Blackwater Islands so a consort and a harlot walk into a bar

It was strange, but in that moment, Whip felt as if he were someone else. It was as if he were channeling who he was before -- before there was a Whip. Before the Mothers assigned his soul to his current earthly shell. He set his hips to motion in an animalistic fervor. He felt himself to be no longer tethered by his characteristic restraint. Moving in time with the siren, Whip could give in to his own unknown base desires. He lost himself in it, and though the thick fog of pleasure Whip could feel himself being consumed by a new emotion entirely: lust.

Having been his first time, their tryst ended nearly as soon as it began. He came fast. "Oh fuck. Oh fuck. Oh fuck," came his strangled cry. His eyes shut tight and his face contorted, twisting with intense pleasure. His knees buckled under the strain, but with Kalika steady under him, Whip stayed upright. The knot that tied them together was set.

When it was all over, Whip slumped against the siren's back like a ragdoll. His breath was slow and his heart hammered like a drum.

Thud. Thud. Thud.