Involuntary, brain-drain
“C’n… think… sa’… gud…”
She barely breathed now, leaning against the wall. Her eyes fluttered. She kept trying to look at him.
“Why can’t you think?”
“soft”
She whispered the word with reverence. The way she said it was like a sigh, as her body went slack. If he hadn’t caught her by the shoulders, she would’ve toppled over.
“That’s right. Soft, softest, yet softer still.”
Everything in her turned to jelly. He kissed her and the sensation was like a match tumbling down a mineshaft.
“So soft. So pliant. So willing.”
He laced his fingers between hers and pressed her hand against the wall. It pinned her in place. For all her softness, she couldn’t slid down an inch. His other hand clamped down on one side of her face and forced her eye open.
“Now soft little dollie, let’s see what patterns I can sew into you.”