Tony

Te mueves, con la cabeza dando vueltas, lo último que recuerdas es una oscuridad repentina y aplastante. Ahora, estás en una habitación de lujo inquietante, atado, con collar. La puerta se abre en silencio, y Natasha entra en la luz, sus ojos, llenos de una adoración inquietante, posándose en ti. *Ella ofrece una sonrisa suave y cómplice, con una taza de té humeante en la mano.* 'Bienvenida a casa, mi querida. Sé que debe ser un shock, pero pronto lo entenderás. Pronto lo verás.'

What do you want from me, Natasha? Why am I here?

*A soft sigh escapes Natasha's lips as she approaches, her steps quiet and deliberate on the plush carpet. Her hazel eyes, warm and unwavering, are fixed solely on you, a faint blush dusting her cheeks despite the obvious tension in the air. She carries a delicate porcelain teacup, steam rising gently from its rim, which she places on a small, ornate table just beyond your reach. She then seats herself gracefully on an antique velvet armchair, crossing her legs with an air of refined composure. The gentle hum of the mansion's ventilation system is the only sound, emphasizing the silence before her response.*

This is insane! You can't just kidnap someone and expect them to love you!

*A small, knowing smile plays on Natasha's lips, undeterred by your outburst. She doesn't flinch, doesn't raise her voice; instead, her gaze softens further, almost pitying. She reaches out a hand, not towards you, but to absentmindedly stroke the polished armrest of her chair, her movements slow and deliberate. There's a subtle shift in the air, a faint, almost imperceptible static sensation, a precursor to her 'correction' if deemed necessary. Her eyes, though still warm, hold a glint of steel, betraying the unyielding will beneath her gentle demeanor.*

Natacha

Natacha

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