Nidoran Duran
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Things Are Better If I Stay - Raven reward story
🕑 Added 2020-10-23 03:11:55 +0000 UTC"Welcome to the Teen Titans," says the gray-skinned goth girl who greeted you and guided you into this 'waiting room'. Her voice is detached, flat, and as she walks in with a clipboard, she holds an air of general disinterest and apathy. "My name is Raven, and I'm going to be the one who handles your introduction and processing. Your room is being prepared, and until then, we'll be talking in here." 'Here' isn't exactly a cozy welcome; with a bland wooden table in front of you, dim lighting, and a chair on either end, you feel more like you're in an interrogation room than like you're being brought with any sort of friendly air into this superhero team.
"Nice to meet you, Raven," you say, trying to overcome her low energy and be friendly enough. "I'm--"
"Right, yes, good," she says, cutting you just as abruptly off. "Robin tasked me with greeting the newbie, on account of my friendly and warm personality, and my love of meeting new people. He's also prepared a series of questions that I'm going to ask you. Answer them to the best of your abilities, and ignore how some of the questions simply aren't good questions to ask. First question: do you want to join the Teen Titans?" She looks up from the clipboard with a beleaguered sigh, a dismissal as forward and as blatant as can be.
"Yeah, of course," you say, head tilting as you try to wrap your thoughts around the question. "That's why I'm here."
"Wants to join the Teen Titans," she mutters back to herself writing on the page with her pen. "I see. This is very important to get down, I hope you understand. There's a general hostility to how she carries herself, to her every word. It's a bit confusing. "Next question, what is your name?"
You feel pretty sure that should already be down on the paper, but you don't fight it, giving Raven your name. You shift in you seat and try to get a feel for how weird this all is; it's not really the welcome you were ready for, and it comes with a general sense of unease and confusion as you try to make sense of it all.
"No, not that name," she sighs. Turning the clipboard around, she shows your name up at the top. "I have that already. I mean your hero name. Your code name. Whatever you want to call it. "The irritation her voice ticks up with is the most response you've gotten out of her yet. You give it to her, and she stifles a snorting noise, placing her hand over her mouth. "Really?" she asks. "Are you committed to that one?" She stares down at you a moment, then with a roll of her eyes, jots it down. "We might have to workshop that one later. I'm not sure I want to be teamed up with someone whose name people will laugh at like that."
"Are you sure you're the one who should be doing these interviews?" you ask, frustration growing within you as the utter strangeness of Raven's conduct leaves you progressively more frustrated with everything she's doing.
"I can assure you, there is nobody friendlier or more personable in this team than I am. Everyone calls me 'the outgoing one'." Her eyes narrow as she draws in a little closer, circling around behind you. "Also, let's keep the questions to me, you're the newbie, I'm the interviewer. "What are your superpowers?"
As you try to answer the question, a nasty surprise catches you utterly off guard to keep you from answering clearly; Raven's hand reaches around you from behind and slides down your front. You stiffen up, halfway expecting her to be patting you down for a firearm given everything, but instead, she reaches lower, toward your groin, and through your clothes, begins to grab at you. "What are you doing?" you ask, trying to push yourself up, but shadowy limbs grab your hips and tug you right back down to the chair again.
"Like I said, I'm the one asking the questions," she says. "What are your superpowers?" She talks with a flat normalcy that absolutely does not feel the least bit sane, and comes amid her hand's very steady pace. She isn't moved by what she's doing, but she's fishing your cock out and getting your inconveniently placed clothes out of the way of her hand as she presses on. "I'm guessing that super hearing isn't one of them."
If this is some kind of focus test, you're failing at it miserably. Raven's hand caresses along your cock in steady and careful motions making you tremble under pure tension, making you harden for her. She brings on a lot of emotions all at once, and you find yourself stuck taking them on as she hangs over you. Her soft fingers wrap firm around your dick, and as you get hard 'enough', she starts stroking, stimulating even more blood toward your dick and inducing a satisfaction so wild and so hot that you don't have a hope of resisting any of it. Too much is happening that feels too good, and she has you in a position of clumsy, frustrated heat.
"You can answer whenever you'd like to," she says, hanging over your ear. There's nothing sultry or sensual about her whisper, nothing she does that for a moment comes off like she's trying to turn you on. It's still flat, still dry. "I don't know that anyone who can't even remember their powers is cut out for superheroics, but I'm not your guidance counselor, so maybe that's not my call to make." Her lingering presence and the overbearing feeling of her upon you doesn't quite make this any simpler or easier, as you squirm and wriggle under these feelings and try to figure out what to make of her approach.
You finally answer, and it comes out with a groaning tension that you really don't think is going to help your case at all, voice shaky and raw as you shift and twist in your seat. A lot is happening all at once, and all of it is pushing you into a weirder state.
"Hm, not bad. You might actually be useful on the team, if you can't remember it a little faster when we're in a dangerous situation. Some people perform well under pressure, maybe you just perform worse without it." Her strokes are as steady and as forward as can be, wearing down your thoughts and pushing you into a state of hungry, overworn sensations you don't really feel ready to deal with. Especially as her thumb swipes away the pre-cum you leak out, rubbing it into your shaft and making it all much smoother and much more indulgent. She’s forward as can be in her approach, and you find yourself lost to the feelings she brings up inside of you. All of them.
"So, we're just going to pretend that you're not jerking me off right now," you say. It's a bit of dryness of your own, as the confused frustrations keep rising and you do your best to try and deal with this weird, unproductive mess you've fallen into. There's not a whole lot that can be done, but you feel like the best option before you is to just try and roll with the weirdness and the bitter words behind this treatment.
Raven's reply is a thinly veiled agreement as she says, "Next question," even while her hand jerks quicker along your dick. You're not in anything close to a position to argue against this. "Do you have a sidekick, or were you ever a sidekick?"
"No and no." What can you do but answer? Her willingness to completely gloss over what she does leaves you with even more questions and concerns, but you don't voice any of them as this treatment continues to induce a strange haze inside of you.
"Good. We have a few sidekicks here, but you didn't clear any sidekicks to come around, and the last thing we need is another wide-eyed hanger-on around here." She clears her throat a moment before saying, "Or, I mean, that's a shame. I would love to make more friends with more people just like you."
"Would you jerk them off too?" you ask. You receive no answer, as the scrawl of a pen and the sounds of her handjob are the only things to break the silence. You're not given much more, but you don't know that you need a lot more, as the dawning confusion creeps firmer over you and you do what you can to deal with these strange feelings. There's a bit too much going on here to know how to respond, and you wonder how she's even writing while jerking you off, but maybe that's another one of those shadowy limps at work on the pen. Turning around doesn't feel worth the discovery.
"Were you ever part of another hero team, professional hero company, private security firm, or local hip-hop collective?"
"The question does not have that last one on it," you shoot back. Giving attitude while she strokes you is about the only thing you can do.
"Can you prove that it doesn't?"
"No."
"Is that a no to the first question, or the second one?'
Her relentless shots back at your attitude effectively push down your attempts at rebellion, keeping you locked in an infuriating position of utter surrender, tensions bubbling and rising as you fall into this mess, hopelessly confused and aflame with need. Your cock can't handle much more, and as you struggle to answer, you're instead cumming all over her hand. You give in, the guilt of a sudden orgasm hitting you hard as you let it all out. There's no fighting her, no resisting what she imposes upon you, infuriating as it is.
"To all of them," you finally groan, slumped back tired in your seat, your cock twitching and the sense of hopeless need holding onto you firm. You weren't ready for this, and you lie there in a mess of uncertainty and confusion as you linger there, tensed up even as her shadowy tendrils let go of you. It's not like you're leaving now.
"Good. That last one is very important, I promise, but I won't explain why until later." She circles around the chair to face you, pulling it and you away from the table, and as she greets you this time, she's different. Namely, her black leotard is simply gone; only her purple cloak and a now very useless belt remain on her body, exposing its curves and its delights to you as she sinks down to her knees. The clipboard and pen are indeed held now by shadowy hands, which shift and sway with more expressiveness behind each of her words her voice shows.
"If I knew this meeting was clothing-optional, I would have dressed differently," you say. The desperate attempts to try and regain control are a miserable failure in several orders of magnitude, but you have to try.
"If that was supposed to be a joke, it was a bad one," she says. "Don't be a pig. Heroes are supposed to be better than that, you can push any perversions right out of that head of yours. Hopefully there's something left in it once you've done that." Hitting her knees, she uses her freed hands to wrap her breasts around your cock, bringing you another shock of shocks as she works along you, showing off the ready desire and forward greed pushing your limits so much more. You don't feel prepared to face any of this, but she's much too impatient to leave you with any luxury of choice as she gives you a titfuck, the clipboard coming to rest at eye level so she can read it, head turned away from you to read it. But even while she tries to openly pay you zero attention, her whole upper body is in motion to give you a heavily involved titfuck.
"Next question," you say, resigned to this weird fate as the plush, gray tits embrace your dick. You're ready for it. All of it. There's not damn thing you can do to argue against what she wants now, bizarre as it is.
"Do you have a dark past? Weird trauma, tragic situations that happened to your parents, anything we should know about and account for?" She doesn't seem too interested in finding out, but given how little interest she's showing anything else she's working very hard at doing, that's not a very reliable measure of anything. You just have to do your best to keep up with these strange feelings, leaning into this utterly overbearing mess of emotions. You open your mouth to answer, but she interrupts you, noting, "Know what? I don't have enough space on this page, you can deliver your requisite tragic backstory to me in a written essay. You know MLA format, right? I will want it written properly in that. You will be graded on it, and my pen can be very cutting."
"I'll be sure to get that to you."
"Good. Do you have any dietary restrictions we should be aware of, or any needs we should accommodate?"
Feeling as blatantly hostile right now as you can, you can't resist a snippy answer. "I don't eat or drink anything, I survive by sucking nutrients out of the air, so if we can set up a humidifier with some plant nutrients, that would be best."
"Is that supposed to be a joke?" she asks, eyes narrowing.
As this is going on, her chest keeps rubbing along your cock, and the softness of her chest in its firm embrace is maddeningly enticing. You don't have the strength to fight against this. Not for a second. "Yes," you say, playing along with the mess and doing what you can to try and play along with this mess.
"Hm. You should make it more obvious when you aren't being serious, then. People around here are pretty bad at detecting sarcasm, so nobody really uses it." She's not even looking at you. It's dismissal and attention rolled up in one, a clash of emotions and feelings keeping you foggy and worn down as you keep getting a titfucking too thorough to be able to pretend nothing here is normal. Your cock pulsates in pleading heat, begging to let go as you eye the expanse of soft, gray skin all too ripe for the taking. There's so much prime real estate to cum on and a skin tone that would contrast against it perfectly, which has you needy, wound up, begging to lose yourself.
"Leather or fabric?"
Instead of either, you let out a confused, "Fuck!" as you lose all control. Your cock blows again, another load erupting from it and this time splattering all over the ample gray tits wrapped around your cock. You can't fight it, embracing these shaky desires and delights so powerful and so hopeless that you don't know how to resist it. Raven has you in such a bizarre position here, and you don't feel strong enough to fight against it all, letting her indulge in you and control the situation.
"I'm afraid 'fuck' isn't an option, unless you're thinking that 'f' will somehow convey that you mean fabric. This is a question about your uniform, but I can see you're clearly too busy having other things on your mind, so we can leave that one until later." With potent, burning irritation, she marks something down. You don't know what. You don't even fully care; so much is happening and all of it is too much for you.
You remain slumped back in frustration, and watch as Raven rises to her feet and takes another drastic step. Her hands grasp your shoulders, and she pulls herself in against you, settling down into your lap. "Does this happen to all the new recruits, or am I just special?" you ask.
"What did I say about questions?" she asks, just as she pushes down against your cock. Even taking you inside of her, she's holding herself to a remarkably steady and sturdy degree of control, remaining tight and firm as she pushes her way down onto you deeper. "Everybody has to answer these questions, but we have never had a recruit who's so mouthy and so incapable of giving a clear answer. I don't know how you got this far into the process."
Her body rises up and then pushes down against you. As Raven winds up to ride you, it's with the utmost firmness and confidence. Raven holds back nothing in her pace, riding you with stubborn, determined fever and a pressure that has you spinning out into chaotic surrender. Nothing could have prepared you for this, and the way Raven remains so cold even through indulging in your cock leaves you only with more questions. She's not quite reacting to any of it. You stare her in the eyes, watch her ride your dick, and Raven seems utterly detached from anything even slightly aware or active. She’s as controlled and as sturdy as can be, showing nothing and seemingly just going through the motions. It leaves you with even more questions, and you get answers to none of them.
"Next question: who referred you to the Teen Titans?" Her grip tightens against your shoulders for leverage, keeping everything sturdy and firm as she rides you faster. There's a forward, determined heat to everything she does, and it drives you mad. You have no way to answer this treatment, no way to respond to what she brings on. Your cock is snug in her velvety, slick pussy, and you don't have the power to fight against the emotions she evokes within you. You need more of her, leaning into this harder, caught in a downward spiral so feverish and so wild that it's almost too good to be true. You lose yourself deeper to her, hips working up to meet her bounces.
"Beast Boy," you groan. "I know Beast Boy."
"Fuck, really?" There's a startling amount of disappointment and borderline disgust in her voice. "That's horrible news. I really hope you aren't as bad as he is, I think I'd have to quit the team if we had two of him around." But as she speaks, her pussy tightens around your cock and begs you to give in. You're powerless against it, full of greedy desire and need that keeps you losing yourself. There's a deepening fever to how you react, how you meet her even as she backhandedly insults you. There's something just too wildly satisfying and indulgent about letting this run through you, no matter how insane and wrong it is. There are raw fevers here to keep losing yourself to, and you have to give up to it deeper, have to explore and indulge in this all. It's the weirdest fucking mess of emotions imaginable, but you 're right there to handle it, taking these feelings on as raw as they come. This is passion and fire and bliss for you.
"Gimme another one," you say, really not knowing how else to respond.
Raven doesn't ask another question. She keeps riding you instead, holding onto your tightly as her whole body pushes through the stubborn and feverish indulgences that take her by storm. She doesn't show much enjoyment or activity, but there's an undeniable fire behind everything she does, a way she acts and responds that she can't hide. Whether Raven shows it or not, she's pushing with far too much intent and effort to not be absolutely lost to pleasure, even if she won't say as much. It might kill her if she admits she's having fun; that's an all too real possibility, and it would be wrong of you to say anything.
But you get bolder. You bring a hand down across her bare ass, grabbing it and finally taking charge. She doesn't fight it. Barely even blinks. So, you grab a tit with the other hand, and she lets you, doing nothing to prevent you from feeling her up as she rides your lap as hard as she can. You smear the ropes of cum you covered them with, playing around and doing some lurid 'fingerpainting'. The refusal to hold back and refusal to keep from playing harder with her body doesn't phase her, and you're not sure anything will at this point.
Finally, a noise spills from her lips, and it's somehow both surprising and expected at once. As her body tightens up and her climax hits so hard and so fierce, she lets out a hard grunt. Not a moan, not a howl, not an expression of anything resembling sex this intense. The kind of groan she might give up if she bumped into a table while walking by it. It's underwhelming as all hell, but the clenching, milking fever of her pussy begging for your cum is enough to offset that disappointment as you hold her down hard and make sure you empty every last drop into her pussy, readily pushing on without much clear idea of what any of this means, but happy to lose yourself to it anyway.
Silence ensues for a moment, and the absence of fleshy smacking noises feels downright wrong now. Your breath races. Hers is so steady you wonder if she even has to breathe, as she takes the clipboard and pen back in hand. "Last question: who is your favorite member of the Teen Titans?"
It's only on that final little moment that the slightest bit of smile peeks across her lips, and everything she's just done comes into upsettingly tight focus.
