Title: Binding Out the Horrors

Characters: Dylan Fuentes- imgur.com/a9VqMKC   imgur.com/i4RtDOW   imgur.com/udQBzYx
                  Claire Redfield- imgur.com/XaSept4    imgur.com/YeJ0Tvs

Location: A classical sex dungeon, pink or red furniture, spot-lights- and supplies of toys and gear. Any visible door or windows is boarded up to indicate a zombie outbreak outdoors.

Synopsis: Claire, sitting on the bed. In the middle of being tied up by ropes by Dylan. Her legs are bound together at the ankles and thighs- her torso has some more decorative, but tight, rope bindings- forming a rope-bra. Her wrists are just being bound together by Dylan. She is clearly holding her hands out to him, with a wry smile but also a raised eyebrow- the beginnings of a blush. Underneath the rope bindings, Claire is wearing her standard short sleeve black shirt, and a pair of red panties- her vest and shorts discarded on the floor. Dylan himself has one leg leaned onto the bed, gently tying the ropes around Claire's wrists, a big devilish but patient smile under his mask. If enough of his skin is showing, himself blushing a bit. More ropes still wound together can be seen on the bed or perhaps on the floor. He is dressed as he is in the refs.

Story: There always seemed to be another outbreak- no matter where one turned, no matter how secure a place felt, someone was going to smuggle in the virus and start it all over again. Claire was one of a growing number of agents sent in to try to uncover the source, rescue an important individual, or just to make the bureaucrats happy. And, despite how many times she did it- how many disasters she survived- some part of her never got used to the destruction, the monsters.

Everyone had their thing they turned to, to relax, to drown out the horrors. Some turned to alcohol, recreational drugs, submerging themselves in violence, others took part in sex. Lots of it. Claire had become one of the latter- but not just anything would do, no, the way she found release from the stresses of the Life, was in release. A release of responsibility, a release of choice. It was something she could never make anyone curious understand- that giving up any level of control just felt so liberating, especially in the bedroom.

Well, at this moment she craved it badly- Clean up procedures, a scouring of the city for enduring creatures, or well defended survivors. It was getting tedious, dark, exhausting. She had long lost count as she downed another beast, and was about to take out the disposal oil when another figure set it on fire in front of her. This man wore a pink cowboy hat, a leather mask and carried himself with an exaggerated swagger- he twirled his apparently custom flamethrower. He definitely wasn't a member of the clean up crew-

He introduced himself as Dylan, Dylan Fuentes, he owned the local Adult Recreational Shop before all this happened. It didn't take long for Claire to take up notice that not only did his mask have a gimp zipper on it, but he also wore a collar... and signs of other straps on below his coat. The exhausted part of her demanded for relief, to release the stress. And, after several minutes of walking through the ruined city, she just- asked- "What are you wearing that all for?"

With a wry smile, his sharp teeth flashing through the zipper. "It keeps me relaxed... got to keep down the stress during this nightmare." Oh Claire couldn't agree more. She only held out for another half hour before she finally caved in and asked- did his club survive? And if it did... could they take a break. He only smiled. Claire sent out her location to her superiors that she was going to hunker down- refresh, check her weapons.

It was a half truth...

(Yes, I'm just seconding 's, because I couldn't come up with anything myself and hers was the best of what's been submitted.)