Talia offered herself up to be read. He took great pleasure in making her into the kind of girl who'd ask him for permission to leave while her face was smothered in her juices, her saliva and his product. He thought to do it all over again with her, then. How miserable she would be, not to have run when she might have had the chance. He was willing to bet he could push her over the edge if they went around again, the way her body had welcomed him. He'd nodded at her request and savored the way she took his kiss. He'd chuckled to himself when the cock-slap had her jerking back. Her face dropped lower when he kissed her. Everything he did affected her beautifully. She, like Emily, would never get away from him now.<br/><br/>He was mostly interested in his computer, but took time off the screen to watch her with a mocking expression when she faltered to the floor. He looked down at her with his chin raised, smiling like he was disappointed. She couldn't even stand on her own. They made quite the picture then, fully dressed Culler barely lending an eye to the girl still slathered on her most intimate place with his signature, her ass on the floor, her legs week, sitting by his feet with his jeans around her shins.<br/><br/>"Do you need some help with that?" he mocked, smile like a hyena, when she was failing with her own clothes. Eventually she did get them on, standing on unsure legs. That was right. He'd fucked the strength out of them for her, and her slippery cunt had let it happen. He had a low rumble in his throat while she backed away - a predator considering a fawn. How unfitting it was for her to leave with her eyes toward him, like he was some kind of idol in a church. Or maybe that was completely appropriate. He was owed some reverence.<br/><br/>She was right, in a way, to underline his significance like this. Powerful, he'd shown her, and with an everlasting impact on her life, first by way of a loved family member, and then directly at her with calamitous impact. It was the way any religion spread. Her fear, like her body, was her offering. And her continued suffering for what he'd done was her way of worshiping him. Not too long from now, when she had given all her thoughts and nights of sleep to him, he would be her faith, all-encompassing.<br/><br/>Maybe that was why she hit the door in anxiety and her hand fumbled with the handle. What else do you do when you're offered to stay with your deity? She wasn't pious enough today, and convinced the locks open so she could slip away from the charged house and stumble back into the human world. She closed the door for him, because she thought she owed him courtesy, or because she felt that the building itself could contain the creature it housed. She was hoping he wouldn't follow. He could hear her sneakers pat their way into the other sounds of the city.<br/><br/>Culler sighed, satisfied with everything that had transpired in his home, and leaned back into the couch, fingers crossed on his stomach as he looked at the screen. Mail. It was from his media outlet and promoter. He'd been getting some pressure to get into the mainstream market with his art. He supposed it was better than editing for hacks. The company already had large buyers vying for his doodles, and were putting together a booklet out of just his portfolio.<br/><br/>They had asked for something polished to use for the coverart, and he knew exactly what to make now. He pulled out the pad and started sketching with new inspiration. A raven haired girl with her makeup undone, face slathered and eyes looking fearful at the viewer. Shadows of someone just like her, and the faded history of some antagonist in the dark. Nothing new, subject wise, but he kept the lewd details and the glisten on her cheek that couldn't be tears, the fat of her lips a recent swell rather than a natural state. That was what signified his pieces, and that was what people were lining up to sell and purchase.<br/><br/>Really, his girls were just for inspiration.