Oh dear you know it. the whole thing would probably begin with Peter openly ogling her cleavage and making stupid sexist remarks until she puts him on the ground and nearly breaks his shoulder with how viciously she twists his arm behind his back. And to her great surprise, he doesn’t start complaining and howling like the bitch he is – he just goes limp beneath her and his breathing gets deep and deliberate as he tries to keep himself in check.
it’s this incident that makes her strongly suspect that she has a little closet bottom-bitch on her hands but she likes to test it out a bit (just for her own amusement tbh)
like cornering Peter in the little kitchenette of the loft and just waiting for his inevitable stupid remark before she has her hand between his legs and is squeezing his balls until he goes very pale in the face. the other’s can’t see what’s going on because of the bar shielding their lower bodies from view, but she can see all the better – how Peter’s eyes go from huge and angry to practically sleepy. positively dopey even though she still has a mean grip on his balls and isn’t relenting until he apologized diligently like a little boy.
She pretty much loves this time until she decides to take him in as her own property.
Cyberrat Writes 