Sucks To Struggle

Rhea's pantyhose fight back. Slippery, tight, they turn every move into a struggle. Allie grabs hard, but her fingers slip on black nylon. Rhea twists in rigid cuffs. Her wrists fight against the cold metal while her body slides like wet soap. Blonde hair brushes the floor. Black hair sticks to her face. Allie's nails drag, leave red marks, but she can't hold on. Rhea's feet flex, soles flashing. Toes curl. She bucks, hips up, but Allie pins her down again. The harder Allie tries, the slicker Rhea gets. Sweat and nylon, that's the real battle here. Rhea's legs kick out, but Allie is already on her, breathing hard, using every inch of her body to keep her trapped. The cuffs clink. Rhea's mouth opens, but nothing comes out except a sharp breath. Her toes point, tense, and Allie's hands keep sliding off every surface she touches. The struggle only feeds the heat between them, skin on nylon, metal on skin.