“You never explained how the hell you made my muscles go slack like that, Heather. What the fuck was that?”

“Your end of the contract, Camilla.”

She blinks. Repeatedly.

“Are you trying to bat away my words with your lashes, or something, Cammy?”

“Stop fucking calling me that, you creepy, fa-”

“Quiet, Cammy.”

“Mmn! Mmmm! Mmmmmmm!?!??!???”

“Much better.”

Terrified, she lunges at me, tackling me out of the dining room where we were chatting, into the carpeted living room. Thank fuck for that, cause this girl is still built like an athlete, and it hurt landing even on the plush carpet.

“You may speak.”

Panting, Camilla trips over her words, falling down an incoherent verbal staircase, clearly in shock.

“I’m more of a top, but seeing an athletic girl pin me to the ground with dilated eyes is still hot~” I say, taunting her.

“I-” Camilla continues with frantic verbalizations of her confusion, failing to make any noises that could fit even the loosest dictionary’s definition of a word.

She rolls off me, still trying to make sense of the past minute.

“Good girl~”

Camilla’s face goes flush, with a mix of anger, bewilderment, and a hint of arousal, although she’d slap you, if you said that. I take the opportunity to straddle her, looking deep into her vibrant amber eyes. She struggles, a bit, but very weakly, clearly deeply overwhelmed.

“Tsk, tsk. What am I going to do with you, Camilla? I confess, seeing you here, helpless, overwhelmed, it’s… refreshing, to say the least. I always wondered, why you wound up treating me like you did. I often think about what it’d be like if we were friends, instead.”

“You’re sick. I can’t believe you’d ever think I’d be friends with you.”

“I figured you’d say something like that. I appreciate you not trying to struggle, anymore. It’s really easier on both of us. You just saw me remotely disable your vocal cords with a verbal command.”

Camilla lets out a deep, exasperated sigh, clearly aware that she doesn’t have much agency in this situation.

“What do you want from me, Heather? An apology?”

“Truth is, Cammy, I actually found you pretty cute, at the beginning of our freshman year. Hearing you gush about the things you enjoyed, the way you got excited over making the track and field team, it was endearing. It’s why I approached you the way I did. Fuck, it’s been 9 years since then… Point is, you were simultaneously the one that got away, yet constantly reminded me why I never should’ve even tried.”

“You’re clearly fucking deranged, if you think I’d ever have any sort of feelings for you, you perverted, kidnapping, twisted fagg-”

“Quiet, Cammy.”

“Mm-”

“I’m still not going to let you call me that, Camilla. Not anymore.”

“Mmm! Mm!” Camilla repeatedly tries to make noises, resulting only in muffled humming.

“You done?”

I stand up, walking over towards the couch, sitting down, and patting the seat next to me, gesturing for Camilla to follow.

“Mm.” Defiantly, she lays right there, as though it does anything for her.

“Suit yourself. I was just inviting you to come sit and have a conversation with me, like an adult. If you want to lay on my floor and pout, you can do that too.”

She flips me off.

Clearly, I’ve gotten all I can out of her, with just words alone, so, I gear up to actually do something about her foul attitude.

“You may speak.”

Before she has a chance to, though, I fire off one more command.

“Cammy configure”