Tara stood above the kneeling drone, crimson latex gleaming—wet-looking under the harsh lights. Hips cocked, hand perched there, she leaned forward, blonde around her neck... Her lips curled into a smirk of CRUEL satisfaction. 

“Two weeks,” she purred, voice low, like a knife in velvet. “Two. Weeks. Pathetic!” Her words sliced through the room, and hung there like smoke. 

The drone groaned—weak, muffled—its glossy red shell gleaming, the perfect restraint holding it in place. Every inch of it screamed  submission, though it couldn't scream in its fat and thick rubber. The seams, the locks, the polished curves. A twitch. A sign of life. Barely enough to call it fight, but it wasn’t enough to challenge her.... 

She moved closer, heels clicking soft, sharp steps. The drone’s visor reflected her twisted face. Her fingers reached out, tapping a sharp clink against its chest. She lingered there, fingertips tracing over the surface. A lover's touch. 

“Thought you were tough,” she murmured, voice dropping into that mocking sweetness. “But look at you. Weak. BROKEN." 

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Art by SantaimaZ ! Inspired by some Scriptor style rubber dolls! Love the smooth, encased face! 

https://www.deviantart.com/santaimaz/art/Tara-Leather-Thief-982821714

https://www.deviantart.com/santaimaz/art/Tara-Latex-Dress-982389316

https://bsky.app/profile/santaimaz.bsky.social