The golden strands of her hair curled delicately on the pillow, and every line of her form was fragile. His robe slid from his shoulders. Never befor... had he been so aware of his own body. It was dark compared to hers, dark and threatening. The jut of his sex seemed obscene. The hard angularity of his frame was harsh, jarring senses that had been consumed with her innocent fragility. The demon howled. Struggling fiendishly at its bindings, it screamed, ordering him to rip away her innocence,. While she indulged her daily fitness regime by whipping him. As he smarted and whined with each bite of the lash, his eyes looked beyond Vulvador for as long as he could, looking at the sparkles in the inky blackness and wishing he were going anywhere but to the planet closing in. He could see nothing but Vulvador all too soon, Varnella relenting with the whip to prepare him for embarkation, eager to be on this particular expedition, and quietly contented - as well as triumphant - to have. More

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