The anklet glimmering with a ghostly blue was stained with speckled milky liquid. Occasionally, the imprisoned soul made faint collision sounds, but nobody cared about it.
Sebatide Hughes was too happy—happy and yet in pain, his mind seemingly soaked in a warm and moist environment, his eyes glazed and muddled. He didn't withdraw his organ immediately but continued savoring the feeling of being enveloped, instinctively nibbling Roy's neck, hair, and the faintly protruding vertebrae at the back of her neck.
The Devil's semen was like milk with a sweet taste. Roy breathed in deep and shallow breaths, her scrambled senses bringing a full-feeling illusion, the cervix washed by the warm semen still mildly contracting in spasms. After a moment, the Sebatide Hughes behind her finally withdrew his organ, the sticky white liquid slowly flowing out from the not-yet-closed entrance, which he then dipped and swallowed himself.
"...Disgusting."
