Rostislav She's got me right where she wants me, in the palm of her hand. And honestly I'm not too pleased about it. I contemplate a scenario of walking up to her delicate figure and just shoving her off the ledge. Her screams and the panicked look in her eyes as she flails, trying to hold on, but my strength is too much and she falls. Her cries diminishing as she nears the earth, and then so far away that I can't even see her body crumple on the ground. Am I a murderer? Well, I can be. But as annoyed as I am about my disadvantage, I'm not that annoyed. Well, I don't think I am. I swallow a sigh. This is already getting a little tiresome. She laughs softly, like twinkling bells. But does she know that I'm letting her leave the pretty veil of beauty on? Does she know that I could pull it away and see the ugly whore that she is? She doesn't have to sleep with me to prove it. It's her persona, her vain character - not just her actions. She compliments my generosity, those words so smooth like a snake's whispers of promised knowledge. Get better acquainted? I know what she is suggesting, and I'm pretty sure she will never give it to me. You're showing your cards my dear, and I won't fold. She Walk. Talk. @[Sheba] Top Shelf Sexy Badass |
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*You may do anything you wish with Rostislav excluding dismemberment and death.