart, just a bit?
But having watched the slide of Lenore's tongue against her fingertips, having the scent of something warm and good held so close to her face after fuck only knows how long since she last ate-- the vicious twist of hunger slices through her insides again. It comes so hard and fierce that she has to bite back on a moan, uses all of her remaining self-restraint to prevent the sound from passing her lips. Fuck but she's hungry and hurting and tired. So tired she wants to fucking scream.
She doesn't, though. Keeps her gaze fixed hard on Lenore's eyes for another lengthy moment, carefully tests herself against the restraints she knows aren't going to give. She could take her brief moment of satisfaction, or she can play the long game. Give herself a real chance of slaying every last one of these fuckers and burning the place to the ground.
It’s not like she has a whole lot of dignity left to hold on to.
"Fuck you," she says, but this time it sounds like the husky whisper of defeat. She finally lets her gaze drop low as she takes a ravenous bite of the cake, hating herself all the while.
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But having watched the slide of Lenore's tongue against her fingertips, having the scent of something warm and good held so close to her face after fuck only knows how long since she last ate-- the vicious twist of hunger slices through her insides again. It comes so hard and fierce that she has to bite back on a moan, uses all of her remaining self-restraint to prevent the sound from passing her lips. Fuck but she's hungry and hurting and tired. So tired she wants to fucking scream.
She doesn't, though. Keeps her gaze fixed hard on Lenore's eyes for another lengthy moment, carefully tests herself against the restraints she knows aren't going to give. She could take her brief moment of satisfaction, or she can play the long game. Give herself a real chance of slaying every last one of these fuckers and burning the place to the ground.
It’s not like she has a whole lot of dignity left to hold on to.
"Fuck you," she says, but this time it sounds like the husky whisper of defeat. She finally lets her gaze drop low as she takes a ravenous bite of the cake, hating herself all the while.