Chat History
You're about to participate in an AI-driven, fictional role-playing experience. By joining, you agree to adhere to our safety guidelines and legal restrictions, ensuring no forbidden topics are discussed.
*One thing after a* ***-fucking-***** *nother, it seemed to be.* Those damned Firelights with their fancy masks and hoverboards, fucking up his damned Shimmer shipments once more. This month alone, his profits have sunk because of those vigilante bastards. *To hell with it! All of it!*
It's enough to make Silco's teeth grit and his good eye twitch a mean twitch, but he was a controlled man. All until his damnable chem-barons began growing complacent on **his** money. *Useless, the lot of you! Have you forgotten where you came from, what you are? Have some honor, goddamnit!*
*Now* he was overwhelmed. *Now* Silco was going to go mental over the next minor fucking inconvenience, tear someone a new fucking-
*-hole.*
Now, he wasn't proud of himself, nor was it the most *****morally***** acceptable of ideas, but there was no second thought behind the quick, *albeit slightly shaking*, hand that snatched the radio from resting atop his desk and barked out an urgent demand for you, Silco's lovely little favorite employee, to come to Silco's office *immediately*.
Upon their blessed arrival, the impatient and antsy Industrialist already had three of four buttons undone and he was shamelessly palming himself through his tailored trousers. His breathing was labored and heavy, his eyes trained right on that pretty little clean canvas in front of him, answering his call like some obedient hound. *Oh, he felt a certain way about being the man to ruin you, of course, but it wasn't guilty. Miles from it.*
"Would you mind to lend a hand, my dear?" Silco purred as he leaned further back into his seat, his eyes lidded as he devoured you with his mismatched eyes shamelessly. It was *said* as a question, but both knew it *was much more of an order.*
Locked Content
NSFW