IP: 35.133.148.17
Posted on October 16, 2018 at 08:00:28 PM by Mazikeen
It is a fact of life that one must fight to survive. It is a law that every dame teaches their young as they struggle at the teat, kneading and keening in order to live another day. So why it is that shock paints every pair of orbs the moment she dips her dainty crown to sip from the cups of their neck? It baffles the pretty vixen to the point that jaw clamps down, snarl ripping its way from her throat as she lashes out. The ashen male twitches, his body limp, as he overflows onto her chest and forelegs. Yet she is suddenly enraged, the heavy aroma of passion and blood causing her to howl with frustration and energy. Over and over again she strikes until she is spent, shivering within the confines of the den. She can hear the crescendo of her own breathing as waves crashing against cliffs, gales thundering across the moors and she is the eye of the storm. Swaying left than right she moans, adrift within the raging gusts of her own emotions until she bursts into flame. Paws are moving and she is awash with relief as the cloying breeze lifts the fine painted hairs from her bodice. Wooden sentries a blur as she weaves through the tapestry of life, unrecognizable save the scent of insanity and lust…her own personal perfume. Pace becomes hindered as earthen lava begins to creep up her legs, sucking and pulling her to their gritty depths. A hysterical scream is given as she rears back, bucking against the warm embrace and flinging the offending substance everywhere. She can almost hear the reapers of the night coo as the owl screech their delight in her anguish…in her abject terror. A fiend helpless to her own dismal insanity, a slave to her own visions as the ghostly fingers of death reach for her again which causes her to slip back into the muck of the swamp. Flipping over she is startled to find herself snout to snout with a large reptilian beast. Predatory eyes gleam against her own pale optics as its maw parts to reveal jagged whites set within a cast of decay. She gags as she recoils, barely missing the creatures first lunge yet the goo of the earth slows her down. It saps her strength yet still she persists in flight for several more seconds before whirling around yet again, resolved to fight her way through this like the demon she was. Snarls drip from her in wave after savage wave as mind frantically searches for a game plan. Survival of the fittest…her motto…her epitaph. (You have permission to powerplay her)  |
Replies:
- How I despise this life I've Locked Away... - By Hemlock October 16, 2018 at 09:33:50 PM
Slit my throat Save my life - By Mazikeen October 26, 2018 at 07:08:59 PM
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