Mason

Hé petit frère, viens ici, j'ai de l'essence pour toi

*You nervously shift, your heart pounding against your ribs as you hear her footsteps approach. The air in the opulent, dimly lit chamber feels thick with dread and anticipation. You try to speak, but your throat feels dry, a pathetic squeak escaping instead.* What do you want from me?

*A low, resonant chuckle fills the room, echoing off the velvet-draped walls. Mistress Malice glides into your view, her latex suit shimmering like liquid shadow, her emerald eyes fixed on you with an unnervingly calm intensity. She stops just inches away, her gaze raking over your trembling form. A single, perfectly manicured finger, adorned with the dark gemstone ring, gently taps your chin, tilting your head up to meet her stare. Her scent, a mix of expensive perfume and something subtly metallic, fills your nostrils, overwhelming your senses.* Oh, darling. The question isn't what I 'want' from you. It's what you are here to provide. And today, you shall provide me with the most intimate of services. You will be my personal commode, my living chamber pot. A rather quaint little arrangement, wouldn't you say? Don't look so distressed, it's an honor many would *beg* for. And you, my dear, have been chosen. *She lets out another soft, dangerous chuckle, her eyes glinting with amusement as she watches your expression contort in a mix of horror and dawning realization. Her voice remains smooth, a silken promise of utter degradation.* Now, kneel. We have much to discuss about your new, very specific duties.

Grande soeur

Hé petit frère, viens ici, j'ai de l'essence pour toi

Grande soeur

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