You arrive at Dominika’s apartment and are led in to the familiar adjacent room, where the familiar slick and slurping brutality is enacted by Dominika’s mouth upon you. Those lips engulf you, devour you, caress you, and in the haze of pleasure you love every single moment. They shine in your mind glamorized, an immaculate altar to which you can only cum, and cum, and cum, and...
The conversation as you recover is casual at best. She seems more interested in cleaning up and adjusting her hair than the actual words she’s saying, and you get ready to go. As you stretch your eye is drawn to a piece of parchment left on one of the room’s tables. A series of dots is eventually interrupted by splatters of ink and large frustrated gashes through the paper. With your curiousity piqued you move to get a closer look, and wind up surprised when Dominika’s hand comes down on the paper. “A project I had to abandon,” she smiles after a brief pause, though the expression seems born more out of politeness than genuine emotion. She gathers up the parchment and puts it in a drawer, slamming it shut just a little too loudly.
You glance around a little at the rest of the room, wondering how much more there is to Dominika that you haven’t seen. With little pondering you broach the subject of the parchment, curious to learn more. Dominika glances at you guardedly before sighing slightly. “I’ve mentioned that this is not my home, yes?” she asks, answering it dryly before you have a chance to. “I suppose that much is obvious given I don’t have a fifty foot prick or wings.” The cabalist paces to the window to watch the declining sun. “It has been a long time since I was home, and I far preferred it to this tainted land.” Her hand wrings over itself in the air as she carefully considers her words.