What’s lurking in those deep dark shadows . . . distorted shapes that seem to be twisting around your ankles, and clawed hands that grab, the sharp fingernails digging in deep. Nightmares come from this inherent fear of the evil that lurks beneath the surface. Do you know what else nightmares are born from? Parties after dark . . . social hour. Everyone believes that more bodies means more safety. Isn’t that the idea behind the so-called “buddy system?” Haha. I know the truth.
More bodies just means more wicked fun. More sinister persuasion. More merciless fucking. All of those scantily-clad whores and drunken rich boys. Gyrating bodies and unsuspecting prey. The great thing about already being on a boat is the fact that there is plenty of rope lying around. This comes in handy when a sick, twisted slut like myself wants to tie up a couple of hos and man whores with tight, circulation deadening sailor’s knots. I like to maim penises. Some chicks like to tie hair bows, but I’m a little different. I especially love the feeling of a firm, juicy, cum-filled ball weighing down heavily in my hand. When the party guests wander off and leave their drinks unattended, I’m looming over the bar, shaking a little bit of magic potion in there to put them fast asleep.
Bianca
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