When Ice Meets Fire

I decided to try approaching minxie softly and sent my sister in with something she has done on her own initiative, a nice little warning. I know I had castigated Liselle for interfering before but this time I wanted to give my darling a chance to change her behaviour before I was forced to demolish her for her wayward behaviour. I told Liselle that minxie required a little education and today perhaps would be a good time for her to go and casually suggest that she stop lunching with Simon, of course my dear sister attempted to extract herself from this chore by remarking that I had become mundane in my dalliances.

She commented that while I used to choose women worthy of conflict I am now challenging adversaries so unversed in the art of battle they are virtually unarmed opponents. My sister being so remote as to be absent from life itself is incapable of understanding the lure of unsullied beauty. The unfeasible joy of being able to leave one’s mark permanently upon another, to hear her gasp in pleasure or pain while she lies under me, how it makes my skin yearningly burn to consume her. There is something about those untouched by the scars of life have, lost by those battle weary warriors and that is the optimistic belief in their own invulnerability for this is the precious notion I love to destroy.

I did not choose to elucidate the finer points of seduction upon her as she has taken to using the term obsession far too much during our conversations. Instead I told her that a little conversation in minxie’s direction would have me in turn create enough diversion to keep Vanderhag busy for days. I did not say outright that this way she could continue her stealthy, if not misguided seduction of the hag’s husband as that would be bordering on the vulgar but the implication was obvious.

I on the other hand was interested in setting up the estrangement of one minx and her mountainous suitor, for this I required the help of a spiteful little bitch and his errant employer. My day did end upon a finer note when my sister returned with the indignant vitriol of minxie’s reply. It warmed my loins far more than any kiss, how I love to devour her rage and turn it into my desire.

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