"Just tell me... please, where are we going"?
"You can't keep doing this to me".
Her lips don't leave my neck.
She likes feeling my heart race.
It is a very sick thing to be into.
I am above deck on a wind rider, the person piloting it is straddling me.
It isn't too big, about the size of the druids galley.
The mast is six feet high, and the there are no oars.
'How are you even flying this thing'?
'Is that what gets you scared'?
My hand twitches as her voice rings in my mind, I aim to grab me a handful of this woman.
Her teeth extend out and puncture skin.
I grab and squeeze anyway.
'Stop'.
Her voice sounds annoyed.
'Make me'.
I sound like I am complaining, because I am.
She is going to sell me to someone worse than the church.
'I thought the audition was good'.
'Too good... baby'.
The blood rolls to my loins when she calls me that.
