Meanwhile, I had a job to do. The mouse liked rope. I liked leather ties. Toying with her appealed to me. “Come here,” I said.
She rounded my desk without question, though I noticed she’d fisted her hands. “Remove your clothes.”
“You’ve already seen the goods,” she bit out. “Twenty bucks.”
Fine. I reached for her corset, took out my knife, and sliced. The corset opened.
Instantly, my dick hardened, ready to pounce on the prey. It was the hunt, my body’s way of recognizing the mouse, nothing more. I ruled my dick, not the other way around. Thinking with their cocks had gotten those other beasts killed. Not happening with me. I assessed her height, weight, and her overall figure. The mouse was fit. “There’s hair on your pussy,” I said, pointing to her mound. It looked like a designed trail of some sorts, wasn’t much, but I didn’t like hair.
Her face turned bright red, and she hung her head. “I was homeless, so I did what I could before coming here.”
“Nothing to be ashamed about. I’ve been homeless too.”
She snapped her gaze back up, and I realized I’d unintentionally overshared. Our cat-and-mouse chase would be a little harder than I’d previously assessed. I pitied the poor mouse sent here to kill me. This pitying might cost me, so I would reassess my words next time around, restrain myself around her. For now, I said, “The bathroom is over there.” I pointed at the painting and swiped my hand over my desk. A console lit up, and the hologram panel lifted, showing me the blueprint of my office. With my finger, I touched the painting, and the wall opened with a swish. “Go inside. Grab a wet towel and return.”
The mouse left.
I opened a drawer and used my com unit to contact Lore and gave him specific instructions. When the mouse returned with a wet hand towel and a confused look on her face, I gripped her hips and tugged, bringing her to stand between my legs. Her tits nearly touched my face, her nipples soft and pale. I blew over one just to test if my charm worked on the mouse. Sure enough, the small nipple hardened into a bud, and the mouse whimpered low in her throat.
I inhaled her scent. No trace of arousal, but, unlike the other humans, she smelled divine. A strange urge to bite the nipple came over me. I resisted and said, “Hop on the desk.”
She did so, then crossed one leg over her knee. I looked down at her pose. “I can’t remove your hair if your legs are closed.”
“You mean…like shave me?” she said, looking a bit horrified at the prospect.
I didn’t see the big deal. “Yes, mouse, shave. You have hair on your pussy. I own you, and you come with a pussy. I want your pussy hairless, so I will remove it.”
“If you give me a razor, I’ll remove it.” With that said, she hooked her toes behind the calf of her other leg so her legs intertwined.
“Open your legs,” I warned.
She didn’t.
Fine. I’d have to pry them open. I reached behind me and withdrew my knife. I flipped it in my hand, then stabbed the table.
“Oh, fuck this!” she screeched, then jumped up, ready to flee. What the hell? I gripped her hips, plopped her on the table, and spread her legs wide open. Quickly, I grabbed leather strings hanging at both sides of my waist. I used them to tie up hunted prey. Not exactly rope, but close enough. I made quick work of restraining her legs so that she knelt on my table, sitting on her heels with ties wound tightly over her thighs and under her ankles. Then I parted her knees and voilà.
Soon-to-be bare pussy. Cute. I could taste it, couldn’t I? I restrained myself from that too. “Where the hell did you think you’d go?”
“Away from you.”
“Why?”
“Maybe because you’re threatening to carve me up.”
I frowned. “I don’t threaten to carve. I carve. You’re still alive and well. What’s that tell you?”
“You’re insane.”
“I am very much the only sane person in this room.” I put my palms on her thighs and squeezed. “Don’t worry, nobody here’ll hurt you. Only you can hurt yourself. The knife gets coated, and when I remove the hair, it won’t grow back for a long while.” I gripped her hips and moved her to the side a little so I could call up my panel. A blue panel of tools appeared on my desk, and the mouse turned to watch.
“You’re not gonna carve me up,” she concluded, more to herself, I supposed.
“I own you. Only an idiot carves up his property.” How did this blue thing work again? Fucking tech. I should be able to press something, and my oils would simply appear on my desk. So Vice had said.