The music was playing again, you were, as was now familiar, quite small, thankfully not on the dance floor.
Your eyes scanned over the crowd to see if Miss Girasol was here again, and were rewarded with her sitting off to the side, animatedly chatting with another woman. 1/9
You try and let out a last gasp, but her pampered skin simply pops into your mouth the moment it’s open, turning your final moment into one last futile kiss to your tormentor.
Pop.
Crk.
Your joints pop unevenly as you roll over in bed. These dreams are getting out of hand. 9/9
The faint chatter of voices mumbled incessantly nearby. Things were quiet for a moment, then a lively set of violins began to play. You were shocked to your senses by a musty odor, tinges of sweat and leather. 1/9
The leather stopped giving beneath you, and now you felt your joints grow tense as she ground her foot back and forth in an effort to get rid of an annoying itch.
To get rid of you.
Crk
Pop
Snp
Ggggn
Krckll
…