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Noble Negative J3T Captain
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 Posted: Thu Mar 02, 2017 7:23 pm
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Posted: Fri Mar 03, 2017 7:02 pm
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MOOD ▬ ❝ Confused ❞ ❂ NAME ▬ ❝ Sinclaire Rain ❞ ❂ With ▬ ❝ Rain and Napua and Max ❞ ❂ THEME ▬ ❝Broken Promises(Theme) ❞
❂ Acc ▬ [110] ❂ Str ▬ [20] ❂ Stam ▬ [30] ❂ Jump ▬ [10] ❂ Air ▬ [15]
A lot transpired expeditiously. She was brought in and the man, the man she did not yet ken the denomination of. He commenced to bring her in and shoved her in a police car. It was a rather facile fit, especially for her and shoving her in was by far a facile move. It wasn't something that took a plethora of vigor to accomplish. It was, in fact, probably the most facile part of this whole ordeal. She would be riding separate from the other two that they had apprehended. She sat there, handcuffed, looking straight ahead. She would have no emotion on her face. Deep down... she additionally felt nothing. It was a rather true vacuousness. She had commenced to believe Napua's words. Maybe she genuinely wasn't human. Maybe she was just a pseudo human. A monster on wheels. Kwon had asked her a question, if she was okay. Words weren't reaching her and neither did the reaction of the officers guns affect her anymore. All it did was momentarily cause a minuscule smile. A sick smile. One that revealed crystal white teeth from Sinclaire. Was this a smirk? Ambulating through the place, she found every cops ocular perceivers on her. They sized her up with disgust and the one officer, the one who yelled and was in charge of apprehending her. His denomination was Nova. When she aurally perceived his denomination, Sinclaire would but for a moment look up at him. Meeting his ocular perceivers with hers. Her yellowish ebony ocular perceivers meeting his. His seemed to be plenary of regret but hers? Hers was plenary of something... something your average person could not understand. It was identically tantamount look an abused animal had that had determinately snapped. Was it grief? Or was it vexation? Was it lunacy? Or was it a calming lucidity. She was but an abused and caged animal who had conclusively snapped and assailed what it perceived to be its handlers. A true beast to the very core of her heart. What was more hazardous than this? Her mind and astuteness. She was not a nescient person by any betokens. Her tuning skills and engineering courses had left her rather ahead of her friends in terms of mechanical and electrical engenderment and modification. She was a true genius. Albeit a mad genius. But what genius was not without their quirks? Every single one had their own issues. She simply seemed to have rather bellicose tendencies. Nova. That was his denomination. He seemed to care about riders. Yet he had joined the Air Trek Police, those who abused Air Trek Riders. If he authentically wished to reduce malefaction would he not seek to understand them? Not oppress them? He had a dolefulness in his ocular perceivers. Why did he care about humanity so much? She commenced to look revolted at him. She even expectorated at his direction afore turning her head from him. She expectorated at his very feet afore the others ambulated away but near the moment the one verbalized about Nova not being able to avail malefactors. What a waste of space these people were. Yet she was the murderer? How many had they killed? How many had they oppressed? How many had these people hurt? They were all monsters. Only she was the caged one. She branded a smirk once more. A monstrous smile that was as minuscule as was the intent behind it. She wanted this. She desired this. Circumvented by monsters. Once more something commenced to flare inside of her. Something deep and dark. It was a sublime moment. A joyous feeling. A feeling of liberation kindred only to that of peregrinating with her Air Treks... possibly even more so. They were put on a boat and they peregrinated. She was inside, by herself, not counting the three armed sentinels. All of them seemed to be at the yare with their weapons. Again she remained quiet and relucted to verbalize. All she adorned was a minute smile. A minuscule, mischievous smile. A smile that was not designated to scare, not betokened to harm, or to inspire fear or panic. It was just a smile of mitigation. Was her arduous life determinately over? She had waited so long for the moment of reprieve from the monsters of this world. She had to become one just to rid the world of one. In the terminus, all she did was supersede one monster with another one... herself. It was not much longer and they had arrived. She was placed in her own cell, near Rain's and Napua's. Each cell was diminutive and while they could not visually perceive each other they could auricularly discern. Kwon had been taken by the one called Nova for interrogation. Sinclaire looked to the side of the cell, and albeit she could not visually perceive her, she had a look of disdain on her face. She did not optate to involve these people in her affairs. They were good people, albeit weird and peculiar. She sat, not on any furniture but with her back to the wall. Legs sprawled out, head hung down, and face unable to be optically discerned among her mass of straight blue hair. A red rose still stayed lodged in her hair. It genuinely was what availed her to stand apart from the crowd. Something she had always had. Something she had since afore she could recollect. Back afore everything commenced to go to s**t. Even cerebrating about it now. The tenebrosity spread. Eventually Sinclaires caller came. A woman with a rather busty chest, blue hair, and heels leaned seductively on the bars with her arms elongated. Sinclaire perpetuated to look down at the ground. She did not care who this woman was. She was yet again a caged animal. An animal trapped and being abused. The tenebrosity stirred deep from within. She was yet again a prisoner, just one of a variant in a different form. Words and incriminations emerged. Algid blooded killer, tougher than looks, or that the kid deserved it. This woman had victoriously triumphed, believed she had victoriously triumphed, and that explicated her cockiness. This jail was neigh ineluctable and she was sure there were no rules or regulations here. She would never visually perceive a tribulation. More than likely she would cease to subsist if she were even sanctioned to live. Sinclaire was no dunderpate. Something was going on here. Then the next phrase came. One that cause a minuscule head turning to the side though not enough to visually perceive her face. The only sound made was the slightest kineticism of chains rattling. It was the phrase that those who killed could not be sanctioned to live. They had to be made anew. What did this even mean? Not minutes later, two cops/pigs would enter and force Sinclaire up, each prehending an arm to pull her up and they would place a collar on her neck. It had a leash and the woman held the leash. So this was the kind of prognosticable monster this female was? A classic abuser mentality. Control freak. It explicated even the busty outfit, to arise feelings others could not act upon without her verbalize so. A reminder that she controlled them. Sinclaire, still not looking up, followed the woman out of the cell and into the next area. She was shoved, forcibly, into a chair to which would again be rather facile. Sinclaire did not fight back. The woman then sat upon her desk and observed Sinclaire, presumably still holding the leash. She wanted to ken everything about Sinclaire. This was rather intriguing. A minute chuckle emanated from Sinclaire, ocular perceivers facing her lap. A laugh that was remotely maniacal and grew louder and louder afore reaching a medium volume. Sinclaire would optically canvass the woman with ocular perceivers as dead as a corpse. "You wish to know about me? Look deep within yourself. You'll find who I am lurking there. The madness that's in us all. Everyone here is a criminal and a monster. You and I are no exceptions." She spoke as she reached up and tapped the collar on her neck. "Electric shock. Enough to either harm, though not to your desired effect, or to possibly knock out or kill. From the fact that you didn't remove my hair pins, amount of resources you have, and your intelligence level. This suggests that the device will execute or incapacitate whoever attempts to interfere with the mechanism." Sinclaire would keep her eyes to meet the other woman's eyes. "But I should warn you." Sinclaire smiled lightly, "If you wound me. It won't have the result you'd normally receive. If you kill me. Well. Then that will simply be me finally being able to rest from a world of monsters." She verbalized as she leaned back in her chair. "You want to know what made me lose my mind? One too many monsters. You want to know more about me? Let's play twenty questions." |
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Noble Negative J3T Captain
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Posted: Sat Mar 04, 2017 12:46 am
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Antagonist, or a plot device to drive forth progression in a gaia online guild? You choose. Either way, the woman looked as Sinclair was now in the woman's homeland. Her own Cove. Dismissing the officers, she would look at Sinclair. What was she truly going to do? Was she going to break? Or was there something truly good here? The woman would soon find out it was the latter of the two situations. A short grin played her lips as Sinclair answered. Wise a** huh? "Hmmph, madness? Possibly. Though, if you even half the monster I am, I somewhat may actually feel happy for once. Sunshine was okay, but had too many flaws." she commented, more to herself than to the woman. Noticing eyes piercing her own, she smirked with delight. THIS ONE had spunk. It's a shame to kill something so interesting. But maybe, just maybe, she could be a toy? One could always need those. Shaking her head, she snapped her finger, the shocking mechanism would release sending out a nonlethal dosage throughout Sinclaire's body. Not enough to knock her out though. Just was to send a message.
"PARTIALLY, correct. Though, it has other toys and mechanisms to it. Killing you simple, these monsters though, will never allow you to rest, but I shall grant you relief. However, I not one to play games with. Your answers, is what I seek. I could do this the simpler way, or I could grow bored and just cut the cord now. I least rather you get it all out on exactly what makes you a monster? Because, right now. All I see is a little kid who got a little too angry and just had a bad lapse of judgement. However, is that truly it? Are you just simply, a normal little girl who is so soft she couldn't take a sweet boy hitting on her?" she teased, looking towards the woman, another snap of the finger would cause another shock to go out through the device. There was no particular method to this. Mother just wanted to know, how much pain cold she withstand. Plus, maybe the shocking could make the woman open up. Break her maybe, even with pain or pleasure. After Sunshine and Piranha, did she find Daimona? Quite possibly, but this woman had to prove she wasn't such a b***h first. "Again, I don't do twenty questions....Now, if you a monster, you got 5 minutes to convince me this is true before I put you to sleep" Valerie stated simply.
Dont Upset White Knights Ehh, you got something. Don't worry about it. Shush. Now Get out of here . Plot is yet to come. |
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Posted: Sat Mar 04, 2017 9:39 pm
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MOOD ▬ ❝ Thrilled ❞ ❂ NAME ▬ ❝ Sinclaire Rain ❞ ❂ With ▬ ❝ Valerie ❞ ❂ THEME ▬ ❝Broken Promises(Theme) ❞
❂ Acc ▬ [110] ❂ Str ▬ [20] ❂ Stam ▬ [30] ❂ Jump ▬ [10] ❂ Air ▬ [15]
The woman sat antithesis of her. She observed her, she seemed to visually examine every action and kineticism Sinclaire made. So this woman fancied herself some form of psychological therapist predicated monstrosity? How fascinating. She commenced to dismiss the officers. Sinclaire consistently visually examined their location. They were leaving but it seemed they were doing so gradually. They had left and Sinclaire sighed. It was the form of sigh that was one of vapidity. Now she was isolated with a woman who felt the entitlement to do as she please and Sinclaire would have to heedfully auricularly discern her drone on. Was it that Sinclaire did not authentically appreciate the full gravity of the situation she had found herself in? Well this was not the case. Sinclaire kenned just how earnest of a situation this was. The difference was she just didn't care. In a way, she wanted to die. She had had a crap life and maybe some part of her wanted it to culminate. However, there was another part. A component that was about to be appealed additionally. A component that was just as convoluted and sick as the woman in front of her. Maybe even more so. The woman verbalized of sunshine and verbalized about how if Sinclaire was even half the monster she was, that she would be blissful to some mild extent. This caused Sinclaire to burn deep from within. So this was a monster. She admitted it. Well then. Payment must be made. Blood demands blood. She optically canvassed the woman rather intently after this and descried that not long after the eye based contact had been maintained, she would smile. So it seemed the woman felt they were playing some form of a game here. Maybe this was where they differed as monsters. The woman who sat cockily in front her cerebration of life and death as a game. Control as a game. Everything was a game to be controlled. She more than likely fancied strategy games such as chess and checkers. Sinclaire, on the other hand, was not akin to her. She was impulsive, rapid, uncontrolled, and unrefined in the arts of war and malefaction. She was an unkempt monster of chaos. The woman would then verbalize and verbalize she did. She verbalized on and on about the mechanism that was on her neck. The collar. She would give a rather detailed explication of it. Without revealing as to whether or not the contrivance would genuinely kill the person who endeavored to tamper with it. This was intriguing. She wondered if she had left the question unanswered to optically discern if she would endeavor, because she was hoping Sinclaire would kill herself this way, or if Sinclaire was erroneous about her postulation and one could take it off. There was withal always the distinct possibility that the woman kenned the answer but didn't answer while kenning that Sinclaire would wonder about the possibilities and than take calculated risks predicated upon circumstance. That was the most feasible option predicated upon the woman's personality. During this cerebration process, Sinclaire commenced to shake and seize as every muscle truculently contracted through her body. A diminutive pleasurable moan, however soft in sound, remotely eluded the lips of her mouth. "Tell me. Do you attempt to break your prisoners psychologically first?" She would smile a rather effulgent and crude smile, her ocular perceivers wild with zealousness. "Because if you really think I care what you think..." The next shock would come. Once more, Sinclaire's fingers and toes would stretch out, her body contracting belligerently in single unison together. Yet again the softest of moans would elude her lips. Sinclaire's hair would be now long and loose, some strands hanging rebelliously in front of her ocular orbs and face. She would simply blow out an expeditious puff of air and endeavor to move the strains afore raising her hands, handcuffed, and moved the strands from her hair, redoing her hair as she closed her eyes. She had slipped a minute bobby pin from her rose while doing her hair covertly and straightened it in her hand. She would relax her hands upon her lap and make a minuscule throat clearing noise. "Once more I will tell you. Shocking me will not have the intended effect. You may have your verbal idea's of what I am," She would state rather mildly as she opened her eyes once more to meet the woman's, "But we both know. Those words are as empty as our souls." The expression was a rather deep sentiment. A good verbal expression of a rather true and incontrovertible fact. Murderers were, after all, different from the rest of society. You can't transmute a killer. Some things simply stick. Once done, it leaves a certain brand. "You want proof." She would commence to lightly giggle. "It was interesting what happened at the tournament the other day." She said, somewhat changing the subject. "All of those police and yet they didn't catch a single rider. All of them killed. If only someone had been there. Someone who could accurately give a description of what they looked like." Sinclaire would smile. "Only real monsters would sell out their own kind to benefit themselves." And sell them out she would. Sinclaire did not know these people. Did not care who they were. "As far as why I killed the kid? I simply felt like it. Anger had nothing to do with it. I wanted him to die. So I satisfied my impulse. There is nothing more to it. Everyone lives by a code, whether they know it or not." She verbalized with a shrug afore slumping back in her chair. She was unsure of what else the woman wanted. Perhaps she already kenned who the people were. But Sinclaire could not be sure. If anything, it proved she was heartless. She was disposed to sell out the very people who had jeopardized their lives to preserve so many of her kind. She authentically wasn't human. |
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Noble Negative J3T Captain
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Posted: Sun Mar 05, 2017 4:39 pm
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"That's where you are wrong. Shocking you produced all the answers I truly needed to get out of you. Shocking brings you a delightful pleasure. I tell you, there are only a few amount of monsters that can truly enjoy a shock throughout your body. It's cute. Like a Kitty. I honestly, wouldn't mind making you a toy in more than one way, but...there's only room for one dominate woman in my romances..Though, I could make an exception..." she teased. She would look up to see a guard blushing at the idea of the two, annoyed, a blade would be whipped out, impaling the man straight between the eyes. With the noise, another guard came and the woman shook her head. "Close the door and let him stay there. Tell his family, a storm rider killed him in action. The investigation already been done." she stated simply. Once everything was set and the door closed and locked again, she sighed and laid back, stretching before standing up. With a coded snap, 3 stacato notes in a pink panther harmonic fashion, a large metal vault like door covered the door.
,Walking over to Sinclair, she would straddle the woman, looking into her eyes like AJ Lee during her crazy gimmick in WWE. A second later, her fingers tapped her lips. It seemed the woman was debating something. While it seemed sexual, she liked to get up close and personal with her subjects. But what about the question she asked? "I don't break prisoners. I only speak with the ones already broken. I simply make sure they truly are broken. Then with the broken ones. I kill them. However, some of them are born again. Reincarnated. If you will. For, see. To them, I am God. I either terminate their life and end it for good, or I grant them something more. I'm not an empty soul. For, I have no soul. If anything, I am just a state of being.." she started. She would then take the strands of Sinclaire's hair, playing with it before stroking her fingers through it, enjoying the curls of the blue sea.
"What's your favorite fairy tail? Beauty and the beast? The Little mermaid? Princess and the frog? Or, are you more into realistic type of stories. Or maybe, something relevant like Frankenstein? For you to die now and stay blissfully dead..that's a waste of time. To be a sexual pet, would fit the bill. BUT, it would be a waste of your talents and mind. You wouldn't be used to your full potential for both you and me. However, If I was to make you into one of my very own monsters...that's a benefit for the both of us...to kill without thought. Without emotion. Just impulse. That just less work I have to do in the lab." she would then grab onto the leash and pull to where they were only inches away. A kiss would be dawned on Sinclaire's lips before Valerie moved away, off of Sinclair's lap and would hold the leash tight. Another snap of the finger would cause one more shock to be sent through the woman. She just wanted to hear that beautiful moan again. Once the shock subsided, the leash would tug, begging or forcing Sinclaire to follow. "Come Daimona, it's time for you to be reborn...Mmmm now that I think about it. Daimona seems too long of a word.. I got it. Kakia..." she stated with vigor. The room would begin to vibrate, a stair well was starting to form underneath the woman's desk.
Dont Upset White Knights Ehh, you got something. Don't worry about it. Shush. Now Get out of here . Plot is yet to come. |
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Posted: Sun Mar 05, 2017 9:16 pm
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MOOD ▬ ❝ Curious ❞ ❂ NAME ▬ ❝ Sinclaire Rain ❞ ❂ With ▬ ❝ Valerie ❞ ❂ THEME ▬ ❝Broken Promises(Theme) ❞
❂ Acc ▬ [110] ❂ Str ▬ [20] ❂ Stam ▬ [30] ❂ Jump ▬ [10] ❂ Air ▬ [15]
Moments seemed to fly by. It did not take long but it was not expeditious by any designates either. Sinclaire waited for the woman's replication to her offer, the offer of selling out the others. Those who had availed. Sinclaire sat there, fair fleshed, orbs of yellow looking around as her blue hair remained frizzy yet straight due to the electric shocks. Though her mind was pellucid of any authentic cerebrations her inner core raged with the tenebrosity whose fire could melt the gates of hell itself. Her yellow orbs peered through, straight through the woman. She had not authentically acknowledged the sentinels. She did not care for them. They were frivolous. They were but pieces on the board of life who could not be used but to the precise representation of a pawn on a chess board. The difference is, this was not a game of chess. This was life. These plonkers were just ambulating meat shields. How useless. Did they not realize that this woman, this monster, this demon. She was utilizing them? What even was she authentically? What form of relegation would befall a woman such as her? How close in nature, was Sinclaire to her? This was the authentic question. It seemed to be up in the air. Afloat. Waiting in the ever subsisting never ending void of the realm of noetic conceptions and possibilities. Lingering. Was she authentically like her? Was she indeed the monster on par with her or was she but a moiety of this? The woman wanted an answer but Sinclaire genuinely did not ken. Only time in itself would verbalize the woman's mind as to the results of what the woman had come to believe. What genuinely made Sinclaire curious though, was how this woman had obtained such power and ascendancy to act with no discretion within the regime? Sinclaire received the answer, or at least a component of it, all of a sudden. The woman verbalized about how she already got the answer she was probing for. Sinclaire's moaning, her excruciating yet light exhibit of pleasure through something like a painful shock told the woman she was a monster. A monster of pain and gratification. A monster of desire and impulse. A monster of sin and vice. A monster of concupiscence and exasperation. One who could not be satiated with a mundane life. One who must live the life of an erratic being sempiternally accommodating their own whims and chasing their hearts ultimate fulfillment which, at times, laid so far down that one must probe the oceanic trench to find. Truth of the matter was, Sinclaire had ascertained in just that moment how much of a monster she authentically was. She kenned, had always kenned, she was a monster. At this moment, a rational thought occurred to her. Perhaps. Maybe... just maybe. Her father had turned to imbibing and infidelity because he kenned what his daughter was. The true monster she genuinely was. Maybe her mother imbibed and abused pharmaceuticals because her father had given up on her. That she had tore their family apart and that this had little to do with who they were as people, and more to do with who Sinclaire was as a person. Had she been born a tabula rasa? Or was she a monster by nature. Was her destiny prognosticated from birth to subsist? If this were indeed the case what had those people, her parents, done to deserve such a fate? Such a monstrosity of a daughter. Truth of the matter is, she may never ken. The world may never ken. But Sinclaire no longer cared. Once more, the resplendency yet prurient woman whose ego was matched only by her bosoms verbally expressed her imparting words of illimitable sapience which descended from her mouth like the holy arrows from the bows of angels of a deity's army. She verbalized about how she wished she could make Sinclaire her toy in more than one way. So that was to be her fate? This woman's personal plaything? It was dismissed but left open in the air as a thing of possibility. A possible ending result. A consequence of action that held no authentic threat of immediate peril. At least not yet in the present. The woman seemed fascinated with Sinclaire. Was it due to her body? They seemed different in nature. The woman was rather busty with an hourglass figure while Sinclaire had retro hair and outlandish ocular perceivers, a pale yet scarred figure with a more docile porcelain predicated body. She held less in terms of natural assets than the woman afore her, less in puissance, and far less in structure and more than likely... less in capability of current potency. Was the woman, then, magnetized to her mind? The mind of madness? The mind of a monster? It very well could be to that effect but she was still yet unsure. This woman afore her seemed to love hazardous people and yet adored not only breaking them. But controlling them. What precisely was it this place was betokened for? Was this authentically a prison or a sexcapade human trafficking area? Was it merely designed to look homogeneous to a prison? Just then a sentinel had blushed and it took naught but a second for her to catch it. It seemed the other woman did too because with a shocking speed she transfixed the man between the eyes. Killing him instantly. She was right about her posit earlier. This woman authentically was utilizing these people and she was indeed a monster. They were cretins for accommodating her. What was more than peculiar was how she killed on impulse. Without emotion. Without penitence. She then injuctively authorized the inculpation to be shifted to an Air Trek Storm Rider. Not only would this work for her in more than one way but it was a tactful move. It seemed the only distinction between these two monsters, besides natural assets and faculty to command power and ascendancy, was that the woman afore her was much more tactful. Much more of a natural strategist. "Well that's going to leave a mark." Sinclaire would quip as the body commenced to be dragged, blood and all from the floor as it slumped lifelessly. What a waste of resources. But maybe it was not. Maybe it was simply a exhibit of potency. Just what did this woman authentically want? Suddenly the door was covered. The only kenned exit was blocked and a massive vault like door seemed to barricade them within. The woman had stretched and seemed as if she had determinately decided to promulgate her orchestrations. Or maybe she wouldn't promulgate it. Maybe, just maybe. She would leave it up in the air and simply do so? What would be the result? What was the orchestration? Sinclaire had no authentic way of kenning. But all would anon be revealed. Whether it was to Sinclaire's relishing or not, one could not genuinely yet verbally express. This woman was proximately capricious. But at the same time she had a hitch. She was an ascendant person with a prurience for control. She was a different form of monster than Sinclaire was. They were identically tantamount yet they were not. The woman commenced to straddle Sinclaire. She literally ambulated over and straddled her. Could this woman not control her prurient desires? Not that Sinclaire was repining. However she would have preferred her last vision to be that of flowers. A comely breeze perhaps over a field of lilacs. With a warm summer glow and a soft yet zephyr that carried the scents of the flowers and pollen far and wide while the humming of bee's danced in a musical sense in the background. A blue empyrean that was the truest shade of blue while immensely colossal white puffy clouds hung together in bliss. As if the clouds themselves had composed some type of unison and a click against that from what terror and evil humanity had wrought below. Humanity, was of course, a horrible thing. Just then, her fingers contravened Sinclaire's mouth. As if to hush the noetic conceptions that seemed to be racing at near two hundred miles an hour in her mind. As if she were endeavoring to facilitate them. And as the woman verbalized, the serenity of the madness that was ensuing did facilitate her. Her mind would cease to wander. Cease to debate. Cease to cerebrate. She heedfully aurally perceived intently to the words that would emanate from the mouth of the woman. It would hold great value in availing her determine her own fate and just what laid ahead. Perhaps it genuinely was death. Who kenned. The woman verbalized of a deity-like intricate. She seemed to retain one. She believed herself to be a state of perpetual being. She only verbalized with those that were broken, and Sinclaire, without a doubt. Genuinely was broken. It seemed that this was the component where she would die then. Affirmative. It must be this component. But what was the peculiar part. She verbalized about reincarnation. Sinclaire would have asked her of this and just what precisely was being implicatively insinuated but yet again the woman's finger laid upon her lips. Shushing her. As if she had already kenned that Sinclaire would have questions. It was outlandish but maybe, just maybe. The woman was even more astute than Sinclaire. Was she authentically a deity? Who kenned. But if she was, a deity, a literal god, would be playing with her hair. It was remotely of a nice feeling. A gentle feeling. A sexual feeling yet a calming feeling. As if she were scarcely in a trance of serenity and placidity. She verbalized once more. Sinclaire would die. But she would not remain dead because this would be a waste. She would not be turned into a sex toy because this too would be a waste. A waste of her aptitudes. What were her aptitudes? According to the woman it was the faculty to kill. The faculty to disregard the uselessness that was emotional capability. The facility to act upon impulse. She was going to be killed and remade into one of this woman's monsters. Just how many monsters did this woman have? And just how responsible was she for the current state of the world? Deeper down the rabbit aperture Sinclaire would fall. If, and possibly only if, to do so disposingly in the hopes of discovering what truth laid dormant abaft the veil of fabricated authenticity. Sinclaire was pulled forward, inches away their lips would be in a seductive taunt. Soft yet plump lips of firm authoritative power would grace the soft essence of Sinclaire's flesh. She had never osculated nor been osculated afore. A weird burning sensation filled her. Her body and face felt flushed, warm, exhilarated, sultry, yet at the same time relaxed. Just then the shock came. A vigorous shock. Sinclaire's body would tense up, head not falling back due to the constraint of the leash pulling forward. Toes and fingers expanding outwards as she shook bellicosely. Gritted teeth fought back zealousness fueled ecstasy, a remotely more vigorous moan eluded the prison of her lips. One she could not avail. More vigorous became these feelings of zealousness and rage. A throat clearing noise was made as Sinclaire was pulled and she stood. Leashed and handcuffed. Collared. The word, one she could not pronounce, was verbalized. After a short ruminate of cerebrated, another came forth. Kaika. She did not ken this word but she was called it. She verbally expressed it was time for her to be reborn. Would Kaika be her designation? She wondered what the consequentiality of it would be. The entire room commenced to vibrate and stairs appeared. She followed her. Deep and down into the blackest pits of the rabbit aperture. Into the infernal gates of hell. Who kenned what awaited her? Sinclaire herself did not ken. The only one who could possibly ken was the woman, the self-proclaimed god of the cove. Her incipient owner. |
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Noble Negative J3T Captain
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Posted: Mon Mar 06, 2017 11:20 am
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Posted: Mon Mar 13, 2017 12:41 pm
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