She picks up the knife and traces it along his chest. She's been at this for hours, talking about the many fascinating ways she could torture him. He keeps his eyes away from her, each breath shaky and unsure.

Oh, it's wonderful. She loves seeing the fear on his face, even if his mind is far too cloudy for her to experience it.

She traces the knife across one of his nipples. Even with his thin shirt on, the knife slips over the hardened nub.

"Very sensitive, are we?" she asks. "I've never really understood Ephemeral anatomy. You engorge your most sensitive areas with blood when you're frightened?"

His mind gives off a buzz, somewhere in the murky fog.

"No?" she asks.

He turns to look at her, and his eyes are blazing. No, no, she can hear his thoughts, they're far too strong. Far too enhanced . He's been watching her, watching her circle him with her tight corset and her wild hair. The form she's chosen is an amalgamation of many female Buccaneer captains, but he likes the form. He likes her dominance over him.

"You're not afraid," she says, her voice surprised. "You're...aroused. What is arousal?"

The answer comes through the fog, though he doesn't speak. He grits his teeth and she can feel him try to block out his thoughts. He fails, and she grins.

"Oh, what a devious little mind you have," she says. She stands in front of him and leans forward, brushing the top of her breasts against his torso. She rakes her long fingernails along his thigh, up to the painfully engorged Ephemeral anatomy beneath the fabric of his trousers. Despite himself, he groans through his teeth.

"Fascinating," she says, amused. She lowers her body before him, slowly unbuttoning his trousers. His eyes are on her, blazing, furious, and full of that strangely capturing fire. There is a reason she's kept him alive, a reason she wants him to be with her. It's not simply because he's difficult to read, it's also because he's so very diverting.

She kneels before him, her dress pooling around her body. She sees what he wants in his mind and she gives it to him. She traces her tongue along the hot, aroused length of him, and then takes him in her mouth. So much sensation clouds his mind again, and she scrapes her nails along his hips to keep him focused.

After all, what he feels, she can suddenly feel, too. The body she is in has no sexual organs, but the sensations, the stimulation, they fill her mind. She sucks harder, he bucks against her. He hates her so very much. She can feel the hatred. She wants the hatred. He hates her and he wants her.

In his mind, she can see him envisioning more with her. Bending her over, spreading her legs and taking her. A pity she can't give him that. The desire he has to claim her is so very fascinating. Maybe she can manipulate herself a little, give herself the warm areas he craves. It would be worth it.

He bucks again and his body releases a salty, warm fluid into her mouth. She has no idea what to do with this, so she spits it back on him. The disregard for his orgasm (what a strange word!) makes him shudder in pleasure.

She stands, wiping the edge of her mouth with a forefinger. She picks up the knife and twists the tip into his side. He shudders again.

"Have you ever seen a man flogged to death?" she asks. "Or keel-hauled? Very painful."

Desire begins to flood his mind again. Oh, Ephemeral sexuality is so diverting.

---

(smacks lips)
Yummy! Well-done, anon.