Angel hardly seemed like someone involved in the arts, but her very existence was akin to a piece of art.
Her biggest artistic obsession appeared to be dissecting a young man named Sam into several pieces and then reassembling them. This thought allowed Sam to regain some composure.
Whenever such beauty threatened to overwhelm his heart, compelling him to surrender to Angel’s allure, he would forcibly recall some epic moments from their game.
…
“I certainly can’t match your background, and there’s no denying that,” Sam said with a smile.
Angel’s gaze swept over Sam’s face, finding him very handsome, with each aspect pleasing to the eye. Sam’s attire was simple, with a minimal color palette, yet he seemed to wear it differently.
Angel couldn’t tell if it was an illusion, but she felt he looked even more handsome than a few days ago. She wished she could dress Sam in different clothes to see how he looked in various styles.
If only Sam belonged entirely to her.
This thought grew stronger for a moment.
“I don’t care about the rest; I just want to know if you are ready.”
Angel turned away, looking at her artwork. Sam didn’t answer directly but instead asked, “Can I see what your last sculpture looked like?”
“What are you up to?” Angel raised an eyebrow.
Sam shrugged. “Just curious about how you would sculpt me. Don’t worry, I have no intention of critiquing your sculpture skills.”
“It doesn’t matter if you critique it. I find sculpting a bit bothersome and have changed my mind. If you want to see, go ahead,” Angel snorted and handed a digital tablet to Sam.
This intrigued Sam. “You do more than just sculpt; you even paint?”
“Of course,” Angel replied matter-of-factly. “Sculpting is just a hobby of mine. My real talent lies in painting. And I don’t use ordinary materials and paper.”
“Really? That’s surprising,” Sam mused. He wasn’t commending with Angel but rather thinking that indeed, the wealthy had more leisure time than ordinary people, no matter how they disguised their busyness and anxiety.
Angel turned her head, presenting her beautiful and noble profile to Sam. “Hurry up and give it back when you’re done. Don’t waste time.”
“No rush; we have plenty of time,” Sam said, sitting cross-legged on the floor and examining the several paintings Angel had done on the digital tablet.
Compared to sculpture, painting seemed to offer a more authentic visual experience.
Angel’s work was impressive, especially her depiction of Sam’s penile, which was incredibly lifelike.
Seeing his own nude figure in the painting, Sam felt no embarrassment.
However, he keenly noticed that Angel, who seemed to be busy arranging her easel, was stealing glances at him. It appeared she was observing whether he’d show any odd expressions while looking at the artworks.
Sam furrowed his brow. “I have a question.”
“What is it?” Sam swiped to a painting of himself unclothed, seemingly ready to engage in a fierce lovemaking with the so-called female lead.
“This one here, I mean, I’ve got abs and pecs, but aren’t they a bit overdone?”
Angel defended her choice with conviction. “It’s an artistic expression. Exaggerating the muscle lines enhances the expressiveness, filling the entire piece with desire.”
“And why does my expression look so weak, as if I’m being coerced?”
Sam fully understood that this was a scenario conjured by Angel’s fantasies, where he appeared in front of her or within a pre-set scene in this manner.
She wanted Sam to be the one controlled by her, pleading step by step for mercy, gradually becoming her plaything, immersed in her dominion.
Of course, Angel wasn’t about to reveal her thoughts just yet.
So she simply said, “That’s the theme, it’s nothing personal. Nowadays, many TV series audiences prefer such a passive male lead, almost wishing he remains weak and constantly toyed with by a strong female lead.”
Angel’s explanation seemed more like a test of Sam’s boundaries.
Sam nodded thoughtfully.
“You might have a point, but sorry, I don’t like it.” His words were sharp.
Angel turned to face the young man directly. “Which kind do you prefer?”
It felt like a harbinger of a declaration of war, suddenly making the atmosphere tense.
Sam remained nonchalant, casually placing the digital tablet on the floor beside Angel’s legs.
“I, of course, prefer taking the initiative. This whole idea of passively waiting to be overpowered by a female lead… too weak. And acting like they don’t want it verbally, but their body tells a different story, is too hypocritical for me. I favor consistency in words and actions.”
Hearing Sam’s words, a subtle and elusive expression flickered in Angel’s eyes.
She paused for a moment before standing up, her feet sheathed in over-the-knee white stockings, bare of any shoes.
The semi-transparent white stockings weren’t flesh-colored but revealed the delicate skin of her legs beneath the pure white.
Angel walked over to Sam, the slightly swaying hem of her black dress revealing her cartoon panties.
This panties seemed like a goddess’s lure to mortals on earth or a witch’s temptation to a hero.
“Taking the initiative isn’t just lip service; everyone dislikes subjugation and refuses to be subordinate. Yet many find themselves in such positions. Ever wonder why?”
Sam lifted his head, confronting Angel directly.
She seemed so high above, her face framed by long hair, beautiful yet so perilous, like a queen holding the reins of power.
In front of Sam, Angel slowly raised her foot. Her long, slender leg, wrapped in semi-transparent white over-the-knee stockings, extended towards him, then lowered again.
She placed her foot on Sam’s thigh.
It wasn’t painful – after all, she wasn’t heavy – but undoubtedly, she was asserting her dominance.
She could easily control everything she desired, including Sam himself.
Today it was his leg; tomorrow, it could be his cock!
The delicate and warm sensation of her foot pressing down was both slow and sudden. She spoke deliberately, “It’s not just about strength, but also about the situation, about power. Only fools clamor for equality and rights when they have nothing. The clever ones cling to this irresistible force, eagerly pleasing and agreeing, striving to gain more benefits.”
Her words were demeaning, her expression scornful, but her actions felt almost like a reward. Being stepped on like this… was surprisingly not disagreeable.
But Sam, smiling, looked up at her. “Or could it be about playing along until finding an opportunity to overturn everything?”
Hearing this, Angel scoffed dismissively. “That would depend on whether there’s the capability to do so in the future. For now… get up, get undressed. I’m about to begin.”
