PAPERCUT

He moved quickly, assuming a position that she could only describe as dominating. He stood over her, and for the moment that his nose touched her throat she stiffened, preparing herself to attack if necessary. Nonetheless, he didn?t bite in, didn?t try to make her bleed out, a thought that both relaxed and disappointed her. It would be most glorious to go out in a passionate way, to find her end in the grasp of a temporary lover, strangled by the grasp of orgasm and pleasure. And yet she knew she could not give in to such a thing yet, not when she was so needed by her dear Jupiter.
His snout moved along her belly, her back arching, body pressing into his touch as silent whimpers and moans parted from her lips. ?My name is Medusa,? she spoke, sounding as if speaking German was beyond possibility of the whore. She was fluent in the language, just as she was fluent in many others, but she hoped that it seemed like she knew when to drop it for effect. She was nothing if not dramatic, after all.
His tongue would trail down, touching more and more delicate skin as he went, making the harlot groan. He would stop right near her most sensitive area, making her look at him as if disappointed. She whined, a beg for him to give her the attention. ?B-bitte,? (please) she begged, although in all truth she could likely hold out with his teasing. If she was in a different mood, perhaps she would have let him tease her, would have resisted giving into provocation. But she was not in the mood now, and though she could have resisted, she decided to give in, and to sound like a needy, whiny whore.