She didn't know what to say, so she could only silently press her moist, flushed face.
Sixteen centuries later, scandals about witches circulated in Valtorre, one of which involved coupling with the Devil. People described this behavior as vulgar and evil, and many paintings were created portraying it. In these paintings, the witch was always naked, frail as if a sacrificial lamb, while a huge, ugly monster entangled her, tormented her, and plunged disgusting tumors into her deformed reproductive cavity.
However, sixteen centuries earlier, Roy was wearing an Elf's baggy robe, curled up on the rocks; the young Devil, ignorant of lust, squatted in front of her, expressing absurd and laughable thoughts on feeding.
He didn't even know what he had done.
"Is there no more?" He poked her inner thigh with his tail. "Do you need that Elf's help to produce food again?"
The implication of his words seemed unsatisfied.
Roy sat up, replying perfunctorily with mixed feelings: "Ah...yes."
