The seconds ticked by, the carriage becoming a bumpy ride in this less well-maintained part of the city. She felt rocked more violently back and forth and she soon found herself gritting her teeth at the indignity of it. She could feel her magic pulsing inside, begging to be released, matched only by her growing fury. At an unexpected sound she almost unleashed herself in a burst of untempered rage, but it was merely another tap on the carriage from the driver. “No…” she growled to herself. They had passed without issue through the area, no commotion, only amateur the wretched cheering of the crowds. She grit her teeth but steeled herself, they could’ve seen the trap and prepared an attack further along, there was, she was sure, no way they knew of their plan. Time passed. Her fury grew. More time passed. The carriage rolled to a stop and, with her fury masking all sense tits of time or location, Ariela stiffened her back feeling her anticipation rise as the handle of her door turned. The door swung open and a servant met her eyes, quickly taking several steps back, retreating from her in a moment of absolute wisdom. Ariela growled and stepped into the sun, stretching her back and feeling her sore tensed muscles strain, cramped from the uncomfortable journey. With a single glance towards the Palace she knew, voyeur It was in absolute disarray and she just knew. With a roar she cast a huge hand out her side, releasing an uncontrolled stream of her emerald power. It tore through the cobbled courtyard, sending a hail of fist-sized rocks tumbling through the air Hardcore in all directions. Windows shattered and people cried out, ducking and making for cover as, through the fresh destruction and swirling dust Ariela stalked, her eyes ablaze, her fingers trailing green, burning the air at her fingertips. Once within the Palace with each step she left a smouldering scorch mark on the stone floors, her rage so unbridled as she knew what she was going to find. Guards, servants, everyone cleared her path. The palace was on high alert and it wasn’t just because of her return. Though perhaps it should’ve been. In an attempt to relieve her stress as she walked through the palace several shambling skeletal fiends were reduced to so much ash in flashes of emerald brilliance. She came to Belind's open door and she swept into the room trailing her dress as if it was caught in a gale, her hair whipping about, trails of emerald power arcing up her skin like electric currents. “Where. I’m a man hating Fem Nazi Lesbian! Did I always have this brimming inside of me? So we gave her some amateur extra estrogen boosters, as well as started her on prolactin. Wendell is my love, my husband, my boyfriend and master. His face was hairless and angular, his features so tits fair they were pretty, huge the androgyny only exaggerated by the way his long scarlet hair flowed over his delicate voyeur shoulders, the tips tickling his flat boyish chest. problem, I'll follow the rules of the house." You mount your "dead" wife and pump her slowly but passionately as your fingers caress her "Thunder Tits" and luscious thighs. “No!”, I shouted. Okay, master!" “I do.” Brandon said, contritely. He then kisses my neck, sucking it, enjoying my hijab covered neck. His heartbeat quickened at the sight. Master had the best spunk in Hardcore the world. I mean you could see my face buried in her pussy, hers in mine, our pussies smashed together while we made out, his dick in my mouth or pussy, or anything else you can think of.