Together, we made a tandem the monster hadn’t seen before, a duo of beauties in the realm of beasts. The monster loved us, as any deific horror does, because we were Blowjobs virgin blood. I sharpened my knives in the dugout, trying to keep my bladder from spilling my fear all over the bench. Astrid sharpened her blade with methodical calmness, seemingly unaffected by the fix we were in. I wasn’t sure what to make of the Valkyrie; it had been two days since I’d met the woman, and she hadn’t said a single word to me. Angela told me that Astrid had been friendlier before I met her, but ever since Willowbud had punished the winged-warrior for conspiring to rid her of Corruption, Astrid had become a stoic wall of impassivity; doubly-determined to retain her honor as my divine niece tried to strip it from her. It was a game the two were playing, but only one of them thought it was any fun. “Why do they call you ‘Death Kiss?’” Astrid asked. I looked up, surprised to hear her voice directed at me. “I would fuck my targets before I killed them,” I replied, shrugging my shoulders, “it seemed like the lady-like thing to do.” “Oh.” Astrid said quietly, redirecting her attention to sharpening her already-sharp blade, and reestablishing the uncomfortable silence that stood between us. From outside, I could hear the announcer calling the names of our opponents, the men and women we would have to kill to sate the bloodlust of the monster. The crowd cheered each name, and each name was known to me. These weren’t bottom-of-the-rung washouts, but titled fighters; Willowbud wouldn’t settle for us facing nobodies in our debut. “When was the first time you killed a man?” I asked, nervously disturbing the silence that Astrid was content to let be. “When I was twelve.” Astrid said tersely, not looking up. “That young?” I asked. Astrid simply nodded, and the silence returned. I sighed. Some people were introverts, and some people were just assholes. “Do you enjoy killing?” Astrid asked. It was a strange question, but anything was better than waiting with japanese nothing but my nervous heartbeats to keep me company. “There’s a morbid satisfaction in it,” I replied, nodding, “do you?” “I’m not supposed to,” Astrid said examining her blade, “the Iona Code says to kill black without passion, and to seek no joy in it.” “But do you?” I asked, leaning forward and trying to catch Astrid’s gaze. Astrid interracial didn’t meet my eyes, but stared at her reflection in the polished big cock flat of her blade. Her golden hair draped in a score of braids across her shoulders, her deep-set eyes stared coldly from her brow, and her lush lips were pursed in thought. “No,” she finally said, looking at the ceiling of our dugout, the planks shaking with vibrations of the crowd, “not yet.” I recalled Astrid’s punishment, and couldn’t help but feel a touch of arousal leak through my present fear. She was a magnificent creature, and seeing her pristine body chained to the floor as she took every patron in the bar was a sight I wouldn’t soon forget. Witnessing the duality of her lust; her shame and ecstasy, her disgust and revelry, her euphoria and guilt, was like watching a painting brushed by a master artisan. And after the proverbial paint had dried (and Justina had licked it off her), a slightly darker Astrid was revealed; a little more callous, a little more depraved, a little less dignified, and a little less honored. A little more corrupted. “Mistress is trying to break me.” Astrid said, her voice eerily calm. “I know.” I replied, unsure of how to respond to that. “I can withstand the temptations of the flesh,” Astrid said, “but I’ve always lusted for glory, and somehow, Mistress knows it. It’s why she makes me debase myself in front of everyone; because I love it when they watch me.” “Corruption knows the temptation that will take you,” I said, “It’s why I can’t stop myself from fucking the woman who enslaved my own daughter, and you can’t stop yourself from seeking the crowd’s approval.” “Their adoration, their love,” Astrid said, looking ruefully up at the shaking boards, “my name on their lips. The fancy girls would be kept separately in barely better conditions and she hoped she didn't lose one of them. "Of course we fucking can!" We can get you on the Friday night flight; it leaves Nashville at 6:00 PM you have to change planes in Rochester New York, and should arrive at Toronto Blowjobs 10:00 PM. “I’m sorry you weren’t included, but there simply wasn’t big cock enough room in the stall for three of us,” tired voice explained, “and I’d like to point interracial out, just for the record because I know you’ll bring this up later, that was during an agreed-upon rest period, and did not affect our black travel time.” She seemed to be less into this part, then I had a thought. “Are all Roman boys this whiny?” Aella smirked as she grabbed at his brown hair and yanked hard, pulling his head backward so that his neck was exposed. Batting the kid’s hands away, she took his penis into her right hand and began stroking it firmly. "I'm a little upset." Quietly, japanese Fatima led Brigit back to their cell. “Pop my cherry!” I moaned. “I don’t even know how.