Thread: The Songs Are No More (Chantho/Misanthropic)

Gigaslut6niner didn't much mind when Luigi came up to her. She also didn't mind getting slapped and having him reveal her breasts to the entire crowd. He knew not to ruin the outfit, which was what truly mattered in all things. She absolutely loved when he smashed her face into a table and held her down, his other hand ripping her panties low. It was ecstatic. She was not always dominant, of course, but she was very selective to whom she submitted to. Not to say she never dominated Luigi, it was just rather fun to swap up every time. She gave the most wonderful moan when he slashed across her back with the knife, her blood beading up with the shallow cut. He was a filthy tease to start things out with. The bastard. Her legs felt the draft of air and she was vaguely aware of her disgusting sycophants running to gather up vials of her blood. The piteous wretches would do anything to get a piece of her. She snapped her fingers and the two slaves with the giant cup of feces ran up, the young lady speaking up first. We have the personal scat cup of the Mistress herself, just filled before the party! That sent a clamor of miserable bastards after the poor slave, knocking the unaccustomed one over as the pro just moved out of the way. The one being trampled would likely die, or at least be maimed. Nothing big, she had just been a pretty face. Nothing great. The sex went harder and she felt her flesh part at the first REAL cut. There was that odd sensation of a cold burn that just grew sharper as the copper scent hit her nose. The blood was warm on her flesh, something she almost never noticed as she focused on the cuts themselves. DO IT AGAIN! I AM YOUR WHORE! I AM YOUR SLUT! OWN ME! OWN ME! She cried and bucked, feeling full even as she bled out. Luigi was good, she wouldn't die. But she would enjoy it. Damien had been left all alone as the stampede for the fecal matter of the hostess had drawn so many people away. He looked up in a haze wondering where that nice lady he had been talking to had made it to. He was a bit slow, his head turning this way and that as if he was in water before catching sight of Ezra. He knew that man! His coat billowed behind him and showed off his nipples thanks to how loose it was when he walked. He skipped when he was cut in front of by an excited person who decided to get his hooks into a free corpse before falling. Damien looked more surprised than hurt, his eyes dilated as he searched around for where his legs had gone. In a few moments he was up, dusting himself off from muscle memory as he tried to cut through the haze in his memory. He had been walking for some type of reason, he just couldn't fathom it for now. Then Ezra hit his field of view and he decided to go talk to him. Ezra was a nice guy after all. He managed to make it this time, the dusty haze of his trip making his movements a little shaky. Ezra, hey. I am glad you are here. I don't know many people here. I was talking to a nice lady though, said she'd color all my skin purple for free. I didn't know they had body painters here. He was lucky, in a way, that he had remembered that woman wanting to beat him bruised was in his mind as a body painter. He draped an arm around a chair and sat down, looking rather cute. At least as cute as a zydrate addled vitilligo suffering doctor could.