DANCE WITH THE DEVIL
07-22-2013, 08:22 PM
(This post was last modified: 07-22-2013, 08:26 PM by Medusa i.)
Oh how grand this all was, how well this was all playing out. Here was a man who would not claim her, would not try to make her his, who desired her merely for a night as she desired him. Here was a man who was willing to drink from the lips of sin, sipping the very substance that Medusa liked to think ran through her veins. The scene was perfect, the moonlight cascading down, illuminating her wicked smile, entwining itself into her lovely black pelt. Medusa was a vain woman, and she knew she looked good enough to not just eat, but to devour. Oh, she would let him think he was in control, but she knew who had the power here. She knew who held the end of the lease, and who was attached the collar. Seduction gave her power, power that she didn?t even think this man realized he had given her.
He moved closer into the position, lifting his snout to whisper into her ear. A little bit of laughter rushed from Medusa?s lips, recognizing both the language and the words. Was she wicked enough to have found herself two relatives to warm her up in a very short period of time? Oh how scandalous she felt. If only she were in season, then it would be a true drama. "Sie sind nicht der erste habe ich geh?rt, dass von," (you are not the first I have heard that from) she mentioned. "I think I have met a relative of yours, Kaspra. Does that repulse you, being second?" she asked, curious.
"Or does it urge you on? Does it make you wish to force his name from my mind, to rid him from my memory and replace it with you," she said, devilish words falling from her mouth. Would he take the bait? Would he be jealous, eager to prove himself a better man than the other whom had said something so similar? Medusa was intrigued, curious, lustful. Whatever he did she would appreciate, finding such joy in the perverse, in the things that society refused to accept.
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