Anxiety Trials is a Pokemon Special sandbox RP. We are a friendly, no-fuss site where you don't have to worry about posting 24/7, but when you've got the muse. We are based loosely around the Pokemon Special/Adventures manga, though set in a slightly alternate universe. If you're looking for a fun place to explore what life with Pokemon would be like, hopefully we're the place for you!
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4th Feb 14
As those of you who have been with us for a while can see, we've done some updating on the site. To our new membes, welcome! We've reverted to our original name and are going to move forward with six month! See all our new, updated summaries in the "Need to Knows" section for a full run-down on what has happened!
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Snow is starting to melt in most regions, they are beginning to see Spring
ANXIETY TRIALS was created by Fate. The skin which includes the Board Mod, Mini Profile and Sidebar are created by Dorothia @ Adoxography. The tabbed sidebar was created by kimset of RPG D'. Plug ins were made by their respective PB Support member. All other information which includes but is not limited to, Character Plots, Character Applications and more belong to their rightful owner. Pokemon/Pokemon Special is the property of Nintendo.
Disgustingly well, to be exact. What did you give a man who had everything? One who refused to waste his time with the company of the inferior? Give him something he doesn’t have: an addiction. Untwining the person behind the knife, the valiant, desperate, miserable woman behind the attack had always been his favorite hobby. The eyes behind his would-be savior were ones that reminded him of himself, a reflection of something he knew all too well.
Time would give him power of her; the power to bring out her inner nature with his loving nurturing.
“It changes when our wants are one and the same.”
Moments like these were best sealed with a kiss. It made them romantic, swearing off their mindless chatter with affections of the lips. That’s what Fernando was, romantic. It didn’t matter if she didn’t want it or he was hurting her. It was the thought that counted. The fact his lips were so feverish in their hunt for her own just showed just how much he cared about her.
He was being romantic!
To do anything but accept would be the highest level of disrespect.
There seemed to be a strange shift in his...motives? She wasn't sure what to pin it as, but something had most definitely changed. Anna paused, wary of the transition in behavior. She was vulnerable. He was in control. Nothing new, but the revelation of the moment would halt her movement altogether. She had been prey, hiding. The predator had finally found her burrow, and she was trapped inside. Too late to turn back. The mask would have to continue.
She wasn't able to get a word out before his lips were on hers; what was she to do, but oblige? Her body was tense, but she wouldn't completely freeze in front of danger-- that was idiocy. Finish your job. To say she wasn't forcing herself would be a complete lie; then again, if the contact the two were sharing had been completely against her will, she would have pulled away by now. His kiss had comforted her in the past, but she had been used to the tenderness of the moment. Today it caught her off guard, shaking her up. She would respond to the best of her ability, yet the fact that her gears have been turning could be completely ignored.
Where she would stop, he would pick up. His rigid body loosened up as he prodded her, bringing his body closer to hers. Putty would’ve been too harsh a word for Anna, but that’s exactly what she was. She would know all too well that escaping his claws was a task best left for luck. Hopefully, by now, he had taught her not to trust in such trivialities. Fernando would be taking his deepest desire, one that, for the first time since fate brought them together, they shared.
“I do.”
This was spiraling out of control, away from his predictions. What he presumed would take weeks were coming to fruition in mere days. Would he take the risk and push her to the limit, test her bluff, and taste the delicious fruits of his labor? Yes. Tonight he was going to ravage her, show her just how different he was from the men of her past. Tonight would be the nigh—
Brrringgg~
No. Not now. Not when--
Brrringgg~
The rings would be ignored but he couldn’t help but feel a small squirm of awkwardness coming from himself. If whoever had just called him ruined his night, there would be hell to pay. That was a promise and one he fully intended to keep.
Breathing would hitch as he brought them closer together. She would find herself going in to kiss him again-- why did her mind keep changing, racing? The thought of escape was not promising, but she doubted she could go through with any of this. You're thinking too much. She knew she would have to think with her body in this situation, leave her mind idle until it was safe to allow her thoughts to start racing once more. She would begin to find herself more... desperate, than before, becoming sloppy in allowing instinct to take over.
She was starting to think that she did want what he was offering; that her scar would only fully heal for him, that she--
Brrringgg~
Anna paused, her shoulders tensing. The ring would either serve as a distraction or an escape-- she didn't know which she wanted. Thoughts were turbid, and Fernando was persistent as ever. Her mind took over.
Pulling away from him, the woman glanced in the direction of the source.
As if Fernando would allow something as trivial as a phone call interrupt their sacred time together. Unless Silph Co was set ablaze, he could think of nothing else that would acquire his immediate attention. All eyes were on his Anna: his unhealthy obsession, his kryptonite. Urges over power will and Fernando is not one to be denied— until she stops him. Someone’s reasoning is still intact despite congregating impulses.
In the end, Fernando yields; Anna has a valid point. For someone to be desperate enough to bother him during his leisure time means that something has gone awry. Reluctantly, he pulls the phone before starring back at her. A sheepish grin comes over his face as he raises an index finger to her lips. He mouths her to hush before he actually takes the call.
He’s relentless.
“This is Silph. What’s the situation?””
Whatever the other person is saying is slowly droned out by Fernando’s mischievous advances. From her lips, his finger begins to trail downward, running from her neck unopposed until it reaches her waist. Even the most annoying obstacles can be overcome with persistent tearing.
His mind is half there and half on the phone, leaving his touch tender; exerting enough force becomes impossible while distracted. Maybe, now that his mind seems preoccupied, she’ll be less afraid of him pushing her past her edge. There’s little to fear from a man who isn’t paying attention.
“What? No, I’m listening.”
He has to bite his lip to suppress his urge to growl. The fact he can’t apply himself to his current task is already enough of an annoyance. It’s bothersome but it won’t stop him. Not now, not when he’s almost there.
“You’re cutting way too tight to the deadline.”
If he’s going to be strung along then so will she.
“If we don’t have enough for product then stretch out the material. Loosen it up if you have to.”
The call is nothing short of the worst sort of torment, but more so for Anna.
“No. Fuck! If you move too much of it everything will explode. Just be careful and gentle. No need to be premature. Everything’s going as planned.”
He swears he could make out some sort of mew coming from her, but he ignores it, for now.
“Are you crying? Stop sniveling. You sound like you’re going to wet yourself.”
His hand is getting tired; hopefully the call ends soon.
“You’re pushing it. If you can’t handle it then slow down and wait. I rather you finish the job completely rather than spazz out before completion. “
His patience is only held in place by the promise of what’s to come.
The small window of opportunity she had led herself to believe existed shattered the moment he picked up the phone. While it had seemed plausible that she may be able to squirm out of his grasp while he was distracted, Fernando told her otherwise when his finger met her lips. She blinked, drawing away from him; at the time she was still under the impression that she could simply get up and slink out of the room, to leave him to his call. Plans never really worked out though, and Anna found herself stuck on his lap, his touch trailing low.
Dangerously low.
The surge of panic would need to be suppressed, she would need to focus on something else. The torn article of clothing tossed aside like garbage. Her gaze would fixate on cloth as Fernando roamed ground he had not set foot on before; without her realizing, a sound escaped her throat.
Her face would straighten as she looked at him; he didn't notice, or, didn't outwardly. His tone is a distraction from his actions; though an angry Fernando is a rougher Fernando, and she would prefer to have him calm.
Anna can't help herself; she leans forward despite her trembling body. Her lips meet his neck, dangerously close to the cell phone. She remains quiet though; the voice buzzing through the receiver is just that: a buzz. She would trail along his jawline, teeth barely grazing the rough skin she had gotten so used to. The woman used his body to muffle the beginning of the sounds coming from her own; she would be ashamed in the morning, but with the option of fleeing eliminated, she's left to let physical emotion overrule mental health.
Fernando has expected her to take it. Escape was not something Anna could accomplish, not something she would dare. But for her to respond so acceptingly, so welcomingly, it took him by surprise. It’s enough to make him shiver, to groan into the phone. The buzzing becomes louder and the person on the other side becomes audible.
Are you even listening?
“You interrupted me during my private hours. What do you think?”
The scorn in his voice is enough for the line to go silent. Seconds tick away and only then does the trespasser realize just what he’s intruding on. Fernando pushes him to go on and the conversation continues. His playtime doesn’t stop, Anna’s responses become more open, more forward, more primal as her inhibitions are loosened. She can hate him, she can fight him, but she can’t win against biology. She's losing, badly, and about to pronounce it for the world to hear.
But Anna Gully will not cry. Even now she still has some sense of pride and the fact that Fernando has invited another to listen in on them disturbs her. Persistent, what’s left of her mind tells her to be resourceful, to use Fernando as her shield. If anyone’s going to be heard it’ll be Fernando. The bite marks that cover his trapezuis is proof enough.
The call can only last so long and Fernando is tempted to simply toss the mobile device like he did her clothes. He doesn’t though, he doesn’t have to. Patience is a virtue and he’s rewarded with Anna quivering on his lap.
Cries don’t stop him, they only encourage him. Begging won’t make him end it, he’ll only spoil her. He teeters in a realm between satisfaction and pure agony, curious, exploring uncharted depths onto how much she can handle and nothing too serious happens. He’s not a man of patience but he can wait for Anna. He can do just about anything for Anna.
Mercy is not a trait Fernando often exhibits but it’s something Anna finds for the second day in a row. Thoroughly played with, she’s allowed to leave when her exhaustion becomes blaringly apparently. To the bed she’s sent, he’ll find her sleeping by the time he finally makes it back.
There’s much to do and Fernando isn’t too savvy when it comes to cleaning.
A loose shake of his hands causes them to dry; a wipe against his towel is added for good measure. Cautiously, he brings a finger back to his mouth to taste it. It’s the fifth time he’s washed his hands and he still can’t rid the taste of her off of them. He doesn’t mind it but he’s concerned. Last night has been the only thing on his mind and even he’s become aware of his obsession. He’s a man possessed and it’s scaring him. What used to be a capable monster is nothing more than an enchanted beast. He’s happy, now, but that’s only because for the short term. If this continues Anna might prove to be a lethal crack in his impenetrable wall.
Distance makes the heart strong, patience makes the will strong; strength is the only currency Fernando truly values. Tonight will be a chaste night, one where sight will have to do. That’s what he’s planning, anyway, but like yesterday proved, plans rarely come to fruition. He’ll harden himself, become stone itself, but Anna is someone who can make him soft with need. She makes him hungry.
“Two days in a row and I’ve yet to see a show. I’ve been sated but the objective hasn’t been met. Dancers shouldn’t be so hands on with their customers, miss.”
His seat is clean, cleansed of last night’s impurities, and housing the grand master as he waits for her performance. Crossed legs affirm the notion that his seat will be the only seat tonight. A lap dance is customary for this line of work but Fernando doesn’t trust himself. The stray thoughts of self-control are disregarded— he’s a known liar.
The only real truth is the expectant smirk plastered all over his smug face.
Being caught between pain and pleasure, between want and need, was never something Anna was used to. She knew if it hurt. She knew if it didn't.
The previous night would prove her wrong.
Again.
Strength would be the only driving force tonight. Dread ran through her veins, her mind raced with solutions to an ever-growing problem. How to stall, how to escape. Any solution to worming her way out of actually dancing for him were welcomed, though impossible. She was caught between a wall and his chair, and Fernando would never let her walk out so easily.
I'll never be ready.
She would look down at herself, examining the thin, skimpy cloth she was donned in. Was this his command, or did she think it would help? Anna couldn't remember, but she was more than aware of her hatred for it.
There would never be enough time to stall. She could only stand, stare at him, eyes pleading for some sort of mercy. Of course, she was more than aware she had already received such; she was already pushing it over the edge.
Was he really expecting a performance, though? Anna didn't dance. She hadn't then. She didn't now. She would have rather been drugged and forced to throw herself about lazily than be conscious and attempt it.
Her knees would bend, her hands would raise, her eyes would close, she would distort herself to make one part of her more prominent than the rest. She could keep her eyes dull, she would shut herself down, become her own puppet, become his puppet. She would never meet his eyes, not while she was forcing herself to move. It was painful, more so mentally. Her dignity was on the ground, in between his teeth, like meat to be chewed.
Fernando would sit through the exposition. He would sit through the half-assed moves that Anna would present him. If she was expecting it to be enough then she was wrong, and rightfully so. Minutes would pass and he became bored, dull, disgusted. He had never expected her to do anything amazing— adapting wasn’t her forte. But for her to shut herself off was to avoid the punishment. This was meant to be totally agony.
A clap of his hands signal for her to stop. He’s far from pleased and his glare is sharp. “I’m not just anybody, Anna.” His message is clear. “Put some heart into it. For your regular, darling.”
His foot sagged over his knee, wriggling impatient as he waited. Teeth would grit against each other and Fernando was tired of chewing into the metaphorical jerky. He wanted something more appetizing, something softer, something juicier.
The word was sickening, her jaw clenched, her nails curled into her palms. She would remain off, she would remain as indifferent as she possibly could, but the word his the bulls-eye. It only reinforced his theory that she was merely property. That she never changed. That she was still a slave.
It was more than obvious she hated it.
"Yes sir."
The rasp held a bite; harmless, but not as compliant as it should have been.
Vocal agreement wasn't always promising, though.
Anna would continue to function on her off switch, testing the waters. Surely it would result in guilt, pain, anything that he threw at her would be unpleasant.
But it wouldn't be the first time she endured. She'd avoid dancing as long as she could, even if it meant he had to control her arms and legs for her.
Words were one thing, actions were another. Just because she vocally agreed to do so didn’t mean she would. Anna could be ridiculously stubborn, enough to the point that Fernando would have to actively coerce her into obeying. If he had to, he’d bend her with his own hands, but that was a last resort. If he barked loud enough he was sure she’d falter.
“I won’t say it again, Anna. Do it properly.”
She’s brave but far from stupid. There’s a line and Fernando knows she won’t cross it. Not now, not this soon after the last time she dared to tread on it. And if she did? He’d teach her place and remind her why she was forced to submit in the first place.
The gripping temptation to disregard his orders completely for a second time was almost convincing enough to make her obey her own commands. Fortunately, her mind told her otherwise; the heart was stupid. Idiotic. Incompetent. She would have to think with the left half of her brain. The side that was telling her to act, to bow to his command before she forced his hand in breaking her. Anna hesitated, eyes closing briefly. Any thought of doing what he wanted her to do to a point caused enough anxiety within her; acting on it was something completely different.
She would remain silent this time, staring at the ground as she ran her hands down her own body. Facing him was everything but an option, and her eyes would remain fixed elsewhere. It was obvious she was awake; the tension in her movement, the sheer hesitation, was enough to give it away. Her dull stare had been replaced by bright, but watery eyes. She was nowhere near crying, but lack of sleep and mental exhaustion would tell observers otherwise. Feet would remain planted and shoulders anything but relaxed as she moved. The maximum effort would seem minimum, but Fernando would know otherwise.
Deviant eyes would follow the path of her hands, allowing her to manipulate his vision and guide what she wanted him to see. The beady greed within his pupils lost themselves at her movements, soaking up her aversion to lose. No matter how much he beckoned, Anna Gully would still desire to be her own person. Directed, crafted, but still her own. To have her give this up out of fear and an undying feeling of apprehension made him squirm in delight.
Don’t touch her.
Each thought became unbearable, screaming, doing whatever they could to remind him just where he stood. Tonight was supposed to be torture not indulgence. Anna was not to be touched. Temperance was supposed to be a measure of his self-discipline, to affirm that he was more than just a man.
“Come here.”
Hollow words would prove otherwise. As much as he tried to fight it off, Fernando felt the lack of control prying at his lips. Discipline was overrated and he was a man of vice. With the world as his cloyster, why did it matter whether or not he decided to lick the lustrous pearl?
His command effectively catches her off guard. His posture would say otherwise; why was he telling her to approach? She was hesitant, a trembling fawn. Her legs brought her closer nonetheless, eyes wide as she stared at his chest (eyes still proved to be too difficult for now).
"Yes?"
Her voice is rough, near muted now. The word comes out in a whisper; she's waiting for criticism, for punishment. Surely she's made another fatal mistake in the small amount of time she defied him.
There’s not much Fernando can do about the aching that growing within him. The wicked thought saturating his mind starts to tell him to take it, to take her. Her quivering only reinforces the idea that she’s his to do as he pleases. Anna is made for him, nothing more than a toy for him to play with. But is it right for him to have such an obsession with a mere toy?
As if Anna Gully was a mere toy. No, she’s much more. She’s special but Fernando can’t and refuses to define just what she is to him. So he does this, among other thing, to bring her down for his own satisfaction. She can avert gazing into his eyes but she’ll never escape his gaze.
“I want to see it up close. I want you to tease me so dance. Make me want it.”
His words are stern if not spiteful, self contempt rising from his throat as he goes back on his earlier promise. No one knows Fernando better than himself and there’s no point in denying it. He’s a greedy man with no control.
He wants her more than ever. There’s a punishment to be had for being so tempting and she’s teasing him. It’s an honor to have such an effect on him but a curse all the same. How does one satisfy someone who’s never satisfied?
It's a defense mechanism-- she's stalling, fidgeting, right in front of him. All hope of squirming out of this damn situation is dashed by Fernando's constant threat looming over her. While sh could never be sure what exactly that threat was, it was enough to keep her obeying his every word. Most of the time.
Yet she continues to stand, body tense, mind contemplating. Quitting is in the front of her mind, but Anna is quite aware it's not near being an option.
"Proximity doesn't matter."
She doubts he'll release her so easily, but she continues to stall.