Tilly's really angry with you. More than anything she's fed up. You've gone missing again, although you know full well you can't survive outside your cage by yourself. Your tiny bug body can hardly make it over the lip of the cage. Your entire existence depends on her. Why do you test her patience?

She walks into the room in a tight tank top, tight jeans and high heel sandals and circles the coffee table, looking behind armchairs and beneath them, grabbing cushions and inspecting the cracks between them. As she approaches the corner of the room where you're huddled, you almost get ...

Tilly's really angry with you. More than anything she's fed up. You've gone missing again, although you know full well you can't survive outside your cage by yourself. Your tiny bug body can hardly make it over the lip of the cage. Your entire existence depends on her. Why do you test her patience?

She walks into the room in a tight tank top, tight jeans and high heel sandals and circles the coffee table, looking behind armchairs and beneath them, grabbing cushions and inspecting the cracks between them. As she approaches the corner of the room where you're huddled, you almost get stepped on but she suddenly stops and notices you. She says "Oh, there you are. Since you want to know so badly what it's like out here, I'll show you." She begins stepping on you with the sole of her heel, coming down quickly from a height and then squishing you slowly, then alternating between both tortuously. She'd like to crush you but she's having too much fun so she abruptly ends the shoe and undoes the buckle so she can do the same with her bare feet. "As a matter of fact," she says, "you're going to lick them clean for me." You willingly oblige, figuring it might buy you some compassion. You were wrong, she has more plans for you.

Picking you up by your puny little arms, she holds you for a moment and talks at you, her eyes boring into your tiny soul. You can't take your beady little eyes off her cleavage. She wonders what effect her breasts would have on you if she were to take you and hold you still between them. "Surely you'd," she muses, laughs at the thought of it. She threatens to bury you deep between them and then almost does once. You're gasping, weak, about to and then a devilish smile lights up her face and she places you on the coffee table. She slowly, menacingly unbuttons her jeans.