Careful there - not all man-eaters were monsters born of the curse. Tasting that sweet flesh was a tantalizing thought. Blood too, but Ianthe being an occasional cannibal was an open secret these days.

Her eyes fluttered as the chain clicked into place, and she wet her lips. What would Peony end up doing with her? What tastes did she have? Could she stick to her self-imposed chastity? How horrible would it be if Ianthe tried to get her to break? Not that she cared if it was horrible. It probably was.

Using the offered arm, she rose to her feet and stretched a little. "Down that way is impact and bondage play. That way is humiliation, degredation and petplay. Farther down on the other side is breath, blades, and blood. To the south is master/slave in its various forms. And then there's the Heart Station, the gloryhole, and the real hardcore shit," Ianthe said, pointing as necessary. "Wherever your feet move, as do mine." Pick a poison.