Dilyna said it would be a quiet night out—just dancing, a few drinks, and perhaps the company of a handsome stranger. And, for a while, it was. The men were impossibly beautiful. Too beautiful, perhaps. It was only later that I noticed the symbols beneath their clothes, and understood what we had stumbled into. The Cult of the Black Pharaoh. It has been two weeks now. Two weeks of sleepless nights, strange ceremonies, and pleasures offered in the name of their unseen master. Each ritual leaves us a little less certain of who we were before we entered that place. The walls seem to whisper when we sleep, and sometimes I wake to the sound of voices speaking a language I cannot remember learning. Our bodies have begun to change. Our bellies swell as though we carried children that were never meant to be born, while our resistance to the cult's rites grows weaker with every passing night. I can no longer tell where desire ends and obedience begins. Perhaps there was never any difference. Great Nyarlathotep... We are your concubines now. Your vessels. Your playthings beneath the gaze of the Black Pharaoh. Do with us as you please. Thanks to @MayZiO_x for this commission!🤟 Special guest @anonymous_rum 🍆

While the rest of the world waits for summer, the Caribbean is already living it.🏖️🌴 Thanks to @XRiaeX for be part of my Beach Bimbos