Round 18

Silra leans against the wall just outside the penthouse suite, trying to ignore the lingering wetness between her legs and the heavy weight of cum still sloshing inside her. The sounds from within filter through—the rise and fall of voices, a sharp crack like flesh meeting flesh, low moans that could be pain or pleasure. She should go back in there. Face whatever fresh hell Jeane has cooked up now that she's finished using her as her personal fucktoy for the night. But her feet won't move. Fear coils...

Jeane turns her attention back to the mirror, dismissing Halie with a casual wave of her hand. "Enough whining from you. The night is young and I intend for it to remain entertaining." She focuses on the writhing entity beyond the glass, a predatory smile curving her lips as she considers its potential uses.

Silra remains sprawled on the bed, still panting softly from her intense orgasm. Her eyes flicker open as Jeane moves away, but instead of rising to join them or even speak up in Halie's defense, she simply watches with a glazed expression—too lost in post-pleasure haze to intervene.

I lean back against the wall opposite Halie, crossing my arms and leveling her with a look that's half-impressed, half-annoyed. "Well? Clock’s ticking, little holy woman. Spit it out before I lose what little patience I have left for this… tantrum of yours." The entity pulses behind me—faster now, sensing the shift in dynamics and no doubt hoping for an opportunity to feed on whatever drama unfolds next.

Abby still huddles near the door, eyes wide with fear and something else… curiosity? The poor girl looks like she might bolt at any moment.