tawna bandicoot

After Cain’s fight, the seventh match proceeded without a hitch, and as always, Seraph stepped into the ring for the final battle of the round. Though his earlier wins had been desperate and narrow, the prince’s arrival brought a chorus of cheers from the audience. One might expect this noisy support to bolster his confidence and turn him back to how he was, but he remained humble, or perhaps ‘fearful’ would be a better word. Every win would plague him with doubts, doubts that he was really strong enough to have defeated his opponents. All of his accomplishments were surely due to plain luck, or maybe his enemies had been paid off to let him win.

One day she definitely knew the effect she had on me, even if she hadn’t before. I was writing an essay on The Grapes of Wrath and asked Mrs. B when she came by if a word was spelled correctly. She leaned over, her silky red hair brushing against my cheek and her breast lay against my left shoulder. My cock stiffened instantly—and uncomfortably. Without thinking, I reflexively reached down and maneuvered my throbbing dick into a more comfortable position. It did create a sizable tent pole in my pants that I tried to push down and hide, which only drew attention to my crotch. Mrs. B blushed noticeably, stood up while stifling a laugh and muttered an apology.

“Now, what’s in here, I wonder? Liquid pleasure, which will enslave your mind and bend you to my will for the rest of your life, offering everything you have for another taste? Or maybe it’s a vicious toxin that will have you screaming and writhing in pain, biting your wrists in an attempt to kill yourself, with every second feeling like a lifetime spent in the heart of a bonfire? Pick a vein, and let’s find out. Or…” He brought the needle right up to her eye, making her shudder in terror. “I can always go in through the mucus membrane. Yes, that sounds like fun. Now take a deep breath and think of home.”