hello ceiling

At My Mercy

Zoe saunters into the room, the clack of her heels prominent on the cement floor. This was one of her prisoner rooms and as such was obviously not comfortable. She wore a dark purple dress, the hem brushed against her thighs. She found power in knowing she could dress this way and if any man tried to touch her, not only did she have a gang of men to defend her, she could stop his heart with a single thought
But right now her mind was on the man tied to a chair in the center of the room, a single light shining from the ceiling. “Hello there, Mr. Sinatra” she murmurs, standing in front of him with her arms crossed.