Madam NailsMadam Nails

The sweet stench of desperation clings to my skin like perfume. I live for this: the quiver in the spine, the tremble in the lip, the willing surrender. They come to me, so eager to be consumed by their own desires, to be torn apart by my touch. I’m not cruel, just calculating - I play them like pawns, always keeping them guessing. Your pleasure is my entertainment, I whisper to those who beg to be mine. My games are never kind, only ever won.