’...I don’t consider myself a masochist by any means…’ The witty response that curls from his lips draws an appreciated smile to her ashen labrums. Near-black ooids glitter against the chocolate backdrop of her feminine features as the tension begins to ebb from her skin. A single hind hoof cocks against the rocky earth underfoot as Nyimara settles more comfortably into the pleasant companionship of the handsome male.
That is, until Marceline’s name once again crosses her path. Could the damned spotted woman not just disappear as Siobhan had?!?Resisting the urge to growl her displeasure at the very mention of the red woman, Nyimara focuses instead on the stallion’s reply. Not for the first time since this male appeared, the silver-haired queen finds herself both pleasantly surprised and even a bit amused.Intently, she listens as the spotted beast shares with her the closely guarded history that Marceline kept hidden. It does not surprise her to find out that Marceline had an affair with this distant king’s guard.
Seems the urge to possess what doesn't belong to her comes naturally… the hissing voice inside her mind offers, causing a smirk to ghost across her features as a single dial flicks to dismiss the voice away, back into the recesses of her mind. As his story comes to a close and his curiosity at her own turbulent relationship with Marceline rises, Nyimara cannot help the coquettish smile that curves across her labrums. Oh, where to begin on THAT front..
”I won’t bore you with the details but rest assured, dearest Mattheo…. We share a similar goal.” She purrs, her unusually long whipcord lashing audibly against the supple, womanly curve of her mahogany hip. Lithe legs bring her nearer, closing the distance between herself and the tall beast. He might not be as tall as her lovely Asmodeus was, but he was still a hot-blooded stallion with enough height to him that the fall seasons left her imagining quite erotic images of their coupling.Paper-thin nostrils flare as the Desert queen arches her slender throat towards him invitingly,
”How do you intend to make her pay dear Mattheo?...” she coos, her velvety voice honey-soaked venom. Pale lashes blink slowly over her glittering gaze as a new set of schemes begins to take form in the tangled web of her mind.
”Would you make her bleed?” She whispers, pressing her silken frame against his own, humor tainting her voice. Oh, the fun she could have with this one at her side…..