Those days would find her sprawled out across the Witch’s bed linens; her body warmed and skin ruddy with affections. She would nudge her nose against the sweet spot of the Witch’s neck, tongue licking and teeth nipping at pearly white skin, her claws raking bright trails of red across her chest. Her tongue, much thicker now and harder to use in the production of her words, was well-equipped to deal with the moisture between her Mistress’s legs, uniquely suited to lap at nectar that was scented with lust and desire.