pith: (fandom-assholes)
[personal profile] pith posting in [community profile] lkh_lashouts
Spoilers: Again, up to Cerulean Sins.
Disclaimers: I don't own the characters. If I owned the Anitaverse, it would be a very different place.
Nota bene: This takes place after my Anita death piece. (And again, it was quickly written and poorly edited. Apologies.)


Nathaniel was used to being naked on stage. He was even accustomed to being smeared with blood—but it was usually his own. This time, it was Anita's blood that clung to his skin, matting his hair and stinging his eyes. 'Ronnie, please....'

'Awww. What's wrong, pussycat?' Ronnie cooed, the rope she'd used to bind Anita draped over her shoulders like a boa. Nathaniel was bound to the stripper's pole with enough silver chain to cripple even his pain threshold. 'Too much pain for you, little bitty kitten?' Ronnie walked around him and roughly pulled his hair into a thick braid. 'Aren't you supposed to be Anita's special little sub-boy? What kind of sub can't take a little bondage?' She yanked his head back by the hair and slapped him with her gun.

'Ronnie, I'm sorry. I—I didn't mean—'

'I'm sorry too, Nathaniel. Sorry that I thought you could be redeemed once Anita was gone. Sorry I thought there was something in you worth saving.' She picked up another length of silver chain and tightened it around the wereleopard's neck, letting it trail down his bound body. Smiling madly, Ronnie brought a ladder over to the pole and pulled Nathaniel up to the rafters as she climbed, stopping when his bowed head hit a joist. Then she flung the loose chain over, wound it around the structural steel, and locked it in place. As an afterthought, she fashioned a second noose out of his long braid. 'Such an occupational hazard for a stripper to have hair this long.' Then she tied it to the rafters as well and climbed down.

With his arms chained to his sides, all Nathaniel could do was desperately try to wrap his legs around the ladder. Ronnie quickly knocked it to the side, nearly snapping the stripper's neck. His legs jerked wildly and she ducked to avoid being kicked. 'You may be a shifter, but you still need to breathe. Pity, that.' With a grin, she walked towards the exit, pulling her death list from her jeans pocket. 'Oh well. Now everyone can agree that you're well hung.'
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