I tried out all different kinds of the stuff. Regular panties, men's briefs, and a couple of daring thongs that looked more like triangles attached to actual spider thread, due to my now-low supply of silk. Each of them felt deliciously smooth against my skin, and the thongs were especially exciting— I had never wore anything like them before, and I felt sexy. I only had a single bra, a lacy thing that was completely see-through. It used up the last of my silk, and I was determined to wear it and one of my thongs in conjunction at some point.
But really, the things I was most excited by— besides my soon-to-be super cloak of invincibility!— were the accessories. There was a reason I started with the gloves and shoes when working on my actual costume— and only part of it was a desire to work inwards.
There were two things I had inherited from my mother. My hair, and my height.
Mom hadn't been a small girl. At six foot two, she actually rose above dad. She always stood out in a crowd— and when I started shooting up like a weed when puberty hit, mom had laughed and said that another giantess was going to be stalking the streets soon enough. I was among the tallest, if not the tallest girl in my grade— years of bullying had left me with a stooped posture, but even so I rose above most of the girls. At first, I had been proud of my size— until I realized it made it easy for the trio to find me in the hallways. Then it became a burden. Now? They weren't a problem, and I was going to show off— and if my boots had an extra inch or two of padding, well, who would notice? I'd have to add even more for my actual costume to distinguish my cape persona!
The gloves were a different thing altogether. I liked gloves. I wasn't sure when or where I picked it up, but smooth, articulated gloves made me feel powerful and, well, classy. Fingerless biker gloves made me feel tough, with reinforced knuckles for hitting someone if I ever felt like it (not that I had reason to, before the trio formed) and full winter gloves and mittens were extra layers of protection, something I believed you could never have too much of. (Super Invincibility Cloak!) While I wouldn't call it a fetish, exactly, wearing my spider-silk gloves while masturbating made the entire experience more erotic, if a little frustrating and difficult. Especially if I defiled the business gloves with my juices, only to wash them clean in seconds, with no sign of their previous use. I was totally going to abuse that feature.
In the end, a good fourth of my silk production that weekend went towards various gloves and boots. Thigh— and shoulder-high creations, pointed toes and delicate fingers, I spent a good couple of hours simply marching around the house when dad was gone in nothing more than a pair of gloves and shoes.
I christened many different surfaces in the house as well. Dad commented on the smell more than once, and I had practically burned with embarrassment as I hastily told him about my various.... Cooking... Experiments. After that experience I was carful to keep my 'other' activities to the basement.
My rescued chair would never look or smell the same again. It was permanently stained.
Overall, my weekend was incredibly enjoyable. School, when it arrived, passed by just as easily. Emma and Madison avoided me, the teachers and various students accepted the change, and Sophia hunted me down to have angry sex at lunch. I suspect that more than one of the staff and part of the student body had caught on— it was pretty hard to hide the combination of lateness, smell, and general improvement in both my and Sophia's moods when it happened constantly. Nobody ever said anything to me directly, but more than once I caught students muttering things about 'sexual tension' and 'so that's why Sophia went after her.'
I made sure to 'punish' Sophia extra hard on those days. I was working out my frustration on her very willing body, but that didn't change the fact that she pushed me into a locker full of blood, vomit and tampons for two class periods straight. I'm fairly certain she enjoyed it, but it made me feel better, so I bruised her sensitive parts with abandon.
The sex itself fell into routine, aside from my occasional fits. I'd head up to the roof, or into one of the empty classrooms far from the path of travel, or simply out back where it had started. Sophia would show up a minute or two later, after I had most of my lunch in my stomach— or at least she learned to, after one particular incident, a couple of weeks into our 'arrangement'— and she postured before I held her down and violated her. For the first week, she fought back if I left her untouched for long enough. By the second, she didn't even bother to try. The third, well...
* * *
"Come on, Kitten. I don't think you're trying hard enough." I had Sophia pinned to a wall. Her shorts were pooled around her ankles, and her tank-top had been pushed upwards with her bra pulled down. Her eyes were closed as she panted. Her nipples were stiff in the cool breeze, and she had trails of liquid running down her legs, reaching all the way past her still-shaking knees. My hand was still gently probing her, randomly suffering periods of pressure when an aftershock hit. Sophia was very vocal, very physical, and very appreciative of her orgasms. I had to physically hold her up when this latest one had hit, as I'd spent the last twenty minutes working her up to it. I'd had a bad evening, yesterday; dad had a screaming match with the phone about something. As soon as Sophia had stepped out of the door, I'd pressed her against the brick, guided one of her hands into my jeans, and set about driving her mad. Even now, she was still stroking at me pathetically, barely putting effort into it, and I was less than happy with that after the convulsions I'd sent her into.
"Why.. Do you.. Call me... That...?" Sophia had to wheeze out each word between breathes. She barely had enough strength to stand, let alone try and please me, so she had to distract me. I wasn't pleased, but I allowed it.
"Isn't it obvious, Kitten? It's because you're mine." Her eyes snap open at that, and she makes a weak attempt to push me off.
"Fuck you! I don't belong... To anybody...!" That gets a chuckle out of me. This was coming from the girl you currently had at your complete mercy?
"Face the facts, Kitten. You do belong to me. You spend half the day trailing after me, and as soon as we're away from everyone you come up and attack me with your cute, fluffy little paws and ask me to play. Then, when I tire you out, you sit here in a puddle and try to get your breath back. You aren't going to leave, Kitten, and even if you tried, I'd just hunt you down and bring you back."
Astonishingly enough, it's the truth. I've actually become fond of Sophia. When she isn't tempting me into doing sinful things to her body, she generally acts like a decent human being. She follows me between classes, makes jokes that aren't aimed solely at insulting me, and isn't bad to have around. Sometimes I have to 'correct' her crueler observations about predators and prey-that weird viewpoint I haven't been able to screw out of her, yet-but I've honestly, genuinely become fond of having her around. If she stopped, I'd actually be sad, and try to get her to start again. Then I'd 'punish' her for trying to leave, of course.
Isn't that weird to contemplate?
Meanwhile, Sophia has frozen, and is currently staring off into space beyond my shoulder. Perhaps that little speech was too much for her—
And then she punches me in the gut.
It isn't strong enough to do more than elicit a startled wheeze from me, but the fact that she did it at all is annoying. I thought I'd trained her out of that— are those tears?
"Don't fucking lie to me! Nobody cares enough to, to... You don't... I can't..." She's struggling to wipe away the moisture falling from her eyes, and I have no idea how to react to this. So I fall back on what's worked so far, and mash my lips into hers. She flinches, before making a weak attempt to bite my tongue off that terminates when I pick up the pace of my stroking. She's still so sensitive from her earlier orgasm that it's the work of moments to push her into a moaning fit. Moments before she reaches the peak-I've gained enough experience to see all the warning signs— I pull back.
"You. Belong. To. Me." I practically growl the words into her ear, just as she hits the edge and screams her release. I don't slow down— in fact, I pick up the speed. I only stop when she finally regains enough breathe to wheeze out something that sounds like a 'please..'
"You aren't going anywhere, Sophia. I won't let you." And that calm statement is all it takes to break her down completely. She spends the next few minutes clutching me and sobbing into my shoulder, while I pat her on the back and desperately try to ignore the fact that I still have her hooked on my fingers while I reassure her. By the time she's done, my shirt is wet, and my ribs hurt from her 'hug.'
She pulls back, and wipes her eyes so an arm, sniffing. She pushes my fingers out of her— taking a moment to give them the now-customary cleaning— and pulls up her pants. She spends a moment re-arranging her bra and shirt, and when she's done stalling, she looks up at me with with a glare.
It's ruined by the fact that her eyes are still rimmed with red.
"You don't tell anyone about this. Got it?" I nod, before leaning forward to kiss her once more. It looks like I'll be going without, today, but the cry session had just about killed any build-up I'd had anyway.
Instead, I end up kissing brick as Sophia drops to the ground.
I look at the wall in shock for a moment, before I feel the tug against my un-zippered jeans. As they drop to the ground, alongside my underwear, my wide-eyed stare transfers from the wall to Sophia kneeling before me. She's staring right back up at me with narrowed eyes.
"I'm nobody's bitch, Tiger. I won't be doing this for you often, so don't get used to it!"
Then again, maybe not all of my desire is gone. As Sophia's tongue reaches out and slides up the center of my slit, I brace myself against the wall and raise my head in prayer for the patience to deal with emotional track-stars.
* * *
Sophia goes down on me the next day as well.
* * *
Sophia didn't comment on her breakdown. In fact, she seemed even more aggressive afterwards— she started trying to fight back when I pinned her once again, and actually drew blood once or twice.
Despite that... I felt more comfortable around her. Just knowing that she had more emotional states than 'horny' and 'insulting others' made her more of a person to me. And knowing that she had her own issues beyond her little classification system went a long way towards softening the effects of her bullying campaign. It certainly didn't excuse her, but I could understand the why a bit better now.
Still, her little rebellion didn't last long. Less than three days later, I was already sick of her attitude. The snarky comments and scratches annoyed me, and after one long evening messing around with spider silk that ran a little too late, I was tired and cranky.
Obviously, this meant that Sophia saw weakness and decided that it needed to be attacked.
* * *
"Come on, Hebert. Get something tastier for lunch! Stupid sandwiches can't keep ya going all the time."
I was currently in the middle of raising said sandwich to my mouth. I nearly flinched— Sophia had always given me time to eat before she showed up for our afternoon sessions, and appearing on the roof half a minute behind me was unexpected. The near-flinch was caught by Sophia, and her ever-present smirk only widened. It took a large amount of willpower to restrain myself. Instead, I returned my gaze to my food, and took a bite— only to have the sandwich snatched out of my hand.
"Wha-Hey!" My instinctive protest fell upon uncaring ears, as Sophia danced backwards with both my sandwich and my lunch bag. She'd taken my food! And she didn't seem likely to just give it back, either.
"I'm not playing games today, Kitten. Give me my stuff!" I levered myself up to my feet, stepping towards Sophia as threateningly as I could. She took a step backwards for every forward step of mine, and before long I was outright chasing her. If her laughter was any indication, she was enjoying this— she might've been a track star, but size matters, and my legs were longer than hers. Up on the roof, she had nowhere to run, and my long stride let me keep up with her easily. She barely dodged my grasp each time. And while she seemed amused, I was less than pleased.
As this continued on, a plan unfolded in the back of my head. I had passed out late last night, after experimenting with spider ropes. Waking up late meant that I didn't even have time to change clothes before I had to rush to school— and several of my pockets contained different sizes and lengths of silk cord.
Actually catching her took some preparation, but soon enough I had her trapped against a radiator. Wrestling my food from her took little effort— Sophia wasn't hanging on very hard. She seemed almost.... Giddy. I barely had time to catch my breath before she was kissing me, pressing up against my chest, and generally trying to molest me as best as she could. What had gotten her into this mood? Either way, it fit my plan.
"I didn't enjoy that, Kitten." I gently take her wrists into one hand, while I slip the other into a pocket. Sophia is almost licking at my jaw in anticipation, and actually assists me in holding her limbs together. That only makes it easier for me.
"Come-on, Tiger! I'm gonna strip you down and make you scream for once...." She's really eager. It almost makes me feel guilty for what I'm about to do.
But not really.
A burst of movement has her hands tied behind her back. I drop to the floor, and drag confused Sophia with me. A little bit of positioning, and she's laid out across my lap, back down. By this time she's regained her wits, and is testing her bonds.
"Silk, Tiger? Well, I didn't think-" I ignore her, quickly and efficiently pulling off her clothes. Her shirt goes up to her neck, her bra is unsnapped and pulled off, and her pants fly into the air behind me. Once I reach the panties, I notice a rather large wet spot-she's this excited already? Obviously, being tied up does things to her.
Still, I have a better use for that piece of cloth. Another moment has her devoid of any lower covering, and then I take the panties and shove them into Sophia's mouth.
"You're going to be quiet today, Kitten. I'm going to eat my lunch— and I'm going to do it off the handy little table I have in front of me."
And I proceed to do just that. Sophia actually stares in disbelief as I place my lunchbox on her nicely toned stomach, and actually attempts to make a muffled protest when I begin eating my sandwich rather than tending to her.
