Deviants

DEVIANTS

By Rayhavoc [rayhavoc@yahoo.com]


DISCLAIMER: The following is an adult-themed story set in the Marvel Universe. Moira MacTaggart, Mandrill, Havok, and all related characters are property, copyright
and trademark of Marvel Comics.

No copyright infringement is intended. The author
has received no payment for this story, and no profit of any kind shall
be earned by its distribution.

WARNING: The following story contains adult themes
and strong sexual content. If you are under the appropriate age or pornography is illegal in your area, do not read.

STORY CODES: Male/Female, Consentual (???), Oral, Humiliation & BDSM

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Some of the opening material has been taken from Chapter One of Dangerous Liasons, with new material added in to avoid much repetition.

************


The Vault - Superhuman Maximum Security Prison
Rocky Mountain Range, Colorado


Alex Summers, the mutant code-named Havok, leader of the government-sponsored strike force known as X-Factor, noticed a bit of nervousness on Dr. Moira MacTaggart's face. He was strong jawed and handsome, with baby-blue eyes, short blond hair and a lean, muscular six-foot build. He was in costume, wearing his standard blue and yellow field uniform with matching jacket.

"You okay, Moira?" Alex asked, his concern evident in his deep voice. "You look a little pale."

Moira nodded. "I'm fine, Alex. Just feeling a bit nervous about being here," she replied, speaking in a rich, feminine Scottish brogue. Her pitiful attempt at a smile was hardly reassuring to Alex. "To be honest, I can think of better places to be right now, but I'm fine."

A woman of slight height and average build, Moira face was oval with high cheekbones, lightly lined and mildly attractive. With wide-set blue eyes behind brown-framed glasses, a small pert nose, full lips, and straight brown hair cut into a shoulder-length pageboy style. She wore a black tailored linen suit over a conservative white silk blouse and black Italian pumps. A small black leather pocketbook slung over her shoulder.

Alex could see that she was anything but fine. Moira was a close friend to him. At first by association with the X-Men, but during the time spent helping her with research on Muir Island a few years back, Alex had regarded her as a relative of sorts. As the two walked along the fifth-level corridor, Moira shivered a bit at the cold, grey walls of her surroundings. They were escorted by a guard clad head-to-toe in shiny green Guardsman armor. A row of sub cells, most of them unoccupied, lined the left and right walls of a Adamantium-walled room.

Alex gave a sigh. "You sure you want to go through with this, Moira?" he asked her. "I mean, he's no Magneto, but that doesn't make him any less dangerous."

"Aye," Moira replied. "The warden told me that he's showing signs of the Legacy Virus, Alex. I'm aware that he's a dangerous criminal, but I can't turn away an important opportunity like this." She adjusted her glasses as she spoke. "His symptoms may prove valuable in me research if this is all valid."

The two were led to the end of the corridor. The Guardsman then paused, facing the last cell on the end and turned his head to Moira.

"I have to explain some things to you before you go inside," the Guardsman spoke earnestly, his voice slightly muffled under his helmet. Alex and Moira looked to the Guardsman, listening intently.

The Guardsman cleared his throat and continued on. "Beyond this door, the prisoner's been quarantined, specifically sealed behind a tough Plexiglass alloy. The chamber is sealed airtight, so no gaseous compounds can get in or out. The glass is strong enough so the prisoner can't break through. You'll be completely safe, nothing to worry about." The Guardsman then paused. "I would recommend, however, that you do not give or take anything from him. His powers can be very subtle if you're not careful."

"I doubt there will be any trouble," Alex said matter-of-factly. "I'll be in there with her."

"Actually, Mr. Summers," the Guardsman replied. "He requested to speak to Dr. MacTaggart alone."

Alex crossed his arms as he groaned in frustration. "How convenient,
"
"I'll be fine, Alex," Moira said, trying to muster up wlittlittle courage she had at the moment." Like the guard said, I shouldn't be in any danger."

Alex hesitated, weighing his options, realizing he had none.

"Alright," he replied. "I'll wait here outside. Moira, if he tries anything, just shout for me, okay?" Moira quietly nodded to him.

"There's an alarm switch right by the cell door," The Guardsman said, pointing to a red-handled switch on the adjoining wall. The words "ALARM! USE ONLY FOR AN EMERGENCY!" were stenciled in white paint above it. "Just pull down the switch, and either me or the other guards on duty will be here as quickly as possible. The nearest security egress is on the other end of this corridor." The Guardsman turned to look at Moira. "Any questions?" he asked her.

Moira shook her head quickly. "No, I understand perfectly," she replied, hoping to get this over with as soon as possible.

The Guardsman nodded." Alright, you're free to see him. Remember, don't give him anything, don't take anything from him." And with that, he opened the cell door and moved aside.

"Just be careful. I'll be waiting right here." Alex said.

Moira didn't respond, swallowing hard as she slowly walked inside the high-security cell, clutching her pocketbook close to her side. The cell was a large, four-sided room, a quarter of the area made to walk around freely. The rest was a transparent chamber made of a tough Plexiglas alloy that could detain beings of superhuman strength. Moira's attention was locked on the prisoner behind it, so much so that she didn't hear the cell door close shut behind her.

The prisoner was massive. He was almost reminiscent of the Missing Link, humanoid with apelike features as he sat on a well-worn cot. His body was stocky and muscular, covered in short, coarse brown fur with underparts of a chalk white shade. Hraniranium was overlarge. His face had an elongated muzzle with a blue stripe down the middle and around the nostrils, while the sides of the muzzle are ridged lengthwise and are chalk white. His long, powerful arms rested on his knees, long, curving, white talons on his hands and feet, both of which have opposable thumbs like an ape's. With a ridged brow above the eyes and a whitish beard. He was dressed in an orange full prison-issue garb, the pants loose and ill-fitting. His red, bloodshot eyes were fixed onto Moira's face the moment she stepped into the room.

"Jerome Beechman?" Moira spoke out in a shaky voice as she stepped slowly towards the glass.

"That's Mandrill to you, sweet thing,," the prisoner replied. "Jerome Beechman died a long time ago." The apelike figure looked Moira up and down, licking his lips at the sight of her, which quickly made Moira even more uncomfortable. "Never knew a doctor -and a female one at that- could be such a nice, tight lookin' piece of ass," he said with a leer, flaring his nostrils at her.

Moira's expression turned from fear to that of mild disgust." That's Doctor MacTaggart to ye," she sneered, adjusting her glasses straight. "If ye're sincere about wantin' me help, ye'd do yerself well to address me by that."

Mandrill gave a wide grin, exposing sharp, bone white canine teeth. "And a tough piece of ass at that," he said as he got up to his feet and approached the protective glass between them both. Moira drew back slightly as he got closer, Mandrill almost leaning into the glass. "Word on the prison grapevine was that you were working on a cure for the Legacy Virus. Said you could treat me of my little condition."

"The warden was half right," Moira answered. "I've been studying this disease for quite a while, yes. However, I've yet to find a cure for it, I'm afraid."

Mandrill's demeanor suddenly turned as he gave a sneer. "Shit!" he muttered under his breath as he turned his back to her. "So what, I'm totally fucked then? This fuckin' virus is gonna tear me apart?"

"Not necessarily," said Moira. "While I haven't yet found a cure, I've been making some progress on finding it. Unfortunately, the virus has been spreading at an alarming rate for me to match any progress on conquering it." Moira averted her eyes away from Mandrill's, her eyebrows scrunched together in a fearful look. "Also, I've lacked the proper funding resources," she said in a meek tone. "I'm afraid that the world's governments see no point in assisting me on finding a cure."

Mandrill shook his head and gave a bitter chuckle, reading between the lines of her last statement. "Fucking monkeys!" he said, well aware of the irony of his comment. "Why am I not surprised? The weak little humans have their own little blessing from above. Hah!"

Moira did her best to ignore his comments. "I'm sorry if ye got your hopes up about this," she said flatly. "It seems that we wasted both our time. Goodbye, then." She turned and started for the cell door.

"Hey, hey waitaminute!" Mandrill said as he rushed to the glass, his hands pressed against the surface. "Hey look! I'm sure we can work out a little something. Got a bit of a proposition for ya, sweet thing." He gazed at the way Moira's buttocks shifted and swayed underneath her business skirt, the unconscious swing her hips made as she walked.

Moira stopped at her feet ,a few feet away from the cell door, and crossed her arms over her chest. Her expression not so much as angry, but as if were full of silent measuring and analysis.

"So far, ye've called me 'sweet thing' twice, much to my chagrin.Plus, ye've disrespected both me and my species," she replied over her shoulder to Mandrill. "Ye've given me little reason for any chance of an agreement with ye. Besides, wouldn't it demean ye to accept help from a 'fucking monkey'? A 'weak little human'?"

Mandrill tried his best to look friendly and sincere, made all the more difficult by his inhuman appearance. "Hey c'mon swee...er, I mean, Doctor MacTaggart," Mandrill spoke evenly. "I was just being funny, that's all."

"Crude, racist humor doesn't fit me well, I'm afraid." Moira said coldly, her back still to him.

Mandrill gave a light chuckle. "Okay, then try this on for size, Doc. How's about I be your little lab monkey? No pun intended, of course."

Moira turned and looked back to him, her arms still crossed as she approached the glass barrier slowly. "Ye're volunteering ye'self as a test subject?"

"You got it in one, Doc," Mandrill grinned, his red-rimmed eyes looked to her face, then drifted insolently down along the length of her body. "Think of it as community service. Maybe even get my time in this box cut short, eh?"

Moira narrowed her eyes at him. "Ye do realize that I'd be hard pressed to have the warden agree to ye'r offer," she said. "Such an arrangement would require ye to be under heavy guard and supervision." She readjusted her glasses, starting to feel uncomfortable at the way he was looking at her. "And I can't promise ye that the research procedures will be safe?"

"Hey, I'll do anything to get this virus out of me, Doc," Mandrill replied, "I got business to take care of on the outside. And I also got a lot of faith in ya," He stood back, placing his large, fur-covered hand deliberately upon his crotch and began rubbing himself, his grin widening.

Moira saw it then. An expanding bulge grew beneath Mandrill's pants. His hand doing little to hide it as it furrowed down along his inner thigh, Despite the looseness of his pants, Moira could see that the bulge was more distinctive, as it grew even longer, thicker, straining against the coarse material.

Her eyes grew wide behind the lens of her glasses at the sight of his bulging length. "Mother of God," Moira gasped, her face turning white as a sheet.

Mandrill continued rubbing his crotch, his eyes still fixed on Moira's expression, gauging it, as if he was getting himself off on it.

"I'm...sure ye do," Moira finally replied, slowly turning her eyes back to his face as she swallowed hard, trying her best to avert her attention away from his crotch. "Anyway, I'll see what I can do. I won't make any promises, however."

"I'm sure you'll come through," Mandrill said as his hand moved away from his crotch while his other hand fumbled with the zipper of his pants, pulling it down. He pressed his moist snout against the glass, his eyes still locked on Moira's face. "Who knows, I just might show you my gratitude, sweet thing."

And with that, Mandrill reached into his fly and pulled out a large, freakish cock. Moira watched in mute horror and fascination as the organ jutted eight inches outward from between the folds of his zipper. Shiny, pink, and smooth as leather, the shaft was lined with delicate traceries of veins, the glans a bulbous mushroom cap. It grew longer and thicker, extending with each passing second. Nine inches...ten inches...eleven as it arched towards the ceiling, standing at half-mast.

Moira slowly recoiled as she looked to the inhuman cock. Her cheeks reddened in shame and disgust. She covered her mouth with one hand while the other grasped her stomach, fighting back the nauseous feeling, trying her best not to retch.

"Yeah, not bad at all eh?" Mandrill chuckled as his large hand wrapped around the thick, veined shaft of his cock, forming a circle with his palm, thrusting himself against it. Moira watched transfixed, her face blanched. A dollop of pre-come oozed from the tip, dripping its clear fluid down in a thin, shiny ribbon between his legs.

"Once you go primal, you'll never go back," Mandrill taunted, grinning like a beast as he continued stroking his organ. "So, what do ya say...sweet thing?"

Moira swallowed hard, tracing a hand from her mouth down along to her heaving chest as if to clutch her rapidly beating heart. "Ye're a sick bastard. Absolutely repulsive," she said, barely speaking above a whisper.

Mandrill's toothy grin widened as he stroked himself. "Yeah? Well you can always turn around and leave. Just as well too. I bet that tight little ass of yours looks good going as it does coming."

Moira didn't respond. Her blue eyes were fixed on his cock, entranced by the up-and-down rhythm of Mandrill's hand strokes, the veins pulsing and purpling blood. Within her cotton blouse and bra, she felt her nipples instantly hardening. She bit her lower lip, her stomach tensing up. An uncontrollable heat began mounting at her womanhood, spreading out from between her thighs. She squeezed them together in the attempt to fight back against the arousal she felt. She was unable, unwilling to move, much less walk out of the cell.

"Please, cover ye'self," Moira spoke in a meek tone as she turned her head away, her heart threatening to beat out of her chest. "I won't tolerate this."

"Sorry, Doc," Mandrill spoke out between lewd grunts as he continued throttling his cock shaft, his eyes fixed on Moira. "I just can't help myself. I got a lot of frustration to work off," His large, hairy hand moved faster, rubbing his forefinger over the urethral opening, glazing the pre come around the fleshy helmet. "Humor me, Doc," he grunted. "When was the last time you had a big hard dick inside ya? I mean, really fucked mercilessly to a screaming frenzy?"

"Please," Moira spoke out in a weak tone. She closed her eyes tight. But the vision of Mandrill's great pole of lusting flesh was trapped in her mind. Did a normal man even exist against that? Certainly not her past and current relationships.

"Sean," Moira thought to herself, thinking of her beau.

"You used to date one of those X-Guys, didn't you?" Mandrill asked. "Whatsitsname..."

Moira turned to look at him, surprised and a little angry at him for intruding into her business. "How...how did ye know that?" she said defensively.

"Uh-oh," Mandrill moaned. "It looks like I've hit a nerve." He placed his palm flat against the glass surface as he kept stroking his stiff cock up and down, the bulbous, pink muscle encased in its fist throbbing. "Ah...yes. Sean Cassidy. That's his name, wasn't it?"

Moira looked dumb faced before him. She never met him before, yet already he was inquiring about her love life. "My personal life is none of ye' re business," she replied, the anger showing in her voice. "Just who the hell do ye think ye are?"

"Did you love him, sweet thing?" Mandrill asked.

"That's none of ye're business!" Moira said, her anger rising. "How dare he!" she thought to herself. He summoned her here only to waste her time, shamelessly masturbating in front of her like a horrid animal, and now he dared to pry into her personal affairs.

Silence. Mandrill released his grip on his cock, leaving it wagging like a dog's tail. He stood with his hands on his hips as he stared intently at Moira like an angry parent ready to scold her child, as if he was demanding an answer from her. His gaze sent a involuntary chill through Moira's body. The massive, fearsome phallus stood outward at a full, glorious, hungry salute. It was a divine rod and a divining rod, thrust commandingly toward Moira.The massive pink shaft, the bulbous head stretching outward, the gaping cock slit was like a third eye staring at her, as if it was beckoning her, calling her name.

Moira swallowed hard, fearing at what she gotten herself into. She was apprehensive, fearful of antagonizing him, despite the fact that he was properly restrained.

"I...I didn'ae know," she finally replied obediently, eyes looking away from the beast between his thighs. "Certain things...certain circumstances kept getting in the way,"

"So what do ya want?" Mandrill asked tauntingly. "What's your pleasure, sweet thing?"

"Not this..." Moira lied to herself, closing her eyes in a vain attempt to shut out his seeming control over her.

Moira heard the rustle of clothing. She forced her eyes open to look at him and gawked at what she saw. Her eyes were wide with horror (wonder).

Mandrill was now completely naked, his prison garb laid in a pile behind him. His body was a strange fusion of man and beast. He stood six feet tall, bulky and massively muscled (remarkable), an enormous monstrosity (stud) covered in brown fur. His large hands resumed their place on his hips. His moist snout snorted hot breath, fogging against the Plexiglass, his red eyes fixated on Moira.

His cock was still hard and erect, the head of his glans pressed against the cool glass. Amazingly, Moira could see the urethral slit gaped slightly open, salivating, smearing its clear pre-coital slime on the Plexiglass. His testicles were as large as tennis balls, low hanging in a furry, blue colored scrotum sack trapped between his large thighs.

"What has come over me?" Moira thought, trying to rationalize what she was feeling. She was a woman of science, of rational (carnal) thought and analysis who prides herself on reflecting a sense of immaculate professionalism (eroticism).Yet her own lust was rising to such a peak that she was unsure of her own actions. She was beside herself. As if her entire being was crying out to him sexually (Fuck me, ye horrible beast!).

Out to that disgusting (magnificent) appendage between his legs (Fuck me raw until I scream ye'er name over and over!).

"No!" Moira screamed in her head over and over. She was afraid (aroused) for herself. Trembling in fearful lust, an overpowering need for carnal abandon (fuckmebeatmepunishme) for such an atrocious creature(whipmesodomizemehumiliatemefuckmefuckmefuckme). To be filled with his horrible cock (fuckmestickmestretchmefillme).

Her eyes widened at the possibility. Mandrill's mutant pheromone ability! Could it be affecting her?

But that was impossible. His chamber is sealed airtight, or so that's what the Guardsman out front told her.

Yet how could she explain this? Moira has never felt this way before. Not with her first husband Joseph, not with Xavier, not with Sean.

She pulled off her glasses, brushing a hand against her brow. "I didn'ae want this..." she said to herself, trying to fight the feeling building inside her.

Mandrill smiled. "You're not too certain, are ya, sweet thing?" he growled. "Naw. Sean was too kind, too caring. Nothing at all like your first husband was."

Now he really hit a nerve. Moira clenched her glasses in her hand tightly, threatening to break them in half as she looked at him with naked eyes, the blood rising to her face in fury. "Bastard!" she spat out, her other hand clenched into a fist as she stared daggers at him. "How dare ye! How do ye even know about that?"

"Why not?" Mandrill grinned mischievously. "You know you enjoyed it. The pain, the humiliation. So much repressed sexuality in such a shy, reserved person. Desire screaming to be set free. I can tell you what you want. I can see it, feel it, smell it," He lifted his nose up as if he was smelling something, his nostrils flared, making a snorting sound. "I can see your lips quivering, your pretty blue eyes dancing at the mere thought of what I can do to you. What I'm going to do to you."

Another blush slid across Moira's face, her heart beating so hard that it would threaten to rip out of her chest.

Many years ago before Moira had met Sean, her first husband Joseph, a former commando in the Scottish Royal Marines with ambitions for running for the political office, had beaten and sexually assaulted her during a trip to New York City. He had beaten and raped her, merely out of extreme frustration over his then-stagnant political career. The bruises, the black eye, the broken jaw, the alpha-male dominance over her as he hiked up her dress, pulled down her panties and fucked her brutally on their posh king-sized hotel bed, slapping her glasses clean off, hitting her until her face was blue with bruises, then bending her over the edge of the bed and mounting her from behind, reaming her dry asshole as she screamed and cried into the bed sheets.

Although she was humiliated that night, left hospitalized and impregnated with their son, Kevin. She shamefully admitted to herself that she had enjoyed the brutal beatings of her now ex-husband. She was humiliated, yes, but God help her, she found that wretched emotion enjoyable in private. A respected, Nobel Prize winning geneticist, the daughter of a powerful Scottish nobleman, enjoying the sheer thrill of illicit sexual debasement.

Moira put her glasses back on as she tried to compose herself, forcing a bemused expression on her face in an attempt to mask her fear, trying to gain control of the situation. "Arrogant bastard," she said to Mandrill, trying to sound calm and unintimidated. "Ye think ye know me so well? So humor me, then. Tell me what you think that I want."

"You already know, sweet thing," Mandrill said playfully. "You just don't want to admit it to yourself. Instead you keep it locked away inside, keeping the illusion that you're a prim, proper woman of science and nobility."

"What do ye mean?" Moira asked. "This is who I am. I'm satisfied with me life as it is."

"Is that a fact?" Mandrill said. "Tell me, did you ever ask your little boyfriend Sean to ream your pretty little ass whenever you wanted, or were you afraid to let him know the whore inside?

Moira reacted as if she had been struck. She blurted out the answer without thinking. "No, of course not! I would never..."

"But you wanted to, didn't you? So very badly," Mandrill said. "To tell him you've been a very naughty girl. To have your ass spanked until your cheeks were a bloody crimson, then sodomized from behind..."

"Shut up!" Moira snapped at him, losing her composure. "I don't want to hear this anymore!"

Mandrill simply laughed, a hearty laugh that made his cock nod up and down, his balls knocking between his inner thighs.

"I could scream right now," Moira said with a mix of smugness and anger. "Alert the guards here."

Mandrill smiled. "You won't. You had plenty of chances to. Plenty of chances to scream, to turn away and walk out of here while I was stroking my dick in front of you. But you didn't."

He was right. Moira had no idea why she didn't leave, why she stayed to put up with this. She wanted so much to believe that she was lost in control. To believe that the effects of Mandrill's pheromones was sapping her will.

"I can see right through you, Doc," Mandrill said in a low tone. "So shy and reserved. you you even been fucked by another man other than your husband?"

"No," Moira said in a quiet, defeated tone, her chest heaving, thinking of the times she spent with Charles Xavier, the first man she loved after her ex-husband. Then of Sean, her second and current love.

"No. I...I was afraid." she said, eyes looking downcast in shame.

"Afraid of what?" Mandrill asked. "Afraid he would beat you and rape you like your ex did? Or were you afraid that you'd enjoy it?"

Moira kept her eyes down as she remained silent.

Mandrill grinned. "Or maybe you're afraid that he wouldn't treat you in such a way, and were ashamed to tell him how you really liked it. Afraid he'll think of you as nothing but a stupid slut with no morals at all."

Moira said nothing, believing that Mandrill was right in all counts. "But could he possibly know any of this?" Moira thought to herself. "Was she truly that transparent to him?" She wouldn't scream, she wouldn't turn and walk out of the cell because she believed Mandrill was right. Her heart pounded painfully, hipplipples hard and taut, her cunt twitched and bloomed in arousal. She quivered in a mix of fear and excitement at the idea of what this inhuman beast could do to her if she let him.

The scary part was that she was becoming certain that what she was feeling -the lust, the sexual hunger, the need to be beaten, humiliated, then fucked into a crying, screaming frenzy- had something to do with Mandrill's power. She was excited, from the tips of her breasts to the crotch of her panties.

"Oh, God. Oh, Sean," Moira tried to think of him.

Mandrill snarled. "Don't you worry, sweet thing. I know just how you want it. I can smell it, smell your lust." His pelvis lunged forward, pressing the tip of his cock against the glass. He then began swaying his hips, moving them in a strange manner, his slimy cock head sliding against the glass, leaving smeared streaks of pre cum. "Or maybe you don't want this between your thighs. What d'ya say, sweet thing, wanna get stretched open some?"

"W-what are ye doing?" Moira asked, her voice hoarse and raspy.

"Come on, Doc," Mandrill growled, thrusting his hips convulsively, his cock head gliding along the glass, smearing pre-coital slime in a distinctive pattern." Once your shed all your inhibitions, you won't be able to get enough. Shame and humiliation can be a powerful aphrodisiac. All you have to do is just say the words."

Moira was afraid. Afraid to give in, not just physically but on a much deeper, more primal level. She saw that Mandrill was writing something on the glass with his pre-cum. A single word:

SLUT

In any other situation, Moira MacTaggart would have surely have had enough and would have quickly rushed out of the cell upon what she saw, screaming for the guards to come. However, that part of her was gone in that very moment, as if that vulgar word on the glass surface was that key that unlocked the last of her nervous inhibitions and set them all loose. Instinct screamed for her to run, to alert Alex and the guards, but the possibility of a hard, savage fuck that she hasn't had since the night with her ex-husband -a fuck that could wreck her body and drain her dry- outweighed any fear and revulsion and overpowered the nausea in her gut.

Mandrill leaned in closer, the length of his rigid cock depressed up against the glass. The underside of his shaft brachiated with veins that bulged proudly against the cool surface. His large hairy ball sacks throbbed against the cool surface.

Moira didn't utter a word, but her eyes were fixed unblinkingly on that large, inhuman (wonderful) organ. She couldn't remember the last time she ever been so hot, so horny. Her cunt was on fire. She never felt this way before, not with her late husband, not with Xavier, not even with Sean. Her mouth was dry. Her breathing became deeper and more labored. She placed a hand over her beating heart, trailing over her full chest as they swelled and deflated rapidly with each inhale/exhale of breath, feeling her nipples harden like twin spikes through the layers of her blouse and bra, then trailing her splayed fingers along her flat abdomen until they've reached the front of her skirt, framing a triangle between her inner thighs.

All the while, Mandrill kept on smiling at her in such an arrogant, superior way, as if he knew she was now within his thrall. In her eyes, he could see something inside her emerging, as if rising from the deep recesses of her subconsciousness.

And he was gonna bring it out of her.

Something dark, yet erotic, as if it were the culmination of her deepest, darkest sexual desires and ravenous libido. Locked away, now screaming to be freed. It was loud, powerful and it overpowered her, pushing everything that matters, everything that was ever important in her life aside.

Whatever lurks deep down inside lusts there.

And now, it's going to lust for Mandrill.

The dark, sexual urge became words, her own and yet not her own. Moira's fathomless blue eyes bore into Mandrill's with intensity, feeling as though she was giving herself over to the Devil himself when she spoke the words:

"Take me, ye filthy beast!" her tone was rough, thick and breathy. It had a dark, sensual intensity that startled even Mandrill himself. It was alien, so unlike her, and yet it never felt more right. She pulled off her jacket and dropped it in a puddle behind her as she started towards him, looking at him with the hungriest eyes Mandrill has ever seen in his life.

"Take me now," Moira said. "And don't ye make me regret it!"