Perfect Scars Upon My Wrist [M]

Isk tightened around her abdomen and the devil cooed elegantly to nothing in particular. The demon burning in her loins seemed to have returned, seemed to be forever thirsty. No liquid could douse the eternal fire. Pleasurable simper would drawl over obsidian lips as the onyx cobra wound towards her back legs, descending her bodice much like a poll. "Such a tease you demon," she hissed, the harpy turning on her black pads towards the darkened forestry. "No one is out to play today!" She whined, the harpy pursing her lips and planting her body against the topography.

The venomous creature would turn to face her, his melanistic eyes blaring at her in wicked understanding. How perfect that she had found him and he had been able to please her, for it was truly the devil and her consort. Two demons. Two hell spawn. Two ravenous creatures. Cackle would slip from her elegant lips and the petite figure of the dame would send for a paw, pulling her creature nearest her, "I want to bring the world to their knees you know," He knew everything about her, knew her worst intentions. Her wishes to have the world before her as a partner something of a need more than the wanton lust it initially became. "I know Brinsssshana," he reviled as the angle of his lips curved into a diabolical sneer.

Speech.