Aria arched an eyebrow, apparently unimpressed by the Drow's words. "Imrae, my dear," the duchess cooed. She ran her hands along Imrae's arm, up her shoulder, until they were lightly caressing the drow's cheeks. "Don't embarrass yourself any further than you already have with your failure." The white-haired woman's hands slid down, to Imrae's throat in an iron grip. "You wouldn't be the first would-be assassin I've strangled to death with my bare hands."<br/><br/>And Lady Blackspire certainly had the strength to back up her claims; her grip was almost superhuman. "You're here for two reasons, Naerth," the Duchess continued, her face dead serious. "To kill my enemies, and to fuck me raw. And if you can't do the former," she said, glancing down at Imrae's throbbing erection. "Well, then you had better be damn good at the latter."