“I… see…!” A seized body relaxes, his breathing pleasantly easy. “Then, it feels softer than anything else, that’s how I feel…! What’s changed with you?”
“Too brief. Explore further, openly, this lady with all of one’s compelling eloquence guiding one’s hands and… elsewise.”
“… Huh?” A moment of incredulity strikes him.
“Especially desired by this lady, such exploration becomes.”
“Hah! Easily done! This rich material, softer than satin, very new for me, although I really like its texture…”
(Indeed. Terribly new. Terribly mysterious, how applying pressure to such a tiny part of a human can unbalance their nerve.)
As she calculated, this demanding tone provokes immediate and exuberant compliance, despite also leaving the entity bewildered.
(Terribly inviting, it be! A new research category -> [EROS calculation] registered!)
Every lascivious touch and technique before now that was cataloged lies ready to pick out of meticulously kept records for use. It filters through the lady’s processing, the possibilities demanding adaptation of usual bodily functions. She must cast off simple movements, adopt complicated motions reserved for pseudo-Art research.
The lady riding him becomes aware of sensations associated with its own worn clothing upon bare skin. Of detecting “softness” unrelated to merely an item’s intrinsic value.
(A f f i r m a t i o n: a lady, perfectly made, now exists capable of:
1) salvaging this emperor’s ego,
2) remolding his future self into a more perfect entity, and,
3) carefully tethering his wild, rakish spirit without damaging it, yet dragging him in line with basic sensibilities.)
And for that purpose, all prior convictions are re-evaluated.
Nothing is permitted to be incapable of for a lady, or to go unexperienced.
(P r o g r e s s: discovery of current ability to “grant pleasure and promote sexual attraction”, identify all mechanical and procedural steps toward mastering techniques, escalate this toward “a fulfilling climax”.)
Hands wrapped around a dress wrapped around the throbbing, unseen head of an erect phallus no longer present hesitation with the idea of “pleasuring” it.
Instead, they record a penetration of fluid between the microscopic fibers of the immaculate cloth after briefly pumping the cloth along its shaft…
“To sully a dress made by Luna with the seminal fluids of a ‘man’, does one enjoy this base act?” A mildly dismissive comment provokes a huge gasp from him.
But no whimpering denial or rejection, only silence.
(Failing to instill “shame”, but provoking his ego to a new sharpness by challenge. Excellent stimulus response.)
That he can only await her next words leaves the lady pleased.
“Keep foremost in thoughts, Adris, that one be the first to earn favor from a lady sufficient to earn dirtying her dress.”
“Oh… that’s certainly… an order I could never disobey, Neesiette!”
His tone quavers, briefly. Arms wrapped around her weaken, allowing further experimentation.
Around the glans wet now with his male fluids, the lady softly twists and hooks fingers under them to slide past. Every motion elicits another useful indication of fulfillment when he bucks in time with her dragging massage.
Body temperature, heart rate, perspiration, all metrics for satisfaction are added to her core evaluating.
“Side-to-side…?”
“Are you mocking my ‘greater’ dignity?”
“Certainly not… around-and-around.”
Like her words, the lady directs this rod to sway side-to-side, and then pumps it in a few full circles.
“One’s heart be more honest when tempted.”
“That’s any man. You’re getting really into…”
Still, his voice is full of shock despite meager protestations. A lady’s earnest investigation, this is unexpected to him?
But not so unexpected that his hold on her doesn’t release, and his hands don’t creep up again to her breasts to rub.
“‘Really into it’, referring solely to another.”
Her palm on his cock head stops rubbing with this cold sentence.
“‘A story relating solely to this lady’ one sought, yet now seeks again to interrupt?”
“… No… not at all.”
Those wayward hands flinch, then slowly return to the arm rests.
“To determine what a lady desires, when she desires it, and to deliver it when appropriate, remembering one does this lesson from the Castillo?”
“Intimately…”
(P r o g r e s s: establish second rule, begin retraining “one’s own pace” to “one’s lady’s own pace”.)
“Exalting and answering a lady’s desires, even when unvoiced, be the rule one should follow at all times. A second and final one, this be the true essence of a nobler gentleman’s pursuit.”
(A rakish soul must bend…!)
When his silence intensifies, his body metrics shifting toward a higher state of agitation, she grants the same unspoken concession toward his feelings by leaning forward.
(R e c a l l…
Book 89, passage 1294… paraphrase, recast.)
Revealing her defenseless back, she elicits his fascination with a soft order and a bit of hesitation intentionally placed.
“Obstructed elsewhere by something… unnecessary, a lady’s efforts be…”
He startles, almost jumping to work.
But then halts.
With absolute allowance for grace and impression, the clever emperor lifts his hands to detach a short cape. His fingers dance along the links.
(Greater precision, intension of purpose and arousal.)
“Ladies didn’t wear things like these where I ruled.”
When the cravat and broach become sole deterrent… his hands fly, carefully ripping the jewelry loose and flourishing the cloth to let drop to the armrest!
“I like how easily it slides off. I’ll teach my belongings about it…”
(No harm inflicted, storybook punctuation! Plus 3 points, 58 points current. Elevated aggression, within allowances.)
A cape of half moons joins the other arm, lightly folded to hang.
“A beautiful paleness, like you’re made of the moon itself.”
All without being able to observe his work by sight, the entity removes two barriers, leaving the lady’s nape bared.
“… Partly of Traveler, be true.”
“With your own flavor…”
A breath, dank and hungry, is registered by…!
(Will one viola—!?)
But only for a moment, before the boy leans away and moves his hands behind the lady’s petite body.
(Escalation without violation, plus 2 points, 60 points current.
What a fearsome utilization of his former conquest data… exceeding it this lady shall, however.)
The most fearsome tool in any attraction is not, as expected, oneself or one’s own abilities.
But, instead, the threat of others, of tapping into a deep reservoir of masculine instability, and allure if properly controlled.
(One’s reservoir of this be considered fearfully deep, Adris!)
“There are… metal links? Your dress simply…?”
“Slide one’s finger down the links. Allow the miracle of Luna’s works to carry through.”
A single finger touches the lady’s back, tapping twice before committing to a slow slide that intentionally prolongs the show of being exposed.
(P r o g r e s s: timing reached, institute calculated risk.)
“… Another, stopped where one progresses presently.”
And so his careful slide jars to a halt!
An emotion called jealousy floods out with a rise in body heat. A forceful wave of it earlier fell flat, but now his thoughts return.
This moment of building tension frosts over.
(E v a l u a t e: quiet, but inflamed.)
“Found completely unworthy, that hand possessed of no love for a lady. Not even seeing feminine qualities, another’s eyes held grander view after.”
(R e c a l l…
Book 37, passage 898… paraphrase, recast.)
“Such that a lady’s heart was moved for the first time, behold, in the same purity, what no other has, nor shall…”
(A f f i r m a t i o n: only to affirm a wise choice, a superior existence, to buttress the heart, a lady commits to using jealousy.
Not for personal pleasure, as a witch clearly would!)
And it functions as such, for the man’s hands resume avariciously along with his breathing. Reaching to her cuffs to pull sleeves clear, slender arms are his reward for jealously aiding her undressing.
A wildness growing, unspoken for the moment until he tastes the sight of skin and inner garments coming free…!
“… What is this?”
“‘This’? Besides this lady existing in one’s lap, one can only question the garment itself…?”
Hands unrestrained, the lady runs them over her front to feel the shoulder-less violet babydoll that is her undergarment. Sheer and paper-thin, with a wide inverted-v divide up the middle of her stomach ending at the large ribbon which holds it fast to her petite breasts, this is a sight beheld seldom even for the Lunamaton herself.
“A babydoll it be, registered by Luna as an esteemed form of comfort garment.”
“Usually… women who wear heavy pieces like yours have… more under…”
“Fearing no wear nor discomfort a Lunamaton does, for even if one did, inner fabric of dress be softer than outer.
How feel it, to witness, to touch…?”
“… It’s actually very… modest, considering, and more cute than I’d thought, which makes me feel… indescribable…?
“Be this all one thinks?”
“No! Well, that it’s you wearing it is what leaves me rushing for more…”
Unable to find further words, the boy’s hands come to pluck at the steel-blue ribbon. Then, he skips comment to follow how the dress that he’s slinking loose meets her three back ribbons.
With a touch replicating the lady’s own earlier, the ribbons unwind themselves and deposit into his open hand.
“Two pieces? Why does the bottom…? How does this…?”
“Complicated, a lady’s clothing be? At midsection, unwrap from back, then …”
The top ruffled sections pull away from the back as one strip, to allow from the front one to reach inside and…
“… draw one’s finger along this, downward.”
With her hand on his, their mutual fingers open the v-window down the middle, allowing the lady to pull the top free while the dress’ bottom lays over his lower self.
The only wearer of the dress by this point is the towering tent that continues to twitch.
(E v a l u a t e: silence, provocative, assuring impact potentially immeasurable.)
Remaining motionless, except to place her hands upon his thighs and scoot legs slightly open, the lady awaits the scenario’s next progression.
Amber hair glinting with the Oracle room’s radiance, this lady made perfectly must be a once-in-a-lifetime beauty for his—
“These drawers are… what you like?”
(Be he overwhelmed, failing to compliment a lady?)
The same violet as the babydoll, they rise to the waist and balloon slightly over the upper thigh before snugly tying off at their short leg ends. A fine material that exceeds all Zennian quality, the lace-work alone shines in this light where the material itself stays muted.
“Knickers, a short female undergarment, designed for stunning presentation and comfort ev—”
“It’s completely open.”
Naughtily, his hand comes to her lap, feeling between the opening where the knickers don’t cover.
“Rude, some error thinks this!? Impeccable, design of a lady’s wear be. Matching perfectly the utility of the garments as utilized by a Zennian female.”
“…
… Huh…”
“One’s opinion, clarified fully, yet to hear?”
(Even though it cannot be negative!)
But there’s no rush to congratulate for beauty and style, for the boy coughs once and then offers a meek issue.
“… I can’t really see well from behind.”
“Absurd one be, sometimes.”
(P r o g r e s s: flaunt, stylishly and modestly, one’s supreme unveiled grace!)
From his lap she ascends to seat upon an arm of the throne, right on top of her own dress that is taken with her.
“Hnggh!?”
It catches and pulls off of the boy’s phallus, unveiling it, too, for the first time since the Castillo for a lady’s scientific inquiry.
“One found this lady fetching from above, if one recalls; therefore, it be prudent to unveil while the same disparity between us presents!”
The Lunamaton is quick to tap her boots, unbuckling them so that they can be flicked to land perfectly upright side-by-side on the floor.
“But lacking, only to ‘flaunt’ for a man. Proving unfulfilling, that one’s thoughts remain hidden…”
“N-Neesiette…!”
(E v a l u a t e: arousal increased 48% since first asserting “primacy” in directing sexual encounter.
C a l c u l a t e: entity responds favorably to feminine authority during sexual encounters, further instigation will provoke greater returns.)
One foot corners a brutal tool.
Precise calculations are required, but the entity proves reticent without immense stimulation.
(E v a l u a t e: 15.52 CM length x 13.67 CM girth, slight curvature, normal veining, no indelicate hairs along shaft, uncircumcised…)
Now able to witness his facial signs, the lady takes eager note of how he excites upon open inspection of a tool so valuable to him.
“Both adequate and welcome, one’s own ‘presentiment’ be.”
“… Not… too big…?”
Each tap of her big toe against the head of his phallus earns another jerk of it.
(E v a l u a t e: [Immaculate Sockpress], one of many possible modes, a direct interrogation.)
“Disregarding individual pieces and taking in the whole effect, establish now, with perfect candor…”
Away from him she turns her head, granting an arrogant tilt. And strokes over her own stomach, though receiving no stimulation from it.
Legs widened sufficiently allowed what is proudly a part of her to be glimpsed in brief.
“… one’s fascination with undergarments as worn by this lady. Accentuating a lady made perfectly, how, do identical quality garments?”
She continues to stroke his phallus with her foot, eagerly testing the dexterity required to apply just sufficient pressure to stimulate with the resistance of her sock.
This work, and the glorious near-nakedness of a beautiful flower of noble Traveler’s repository, brings a total redness to this foreign emperor’s face.
Half-maddened and half…
(E v a l u a t e: “resigned”, possibly, 78% likelihood.
Q u e r y: why?)
“Ahhh… they’re so… fragile…?”
“Fragile be one’s thoughts? Truly, assigning a likelihood of self-destruction be…?”
“Like rose petals in winter! They make you… approachably unapproachable, by normal people.”
“Then grand femininity of a rose, embodying suitably a lady does, but cannot be approached?”
(C a l a c u l a t e: indeed, this lady be above all others!)
Closer the lady leans, markedly confused by the way this man uncomfortably turns when she nears, daring not to look at her, but betrays how horrendously excited he is to do so.
Though not a concise answer, it provokes much happiness.
But, never relenting from tormenting his leaking phallus, which soaks the bottom of her foot especially now, his sexual response appears disconnected from the emotional one.
“This naive modesty… is perfectly Neesiette…”
(One hides a slight.)
When she curls her toes to lightly crush the end, a deceiver named Adris sighs.
“… or rather, it’s you as I’d desire, and only you!”
“Clarify.”
A second foot rises to join the first, firmly wrapping the length between pure softness.
“I’d rather not, I think something has come unsealed and the one who can fix it got crushed… but, something modest, but worn immodestly, especially with your…?”
“This lady’s…?”
“… Waifish… figure…?”
Following his gaze, he can only be taking in a chest which cutely sports a ribbon. Only through the sheer fabric can the parts that men crave be spotted poking out.
To provide more enticement, the lady allows her petite breasts to lean out. Where his eyes follow, she grants movement to enhance the appeal.
“No, I suppose this figure is exceptionally you! Definitely what I was attracted to, as I’m discovering again…”
“It be not wrong to feel attraction to a sculpted, precise allure such as this lady’s.”
Yet he avoids looking once more, despite gasping as the friction on his member increases in rapidity.
“That’s definitively a Zennian normality, I agree…!”
“Avoiding speaking of a lady’s appeals, why then?”
“… When I think… of you, I think of a…”
“Go on?”
“… Hah… a sculpture of ice… needing safeguarding! But…”
(Incorrect, in many ways. Far more enduring than the majority of other entities this lady be.)
“Think not of this lady as fragile.”
“But…!”
“‘But’…?”
Though he is still near-fully clothed, his sweat soaks sleeves and legs enough to reveal how tight his body is.
“If it’s you… a small, defenseless figure left before a man…!”
Finally, he makes his move.
A fearless hand that slides to her leg that strokes his larger half.
(E v a l u a t e: overwhelmed, he must act!)
He squeezes it, moving from the exposed thigh to the spot where the sock clings.
“You’re the softest creature I’ve ever met, and it’s too tempting these days.”
Running up to the lady’s hip, he creeps ever so slowly to reach into an open and displayed treasured place.
“I’m left feeling I can only give in to you and attack, despite it being a sin…!”
(E v a l u a t e: a sin, “to be attracted to one so beautiful, giving in to a seductive trap”.
More poetic than predicted! Plus 5 points, 65 points curr—)
And to dip to squish that treasured place, tight lips unfolding with fingertips nudging, a boy overshoots clear limits!
(Unwarranted advance, minus 10 points, 55 points current!)
But he doesn’t advance further when a lady ceases her feet’s gifting and lifts a hand to slap him, only pulling away to hold his fingers up for inspection.
And then he spreads his two forefingers, to allow a strand of unknown substance, a moisture that is clear, to stickily part.
“As I thought… it smelled like…”
“Acquiring moisture, by what method, from where, one has?”
Ignoring the lady, most evilly, the mystified non-gentleman places his fingers in his mouth and sucks the moisture from them.
“Licking fingers, EXPLAIN IMMEDIATELY, RATIONALE!? INTENT!?”
“… Ah… salty, the same taste as you, just… magnified? Concentrated?”
“From this perfectly made lady, an unknown liquid, retrieving illegally from a lady one claims to have achieved!?”
(E r r o r: no liquid be forthcoming, from a lady or otherwise, a creation of Luna, look not upon this lady with wide eyes and incredulity…!
Hah!?)
To this lady his other hand reaches, to drag her head down and lips to meet his!
Despite the disparity of their figures, or because of it, his tongue forced in is gently stuck after assuring they can meet safely, so as not to crush her.
Seeing grown adults perform this action often, the lady admits a certain ambiguity regarding youths, save for imps and other abominable creatures.
(Q u e r y: an advance toward conclusion, or attempt to mislead, or purposeful disobedience…!?)
But his piercing eyes are closed, locked only in the exploration of her mouth. Lacking the expressive senses of a biological being, the lady can only await a proper moment to respond according to archived theoretical data regarding “the art of making love with the tongue”.
A woeful lack of field observations are noted, beginning with a refusal of a brash kobold to start comprehending human mating norms. That night proved illuminating in all other aspects save this one.
(Timid, pretending to be, this man’s tongue. Inviting, then punishing…)
His muscular weapon of abuse invading a lady’s mouth flicks at her own tongue, a purely cosmetic feature hers is, drawing it out. Only to then attempt to punish it by coiling and slurping around it.
Even the fine pearly teeth earn a sweep, the lightest searching of every reachable corner of her mouth done to mark…
(E v a l u a t e: man’s actions, clearly a testing phase, designed to evaluate the lady!
And to prove… “been here, this man can claim”! How… unrefined, and thoroughly masculine.)
That strong hand of his permits no escape, not that the lady has attempted. It pulls at the brilliant amber coif of hair that until now avoided becoming messy, serving as its hold and distracting her by this.
Lips lock and then unlock, slight turns and variations to his assault, a calculated coldness of professional experience betrayed by his heated breathing as the lady notices him losing himself to the testing.
P r o g r e s s: counter the action, reassert control, dominate the experience with rapid acclimation, to over-satisfy in turn!)
“Nngah!?”
And so her hand locks behind his head, while her feet apply leverage of an erotic bent.
A stolen tongue steals back, drinking of what was claimed.
“Hgggah…! Neeshate.”
“Shhka…!”
His tempting tongue is flicked at in turn, danced with as he briefly instructed, then sucked by her. Every motion calculated, every response earning an evaluation, an escalating series of anticipated amorous wants.
Even under his tongue, to tickle at it as she withdraws her own, a lady discovers the unpredictable fascination she begins to hold for deciphering all possible outcomes of this lingual sport.
As he explored her mouth, she does so with an exacting certainty that freezes him at times, leaves him twitching from the overwhelming sensations that don’t afflict her. His attack becomes a clear retreat where he pulls her lip with his in a vain attempt to save face.
(A f f i r m a t i o n: a man’s reported fascination with the idea of kissing be confirmed, this being the avenue of conquest wished for by my squire-in-training!)
For her eyes remain open, despite it being against decorum to do so, observing the way the man’s cheeks redden and his body melts into their tryst of tongues.
So melting he is that he starts to buck into the feet claiming him, and then he…!
“Gah!” Finally he runs out of breath, tearing himself free of the fragile lady he assaulted. “Oh… well… you are… ahem…!”
A hunger tenfold flashes across his face, shines in his eyes, though he quickly denies it while concentrating.
“… Modest… nngh, but…”
Moving from her face to the work she still does on his phallus, he swallows hard and tries not to choke.
(C a l c u l a t e: primary sexual weakness #1, revealed, cataloged.
Alerting any other to this potent fault this lady shall not.)
To her crotch, a place of no interest before now, a hand sneakily moves. It chances upon the same viscosity that is detected by refocused epidermal senses, then withdraws without visible alarm.
(E r r o r: something unknown leaks, this unit’s energized fluidic system be compromised, perhaps, please quantify and qualify this secretion.)
“So, you’re experienced…! I hadn’t expected that, nor saliva… you have saliva…? Hmm…!”
“Lies and heresy.”
While the boy gulps, swallowing, into her own mouth a finger dips, withdrawing with…
“…
…
… Saliva discovered be yours, clearly, registering as containing a ma—”
“I’ve swallowed half of what you made, that’s just what’s left of you sucking mine out.”
“Touch not this lady!”
When he tries to move in for another session of tempting tongues, he’s ruefully repressed. And quite downhearted, if his tight lips betray the truth.
(E r r o r: function unknown, unregistered in central schematics, please update, Creator.)
For some reason, the lady can no longer continue her act of pleasing, of testing. A strange error propagates, a feeling of… “unbelonging”, for she has no knowledge of how else to describe it.
It… feels…!
“A Lunamaton made for mastering the romantic arts has to have perfectly engineered lubrication, I see.”
“… I-Indeed! Perfectly engineered, and quite essential, and also fully functional.”
“No lady would be found dry when so inclined to… spoil a man with love. I could drown in yours…”
“Factually true, that be! Impeccable rationale. Rating the taste, satisfaction, highly then does one?”
“Ah!? I…”
Caught off guard, yet another time, despite always being in total control, the boy lets his eyes half-lid.
“… I can’t recall a better taste. It’s like being… ‘home’.”
That erroneous feeling fades, for the man smiles expectantly at the lady when thinking of home!
Correctly pointing out a superior design deserves an escalation of pleasure, too!
“Be safe, always, within this lady’s reach. Proceeding, let us, my would-be gentleman.”
(So many techniques, variations, to experiment with, to master~!)
And so, to her sock she goes, pulling from the cuff—
“Why take them off?”
The man’s hand stops her, gently but firmly. A sense of rushed unease.
“… Immaculate in all cases, unsoiled by anything, a Lunamaton’s body be. Therefore, resolving to let one experience touching this la—”
“Part of what makes you stunning is the overall impression.”
“… Clarify.”
(Predicted, one’s interests be. Naked, revealed, but please continue.)
From her modest bosom, down to the cleft barely revealed, following with the undergarments spoken of only briefly but clearly enrapturing this man, his flushed face and nervous movements identify a growing culmination approaching.
One that aligns with this fascination with her “waifishness”.
(Socks, worn by this tool, be…)
“I noticed from the beginning, the way you cut ahead with one foot ahead of the other, especially how your dress is cut to let you do it… these socks fit you well.
“… So lurid, one’s gaze be.”
“Hah, it’s not just that. They’re something intrinsic to your ‘appeal’ in my mind, a well considered symmetry. Everyone else has something… but, your clothing is the essence of your… uniqueness.”
“Symmetry, be not everything.”
“But for you, the perfection of it all… is important. I can’t allow myself not to see you as you truly are, right? A beautiful vixen whose youthful faux naivete is… hiding a fearsome sexuality…”
(How strange, one’s opinion? But, enlightened regarding symmetry!
E v a l u a t e: grasping this lady’s finest quality, plus 8 points, 63 points current.)
“Fear not, my Adris, merely relax.”
And so she dismisses his honest and difficult sexual sharing, quickly pulling free the sock she took hold of.
Because he is forbidden from interfering, he can only suck in air when she places both feet to trap his phallus again.
“Symmetry, in this instance, preventing…”
“S-Soft!”
“Comparison. And indulgence.”
A fast pump is what she inflicts, delighting in the added observational data of a man being brought to conclusion.
On one side, the glorious softness of fabric woven by Luna from star-stuff.
On the other, the bare sole of a foot that is as unique as the beginning of the universe, belonging to a body that he covets enough to surrender to.
“Slow, slower…!”
“Rejected, this demand be. Clarify one’s experience, earn relief.”
“Soft! Super soft! No… bad feelings!”
A bare foot climbs to rub against the glans and head, while the other braces to prevent bending of the phallus itself from stress.
“… Fuck…!
Yelling that is indelicate, isn’t it…”
“Yell one’s thoughts, if need be.”
“Then, there isn’t anything softer than your skin! I’ve met a princess whose skin… haah, never seen the sun once…!”
(E v a l u a t e: an attempt to inflict jealousy in turn… 38% certainty?)
But rather than jealousy, it simply is the uttering of an obsessed man succumbing to a female’s allures.
Finally, he is…
(E v a l u a t e: [On-and-Off Heavenly Footpound], one of many possible modes, a taste of dichotomous ecstasy.)
“Her skin was nowhere near as pure! I could sleep on your feet, they’re so clean…!
Haah, an emperor deserves… ohhh, a woman with legs like yours…”
For minutes only, but a duration that doesn’t truly pass for the Lunamaton, this man jerks and writhes in captivation of the multitude of ways her feet can comfort.
And to lighten this pleasure, she leans in from time to time to meet him, allowing him to kiss her neck as he seems wont to do. To taste the scent that only he can prove is real.
When his breathing grows rough,
When even his vaunted longevity erodes…
(A f f i r m a t i o n: in much less time, far less than three others, this lady claims victory by eliminating a man’s inhibitions!)
Always foremost, the pleasure of the female, be in this man’s mind. Observed with Kol, noted with a lizard’s regaling, and hinted at by dark thoughts “muttered” by a witch.
A barrier to his own fulfillment and experiences, this “duty” is one she shall shed from him.
(Only this selfless lady can release a mighty entity’s most grandiose desires, to witness all that he can be, and unleash it!
Only a kind lady be capable of bullying so affronting an organ without appearing mean!)
“Feel only pleasure, this lady begs to witness. Let go of inhibitions, my Adris.”
“… Ugh! No… it’s good, too into it, but I don’t want it like…!”
A gentle hand stops her feet, ruining the mastery of a technique that a lady could feel increasing exponentially.
The release she intended to grant fades fast.
“Dissatisfied? Not of one’s inclinations, perhaps, the touches of a lady’s feet?”
“… Not normally, but I definitely can get into it if it’s you, Neesiette. I look forward… haah, to trying that again.”
“… Then, one’s thoughts…?”
A final test triggers.
The last one of this tryst.
Despite an eagerness to experiment in so many different avenues, so long as a man remains discerning and deserving, there exists a consummate final act called “consummation”.
(Q u e r y: shall it be warranted?
Surprisingly easy to satisfy, a man’s pleasure. Even an emperor be brought to satiation quickly? Left incapable of not wanting more?)
“I’m not selfish, Neesiette. I’ve never changed my mind, fuuh, from the first time I saw you…! Everything I’ve had of you is… a first, because it was you.”
Despite saying this, the man’s skin is sweaty. Still weak from the interference that has sapped confidence, he rubs his cheeks and tilts his head.
Then reaches up to open his jerkin and under vestments, allowing some of the gathered heat to escape.
He stares at his tether to this perfect place, finding that dark voice of his, an impressive tone that the lady sometimes compares to others his own age that are heard in the distance…
“I want to make love to my woman.
Her name is Neesiette vera Luna, and all her firsts are mine to pursue.”
(Not “claim”, as an emperor would state. But, “my woman”, as a gentleman would clearly establish. Interesting dynamic.)
Time freezes after this declaration, in presentation at least.
For while the lady’s hands come to his face to check his boiling heat, then slide over to the vexing obsidian mask with its one character that escapes all translation attempts, neither makes motion to push toward that goal.
(E v a l u a t e: 93/100 “carnal invitation”, matching exceedingly well the nature of the man, woman, situation, and rules established.
Plus 15 points, 78 points current, final score before coitus.)
A markedly low number, in comparison to perfection.
Barely worth noticing, much less cataloging.
A routine score of a man who has achieved some measure of charm, wit, enticement, allure, mystique, and kindness.
(Not the score of a Creator; but, then, a Creator would never seek, admit to, nor encourage… “love”.)
And so the paradox reasserts, despite updated [P U R P O S E].
Having given the score, there is only one outcome.
An average score, undeserving of fulfilling a “perfect” night with consummating.
(A f f i r m a t i o n: this be the logical progression, for many chances in the future present upon leaving this place, affording more opportunities to achieve “perfection”.)
And so, the lady leaves her perch on the arm rest, moving toward the boy’s legs.
“H-Huh…?”
His shock erupts, though he doesn’t hinder her.
A rule states that he cannot.
And thus, she moves, ready to retrieve from the throne’s arm her…
But, then she plants feet upon his knees.
(A f f i r m a t i o n ?: to support others, especially a man such as this, requires allowances for imperfection, a “humanity” that denies harm to psyche.)
Before the man can hiss in concern of how her knickers flow over it, a light body easily lifts to line a grotesque appendage up.
“Hey…”
Though he thinks to help with lifted hands, she merely flicks her head to stare him into submission.
Then resumes her calculation.
(E r r o r: recalling, a lady does, this technique, [Reversed Sitting Position] remains unused with an emperor. A suitable “first” to experiment with.
Position allows for precise control during entry, with this a lady shall reward efforts made.)
Allowing its full length to extend past the crevice that has never been utilized for any purpose, the lady estimates the angle and tilts to let the head prod against her shut slit.
“Neesiette! Maybe… not?”
A previously unknown substance slickens the topside of this battering ram after she draws her entry along it.
“Isn’t it, the difference, rather big even for…?”
The concern he shows, unwarranted, speaks still of his vast affection.
(E r r o r+: human forms, designed by intelligence, creating such an impactful form of procreation/reproduction, that so long in proportion a tool should intrude into the interior of another, understanding not in the least this lady does the justification…)
Fortunately, a Lunamaton bears no dangers in allowing a male to potentially ravage it.
Absent pain, discomfort, and chance of permanent harm, all is permitted so that it enraptures him.
(P r o g r e s s == E r r o r++: with Kol, recorded experience, remembering firmly a lady does that this enraptured male favors aggressive pistoning?
This lady be kind, as often told. To deliver perfect pleasure, then, eliminating unnecessary escalation be…)
“S-SHIT!”
The lady lifts, expertly guides the head to the entrance to the canal, and drops without a care.
Allowing the full length to slam into her by gravity’s aid and a resistanceless slickness.
A sudden impact from their joining registers, shooting up into—
(R e p o r t: SUCCESS—!!!
E r r o r: extensive rearrangment of internal structure dete—HIIIEEEEEE!?)
“Ffffuckin’nottootight, but… definitely…! AH!? Inside is… closing around…!?”
So screams the man, his muscles twitching. The lady mounted upon him continues to vibrate with her intense report of errors freezing up control.
“Are you okay!?”
(A p p r e h e n s i o n: temporary interior flow distortion, energizing fluid congestion, resolved/recovered… but… cause, that be…!?)
Once animus flows again,
“No, nono, don’t move…! Oh, oooh!”
The lady lifts off the impaling spike that she seated on, just to have hands firmly clamp onto her stomach and press the organ back as it expands.
“Stop…!”
A pleasant fulfillment for this expanding invader grows within the lady, firming control over an unruly beast.
“Cumming! Aaah!” This rough shout and a single cry predict the torrent of thick liquid which a new sensory transmitter queues into the lady’s processing. “HAAAAH!?”
(E v a l u a t e: human male, age exceeding established external appearance, afflicted by numerous unknown effects upon biochemistry, genetic drift …)
As the lady restrains from moving, stunned by the automatic report and overwhelming error that afflicted it before release, she can only gawk at the feeling of “change” within as, for the first time, something is deposited.
“NEESIEEEETE!
So good! Fuck…! Why are… haaah, girls over…!”
Another wash of pleasure hits her partner, for he bucks and grinds into the internal walls of her mating canal.
Only lasting for a moment, for both, somehow, it resulted in…
(A p p r e h e n s i o n+: unknown experience of… heightened emotional dysfunction, buzzing interference, preceding …)
“Shit! Here, so…! Haah, Haaahh…! One of… these days…”
Further spurts fail to deliver anything, but the lady notes how she automatically constricts her interior to seal around the tool that deposited it.
“… Ah… I’m gonna have sex with some girl and die, right? Zennia is really hard to accept…”
“C-C-C-C-Calm…
… oneself, Adris.”
Regaining control of her own vocal functions, the lady remains seated.
“… Relinquished… in full, one has… then… then, concluding the act…”
“Shit! How can I be done when I know how good it’ll be!? I didn’t even last… a single thrust!”
His hand weakly comes to rest on the lady’s stomach, sensing a change…?
“Huh, you’re… really able to take all of me at once!?”
The lady blinks, all that she can do, as the boy rocks to cause the slight bulge that he can feel shift outward. He moans in satisfaction, though she can only feel a prickly, lightning-fast rush, clearly sensory misfires, accompanying this forcible touch of himself through her.
“… A lady… made perfectly… a lady, such… can handle any task, without… any issue… no matter how… big…”
“You’re so tiny, but you can take me better than anyone else?”
Something untoward occurs, and the boy’s hands grip rather tightly upon a slender waist.
“You were right, Neesiette. You are the best!”
(A p p r e h e n s i o n: danger exists, a lady recalling how strong a fiend’s grip be in comparison to a Lunamaton’s strength!)
“I shouldn’t doubt you anymore…!”
Slowly he begins thrusting into her, huffing in consternation of the pleasure he forces on himself.
“So good!? You’re not… super tight like…! Or cold… or hot… but you’re, really…!”
“‘Really’, what, how!? Still! One should remain still…!”
She in turn tries to keep distance from phallic head to unseen internal structure.
“Allow for recovery!”
“I can’t recover what I never lost.”
But instead of halting he forces the issue when she won’t move, ripping the ribbon off her babydoll top. Freed up from the strapless undergarment that falls on top of him, her petite breasts gain a squeeze from his hands. A long spell of groping amps his fast heart rate even higher.
“Fuck, I don’t care if they are tiny!”
“Size, normal! Delicate, petite…”
“They make me… you make, unnh, me happy, so… I… like tiny!”
Content with his massage of her, the boy wraps his hands around her midsection and asserts total control!
“I want to feel… everything…!”
For her part, the lady finds it impossible to keep balance needed to return and match timing of thrusts!
(A f f i r m a t i o n: unfinished he be, and a tool with perfect female form exists to grant complete happiness, no error exists in serving!
E r r o r: a LADY exists not to be a forced tool of pleasure!)
Despite releasing, the man doesn’t soften too terribly, powering through his tiredness and dazed expression to renew a sense of adventure. A fiery shout comes through his moans.
“Like… I’ve been having, oooh, sex with you my whole life…!”
“… Care! Give care!”
At first simply seeking gyration and small slides, the boy tires of this timidity, elevating her and allowing falls to simply plow into her bottom.
(Unregistered reporting error, possible again! A means of desisting, required! But, not exceeding rules, because…!
A f f i r m a t i o n: unfinished he be, and a tool with perfect female form exists to gran—!
E r r o r: cease with this affirmation, agreed in principle, but not at this juncture!)
Closer to her core he thrusts, overriding her defensive squat!
“Haaah! Deeper feels… even better! Haah, velvet inside! Like you’re… made to wear my dick…!”
(One’s candor now grows vulgar!?)
“You’re… a perfect toy, Neesiette!”
“DISAGREEING COMPLETELY, A LAD—!”
Relishing the way that he is semi-resisted when seeking a depth that has been discovered to not completely accommodate him, and like he adores nothing but her, he drills to bottom the full length of his phall—
(R e p o r t: SUCCESSFUL INTERPRETA—!!!
E r r o r: NAAAAAAAH!? AAAH!?)
As though happiness itself is granted, this occurrence of a full-body reaction propagates more fully.
Permeates every part that comprises her and sends a composed body jerking its head back.
When the phallus’ head slams deep, and the girth widens a resisting passage, and the firm hands squeeze…!
“Oh… OH!? Neesiette, do you feel good, too!?”
(A p p r e h e n s i o n: NO PLEASURE BE EXPERIENCED FROM SEXUAL INTERCOURSE, IMPOSSIBLE WITHOUT SENSORY DEVICES ATTUNED TO IT, CEASE PRODDING!)
“Go…
G-G-Gooo…!”
“Ho! Hooo! Go…!?”
In between pants, the strapping boy with way too much raw muscle for his age continues multi-angle compression of her abdomen.
A need for salvation is what she tries to utter, and he does lean in to listen…
(A f f i r m a t i o n: GO SLOWER!)
“Go…
… Gooooo…!”
“Go…? Go faster!?”
So giddy he becomes, as if he registers a mutual satisfaction that doesn’t exist. His repressed desire to pleasure others rages free when he lifts her like a tool and readies to slam her down ever more wildly.
(A p p r e h e n s i o n: save this lady, Creator, she be finished with this blue and green sta—
R e p o r t: SUCCESSFUL INTERPRETA—!!!
R e p o r t+: SUCCESSFUL INTERPRETA—!!!
R e p o r t++: SUCCESSFUL INTERPRETATION—!!!)
“AAAHHH!”
“Oh, your… huff, screaming voice… is so sexy!”
“HUAAA—EEEH!?”
And the slaps begin.
A first for this lady, to have her bottom impact repeatedly against the flesh of another.
So many firsts, just as the boy wanted. Like forcing her to clamp onto his hands to preserve herself.
“I love…!”
(Q u e r y == A f f i r m a t i o n…!?
R e p o r t: SUCCESSFUL INTERPRETATION—!!!
~~reflection heuristic failure~~
… Love!? LOVE ME/THIS LADY-AND-TOOL/NEESIETTE!?
LOVE ABOUT>>>>!?)
“… how you cling to me…! And cry out…!”
(Minus ∞ points. Minus ∞ current!
R e p o r t: SUCCESSFUL INTERPRETATION OF AR—!!!
Minus ∞ points! Minus ∞ current!!!
R e p o r t+: SUCCESSFUL INTERPRETATI—!!!)
Every deep thrust that strikes the breaking point of the lady’s internal components enlivens in a way only few things ever have.
An abiding feeling of satisfaction…!
(E r r o r: make it stooooooop!)
Even as she registers how her systems malfunction further with more constriction and obstruction due to abuse, she can’t help but focus only on this sensory experience.
For her arms and legs have ceased to work, relying solely on the boy’s movements to keep her up.
“Ah, haah! You’re… the best…! Neesiette!”
“… Rem—ember… this…”
“Promise…! A true… lady’s first…! I love it…!”
(A f i r m a t i o n ?: LOVE ME/THIS LADY-AND-TOOL/NEESIETTE!?!?
E r r o r: be terminated, whatever rogue process this be!)
The first time this lady experiences being utilized as “a tool” after having become a lady, one of such admittedly small stature, it becomes a confusing trial of accepting the rapid pistoning of a boy with far too much stamina while also feeling dubious pleasure from it.
And a misunderstanding of the correct time to use the word “love” makes it all more sordid.
Their tryst is the union of youthful bodies, a realignment of the lady’s thoughts toward pursuing this causing her to confront a growing obsession with the abuse she receives.
While not wanting to be rendered inert from abuse…
“AAAH!?”
“Like a bell…! Everything, ho, ho, on Zennia hurts… but, aaah, you… come and heal me by seeing… a better me!”
She also learns that her screams sound musical, a crueler insult still.
To face these insulting facts is so very strange.
“Just… came… ooh, but… I’m…!” But at least the insults will abate, for he loses himself too much.
“… Again…! Within…! Hurry…!”
“You want…!? Ho! I’ll never disappoint… a lady… that…!”
As proof, the way he angles his phallus gouges into her more sharply, then… then he just picks her up and starts hammering home with his last shred of mercy shed.
(R e p o r t: SUCCESSFUL INTERPRETATION OF AR—!!!
E r r o r: LET THIS TORMENT/PARADISE ENDDDD!)
“Ahhh! I can’t… get enough… of you, Neesiette!”
A lady’s weight is a pillow’s to this confirmed satanic rake who ravages ladies. Some new evil position is his goal as he struggles to rise!
But, then he stops and catches his breath. His stinking sweat stains a once pristine throne along with white droplets that spill out from their site of union.
Just long enough to crush her back to his chest, he hungrily embraces a tiny Lunamaton that sits impaled by his length. No longer timid in any way to the lady, its fearsome capacity to addle her mind denies it once being considered impossible.
(… it gloats! Not a newt, this lady be, but… the wisest of creations of Luna…! Never reduced to a gecko’s brainlessness by… mere copulation… this lady owes fealty… only to romance…!)
Yet it gloats openly, by throbbing within a passage that cannot help but note every change in girth. More blood pumps with increased athletic exertion of the boy.
“Neesiette, this is quite odd…! It’s almost never that… I get to let lose, and have… a girl keep up!? But, you told me to let go…”
Giddy, drunk on passion, and endearing in a way that only a girl named Kol has ever been, the boy sounds worshipful of his abused partner.
(The criminal admission, understandable it be!)
“Can I… finish how I want!? I never knew this could be so fun, to just go wild! I’ll show you how only you can do this for me!”
“…
… A…”
While innumerable processes within the lady invest her with the will to reach out and strangle him, the part cognizant of the futility that stays mutually entrapped with this domineering mystery of his affords a different answer.
“… A gentleman… in such a situation… inquiring not of a lady, an answer, knowing it within… his heart and acting, in service to her…”
“Oh, then, that means do it?”
“Stopping… one… a lady… not…”
“Right, Ascended above, I really found the perfect lady to spoil me!”
(Indeed. Made perfectly… to be perfectly punished for… accepting less than perfection…)
From the throne he stands up, adjusting his grip to point her unresisting self outward.
“Ah, small girls are…? Actually pretty good, if you find a mature beauty!”
(Compliment registered. Plus 2 points.
… Minus ∞ points current!)
Sweat droplets fall upon her, then slide off when he rears to pull out and then slams into his poor captive soul.
“Neesiette…! A pure lady…! Wet, hoooh, for me…!”
Lubrication only just discovered leaves his advance a loud squelching demonstration of a Lunamaton’s defenseless squishiness.
(A cad! To point it out, AHHH!?)
Into depths it plunges…!
“Fuck! Yes! OOH!”
“Aaah! C-AAAD! Re-Release…!”
“Yeah, I’m close! Feel, guh, close…!”
“No-oooo…”
(R e p o r t: SUCCESSFUL INTERPRETATION OF ART REGISTERED BY UNI—!!!
R e p o r t: SUCCESSFUL INTERPRETATION OF ART REGISTERED BY UNIT, UNIT IS PERMITT—!!!
E r r o r: oooh… oooh, this report… this report be…!?)
The lady flops about, or tries to. The complete surrender to him only encourages him to balance her better in his grasp!
(Insufficient mass, resist—ance…! Strength of a boy… grasping lightness, a fearsome existence, as Kol claimed…!)
An indestructible interior grows more misshapen, but he covetously experiences her like no other ever has.
He screamed that she was a woman to a doll maker, but now she’s used as a tool.
(A f f i r m a t i o n: a lady be a tool, and a tool be a lady…!?
R e p o r t: SUCCESSFUL INTERPRETATION OF ART REGISTERED BY UNIT, UNIT IS PERMITTED AN ALLO—!!!)
The duality is cutting. A deceitful inversion of the truth he offered, despite him being perfectly truthful by all words.
But this sensation that can only rightly be called “a form of fulfillment” reaches the bursting point as he finally completes his piston rush. Created to serve others, a lady cannot help but feel “wonderful” when serving…!
“Cumming! Nee—AAAH! … siette take it all!”
Once more he’ll mark her, a vicious finality realized.
The lady will be forced to listen to another report…!
“HAAAH!?”
A final spike of the end of her passage coincides with the second registration of “a semen discharge” within this lady’s records.
(R e p o r t: SUCCESSFUL INTERPRETATION OF ART REGISTERED BY UNIT, UNIT IS PERMITTED AN ALLOWED RATION OF SATIS—!!!
Why, so strongly!?)
“HIIIGHI!?”
“OOOH!”
An ungainly scream a lady makes, raped from her it is, but his matches hers in intensity. They share a close moment, even she must admit.
No other man, ever, has caused her to lose composure…!
(… This lady invited her doom by underestimating…
… the rapaciousness of a rake…)
Thirty-nine blows in all struck after being lifted to face the outer Oracle chamber, totally at his mercy.
And it all concludes with a discharge 69% less voluminous than the first one. Fighting for space that an autonomously milking canal won’t grant, the fluids seep through and up to stay within her interior.
(E r r o r: failure, immediate failure, unable to pursue escape.
M-M-Mercy…!)
“… Ah… shit… you’re…”
Onto the throne he gently sits, to then collapse.
With all of her remaining strength the lady throws herself from his shriveling weapon of mass destruction to land on his chest. A slide into his lap steals all further energy.
Some misinterpretation of her current mental state leads him to stare down at the twitching lady. Seen from the corner of her eye, a mystified, glowing fascination fills him that shares a smirk of pride.
“You’re too much for me, Neesiette.”
“… A-A-Abs—urd…”
Even if unwillingly, the replicated vaginal and uterine structure contains all deposited within. A simulacrum of the original design, replicated so exactingly that the body mimics its primary function when she hears his praise.
(A f f i r m a t i o n: … never again to be utilized…)
Is what the lady’s processes foremost conclude.
Even if he cradles her, stroking her head instead of pushing a female away after copulation like 99% of males would, she will not…
A lady will not…
(E r r o r: less than 1% of techniques and variations have been experimented with.)
And because he is sweaty, the lady is thankful that she can only register the odor as fact, and not “experience it” as this insane emperor finds great love in doing.
She can only assemble the frayed and dropped processes within her will, put them toward a nobler purpose.
(… Surrendered… he did, proving loss…! Not beaten, never beaten by this one, a lady proclaims…! Prevailing with the infiniteness of this lady’s existence, she foretells…)
An emperor of black skies, only he can see this lady and the world she experiences from the same objective viewpoint.
Having obtained him, she can never allow him to think her anything less than sublime!
For, he is like her, cherishing exactness and truths that fools neither notice nor comprehend…
(… REVENGE…!
This lady shall have it, for an emperor must eventually proclaim this lady’s name before three other females as most superior!
E r r o r: mine he shall become… remade perfectly, my future tome protector!)
Characters:
Name: Adris fehl Dain, “Boss”, “Starr”
Titles: Lycia’s Little Brother, Slayer, Gigolo (Self-Admitted)
Race: Xin’El, Emperor’s Child (Human), ???
Sex: Male
Age: ?? – Young
Occupation: Crossbearer; “Star of Ruin, Cast Down from the Sky Upon a Dying World”, Slayer of Petripolis, [True False God]
Discipline: [Rule in Dark]
Powers:
[Tool Savant] – “Adris is a tool-collecting-and-utilizing fanatic. Most men would consider him disgusting for loving tools more than his own partner. Has so many tools that it can be said to be his true power. What does he do when he has no tools left? He seeks to acquire more, obviously!”
[Rule in Dark – Wave of Darkness] – “Making victory possible? No, no, no. That thing isn’t that kind! There’s more than that!”
[Brainfry] – “You’re still with me, right buddy? Yeah, you’re still there.”
[Refuse to Kneel] – “Ah, even the Alchemaster can’t make me submit! This is the one that’s saved me all those times!?”
[Tongue of Air and Darkness] – “What’s the difference between this and the old one? Why ‘air’?”
[Conceptual Refusal] – “How the fuck does dominating people’s minds turn into a weird statement like this!?”
[Obscuring Sonjil] – LOST
[Marital Arts – Self-taught] – “Hoh, even if it’s dangerous to use, it feels good to prove to myself that the body is still as willing as the mind! Even if I can’t call it aura, something is inside me now!”
[Verisimilitude] – “Stop giving weird names to what I do! But if my imaginative truths are more believable now, I’m not gonna complain.”
[A WONDERFUL CURSE] – “If that old corpse wasn’t already dead, I’d definitely kill him!”
[Authentic Fiction] – “All tales eventually gain sufficient truth if retold often enough, right? Why shouldn’t my fiction be better than ‘reality’?”
Items:
[Lord of Predation] – “BECOME NOTHING MORE THAN FOOD OR PLEASURE FOR ME!”
[The Mountain King] – “[Honor the gods, inheritor, and ever seek victory for their sake.]”
[Amethyst Oracle] “A present from this stuck up hoarder!? Am I gonna die if I use it!?”
Disposition: Resilient / Adaptable / Sinner
Alignment: Chaotic
Eyes: Black
Hair: Black, with strands of White
Skin: Tanned
Statistics:
Rantil Value – “Even after all of that, Master is still an idiot!”
Attributes by Grade:
Strength – E
Vitality – E
Dexterity – D
Agility – C
Intelligence – D
Mentality – C
Luck – F
Charisma – D
“If you want more, stop being mean to Rantil!”
Beauty:
Cethran Value – “Much the same as before, but isn’t the way you look at others a bit more dashing, now? Forced to open yourself to the world, perhaps the gentleman may grow? That is likely impossible, isn’t it, Adris?”
“You want pity, from her? That might be a taller order than you’ve ever made at any tea shop, couldn’t it?”
“My, are you finally being honest with one of these girls?”
“Yes, gendarmes, I think he’s over here?”
Description:
“A boy who is a bit out of place as far as features, he descended from the top of the Castillo to the bottom by pluck, luck, and outrageous lying. Reborn into the world of Zennia, what can be said other than ‘he’s still exactly the same, but different’?”
“What he desires, he gets… the start of something magical. But, tragedies also contain fantastical magic.”
“A gift given for a gift received, the eternity that another pines for is a place with very concise rules.”
“Claiming what should not be claimed is the definition of asking for trouble.”
Commentary:
“Reap the whirlwind.”
Name: Neesiette vera Luna
Titles: “Moon”
Race: Lunamata
Sex: Female
Age: ???
Occupation: Delver, Mystic
Discipline: ???
Powers:
[Rod of Force] – “In what way would it be changed? As designed, so shall it function, correct?”
[Rod of Respelling] – “A lady be every ready to instruct regarding what be in error.”
[“Brings An End” – Ponderous] – “[Ponderous was the end, for the unfair passage of time finally brought even earth to its conclusion]…”
Disposition: Impassive / Calculating / Curious
Alignment: Ordered
Eyes: Pale Violet
Hair: Amber
Skin: Pale White
Statistics:
Rantil Value –
Strength – F
Vitality – F
Dexterity – D
Agility – E
Intelligence – B
Mentality – C
Luck – F
Charisma – C
???
Beauty:
Cethran Value –”First imps, and now short girls? This is certainly becoming a pattern, isn’t it? Though you might not fare badly with a girl as beautiful as this, yes? Though she’s a little perfect, doesn’t she seem oddly demure?”
“Hasn’t your fascination with ‘girls of small stature’ been suppressed by an allip? If so, then for it to release, truly you must be a criminal at heart?”
“As this short wanderer from the cosmos would say, perhaps, ‘indeed’?”
“Yet of them all, shouldn’t it be said that she’s the only one that has no preattachments to you? So, in truth, isn’t her love potentially more revealing if obtained?”
Description:
“An otherworldly existence, she wears clothing that doesn’t fit with the Castillo. With mannerisms quite distinct from all others, even the girls she travels with seem incomparable to her uniqueness. Yet, she definitely seems to be in charge…?”
“When faced with failure, everything that she must do to prevent it is allowed.”
“And when forced to change, she changes eternally.”
“But when changed… becomes yours in a way you cannot predict.”
Commentary:
“LITTLE PRIDEFUL WOMEN ARE CUTE! BULLY THEM! BULLY!”