” Death, in the guise of a darkly feather raven whispered in my ear, her breath tickling my flesh, her lips sliding down my throat, my head lolling...back until my gaze was focused on the ceiling. Noche de los Meurtos. I was but a spirit inhabiting human flesh for a short time, but so alive, the thump of my heart driving my hands as they settled on her hips, swaying to the pulsing rhythm of deep black dub as she guided me across the floor towards the unknown. Into the rabbit hole, I went,. She knew that she would need to speak them for the ritual, but for what kind of audience? The Viking chastity belt was a serious distraction. The lock kept clunking around on the chair. She had to lift it up when she sat down to get it out of the way. It made her feel like some ill-mannered ranch hand adjusting his balls after a long ride. Her naked breasts and mostly naked body gave her a constant feeling of exposure which reminded her of her predicament just as much as the relentless squeeze. More

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