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He always does. . .
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I promised something more carnal and here is the result. I made this for one of the havenites who loves a sense of lose of power.
He will come.
Your can feel his presence even when he’s not here. Thoughts of him consume your existence as you anticipate his needs. Your heart flutters underneath your enhanced bosom as you place a hand over it to steady yourself. He will come. He will demand pleasure and you will give it.
There was a time you thought yourself his equal but enlightenment corrected your folly. Under the cover of night you prowled clubs and other nighttime establishments in search of conquests. To you, the women you bedded were objects of pleasure - mere playthings to be discarded when boredom set in. It was during one of these nightly hunts that you witnessed him for the first time. He sat in a booth near the back like a king at a feast, entertaining a bevy of lovely women. Your envy saw an opportunity and you decided to charm your way among the group. He let you play your game, choosing to observe your true nature. Eventually he dismissed his adoring company and spoke to you alone.
“My friend, you have made a foolish error,” You tried to look him in the eyes as he spoke, but the power surging from his voice suppressed your will. “Your lust and greed saw treasure here and your arrogance made you believe that you were entitled to it.” His words nailed you to your seat, immobilizing you despite your growing confusion. “ I’ve known your kind; you see women as snacks to satisfy your appetite. You don’t care about the tears your lies cause or the hearts you shatter.”
You struggled to move away, but instead your body inched closer to him. His hand on your thigh made you moan out like a whore, your voice suddenly dulcet and full of an unfamiliar need. The invisible grip he had on you only strengthened with each word he spoke. “You see them as objects. I love them and help them flourish. Every one of my lovers leaves me better than they came to me. All but you.”
You shivered when his hand touched your lips, suddenly full and pillowy. Your tongue slid out and you tasted his maleness. Hair cascaded down to your shoulders as breasted billowed out from underneath your top. He guided your head down to his crotch while desire guided your hands to his zipper. Your newly delicate fingers reaching out and finding his member - the growing dampness between your legs craving it. “You won’t ever leave me, my dear. In you I will find a release for all my dark carnal pleasures. I will stain you with my cruel needs so that I can keep my beauties pure. I will absolve them of the pain other men cause them and inflict my cruel appetites upon your feminine curves.”
He kept his word that night, roughly manhandling your pliant flesh while you urged him on. Every hard thrust stole your masculinity, his otherworldly power being fueled by your surrender. His curse took deep root within you and binding you to his will. You are his fuckdoll. Somewhere he is giving a woman kindness you denied them. He is healing the wounds the former you used to create. He will need to rid himself of the darkness. . .
He will come. For you.