“PLEASE!” she cried, “Please STO–”
Her cries were cut off as the Pink One slid its penis across her lips sideways. She was able to pull a single lungful of air past her lips before they found themselves wrapped around the Pale One’s pulsing cock. She grimaced as its tongue flicked out and lapped up the blood. “Then we shall rescue her!” Thyriol said, casting his eyes around the room for support. That her raven hair reflected it was the only indication that it, too, was not made of spyger-silk. Instinctively, she reached for her weapon on her hip, but found nothing. Shundarr had said it himself. There was a flash of light somewhere ahead of her. “Take her,” it said to the AntRoids, and the machines moved forward, dragging her across the floor to the threshold. In times of extreme peril, the columns would retract, lowering the entirety of Blackfang Abbey into the protective belly of the mountain from which it was hewn.
