Upstairs, Downstairs - Ch. 19

"So what do you want to do?" said Eva cheerfully.  "And," she added quickly, putting a finger on his lips, "If you say anything like 'Go home' or 'Be set free' or 'Call the cops' - anything like that - I will interpret your request as 'Be stripped, whipped, marinated, and eaten', got it?"  Then she took her hand away and waited.  When he gave no response after several seconds she pressed, "Well?  Isn't there ANYTHING?"
"I want to play videogames," he said.
Eva laughed out loud.  "Okay!" she said, grinning broadly.  "Guess you'll need your hands for that, huh?"  She giggled and tugged him into some room where there was the sound of a drawer being opened and closed.  Then she pulled him into the living room, pushed him down on the couch, and said, "Okay, I'm gonna undo your cuffs now - but I'm warning you, kiddo..."  She poked him in the chest with something hard and metal.  A gun.  Great.
She unlocked one of the handcuffs, leaving the other closed so the pair hung off his wrist like a punk bracelet.  Then she tugged off the blindfold, sitting on his lap, and beamed.  "Let's play Rock Band," she said.
"I was thinking God of War, actu-"
"Ew, no.  Francis plays that game ALL THE TIME.  He NEVER wants to play Rock Band cuz he's scared he sucks.  Come on come on!  You can be vocals!"  She did not wait for his input.  He tried to hide his chagrin.  This definitely put a dent in his plans.
She set up the game quickly, pointing the gun at him every time he moved.  The safety was off, he could see that.  And it was cocked.  Damn, damn, damn, he thought.  He'd had a chance to get away in the basement, when he was blindfolded but his hands and feet were free, or on the staircase, before she was armed.  Now he could probably make it, but not without getting shot - and, knowing Eva, even if he wasn't disabled by the first shot, she might well chase him into the yard and shoot him until he WAS.  He wasn't going to risk it.
As Eva started the PlayStation and came to join him on the couch, mic and guitar in hand, Erythor cursed himself for the hundredth time - his hesitation, his lack of foresight, his failure to escape this.  It had been a golden opportunity and he blew it - just like he walked right into her trap in the first place, like a stupid baby being offered a lollipop.  God damn.  It had been almost two weeks, and okay, fine, when the other girls were over, yeah, he couldn't fight them off.  But Eva alone?
"Here," she said, shoving the microphone into his lap.  She began scrolling through the game's characters.  For herself she picked a tall, buxom blonde clearly designed to look like her.  "I'll pick your character, too."  She tittered as she flipped past a Francis-haired character in Kanye shades and a leather jacket and settled on a sad-eyed brunet.  The character's name was Angelboy.  He wore what was essentially bondage gear, with giant boots and shiny tights.  Eva grinned.  "There you go!"
"I don't want to be-"
"But it's YOU!" she laughed.  "Don't you see the resemblance?"  Eva pointed at her character, who wore a short frilly skirt, thigh-high boots and a frilly bra.  "That's me!  And the other one is you!" she said happily.
Erythor scowled.  It was true that the characters resembled them.  "You made me.  In your videogame," he said.
"Yep!" said Eva.
"And why exactly is my character dressed like a bondage slave?"
She snorted.  "Do you really have to ask?"
"Well, can I change the costume?"
She smiled wickedly and purred, "Of COURSE you can.  I'll pick one for you."
Ten minutes later "Angelboy" was shirtless and barefoot in short-shorts (which was still an improvement, Silvertip thought), "EvaIsSexy" was in a crimson corset with a whip at her belt, and they were finally ready to play.