Sortie / Day One / First Light

A chilly breeze blows through the gap in the window. As it blows across Sara’s exposed skin, goosebumps rise on her silken thighs.

She stirs at last. Her arms drop down to her sides, then drag up across her belly, smearing the scaling cum in the process. A quiet noise escapes her lips as her fingers drag through the wet, sticky mess. She tries to lift her head, weakly, then, unthinking, goes to rub the sleep from her eyes.

This snaps her fully awake.

The damp semen on her hands transfers into her eyes with a blinding sting and she bolts upright in bed gasping and whimpering in pain. She digs the heels of her hands into her eyes, trying to squeeze out the salty irritant. It takes long moments before she finally clears her her vision enough to look down at herself, blinking through tears, and tries to parse her situation. Her bright blue, bloodshot eyes flash through blank incomprehension and then to baffled disgust.

As she rakes her close-trimmed fingernails through the milky slime on her belly, her emotions sing out into the air and you know them as if they were a song you wrote yourself: She is groggy from her sleep, and irritated by her waking. The pain in her eyes is fading, but behind that she feels betrayed, even though she has no one to direct that feeling at. But these are the quieter harmonies. The bolder, clarion melody in her emotions is dominated by confusion and disgust, with a few thready notes of childlike curiosity. It is clear she cannot identify the semen, but the texture and placement are enough to leave her grossed out, and her fear that it might be her own fault is introducing a new emotion: embarrassment.

Her emotions vibrate in the air around you and you know they are an instrument for you to play.

Which string do you pluck?

• You bring her embarrassment to the forefront.
• You play up her fear and revulsion.
• You try to bring her suppressed curiosity front and center. Request --Notsooldpervert (talk) 20:37, 6 January 2020 (CET)