Jonathan French
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“Fetch stood and looked at her hoof. “You fool-asses going to do what I say?â€�
“Oh, yes,� Polecat said, his eyes glazing. “Anything. You tell me to lick your quim and I will serve without question.�
“If I need that done, I’ll ask Cissy,â€� Fetch returned. “She tells me you’re hopeless at it.”
―
“Oh, yes,� Polecat said, his eyes glazing. “Anything. You tell me to lick your quim and I will serve without question.�
“If I need that done, I’ll ask Cissy,â€� Fetch returned. “She tells me you’re hopeless at it.”
―
“How?" Oats, asked, shaking his head slowly.
Crafty pondered this for a moment, before giving a large shrug.
"In terms you would understand?" he asked with a smile. "It's fucking magic.”
―
Crafty pondered this for a moment, before giving a large shrug.
"In terms you would understand?" he asked with a smile. "It's fucking magic.”
―
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