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Chapter 213 - Dance of the Aquarian

Morning came a few hours later, but it was a slow dawn, as if an omen of what was to come. Israfel turned on the bed and his hand fell across some softness of epic proportions. It was warm and very sizeable. It did wonders for his morning wood.

As the child of the Abyss he was, he relished in the miracle of feminine glory whenever it was granted him. And he didn't deny it—especially when the form belonged to the body of his [willed vassal]. If the saints of Paradise loved their flourishing rivers of life, if the wildlings of the free woods cherished their liberal ways, then so it was: if the horned ones had a culture, it certainly did with a lot of crazy shit. Hel didn't effing play when it came to its Succubi; some Underworld Lords even conducted ceremonies for the bonding of their infernal waifus.

Rafel smiled wistfully on the bed, thinking, 'what can I say, my slave is blessed.'

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