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 Kicxjo - Yesterday at 7:20 PM
-Café Metro was situated in the quiet northern reaches of Bordego, its name befitting the eclectic but distinctly cosmopolitan high-rise core surrounded by a belt of sprawling flats and soulless commuter communities connected by jammed high-ways, bullet trains and a dying public transport system. The Northern Ward served as the playground, the Elysian Isles which socialites, spoiled kids, and tired salarymen with a bit of extra spending money could sail to and forget their troubles in the attractive aesthetic and environment which no one could gaze upon without being reminded of the latest cheesy rom-com to grace the theatres or arthouse film freshly premiered at the Cannes. On its sides, countless designer stores and local joints not quite busy, but certainly not wanting in patrons with their wide-glass displays and the ubiquitous flat-panel television screens that always bombarded passers-by with everything from corporate propaganda to government-sponsored news agencies kept alive through subsidies and precious, precious tax money. One could hardly even tell it was evening considering how bright the displays shimmered, everywhere imaginable plastered with neon lights or LED displays and a thousand company jingles tossed into the ocean of a logo-thirsty crowd. The café itself was a pleasant one, certainly quieter than more bombastic, modern establishments that carried all the latest features from android serving staff to personalized name-displays for disposable coffee cups. The owner was a bit of a traditionalist, down to grinding the beans for each cup to order to the touch-screen jukebox on the wall unadorned with the unnecessary vices of voice-command or motion sensors. The inside was not the most spacious, but there were a few tables outside beneath the canopy and sheltered behind rigid fences for those who might feel the need for fresh air—well, as fresh as air could be in a place like Bordego—and a bit of space. By the side of the door, head bowed and mannerisms accommodating to allow a steady stream of patrons to enter the quaint little shop unmolested, was a short, dainty dark-elf dressed quite nicely—then again, most people were considering it was Valentine’s Day. Her long legs and surprisingly voluptuous, pleasant apple-shaped rear were enclosed in a woolen trouser with a blue-and-white plaid pattern, the hems folded into a cuff to allow space for her black, fluff-trim boots to breathe. For her top, a blouse which held back growing but enjoyably-sized bosom in a cage of fabric with the few top buttons undone, revealing just the slightest bit of dusky, chocolate mocha skin, over which a thick, black coat hung from her shoulders open and unbuttoned. One her shoulders, a plaid scarf which matched her bottoms in color save for a muted, less bright palette was loosely wound; enough, at least, for her to bury her chilled lips into as she waited for her apparent date. Over her golden eyes, thick but cutesy glasses, while her purple hair which had gotten longer lately was tied in a folded ponytail. Her arms were folded in front of her, and she idly twiddled her thumbs as she continued to linger in wait. She had been looking forwards to this date for a while now, even though she was the ultimate cause for its repeated delays and postponements. She felt even the slightest bit of guilt, though she knew that they would eventually make their way into this establishment which she had chosen in lieu of their original locale being bought and closed rather abruptly. It was just as well, she surmised, that their date was finally pushed to a date as romantic as the fourteenth of February. Of course, she had no delusions in her eyes as to any tinge of romanticism or innocent love for their coming here—she knew just why she had elected to go to a shop with anyone as abrasive and forwards as that high elf. She would have the fuck of her life, in public to boot. After all, she had already prepared herself well in advance: a pair of lacy panties, open at the crotch for ease of access, and a matching brassiere cut just to allow her nipples, once erect, to poke through the hole. Once she was undressed, everyone would know what a slut she was…
+Café Metro was situated in the quiet northern reaches of Bordego, its name befitting the eclectic but distinctly cosmopolitan high-rise core surrounded by a belt of sprawling flats and soulless commuter communities connected by jammed high-ways, bullet trains and a dying public transport system. The Northern Ward served as the playground, the Elysian Isles which socialites, spoiled kids, and tired salarymen with a bit of extra spending money could sail to and forget their troubles in the attractive aesthetic and environment which no one could gaze upon without being reminded of the latest cheesy rom-com to grace the theatres or arthouse film freshly premiered at the Cannes.
 
 On its sides, countless designer stores and local joints not quite busy, but certainly not wanting in patrons with their wide-glass displays and the ubiquitous flat-panel television screens that always bombarded passers-by with everything from corporate propaganda to government-sponsored news agencies kept alive through subsidies and precious, precious tax money. One could hardly even tell it was evening considering how bright the displays shimmered, everywhere imaginable plastered with neon lights or LED displays and a thousand company jingles tossed into the ocean of a logo-thirsty crowd.
-Danalia had a perpetual scowl upon her lips as the glimmering displays of propaganda against drug-dealers and the latest machinations of Griscorp flickered upon screens behind pristine glass walls that lined the buildings to the left of her. The North Ward, an opulent shopping district for the richest of the rich and even the most mundane of the 'middle' - what was left of it, not hooked on drugs, alcohol, or strapped thoroughly into virtual reality suits - class could burn both their money and their lifespan within, staring at finely woven, LED infused garb to the latest in technological wonderment to be implanted in their brains at a small price of billions. The Elf never quite understood how the currency of theirs inflated so dramatically from what was once ones becoming the same value as tens. A nuisance to her, having bills dating back decades that were forgotten to be spent becoming worthless and trivial as time ticked on, but that was besides the point. The furrowed brow of the Elf may have told the tale of how much hatred she had for this gaudy, noisy hell scape of the city but at least she wouldn't be recognized even with her azure hair and pointed ears by any clientele. Her elongated locks filtering down over a thick woolen scarf, striped vertically in thick bands from black to blue to black again, all upon it's length that was piled upon her sweater clad shoulders. Clearly a few sizes too small, it hugged the gratuitous mounds of her tit flesh that put nearly every human on the street to shame, exposing her erect nipples flagrantly to the air as it hugged the underside of her breasts and even exposed the outline of her dipped inward navel. The ribbed length giving it a certain elasticity aroundst the waist, curving against her flared out ass and hiding her supple cheeks from view whilst the curve of her spine made it more than blatant that she had quite the lovely rump. The cusps of her cheeks flagrantly sagging down against the stitched hem, kept in a pristine black pair of nylon pantyhose that was oddly thick. As if the Elf had piled upon layer after layer after layer of the sheer cloth until flesh was blackened and hugged to an extreme, and a simple glance between knee or shin could denote quite marvelously why. Whilst every other inch of her legs down to her clicking heels that matched the hair upon her head was ebony, a monstrous length that was engorged and thickened with life wantonly distended cloth. More than one layer clearly having been torn around it's girth, curling upon her legs with nowhere to go besides digging into her plump flesh further until only the finale few layers wrapped the flared outward cockhead. The crimson tone of flesh underneath a vivid reminder of the sanguine fluid that pumped through it's length that was so adamantly outlined by hugging tights. Veins revealed in all their glory as if nothing was there except a second skin. The nylon of the stockings glimmering in the cascade of mixed light, layers so thoroughly inundated with the sweat that soaked the shaft that even the  threads could not deny it's potency. It was honestly a miracle that the simple act of strutting towards this silly little Cafe the tartlet asked for them to meet at didn't destroy the small illusion of modesty she had, but the layers were there for a reason, and they held that cock marvelously. A thin smile gracing the Elf's visage as she saw the small, petite little fuck-doll waiting outside the door like a docile maiden for her in her adorable little garb. The glasses that shined in the advertisements, how her long legs were stretching the plaid pattern of her trousers that only made them seem all the more voluptuous and inviting - the drug slinger had made quite the catch with this little cum-guzzler, even if she didn't have her own place to strut into like a certain nerd druggie did. The towering elf that made the other look like a child beside, meeting her side promptly. Hand extending outwards with the unfathomable; a heart shaped box of chocolates. A small one, certainly. Already opened, and from the weight alone it was blatant that whatever was in there was not the original confectioneries that came packaged within, but a gift none the less. "I was thinking of you when I made this." Made. Make. Just like those blistering Redhots and those terrifying Plastertabs she had 'accidentally' forced upon her one night when they had first met, that left flesh scalding and body paralyzed in hallucinating fevers. A taunt. A drug-infused, absurd mockery of what lover's give one another upon Valentine's day.. But honestly the only thing that could have been expected from this Elf. Her opposite hand almost immediately slinking down to grope at her modest titflesh, ensnaring her within her grasp and striding into the dainty establishment. Tables packed, couples playing footsies underneath their tables whilst fingers cloyed to far more salacious abodes from man, woman, and in-between alike in plain-sight, but plainly hidden. No one so forward and outright hedonistic as to indulge in their 'personal' pleasures out in public like the two had planned. Like the slut had practically begged for - but that soon would be changing, with fingers sinking possessively into heated breast flesh, lead along by the teat. "Two coffees. Black." Came from the taller one's lips, striding from the door to the center tables. A duo leaving their spot, arm-in-arm and betrothed by the bliss of love, giving the two their chance to sit themselves down. Danalia brushing off whatever crumbs of pastries and droplets of bitter-fluid they left behind before thrusting the small creature down into the seat afront her. Sitting down with legs spread wide, she planted the gift upon the table lazily. Pushing it towards the docile being. "Eat it before the coffee gets her. I'm certain you'll like it." It wasn't even a, "It tastes good.", or "I made it just for you." A demand. A command. "Drug yourself before I indulge." As if being around her wasn't intoxicating enough.Those crimson hues were already busy glancing away. Looking at the singular screen within the establishment with subtitles scrolling downward. Prattling upon Griscorp's financial successes with their current head leading a charge against drug-traffickers. A far more interesting affair than their 'date'.
+
 The café itself was a pleasant one, certainly quieter than more bombastic, modern establishments that carried all the latest features from android serving staff to personalized name-displays for disposable coffee cups. The owner was a bit of a traditionalist, down to grinding the beans for each cup to order to the touch-screen jukebox on the wall unadorned with the unnecessary vices of voice-command or motion sensors. The inside was not the most spacious, but there were a few tables outside beneath the canopy and sheltered behind rigid fences for those who might feel the need for fresh air—well, as fresh as air could be in a place like Bordego—and a bit of space.
-Kicxjo - Yesterday at 9:04 PM
+
-The dark-elf almost lit up when she noticed Danalia in the crowd that snaked through the streets like a serpent of smoke and blank faces, a dark cloud of names and identities swirling about her so-called “lover”—almost, anyway, though it was more of a mild surprise that she cared enough to keep her promise and go out on a silly date rather than simply romp through the evening in her flat, which she never did visit, despite the fact that she herself was the one who was still tinged with the smallest touch of guilt for all the delays leading up to this strange duo going out to get coffee; the myriad forms that she had taken on from their establishing the date until this very moment that the two finally arrived at the café. She almost raised her hand to wave at her Valentine’s partner, though the azure-locked alchemist noticed her before then and made strides toward her. Before she could even say anything, she felt those demanding fingers grope about her orbs of breast-meat, digging in hungrily as if to mark to everyone just who she belonged to, just who she preferred to spend her extra hours with, while they made their way into the shop. Ah, if only she realized how busy it would be on this lovey-dovey couple’s day! It almost made her sick to see all the men and women so enamored, so entranced by their other that they almost made an invisible wall around their heads so they could hear nobody else, see nobody else or interact with nobody else.
+By the side of the door, head bowed and mannerisms accommodating to allow a steady stream of patrons to enter the quaint little shop unmolested, was a short, dainty dark-elf dressed quite nicely—then again, most people were considering it was Valentine’s Day. Her long legs and surprisingly voluptuous, pleasant apple-shaped rear were enclosed in a woolen trouser with a blue-and-white plaid pattern, the hems folded into a cuff to allow space for her black, fluff-trim boots to breathe. For her top, a blouse which held back growing but enjoyably-sized bosom in a cage of fabric with the few top buttons undone, revealing just the slightest bit of dusky, chocolate mocha skin, over which a thick, black coat hung from her shoulders open and unbuttoned. One her shoulders, a plaid scarf which matched her bottoms in color save for a muted, less bright palette was loosely wound; enough, at least, for her to bury her chilled lips into as she waited for her apparent date. Over her golden eyes, thick but cutesy glasses, while her purple hair which had gotten longer lately was tied in a folded ponytail.
-It was mildly hypocritical considering she was so obediently holding on to the brash, abrasive high-elf’s arm like a prize or her woman, but she still maintained her upright and lofty position above these mere mortals who were so ignorant of affairs that they would have such a hard time recognizing the dainty socialite and administrator as a member of the esteemed Grismont family, who lately has been making quite a name for itself through its heavy persecution of street-rats and drug-runners, as if they were handing down the law in lieu of the nonchalant, uncaring government content to let its streets lit aflame by the passion of its greedy, decadent, immoral citizens. But she had little time to think about her lack of common recognition, not while she was so busy with something like a date!
+
-Danalia always had her way, demanding and ordering from everyone what she wanted regardless of what the other seemed to desire, except when exchanging seductive words in private and attempting to woo lesser whores and harlots to her side; a bit miffed but ever the forgiving, though certainly unforgetting, soul, the violet-tinged drow corrected her dear partner and ordered for herself a hot cappuccino and with it, a puff pastry for the both of them in matching frosting colors. She knew, of course that her date wouldn’t even bat an eye or notice her gesture, but perhaps it was better that way. At the very least, she alone could savor and enjoy the cute adornments she heaped onto their clear-cut date that was little more than a pretense for their hedonistic indulgence in the eye of the public. It was almost fitting that the table they sat down on was located towards the back of their chosen establishment, as if a stage elevated and set aside for everyone to gaze upon when they began their own private show not for the enjoyment of anyone else, but for their own fun. Ah, fun: truly a word unknown to the busy little bitch during most days, considering the uproar in the family into which she had assimilated her divine and never-dying soul, posing as the short but independent Lena. She always carried her work ethic, even when living a lie of a life, processing and simplifying the myriad legal complaints and complications that such global, multinational conglomerates were wont to attract in their conquests of entire markets and peoples through cheap, affordable, addictive goods and services. While some corporations were content to work in the shadows, pushing its many daughter firms’ lines and products forwards while reeling in the money through holding and parent companies, the Grismont family preferred to lavish in the limelight and use its worldwide renown and reputation to its own benefit, from intimidating smaller competitors into bowing the knee and submitting to swaying the easily bribed governments and officials of formerly closed-off nations until their whole populace were dependent on Griscorp for its day-to-day needs and functions. No wonder she was so used to attending galas, balls, cotillions, and private fundraising dinners for her family, well-known among the private circles that danced on the crest, the upper echelons of high society; and yet here she was, travelling incognito with none other than the type of scum that her family so detested: Theodosia Celeste, narcotics ringmaster and alias of the elusive former lady-of-the-court Danalia Vitalis. Her seat was still warm, still freshly heated from the rear of some other strumpet with little hearts-for-pupils enamored at another replaceable, an ant which she certainly thought either some great divine or, at the very least, a convenient source of gifts, funds, and praise. The thought that she looked equivalent in the eyes of any virgin who walked through the doors of the café, resenting the many boys or girls who weren’t cripplingly autistic and could manage to find someone to go on a date on Valentine’s with, to the brainless ninnies that clung so dearly to their men and women despite her high status and name. And yet, playing the whore and slinking around the North Ward under the pseudonym Elaine Grey, allowing herself to feel so easily fluttered and enraptured by her date almost sent her cunt reeling, almost drenched her open-crotch panties, and left a small puddle through her trousers onto the plastic-smooth seat before dripping onto the floor, sticky and hot. It was exhilarating, to think that the many whores who previously have had their way with Danalia’s equine fuck-meat may actually be driven to actual anger at how adorable the couple seemed together, though they certainly had little of the delusional infatuation that many who had been speared by that leviathan pole and then tossed away—as if such a fate wasn’t going to befall that bespectacled Grismont bitch, that she too would be tossed away once she had been milked dry of her use, though knowing that there still were those who were so blind by need that they couldn’t see that caused her flower to burn in sadistic delight and schadenfreude. Little wonder that the two enjoyed each other so much. The television screens that all seemed to be switch to the same news channel, blaring out reports about the antics of her family almost pulled her away from the delightful setting, with their polished half-truths and blatant lies coupled with images of crime scenes and sleek, efficient, black-clad private operators scaling skyscrapers and patrolling the rooftops of Griscorp-backed city blocks. It wasn’t until she heard the slide of a box against the faux-wood table and the demanding, subtly dominant words of her partner asking her to thrust herself further into abject degradation with such things as back-alley brewed drugs in what was no doubt a terribly cooked chocolate piece stuffed with a pill and then painted in the concoction. What was it this time? Redhots? Blue Sky? Crystal Peyote? Or some other brew that would turn her into a mewling bitch-in-heat, a horny pig at the lightest touch of her erogenous zones? Or would it send her reeling from almost ecstatic pleasure at being touched in general, as if her whole body had turned into a sensitive stretch of privates? How exhilaratingly enticing. The top of the box was quickly removed and set aside, revealing what seemed like an innocent set of chocolates—though the tearing of the seams already betrayed the fact that they were already altered and stuffed with yet another hit of the mind-altering substances that, while not addicted yet, she certainly had a great adoration for. Dainty breve digits locked the confectionary between well-manicured finger tips, raising them up before her nose for a quick inspection. Visually unimpressive, though her nose caught wind of a strange, almost artificial scent of real cocoa mixed with additives, fake substitutes and what was no doubt the drug in question. It didn’t smell like anything she had been given before, only further lighting her heart in anticipation at the delicious little snack... Then, a quick pop into her mouth, eyes fluttering to a close and displaying thick, dark lashes over half-crescent, golden moons upon orbs. Her pink, glossy lips pursed lightly while molars crushed the morsel into a thin paste, releasing the liquid inside about her taste-buds and then down her throat, waiting to enter her blood stream and wreak its havoc. A blush had already formed on her cheeks, not from any effect of blood but at the idea that, whether Danalia would admit it or not, she had still prepared for her bitch a chocolatine snack, doctored, perverted, loaded with ulterior motives and shadow-tainted smiles that forced her to obey more than any blunt demand could. Ah, how great a thing it is to be an enamored little slut, all innocent grins and bouncy joy! Mouth open, tongue almost ready to roll out to show she had eaten the whole thing before picking up another chocolate and repeating the process again. If there was one thing that her pseudo-lover always got right, it was the ratio of sweet to bitter. There was nothing quite as jarring as a treat rushed with sugar, a drug that she had little patience for. The thought almost lit her up in anger, though the sudden rush of sensation attacking her nervous system quickly cut her off. Face flushed even harder than before, fingers reddened and thoughts cloudy save for the clear image of her lover, no, mistress, no, no… her Goddess who waited so patiently before her. She would never admit it, not even in her intoxicated state, but Danalia looked absolutely stunning right now. Muddy thoughts was wrong after all, she realized only after a few moments of thinking. No, it was as if her brain was being shot at, yelled at, overloaded by her senses that flooded her with a thousand little images, a thousand little scents, a thousand little sounds, a thousand little sensations and the thousand little lingering complexities from the chocolate that had long tumbled down her tongue. My, my, her dear drug dealer had gotten quite skilled, hadn’t she? And yet she couldn’t even control her rolling eyes, her flushed-red face and her twitching toes with how focused her main five senses were. It was no wonder that the underground alchemist was so magnificent, her eyes could catch every little detail of her! From her knowing but muted smirk, to those crimson eyes that pierced through her façade and straight into her soul that reeked of nothing but harlot, whore, slut, cock-sleeve, and myriad other titles for what she was: a horny bitch for her personal, private pleasure. From her heaving slut-udders to her chiseled chest beneath her ribbed sweater, all held back by cashmere wool but nothing to her vision which took in every contour and line of her figure. It was as if she was staring at a true Vermeer, or a Monet both from afar and up close at the same time. For the rest of the world, a mere peripheral view was more than enough. What need had she to focus upon the mundane coffee shop, enjoyable as it was, when she had her G-G-Goddess before her? What need had she to pay any mind to the silly couples, untouched by the depths of degeneracy and pleasure that they had dived to, ignorant of the world of sensation and love that Danalia had shown her? What need had she to focus on the myriad, thousand eyes that were staring at the two in jealousy, or in mocking, or in… Wait… Hold on… Eyes? Why were they staring? Who was staring? Since when were they staring? Where the hell were they coming from? She turned her head suddenly, like a dog snapping at a sudden sound, and then to the other, and yet she saw nothing but couples fixated on themselves and their conversations. A paranoid fear overtook her, and she felt as if her whole family, as if every politician and celebrity she knew—almost all of them, that is—were in that room with her, pointing at her, laughing at her for how slutty and whorish she was in front of her disreputable lover. As if she was exposed as the bitch she was. Her mind rushed, reeled suddenly, first in anger, then in fear, then in indignation. How the hell could Danalia let her be shown like this? How the hell could she let herself be so easily misled and exposed? It was an infuriating humiliation, an embarrassment… until she realized that they were not actually there in the coffee shop with them. But how could that be? How could she feel so certain that every last Grismont spawn, from matron Eliza at the helm to her uncle, aunt, and every party clawing for the Griscorp mantle and the family fortune was there right now staring at her with laughter and derision? It only took her two minutes of rushing thoughts, of being plastered and fixed to her seat to realize: it was the drug. Of course it was. Of course it was! And yet she couldn’t accept it in her shaken heart, despite the rational and logical conclusion of her mind’s labor. Even as she understood what machinations were behind the sudden fear and… and pleasure! Pleasure. Yes… pleasure. Of course. This what she wanted. This what the little horny bitch deserved. No more quiet plots and myriad calculations in advanced like a four-dimensional chess game anymore. Just pure, open, exhibitionistic pleasure for her, all without the real scandal of being exposed to her family. How thoughtful! How happy she was, and yet she certainly couldn’t let her lover win so easily. “My, Theodosia,” she cooed out, a coy grin on her lips as she plotted. “You shouldn’t have, you’re too kind for getting me these homemade sweets… You even bought a real package so you could stuff your own labors inside! It wouldn’t be fair at all if I were the only one who got to taste these.” And with that, she picked up one, two of the chocolates and reached up across the table. Danalia hadn’t even a split-second to argue or protest before the drug-laced treats were shoved into her waiting maws, crushed into a paste that even if spat out would at least partially drip down into her throat. “Go on then, eat with me while we wait for our coffee together."
+Her arms were folded in front of her, and she idly twiddled her thumbs as she continued to linger in wait. She had been looking forwards to this date for a while now, even though she was the ultimate cause for its repeated delays and postponements. She felt even the slightest bit of guilt, though she knew that they would eventually make their way into this establishment which she had chosen in lieu of their original locale being bought and closed rather abruptly. It was just as well, she surmised, that their date was finally pushed to a date as romantic as the fourteenth of February. Of course, she had no delusions in her eyes as to any tinge of romanticism or innocent love for their coming here—she knew just why she had elected to go to a shop with anyone as abrasive and forwards as that high elf. She would have the fuck of her life, in public to boot. After all, she had already prepared herself well in advance: a pair of lacy panties, open at the crotch for ease of access, and a matching brassiere cut just to allow her nipples, once erect, to poke through the hole. Once she was undressed, everyone would know what a slut she was…
 
-Fai - Yesterday at 10:31 PM
+
-Theodosia's chest heaved in delight, her red eyes shifting back down as she heard her docile date so obediently listen to her domineering command. Opening the box of chocolates, their seams and hastily melted together halves clear as day. The Elf's intentions never were to hide her spoils from the other however, simply dolling them up from prying eyes. The dark chocolate glistening between the other's fingers as she popped one... Another. A third within her waiting maw and happily chewed them down. The drug-dealer's eyes latched to the other's tender chews. The way her lips smacked together after shoving the chocolate morsel betwixt them, how her jaw gyrated to and fro, pills crunching audibly upon her teeth, how her jugular convulsed when she swallowed it down only to listlessly hang her tongue outwards in a resplendent display of submission. It would be a lie to say that Theodosia's cock wasn't destroying what few layers remained around her cock, splitting apart the nylon fabric below until a thud was heard even over the rabble of love-locked couples surrounding them. As much as it would pain the Elf to admit it, just being in this other being's immortal presence aroused her endlessly, so much so that the simplest of acts on such a petite frame stirred her wild. The fact that she was so happily indulging in drugs specifically concocted for this specific moment a simple icing upon the cake that was the chemist's arousal. Her hands diving to the edge of the table to grip it with such force that knuckles went from red to white with pressure, nails biting into the faux-wood, curling plastic underneath her unpainted keratin until her breathing ceased and her body stiffened in a vain attempt to control herself. Not yet - not now. The drug had to kick in first, whilst her burgeoning slut-udders burst outwards against her sweater with every inhale. Her erect nubs of nipples stabbing prominently into the cloth, creating visible tents that were apparent from half-way across the bustling Cafe they found themselves in, which was nothing compared to the stench that was beginning to radiating outwards from the pair. The fetid odor of her cock having been strapped so tightly in nylons that was now engorging itself by the second on the Elf's rapid heartbeat, sweating profusely from the vapid heat that was coursing through it consistently. Hot droplets forming on the crimson shaft, to roll down it's veined length to splatter upon the floor, lost within the noise of their locale. Pooling between Theodosia's legs, long before the yellow pre-snot that was her batter for breeding began to drain from the over sized cockslit that could fit a fist whole inside with little issue. Her ruby hues locked to the Elf as she froze, a subtle smile that shined like the sun to the drug-afflicted 'lover' crossing her lips. It must have felt ecstatic, clothes digging into flesh more intense than the touch of a lover. The constant changing of hot air to cool with every opening of the entrance door for brief fractions of a second as if Cocytus had been slammed atop her before the sweltering heats of Mercury wafted over what little exposed flesh she had. The creator was almost envious for a time, having more than once testing it's affects time and time again upon herself in order to make certain that they fit her specifications, knowing all too well the heated fervor it instilled within. The sudden frantic turns, the rolling of eyes in search of unseen patrons laughing and teasing, staring and watching. Gods, seeing it affect it was better than any aphrodisiac the Elf could have possibly crafted. The length between her shins throbbing and twitching in adamant need, fistfuls of her hot sludge gushing from the length, destroying and eating away at the base of the table by the second. Fingertips finally releasing their hold upon the edge of the table whilst the smaller being calmed. As she settled into the realization that it was the drug that was destroying her mind, having tens of thousands of eyes watching her every movement. Her response, surprising - the drug-dealer barely believed that she would be capable of responding. "My you're v--- Mrf." The hint of bitter and sweet colliding with her tongue, before a wicked grin beamed across her visage. No words were said, only tongue rolling the cocoa laden sweet upon itself again and again. Whittling it away until nary more than pill remained, and muscle was outstretched. Showing it's tablet nature to the other, only to drag the saliva-soaked thing back pill back into the depths of her wide open maw. Crunch. Crunch. Crunch. Theodosia making a show of it, chomping her pearly whites down again and again upon the capsule positioned between her molars as if she were rending and tearing a piece of meat. Crushing it into little more than white powder that caked the length of her length, before flooding it with forced out saliva. Rolling and sloshing the tip of her tongue through the pool, letting it slosh and forth within her mouth to the girl's potential delight - before lips sealed and swallow after swallow sent convulsions through Theodosia's throat. The blue-haired elf only opening her mouth to reveal it's insides. Every speck of white dust removed, consumed, brought to the pits of the Elf's stomach. "Ah~. I'm glad you like it darling.. I'm glad you're wil-" Her own coffee and the other's pathetic excuse of a caffeine laden mixture finally arriving. Of course, the piping hot drinks let off their warm aroma's of caffeine and bitter fuel, even as it was being eroded and replaced by something far more potent. Upturning the nostrils of the men within the cafe in disgust, whilst the madly in love women shifted uncomfortably. Nostrils flaring, some even resorting to bestial snorts with flushed red faces. The place around the duo already turning a tad bit more obscene, tented bulges in the various shemale's groins as beads of sweat rolled down more than one maiden's neck. Theodosia's hand outstretched for her coffee, gripping it firmly and attempting to wash down the rather acidic taste of pill, until millimeters before cup touching lips, she froze. Red orbs dilating heavily, wrist beginning to quake. "Naahn." Her lips barely moved, but it was a whorish mewl none the less. The sweater she wore so tightly upon her delightfully delicious deity-inspiring body, suddenly becoming like a thousand hot knives of pure exhilaration stabbing into every one of her muscles. Every one of her sweat glans. Every one of her pores. Every inch of skin and flesh constrained, every half-inch of tit flesh. Her sensitive nipples that proudly stabbed into the cloth, now lit aflame. Her nylons, little more than sexual assault upon her thighs and ass. The hot steam rolling from the cusp of her mug, like being branded with a hot iron directly upon her face. The aromas. The odor of coffee. The fetid tincture of stenches of her cock-snot that now coagulated upon the shaft below in a sickening pile. Her sweat. The chocolate. The faintest whiff of a bitch in heat from across the table. Destroying what remained of her grey matter for a few, brief moments. Eyes shutting close, a desperate attempt to block the noise surrounding them that now galloped upon her forehead in defiance. Chattering from entrance, to bar-side, to the bathroom all crystal and clear as day. It was marvelous. It was excruciating. It was everything that Theodosia crafted it to be. Her eyes fluttering open what felt like an eternity to her, but was nary more than a few exhales. To the eyes. She didn't forget but it was a feeling she could never become accustomed to. Hues shifting from side to side shakily. The stabbing and cold gaze of those slaughtered. Those she had killed. Those she had left rotting, drained of funds. Those she had stolen from. Those she had addicted. Those she had whispered sweet nothings to, left impregnated to raise her bastards. Those she had cheated. Those she had fucked to death. Those whose screams still harden her cock tens if not hundreds of years after murdering with her bare hands. Those. Those. THOSE. It was all she could do to keep her composure, bringing the coffee down to the table without a further sip. Her gaze fixing itself upon one of many of 'those'. The immortal. The Grismont family demon. The whore that had came back time and time again, death after death. The one that sent her skin crawling and her cock screaming in ravenous need to pound into. Those. Those multitudes that she thought damned to hell time and time again, only to be rudely interjected months later - found again, "Did you forget me?" only to repeat the spiraling hedonism once more. Now kept in some petite, lackluster, purple-haired whore.. And at this very moment she had never looked so beautiful, like a Goddess from heaven stepping down to bless her worthless eyes with such grace. A child almost, in the eyes of many far too young to be drenching the plastic seat she sat upon - but to Theodosia, every single thing that Those screamed at - nay, demanded - of her to eviscerate, to destroy, to claim and fuck and breed. Teeth sank into lower lip, sending jolts of pleasure so fierce into the Elf's mind that her vision swarmed with scintillating white lights. Fingertips sliding over the simulacrum of wood, that made her knees buckle upon her monstrous shaft and clamp upon it like a maiden being touched between the loins for the first time. "Nrf. Tell me darling.. Can you feel them watching?~ Can you hear what they say of you.. Do you know how every last single one of them wants you sullied, buried in the mud and filth of the useless rabble like a commoner swine~?" Her voice was hushed, ringing in the other's ear like a chime with every syllable. "They're watching.. Every last one.. And more. Everyone..." The Elf's hand erratically twitching, knocking her coffee to the side, spilling the hot liquid upon the ground with a loud clink of broken glass that only served to further assaulted her heightened senses. The drugged, towering woman standing adamantly, scrapping seat and table alike with her monstrous cock nearly tipping the fucking thing over before it collided upon the top. Even the space between the two, was not enough to prevent the elongated and grotesque fuckmeat from slamming against the other's flesh, colliding with her useless pair of teats before thudding flat upon the plastic. The disgusting, over sized meat-fucker bloated with all it's wrist thick veins that could support an entire half of the harlot's body with their girth alone compared to what a slender twig the drenched pigslut was. Violently throbbing, the Elf's heart incapable of keeping up with the adrenaline and dopamine rushing through her skull. Intoxicating the senses. Those, all howling in Theodosia's ear. How dare this purple haired bitch. How dare she have it. How dare she see it. How dare she feel it's hot pre-ejaculate gush against her clothes and sizzle at the fibers of her clothes, burning and staining them in one swift motion. How dare she make it so fucking hard! They were all ignored, all cast aside in the Elf's mind whilst the coldness of the table top felt as if it was sapping all heat and warmth from the world around her, until her blistering fuck-pillar cracked the plastic in twain from it's sweltering radiation. "Now. Griscorp's fuck flesh. Possessed conglomerate slut... Commoner. Let them watch." By all the Gods above Theodosia wasn't even a hint undressed, only her nylons torn asunder, but a more depraved sight could barely be seen. Fingers digging deep into cock flesh, she hoisted the rod upwards with one hand whilst another slammed itself into the skull of the purple-haired 'girl'. Stabbing into the lengths of hair, curling and twisting that cute ponytail she had upon her head into a neat handle of a bun, and simply slammed face against cockhead. Not in an attempt to sheathe or spear, not in attempt to make cockslit kiss lips. No, nothing so fancy. Nothing so nice. An audible splat ringing throughout the now silent cafe, mouths agape and the more mundane lovers sickening with a morbid curiosity staring heatedly at the pair. The fuck-doll's cranium slammed with the force of a sledgehammer into the head. Nostril forcefully buried until the upper ridge, scrapping it alongst the glans like some rag to clean off the excess perspiration and yellowed filth that had built upon it's tip in the few smattering of minutes within the jam-packed Cafe. Pulling her scalp this way and that, sending her brain sloshing within her head so rampantly she could feel it colliding with the walls of her cranium. Bludgeoning her from the inside out - but that didn't matter. Nothing mattered except that heated fuck-pillar as the pointed tip finally found it's way to her lips. Finally met a mark it, nor it's owner was aiming for - and was thrust inward. The pair of lovers, having already diluted their foray into public into nothing more than a show for the whole of the world. Every person they had ever met. Every soul they had consumed. Every child they had aborted in their depraved embraces. Every person in the fucking room. Every person outside staring in through the wide glass windows. Every unfathomable set of eyes that were constantly prying and staring but impossible to see, watching as jaw stretched and cockslit was engulfed in the maw of another. Distending those plump mouth pillows that once so cutely indulged in the taste of chocolate and drug alike, into little more than thin lines enshrining the epitome of a bestial cock meant to break the womb of women just like her. The dominant pulling upon her skull, keeping it in place whilst her hips thrust forward. Cockhead jamming itself into uvula and gag-reflexes alike. Letting the convulses and spasms of her esophagus do nothing more than send such pleasure up her spine that eyes rolled and head went limp, while the rest of her frame continued it's downward ascent into the other's waiting gullet. Throat ballooning outwards in a mad plea towards every eye that was glued to their embrace to somehow stay together. The rugged flattened edge of the body-wrecker blatantly contorting her throat into little more than a sheathe as it slammed itself in. Collarbone, lifting up inches, thrusting the medium teats of the harlot out. Compressing heart against sternum, lungs against ribs in one steady decline. Theodosia stopping half way though, too much for her body. Too much for her mind. Drool running down her chin as she 'rested' - in truth, far too gone on the drug to continue in such unruly might. Cock-head trapped within her chest, cutting off all air but nowhere near it's needed mark. Nowhere near it deserved and needed to be; slammed into the depths of the drugged whore's stomach, snuggly filling her out and prodding against her breeding chamber from the inside.
+Danalia had a perpetual scowl upon her lips as the glimmering displays of propaganda against drug-dealers and the latest machinations of Griscorp flickered upon screens behind pristine glass walls that lined the buildings to the left of her. The North Ward, an opulent shopping district for the richest of the rich and even the most mundane of the 'middle' - what was left of it, not hooked on drugs, alcohol, or strapped thoroughly into virtual reality suits - class could burn both their money and their lifespan within, staring at finely woven, LED infused garb to the latest in technological wonderment to be implanted in their brains at a small price of billions. The Elf never quite understood how the currency of theirs inflated so dramatically from what was once ones becoming the same value as tens. A nuisance to her, having bills dating back decades that were forgotten to be spent becoming worthless and trivial as time ticked on, but that was besides the point.
 
-Kicxjo - Today at 12:15 AM
+The furrowed brow of the Elf may have told the tale of how much hatred she had for this gaudy, noisy hell scape of the city but at least she wouldn't be recognized even with her azure hair and pointed ears by any clientele. Her elongated locks filtering down over a thick woolen scarf, striped vertically in thick bands from black to blue to black again, all upon it's length that was piled upon her sweater clad shoulders. Clearly a few sizes too small, it hugged the gratuitous mounds of her tit flesh that put nearly every human on the street to shame, exposing her erect nipples flagrantly to the air as it hugged the underside of her breasts and even exposed the outline of her dipped inward navel. The ribbed length giving it a certain elasticity aroundst the waist, curving against her flared out ass and hiding her supple cheeks from view whilst the curve of her spine made it more than blatant that she had quite the lovely rump. The cusps of her cheeks flagrantly sagging down against the stitched hem, kept in a pristine black pair of nylon pantyhose that was oddly thick. As if the Elf had piled upon layer after layer after layer of the sheer cloth until flesh was blackened and hugged to an extreme, and a simple glance between knee or shin could denote quite marvelously why.
-How intoxicating it was to see her lover, her only other immortal lover suddenly become so enraptured by her own concoction. She was certain, of course, that Danalia was not the sort of fool who would shove a drug into another’s maws and watch as it fails, backfires and throw all of her machinations out of whack; just the thought of this massive, bestial lover in her shack, working at whatever imitation of an alembic she had constructed out of cheap junk and testing each dose until she reeled in perfect paranoia, the perfect high that would thrust her lover into a mind-altered state of pure hedonistic pleasure and indulgence was enough to send her reeling in delight, her childish grin (of course it was childish, considering her teenage form she had taken which even years from now even at the official age of thirty would be hardly advanced from her current figure, save for a pleasant growth in her curves) widening into a sly pride that she had forced the empress of the designer-drug circles in Bordego to toil away just for her. In fact, it made her flower gush in need, as if begging her lover with scents, aromas, and pheromones to finally take what she had come here for and slam that leviathan that so many wanted, but few could ever enjoy, deep into her core and leave another litter in her womb as a testament to their sick, twisted love that would continue in this way until eternity, until God Himself damns them to Hell where they will create their own unholy kingdom of wanton debauchery and lust. But what need did she have to fantasize, no doubt in vain and to no avail? Her personal Venus de Milo, the Aphrodite of Bordego herself, in her writhing, shaking, twitching form brought to life now in front of her fixated eyes as her own personal show and love-slave. Not that she herself wasn’t a slave to the passions that her lover had so uncaringly foisted upon her in the form of pills which she so willingly crushed between pearly whites and ingested, of course, but it was a whole other pleasure to see what the dominant half of their perverted, degenerate couple had done to her replicated to her own body. And to think of the countless previous whores that had literally and metaphorically worshipped her as their Goddess, as their almighty provider of life and alms, who had prayed to the shrine of her leviathan, of her cunt-reaver and field-plough? Now that was just the red-hot cherry on top of her sugar and acid filled milkshake. Her hand reached up for her face to rest on in idleness, but just the touch of her fingers, her palm against her soft cheeks sent a sudden shock of pleasure down her spine. Where her tight clothes firmly digging into her skin, each light shift of her body like a thousand hands groping at her figure, the sensation of touching herself was like a massive cock shoved down her throat and spreading her maws, only lightly grinding until she passed out from the heat and musk of balls pressing against nose, literally. Alas, the poor slut! What was she to do with herself when her lover rendered her in such a state but indulge, indulge, and indulge, to take in every sensation as if she were in her flat thrusting her toy into her cunt until she felt herself fucked raw, but in the world of the living merely enjoying the light rub of her fabric prodding against her nipples, her mons, and her back? The sudden clink of mugs against the plastic-top of the table suddenly sent her into a half-second state of panic, before her overwhelming rational processes suddenly took control of her frightened, epinephrine-riddled heart and sent her breathing into a familiar, rhythmic tune. Ah, yes, of course. Thank you. Have a nice one. Smiles. Nods. Fuck, fuck, fuck. The only small consolation that Danalia herself was having the same adrenaline rush of heightened senses, that picking up the mug was a task in and of itself, considering the hypersensitive receptors on her fingertips. Fuck. Seeing her lover like this, she had little choice but to bite down on her lower lip. A bad idea, as she didn’t seem to pick it up from Danalia, when the sudden rush of sensation rushed down her body, to her extremities, back up her spinal cord and pins and needles into her medulla oblongata. Fuck! If her behavior was plain for all to see, her stench now, the musky and dainty smell of her cunt on fire and enflamed by passions now quite literally wafted about the shop, prying shemales and males alike away from their inferior dates towards the pair of divine goddesses toying with each other in their midst. Whether they realized or not, they were slowly becoming enthralled by their pheromones to their figures, something akin to the feeble concept of love at first sight: though perhaps it would be more apt to consider it enslavement at first sight. But soft, she had no need to worry about inferior beings, about mosquitos swarming around beasts thousands of times their size in terms of spirit and power in a desperate attempt to siphon a bit of their blood in the belief that they could even receive a fraction of a hundredth of their pure prowess. No, she had a date to complete, and a leviathan to wring out of nylons and into her waiting maws. She certainly didn’t have long to wait, did she? Her hand had already slipped about coffee cup, raising it to her dainty lips in a surprising display of restraint that someone as crude as her lover could never hope to achieve, and taking in the bittersweet drink. Ah, even her taste buds were sharp now! Yes, this was pleasant. Yes, this was an attempt to distract herself from her still rapidly beating heart. How could she ignore the mosquitos when there were ghosts and monsters among them? The poor little girl she had first raped, then devoured when she was but a flitting demon, the innocent eighteen-year-old college girl who once was Lena Grismont left stretched upon fuck-spear, before the demoness invaded her spirit and forced her weak, addled soul into her own. The little catte that Danalia had taken home all those bodies ago. Her own forms, from Merope Dawnlight, to the first Eliza Grismont, to so many nameless specters, all hanging from a rope attached to the now dark, bloodied ceiling of the café, each of them mangled in the same way they were when they were each murdered and snuffed out. Heh. Almost all the last few ones were Danalia’s doing. God, she wanted so much for Danalia to fucking hurry up already. She certainly couldn’t initiate the sudden descent into lust and pleasure—that was up to her much less polite and much blunter lover to do so. She could hardly even take down her drink, look away from the myriad eyes which all pinned her in her seat and both drove her mad from shame and embarrassment and turned her into a lusty beast, moaning out, crying out for Danalia like a good little horny bitch should. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck! She needed it now! And her relief came swift, as table was overturned and both cups went flying, scalding hot coffee and creamer splashing onto not just the Grismont bitch but onto various other patrons as well. They would be livid if they weren’t so entranced at the sight of two goddesses, two demonesses, two monsters towering over them before they had even totally stripped nude. It was a bit reassuring to Merope, at least, that she realized now the eyes staring at her weren’t all imagined, that at least some of them took form now. She hardly even registered what Danalia had told her about her previous lovers. Who were those bitches anyway? Hah. Fuck them. They could never share what two immortal hedonists, two eternal degenerates like them could anyhow. After all, who else could time and time again force the adamant dominant to toss the table aside and rear her massive fuck-shaft up in front of her lips, losing all her inhibitions within the span of five minutes into their date? Ah, wait, that wasn’t just a fantasy, was it? She was suddenly and quite abruptly brought face-to-face with that object of devotion, that humongous plough whose slit itself was wide enough to take in a whole fist and consume children, in all its throbbing and twitching glory. She could smell the glop of dick-cheese, ball-slop and clear, acidic pre-cum spill down onto the table with a loud hiss, which the many invisible eyes were so diligently staring down with a force that would drive any normal person to shame. But she was in no way a normal person, now was she? Her smile curled up into a deranged grin, a red flush on her cheeks as she could take in the musk and the glory and the—but her thoughts were just as abruptly stopped and taken away by the firm hand smashing her face onto the cock with a savage force, it would be unsurprising to find any normal human being dead. In fact, she was quite dead herself, the impact shattering her skull and forcing her brain against the back of her head into a miserable pile of scrambled grey matter, eyes growing cold and dead and blood dripping out of her wide, open mouth. It caused a few patrons to scream out in terror, those saved souls who were not so turned into zombies by their combined musk, and rush out of the door into the great unknown of Bordego where they would be ignored as loons, as deranged empty shells of people who deserved to be kicked into the alleyways and forgotten about in place of more important, more productive people. Of course, this was merely another side-effect of their love, of their deranged pleasure, and within a few moments the witchcraft started anew. Blood began to flow in reverse, rising in the air as if snaking up an invisible pillar before forcing itself back into her mouth and the cut on her forehead. Skin stitching back together, cells meeting cells and binding back into one unbroken line. Then her sensation, which spent but a few moments in the burning flames of hell being torn apart by jealous demons and former lovers of Danalia before suddenly gasping back to life. But she had not long to gasp, for as soon as she had regained her senses she could suddenly feel her lover thrust the plough deep into her core, hard enough to snap her ribs, push down on her diaphragm and press her organs out as if crying for more space, disregarding her property’s personal health. After all, what had the slut for health and safety when she could be spending her otherwise useless life making her owner cum buckets? A good thing that she always knew just how to turn Danalia on and draw out that precious dick-milk. Her senses needed time to regain their heightened senses, for the venom of the drug to rush through her veins in another circulation, but when they did the high hit sharply. Every last organ crushed against each other by the massive cock sent her whole body quaking in pain, the sharp sensation riding up her brain just like before and causing her to literally cry from the severity. An unhealthy flow of tears, as a whore being abused by her lover but secretly loving every last blow, every last strike, and every last cigarette crushed against her abdomen or her back before she was quite simply kicked away like a dog. How she loved this sensation, how she loved Danalia when she granted her this pleasure. And then, soon enough, the eyes, the watching, it all came back. Sharper still, sharper still, indeed. The patrons of the Café Metro suddenly warping, pairs of eyes multiplying into two, four, eight pairs, their silhouettes snapping and twisting and splitting into many people at once, all staring at her. Her family too, her past lovers, everyone who has ever declared their feelings for her, all watching in disgust and in despair, watching in pleasure and watching in delight. She was exposed to everyone she loved dear, even while in the waking world only a few strangers looked on with minds clouded by the love-drug that was their scent and their presence alone. God, how it turned her on… She really had to reward her lover for this. Her small, slender hands reached up to grip at that shaft and at those orbs, each one already dwarfing her head in size alone. The one on the underside of that equine breeding plough began to furiously work up and down massaging pre, gunk and her own saliva which dripped out when her tongue managed to slip its way out into the crisp air and drop its produce down on to her fingers into her shaft to keep it lubricated, not for her own health but so Danalia could more easily thrust her way into her throat. Her other hand kneaded those orbs like bread dough, without regard as to whether it would cause pain or pleasure. Her fingers, her thumb, her palm all dug in alike, stretching and working each gonad into working overtime. Gods, she could even feel the warmth burn her skin, each molten digit slowly working its way back and stitching itself together again. Her eyes were aflame, irises shaped like hearts as they stared up at her lover—what were they saying? It was impossible to tell, but it was clear that the two of them were sharing a message that nobody else, no past lover, no patron in the café could ever hope to understand. It was something kept between goddesses, something that would confound the feeble minds that had neither the taste nor the strength to drink of the nectar and ambrosia that they consumed daily just by fucking each other raw until they had no more breath and had to collapse on the bed, coiled about each other like dragons to sleep. But she certainly was not about to simply accept this fucking. She knew how it would end, cock tearing out of her front, tits smashed against the floor freely and forgotten as her cock was covered in her internal organs, bowels like a garland gracing her fuck-pillar as a crown of laurels on a statue of Apollo. No, she wouldn’t have such a cliché, not right now. Not when she so badly needed to feel something she hadn’t in ages: her lover’s cock shoved to the hilt in her cunt and womb. She pulled up all the way now, resisting Danalia’s force in a way that only another goddess could, wrenching herself free though blood, pre-leak, semen, and saliva all dripped from her gasping open mouth to the delight of patrons, all unable to help themselves from beginning to masturbate freely to the pair. Gods, the scent of the whole café literally masturbating to each other, with these two at the focus, was a once in a lifetime experience. The Lolita bitch’s arm extended in front of her, palm flat and spirit rising aflame. A sigil, an arcane symbol that belonged in another world formed in front of her hand, causing her mortal vessel to quake and fall apart disgustingly, unable to contain her potent magic until she released it all at once and forced Danalia back onto the chair and dazed her in a blinding blast of pure ethereal energy and light. The smell of her own internal organs cooked and her skin burnt from the might she just released was intoxicating, though it only cracked Danalia’s much older and stronger form. Were they both to enter their primal states, their true might, neither body would last much longer. But this was more than enough for what Merope needed, anyhow. Grinning like the broken doll, attempting to give her family, her friends, her strangers, her entire world a show, she forced herself on top of Danalia and began to strip. Broken, shattered glasses tossed aside, cardigan flung on the ground and blouse not merely unbuttoned, but shredded off her form and onto the same pile as her coat; the poor sods in the East Ward would kill just to swipe the little bits of fabric she had torn asunder. But she wasn’t done yet. Woolen trousers were slipped away, boots flung off until she was wholly naked for all to see. Bunched and creased ponytail undone so her purple hair could fall past her shoulders. Bra undone, falling unto Danalia’s face, and obscuring her vision while the dark-elfin slut spread her cunt wide, a love-tunnel preparing to grace her lover with her Valentine’s gift, a personal “Happy Valentine’s Day!” that only her cunt, that cunt that her lover owned, could possibly give. Flared horse-cock tip disappeared first into that tiny body, but she kept on going, kept on grinding her way down that shaft even after Theodosia had tossed the bra away. She kept on going, the bulge on her stomach growing bigger as her womb literally fell apart and was pierced through, even as cock speared past diaphragm and pressed unto her beating heart. By then, she had forced her whole body down unto the entire length, and she was literally speared through, blood dripping down her lips again and eyes growing cold as she forced herself to regenerate faster than she was dying. The sensations burning through her heightened receptors. The thousand eyes staring in disgust. God, she felt so alive in dying. And now, it was just a matter of thrusting, of grinding her body, of fucking Danalia like no other pet, like no other partner of hers ever could. This high-elf, this azure alchemist, this needy dominant was hers now, and no other slut could ever possibly take her away. After all, she was just as addicted to this ever-tight cunt, to her equally depraved soul as she was to her drugs, to her treatment and to her sick, twisted, perverted love. Ah… she accidentally came on Danalia's cock. Only an hour early, at least.~
+
 Whilst every other inch of her legs down to her clicking heels that matched the hair upon her head was ebony, a monstrous length that was engorged and thickened with life wantonly distended cloth. More than one layer clearly having been torn around it's girth, curling upon her legs with nowhere to go besides digging into her plump flesh further until only the finale few layers wrapped the flared outward cockhead. The crimson tone of flesh underneath a vivid reminder of the sanguine fluid that pumped through it's length that was so adamantly outlined by hugging tights. Veins revealed in all their glory as if nothing was there except a second skin. The nylon of the stockings glimmering in the cascade of mixed light, layers so thoroughly inundated with the sweat that soaked the shaft that even the  threads could not deny it's potency.
 
-Fai - Today at 2:27 AM
+It was honestly a miracle that the simple act of strutting towards this silly little Cafe the tartlet asked for them to meet at didn't destroy the small illusion of modesty she had, but the layers were there for a reason, and they held that cock marvelously. A thin smile gracing the Elf's visage as she saw the small, petite little fuck-doll waiting outside the door like a docile maiden for her in her adorable little garb. The glasses that shined in the advertisements, how her long legs were stretching the plaid pattern of her trousers that only made them seem all the more voluptuous and inviting - the drug slinger had made quite the catch with this little cum-guzzler, even if she didn't have her own place to strut into like a certain nerd druggie did.
-Theodosia's mind reeled at the convulsions of the teenaged mouth-cunt wrapped around her shaft. Every second ticking by, every heartbeat that engorged her cock against the lining of her throat sending her body quaking in pure bliss, from the tips of her toes to the whitened knuckles digging into the roots of the bloodied harlot's head. Just watching that obscene display, of the blood slathering itself upon her shaft before reverting backwards, slurping back into her broken face as gray matter righted itself and boned crunched back together nearly sending her fattened balls over the edge. Pre-ejaculating gushing like a fountain down her tight crevice of a fuckhole, bloating her stomach dramatically for the few, brief moments that it was slammed into her gullet like it was the only place it fucking belonged. Heat radiating off the duo in visible waves that contorted the air around them like blacktop heated upon a summer's day. The visages and sights of the patrons around them not terrified by their bloodied hedonism melting away in a shimmer of a thousand eyes that shifted and twisted constantly. Irises changing from blue to red to yellow to slits, thousands of times over out of the corners of the Elf's eyes. Even the act of looking towards what was swiftly shifting into a hellish amalgamation of a Cafe, into a horrific scene that only begun to scrape the minds of the most eldritch of horrors that not even Hell could contain, only fueled the murderer further. Every eye, a recognized victim. The golden slits of her Catte, the brilliant gems that Merope had tens of times over after she consumed some worthless soul underneath her might in her attempts at reincarnation after death. Each one named. Each one known. It was almost nostalgic, the weight of all those that she had felled falling upon her at once, making those gravid semen refineries stretch taut. Flattening out each and every one of the multitude of wrinkles on her skull-sized baby batter churners until veins simply pressed out against the sheathe of skin. The kneading compresses of the cum-dumpster's needy digits barely sinking more than a half-inch into the folds of skin, before being met with fierce resistance from those unfathomable semen tanks that produced such virile nut-slop that it was outright amazing that anything was capable of containing it at all; even another immortal. The sludge that was simply the run off and leakage from Theodosia's capacity being reached, scalding the lining of the tank's stomach and burrowing themselves into the soft flesh. What was once a pristine and pure stomach, almost immediately made to have ulcers that bled freely into her. The mixture of acid that churned within her, actively diluting the potency of the seed until the viscous flow eventually sublimated the fluid into obliteration - right where it belonged, just like the rest of the inferior organs within. The rampant wrench backwards by her in-heat bitch sending shocks and jolts down Theodosia's spine that sent her visage tilting backwards towards the ceiling; hundreds of more silhouettes that hung from the ceiling like those strung upon meat hooks to preserve their flesh in fridges. Stabbed in the neck, heads completely torn from their shoulders. Limbs missing from more than a few, and eyes coating their darkened and shadowy form. Watching, always watching. The dead, they stared at the grotesque nature of the two and it did nothing more than make Theodosia's heart beat all the harder. This is what she wanted. This is what she had longed for, for so long. It only took drugs specifically blended for the occasion to send the knife-eared dominant to a flush-faced state of bliss. Even the act of the whore's heated breathes heaving against her cock heat was more pleasurable than nearly every fuck doll that didn't have golden eyes affixed in their skull. Every harlot that glared down upon them, every slut so callously drowned in piss and killed that had torn and clawed against the soul of this tiny cum-dumpster every time she was eviscerated for fractions of a second - made completely inferior and useless by nothing more than a pant. Those stroking hands that gummed themselves with perspiration and her own hot saliva, burning underneath the aroused heat of the Elf's fuck pillar and sac. Charring her dark flesh until skin peeled from muscle and muscle burnt itself from bone, only staunching when regeneration kicked in to prevent the charring embers to continue down palm and wrist. The dominant snorted like an animal, inhaling their mixture of stenches that was fogging the windows of the establishment so heavily that not a soul could be seen outside; not even the brilliant neon signs and loud booms of advertisements reached the confines of their debauched hell-on-earth. Her breathes long and deep, sending hot plumes of air wafting up to the rafters that were now dripping with the toxic miasma that was congealing upon the wood, only to rain down and splatter upon the masturbating patrons surrounding them. Searing their flesh and burning holes within their clothes as it fell. Too lost in the lusts that clouded all, even rationality and self-preservation to notice when pockmarks of burns began to swell upon their flesh. The divines that brought such indulgence before them also brought their demise, the less enraptured ones feeling the pain and fleeing the establishment like many did when bone crunched against flesh; but many far too gone within their self-pleasure soon would be losing even that. Hisses and groans of pain filling the air, as Theodosia's red orbs finally glanced down upon the whore who had so wrenched free of her grip. The brilliant white searing her eyes, destroying her lenses and blinding her from all but the eyes that surrounded her even in the dark. Laughter crossing her lips, front seared and bones cracked from being slammed into her chair like a ragdoll. Ribs stitching themselves back together as layers of epidermis that was exposed to the scintillating flash curled off, allowing the regenerated layers below to take their rightful place on the forefront in sloppy, red chunks. Her cock straight up and erect, burning like a red beacon with every beat of the Elf’s heart sending those tree trunk roots curling upon themselves in a fiendish display that sent bile flooding most mortals maws but only delighted the two being's obscene lusts all the further. It could barely be called a cock, with how monstrous and fat it was. A living entity all its own that only had one purpose, combined with those semen filled orbs of her. Breeding. Slamming into cunts and claiming the poor wombs of whatever woman was unfortunate enough to be put upon this earth and survive upon her cock; and sadly, not even the immortal was capable of doing that properly. The sudden hilting of her shaft making the towering elf thrash, hands finding the hips of the teenaged cocksocket and slamming her down with such force that sternum splintered from chest, sending rib bone and protective heart covering alike jutting adamantly from her cavity until regeneration kicked in - the beating of her heart, and the protruding cock head blatantly visible for brief fractions of a second before flesh sintered itself back together in a delightful display. Sizzling heard, blackish smoke and white steam billowing from here cock met cunt, a familiar feeling assaulting the drug-afflicted harlot's brain with such force that it consumed all. The regeneration of her flesh, the beating of her heart, the flow of her blood. All staunched for this one moment in time. Rugged veins on cock flaring abrasively against rend cunt-folds and intestines alike. Compressed diaphragm and coiled stomach little more than the same as the membrane of her ruined uterus. Branded. Scalded. Seared by the inexplicable might of the Goddess's cock claiming another of its own as nothing more than it’s sheathe. Even her heart that still beat against that cock head, was not safe from such forces. Strong muscle forced to blister underneath the obscene heat of that leviathan seeking to destroy everything that she was. Luckily for the cock-holster, its owner wanted the exact same thing. Fingers sinking into thigh meat that was attached to legs that had been dislocated from their sockets within the first three inches of impaling herself upon that divine fuck pillar that scrapped her out like nothing else could. Nails biting into flesh, callously clawing through skin and fat alike in a bid to acquire a better hand hold to wrench her upwards on that shaft. Hollowing out her innards, viscera and bits of her own cunt-lining scrapped out as the poor loli fuck dumpster was not lifted merely just 'a foot' upwards. Nay. That was not acceptable. That was not enough for this body-breaker. Her entire frame being pulled and pulled, viscera splattering down upon the floor, ruined sweater and torn nylons alike. More than one bit of flesh easily recognizable as some important organ or another - a few vertebrae here. What was most certainly a slice of her uterus with an ovary ripped from its locale, gushing out around the cock until that flattened bludgeon of a cock tip was finally free to the air. The fucking thing was steaming. It was burning away her blood like it was some dirty contaminant meant to be purged from its length - and immediately after the cockslit was allowed to gush it's yellowed cocksnot upon the air, lubing it more so than it already was, did Theodosia slam her entire body weight downwards like some living onahole where the crunching of bone and the sudden blood rocketing from her sheathe's maw was the denotation that it was being used properly. What previously cracker sternum, send cocktip slamming out of chest. What previously 'smashed' against heart, compressed it into pulp as ridge slammed past, destroying collarbone in the process and colliding with the lower point of her chin. Impaling the poor fucksocket on nothing more than a cock, whilst her brain died within her skull. But this was still not enough. Only one such thrust, one such ruination of heart muscle and bone, of collapsed lungs and ribcage clinging to the edges of that god-meat like a protective casing, was nowhere near enough to make this hedonistic Elf blow her load like she wanted. Nails tearing and rending her leg meat now. There was no more time for accommodation or leniency. The eyes, the jealousy whores. The dead souls. The masturbating mortals. The oxygen-deprived couples too close to the source of the foul odor that they blacked out, suffocating around them - They were watching, and they needed a show. Forearms flexing with muscular might, the Amazonian Elf began to pull the cock-socket back upwards and slam her directly back down. Every time plunging her cocktip from the entrance of her docile fuckfolds, all the way through her chest cavity. Crippling the purple haired fuck-doll that was awash in her own crimson fluid that instead of being sucked back into her frame through divine magicks, was simply left to flood upon the floor; regeneration and arcane might so far gone that it was simply an easier task to produce new and fresh organs than stitch back what was strewn about feet away from one another. Resulting in every slam never losing its tightness. Every obliterating blow to her heart being met with a beat of its muscles that sprayed blood like water from ruptured arteries. Time and thought becoming meaningless, only the pursuit of hedonistic bliss left the blue haired alchemist with her mouth agape. Tongue outstretched to catch the bones and blood alike being chipped from her body. Vertebrae shattering and forced from her back, splitting open the curve of her spine simply to allow her fetid spinal fluid to drain down her ass and stain those hefty semen containers. The gyrations of Theodosia's hips upon the resolution of each thrust, being the most damning sensation there was. What little organs she hadn't piled upon her lap with every new rendition birthed within the skin-sheathe, was soon pulverized to a mush. The Elf's 'tender' ministration churning the meat within around her branding fuck pillar to simply widen the hole that she could stab into, even if it did nothing more than temporarily stretch her to allow the act of excavation of her depths a sight easier. That lovely little womb of hers practically stitching itself to the side of her cock like some sort of rancid fetus, to be stripped away and torn out with every hilt that only sent more endorphins to flood the fuck-doll's mind even as every eye upon her screamed in shame and jealous lust. The salacious, blood-soaked high elf using her masturbatory sleeve for what felt like an eternity. Simply lost in her constant exchange of thrusts and slams, leaking cock-snot and visceral splatters that echoed in her drugged mind. Every slam getting her closer to that ever fleeting orgasm, until the 'regimented' pile drives that ached her nuts with every slap of loli-ass upon them were finally overtaken by more wanton, shortened slams. The hole within her chest becoming a second cunt. The act of colliding that drool-leaking cockslit against her chin the mark of a 'proper' penetration, whilst her ridge slithering back into her chest cavity the beginning. The constant change from humid innards, to hot air, to crunched jaw bone that was becoming pulpier with every desperate hip jab, nerve-melting to a fault. "Nrf. Ahn." There were no words for this Goddess that was stripped to her basest components. The thoughts within her head not seeking anything further than 'Cum. Impregnate. Breed. Fuck. Ruin.' The eyes that stared taking a backburner, for vision was no longer a thing that registered within her. Unnecessary. Worthless. Incomparable to the delight that was coursing through her cock every time another snap of bone was caused by its unfathomable girth and length. She knew it was coming, falling to her knees upon the floor she slammed the back of the cock-socket into the remnants of her own body and spilt coffee. Hands sinking not to her waists her shoulders, but instead she dragged far back, pushing her upon the floor until her hands were planted firmly above her uterus. Right where her stomach began to slope down to her distended fuckhole ravished by cock, and then she breathed.. Waiting, the seconds. The minutes that she felt the whore's body sew itself back together. Cockhead listlessly gurgling against her folds, until cunt tightened dramatically, even as the rest of her frame was still in a state of absolute disrepair. The one thing she waited for being accomplished.. She immediately ruined that with the thigh thick bludgeon forcing it's way forwards. Inch, by agonizing inch. Her virginal tightness, her cervix that was meant to protect her most core of depths from penetration - all but destroyed. Muscles and ligaments alike torn asunder to make room for the leviathan who's veins were now permanently scarred into the flesh. That were now such a fixture to the loli cum dumpster that even healing no longer removed the sears - the pain would always be lingering within. But the cock forced upwards, past cervix into womb. Stretching it tightly, the drug-slinger stabbing it further, further.. Further. Flat stomach bulging obscenely to its capacity. This was it. Womb, nothing more than a second membrane wrapped around pre-ejaculate leaking cock. This was what she had waited for.. The fuckdoll not even speared on a sixth of her shaft, more like cap to her length. It was absurd that Theodosia could hold such restraint within her, hands groping at her uterus through her stomach. Jerking off her cock as ruby hues twitched and spasmed within her skull. Rolling and contorting as lips were burrowed into by teeth. The stimulation finally being too much. The thousands of eyes. The shadowy silhouettes. The tens of patrons panting in pain but incapable of stopping their depravity even as flesh melted from bone. Too much. She came within the solid, healed womb of an immortal. Her ovaries, little more than cum-dumpsters within fractions of a second. Her body bloating but the beast fucking her having enough sense to wrench backwards - this was not for destruction, not now. Trillions upon trillions of her corrosive swimmers gnawing upon her womb, destroying egg and flesh alike countless times a second being irrelevant. Those bastards would take their hold.. There was no need for gallons of her slop to be released.. So instead? The twitching length of fuck meat that had spent hours attempting to drain itself upon her abdomen, where it sprayed out like an untapped firehose within microseconds. What was one darkened, nude flesh splayed out upon the floor became nothing more than a yellowed pile of turgid nutsludge that gurgled and bubbled, becoming slightly pink as the vomited up blood discolored the slop, before even more was added to it. Gallons of the filth building upon itself as Theodosia was wracked in a silent orgasm that meant little to her now. Brain, fried. Thoughtless with the pleasure having her hands clench down so brutally upon the harlot's stomach that skin was pierced through by digits alone. Drowning the whore. Disappearing her scalp from ever being seen, the fetid steaming much destroying the nostrils of those few who remained. The tar-sludge that the Elf had begun releasing far more potent and obtuse than anything the poor little fuckdoll had milked out previously. Chunky, globules that were congealing upon themselves in revolting handfuls. To even call what gushed from the Elf's cockslit liquid would be a misnomer from its viscosity alone, much less the visible squirming of tadpoles within. Practically crawling as its own individual beast upon her flesh, it sunk into her skin and devoured her pores and bones alike. Covering the garbled hole of a chest cavity and broken jawline alike, her darkened, mocha skin becoming little more than an obfuscated memory until the Elf had finally finished cumming her semen-pool out upon the floor.. Six tables down melting, tipping over as those unlucky enough to be left in its inches-deep grime began to dissolve where it rolled upon them. The gloppy substance too thick to 'fly' far, instead piling upon itself until the simple act of gravity sent it streaming away over the tile floor that was surprisingly resistant to the seed. All from the cock-tip up, completely incapable of being seen. Her hips soaked in red viscera whilst legs were uselessly pushed out to either side of the blood-caked Elf's knees. The dominant one slowly regaining her senses as the flood of her nut-sludge began to slow from a tsunami to a stream, still draining out upon her face like she was little more than her stench-scalded rag kept for nothing more than such uses. Not a singular strand of her pretty purple hair capable of being seen. The only thing denoting that there even was a head underneath those piles of slop was the half-waist that was a foot and a half below, and the faint gurgled bubble that briefly reached the surface before it popped. The Elf scanning the room.. Eyes, those killed. Those fucked. Those 'loved' and tossed aside. Those. Either satiated, or the hallucinogenic finally wearing off - she truthfully could not ascertain which anymore, before glancing back down upon her work. The cum dumpster's womb - still whole, even if gushing such an immense amount of her seed from her bloated belly that it was impossible to think it as such. Hands dragging themselves upwards to scrape and clean the other's skull marginally. Her pristine purple locks, dyed an ugly shade of yellow in the few places she bothered to scrape the seed off, before giving it up as an unworthy effort. Task more focused on rubbing the tar from her eyes and mouth, otherwise not caring that her mocha skin was nowhere to be scene underneath. "Mm.. Good." Came out on a tired, albeit satiated voice. The cries of pain and pleasure that still littered the now ruined shop, inconsequential to her. Lifting her immortal companion from the floor in both her arms, the still-dressed.. Albeit completely bloodied and cock-bared Elf rose. It was almost romantic, the way she slipped arms underneath knees and lifted the teenaged fuckdoll from the floor. "I suppose that was too much of a hit for you to take, mm?" Not that she expected the half-retarded, regenerating whore to be capable of responding.
+
 The towering elf that made the other look like a child beside, meeting her side promptly. Hand extending outwards with the unfathomable; a heart shaped box of chocolates. A small one, certainly. Already opened, and from the weight alone it was blatant that whatever was in there was not the original confectioneries that came packaged within, but a gift none the less. "I was thinking of you when I made this."
 
 Made. Make. Just like those blistering Redhots and those terrifying Plastertabs she had 'accidentally' forced upon her one night when they had first met, that left flesh scalding and body paralyzed in hallucinating fevers. A taunt. A drug-infused, absurd mockery of what lover's give one another upon Valentine's day.. But honestly the only thing that could have been expected from this Elf.
 
 Her opposite hand almost immediately slinking down to grope at her modest titflesh, ensnaring her within her grasp and striding into the dainty establishment. Tables packed, couples playing footsies underneath their tables whilst fingers cloyed to far more salacious abodes from man, woman, and in-between alike in plain-sight, but plainly hidden. No one so forward and outright hedonistic as to indulge in their 'personal' pleasures out in public like the two had planned. Like the slut had practically begged for - but that soon would be changing, with fingers sinking possessively into heated breast flesh, lead along by the teat.
 
 "Two coffees. Black." Came from the taller one's lips, striding from the door to the center tables. A duo leaving their spot, arm-in-arm and betrothed by the bliss of love, giving the two their chance to sit themselves down. Danalia brushing off whatever crumbs of pastries and droplets of bitter-fluid they left behind before thrusting the small creature down into the seat afront her.
 
 Sitting down with legs spread wide, she planted the gift upon the table lazily. Pushing it towards the docile being. "Eat it before the coffee gets her. I'm certain you'll like it." It wasn't even a, "It tastes good.", or "I made it just for you." A demand. A command. "Drug yourself before I indulge." As if being around her wasn't intoxicating enough.Those crimson hues were already busy glancing away. Looking at the singular screen within the establishment with subtitles scrolling downward. Prattling upon Griscorp's financial successes with their current head leading a charge against drug-traffickers. A far more interesting affair than their 'date'.