Bella's heart is pounding with the particular panic of a trapped predator. The ropes around her wrists are rough and chafing. The ropes around her ankles squeeze uncomfortably tight. The sensations following her are the nagging tugs at her hair where her sleek blue-black locks are tangled with Redana's knotty golden ones, the firmness of the space their backs share with each other that melts into softness as it descends to where their thighs are forced to brush against each other.

The fear-smell is gone. There are others now, a confusing cocktail of responses Bella does not have specific names for because she has spent her life trying to avoid them. But they're here now, swimming underneath the thickness of her perfume which somehow is still soaked into everything, and they bring color to Bella's face and a feverish warmth to her body. 

She thrashes like a caged animal in her bindings all the same. Her heart is about to burst, the pressure is so tight. Caught. Caught. Caught! She writhes, she twists her hips, she kicks her legs with all the power in her body, she torques her wrists past the point of agony to get her claws into her restraints. It's all for nothing. The chain holding her above the floor saps her of the leverage that would turn her weight to her advantage. The bindings around her wrists are such that her fingers, stretch how they may, can't reach anything but the Princess'. With her ankles bound to Redana's she can't even bend her legs up enough to get a good kick in, so all her straining accomplishes is adding the feeling of her body rubbing, brushing, touching up against her Mistress' to the miserable soup she's stuck in right now. 

Her ears turn on her head to catch the sound of the voice that's taunting her, but the rest of her head can't pivot to put eyes on it. It doesn't matter. She knows the voice. Her teeth clench hard against her gag, but the sharpness of her teeth are defeated by the thick leather. She chews anyway, not caring about the saliva bubbling up and dribbling down her chin to splash against her shirt. 

"Mnnnf! Ghllph hrrrrr, [i]MMMMrrrrm![/i] Ffffffk uuuuuu!"

It's not enough. The unintelligible threats aren't enough. Being bound hand and foot to Redana isn't enough. Bella's tail, the one part of her that's free to do what it will, whips free of the prison of two women and wraps itself possessively around Redana's stomach. It squeezes, as if its soft length would be enough to fend off all the trained warriors in the room and the voice that's commanding them. It writhes against her in challenge to everyone who thought that putting her in this predicament would be enough. This is Bella's prize. Nobody else's. 

Her fur is soft. Her voice descends into garbled moans that forget to even try to be words, taken as they are to hold the note of defiance mixed in with her desperation. She's trapped. She's helpless. She hates it.

She's going to kill Mynx.