White Feather apparently had not been joking when she said what she said.
Whatever she had done to her spirit had made it so that her soul could never get enough. Either the force of centuries without fulfillment was now ripping at the very core of my being in a bid to pull me in completely, or the nature of her pleasure was harmful in a way I could not yet comprehend.
But I was certain it was the former.
The reason was simple: I could feel the urge of that force in the way White Feather's body moved. It was as though crashing waves responded to the rhythm of her body. And despite her lithe frame, she had concealed centuries of pleasure within her body, and all of it was now being torn open with crude force.
Of course, I was the one dealing with the damage.
I was left with two questions.
Do I withdraw now and prevent myself from incurring severe soul damage, or do I continue?
'Is that even a question? Continuing could literally kill me… which might be the best way to die.'
