Tired eyes. Swollen lips. A face that had once been called beautiful by men who had bought and sold it.
She left.
The daughter was next.
She stumbled in with the clumsy, bleary shuffle of a teenager whose body was running on empty. She sat on the toilet. Pissed quickly, the sound small. She strained. A small, reluctant result. She wiped herself with a cloth and winced, the touch between her legs finding raw, swollen tissue.
She washed. Rinsed her mouth. Looked at her small tits in the mirror, the dark nipples stiff, the small mounds bruised from handling.
She left.
Soha came third.
The pregnant woman waddled in, her belly leading, her dark eyes half-closed with sleep. She pissed slowly, one hand on her stomach. She pooped, briefly, quietly, her body finding relief. She washed. She looked at herself, her belly a dome, her dark nipples tight.
She left.
The succubus came last.
