Thread: Animal (Verse and Zoophilian)

Edmond remained, foot swaying lightly, suspended in the air. He stayed like this way for a moment, even when he heard the knocking on his door. Katya, who else. The echoes had long since died out in the arbal surfaces of his home when the figure stood, pulled his vest down and corrected the tie. Polished shoes on the well lit carpet took him out of the room without urgency, every stuffed body waiting faithfully for their master's return. She had been here before, she knew the size of the house would delay answering the door on days when he was without the staff. And today was too important to share with maids and service. Taking the stairs expertly, clicking expensive soles against every ledge in high frequency, he'd produced himself on the bottom floor without so much as an extra wrinkle on his attire. Out of habit he corrected his glasses as he turned the handle on the door. Katya. If the smile wasn't physically on place, it was implied in his spirit as he parted the door from one side of its frame. She was pretty as ever, evenly colored skin complimenting her locks. It was quite endearing, how small she was. In so many ways his towering form was the predator to her slight shape. Edmond held the large, carved panel open for her as he stepped aside. Welcome. Calm voice, friendly. Much unlike when they played, when he lectured her. Yesterday had been their last lesson. It had been hard not mar her permanently when she so willingly subjected herself to any of his whims. Today had been more important all along. Red eyes in the tilted head glimmered as he thought of the low of her back, the bowl between the muscles on either side of her spine, filled with scorching wax, overflowing to trickled down her tail bone and swirl to drown her minuscule pucker on it way to flood the inside of her thighs. The buds were greeting him through the taut shirt she'd chosen, a perfect mixture of promise and delivery all at the same time. While he did enjoy the skirt, barely keeping her sex a secret, he quite favored her heels more. Naderson did not have that particular fetish, but he enjoyed any article of clothing that rendered the wearer less capable of escaping. Heels were famous for that much, at least. Bladed eyebrows raised, showing her that he was pleased at her attire as he stepped to the side to let her in. The day was increasingly wonderful outside, and she fit well in the world her vivid colors, her vibrant personality restored from the tragedy she'd felt not too long ago. He knew it would be so. What he had ruined he had also intended to restore. How else would he have built such absolute trust? That and rendering her speechless with carnal play, torturing her until she worshiped at his lap and ingested every word he spoke. I hope the drive was fine. She had seen the upper floor. During the first visit people only saw the lives that had been ended so that he could have material for his vision. The few that returned were already discernible as those who either needed his approval enough to stomach the art, or those that shared his taste to some degree. Katya had been a little of both, and continued meetings here - for her sessions of psychological reshaping through worship at his feet and under his organ - had brought her deeper into the catacombs of what he wanted from her, wanted to do for her. The first time he'd hinted at it a dark flame had lit her green eyes. Surely he knew he'd chosen the right person in her life to take, then. His member hard visited her insides violently that first night, something Katya was unused to judging from the sounds she'd made, it had been to have her submit, to let her know his superiority. It was a fact written in velts and scratches, and sometimes cuts on her skin as often as she was with him privately. The parcel itself was small, but it held quite a lot of importance. All the papers that made her who she was, everything society asked that she keep safe to protect her place among -- the other human beings, everything in her purse. Her friends would miss her and her family would remember. Perhaps part of the draw of this maneuver was just that, to pull the modern race one step closer to realizing its downfall had been its rise, when cops could take statements and look for a ghost, but never really prove her existence. A last flick on the nose of the collective giant. If only Edmond cared enough for others to pursue such noble wars at a larger scale. Katya, and the person dear to her that he had changed rather than stolen - she had done the stealing herself, hadn't she? - had been means for his own satisfaction, if he were to confess quietly to himself. So it was a gesture with great weight, when he waved at his desk while sitting against it elegantly, standing with feet crossed to enjoy the support. She was meant to understand that she should place her purse there, for him to keep or destroy. Red eyes, like the warm light from the roofs of cop cars, shone at her through glass lenses as he smirked. Are you excited, beautiful Katya? Tonight you will have an adventure unparalleled by anything I've let you feel so far. And that much was irrevocably true, despite the foundation of lies he'd built this moment on. The pain he had strung her body over, the pleasure he'd drowned her in after, the endless weight of his own persona he'd promoted to tame and collar her fully all of it might just be made to cinder in the wake of this coming experience. The hollow canine was waiting faithfully, hungry and lifelessly sitting, shadowed on the outskirts of what the light in the ceiling would allow a person to see.