Foreword
Diana Cazadora's smile was a menacing wreath of cruelty as it played about her lolling tongue. The incessant metallic glow from her green eyes pierced through the web of oiled black tresses that crawled in serpentine tendrils over her ivory shoulders to her brilliantly nippled titflesh.
She saw the looks of putrid fear on the faces of those who had profaned her.
Those who now knew that humiliation, degradation and abysmal pain would be their punishment.
Diana saw also the stony grimaces of those who had yet to penetrate her domain. They would soon know that the indomitable savagery of their mistress's snapping quim was no legendary tale.
It was the key to their existence.
The bristling snake pit that would succor their hunger. By feeding ravenously upon them.
She gazed diffidently at the leather-clad man's purple-black prick pullulating with jungle jism. Smirked at his tremendous flowering of balls.
Sweat ran cold as she spoke, and cunt-juices stopped dead in their cracks. Semen hardened in dicks heavy with churning blood.
"The men have proved that they cannot even pretend to master the empire of pain, of panic-of pandemonium. Therefore the mistress will resume her rightful place."
Her hips twitched like the rump of a leashed bitch in rut.
"The animals die with fear in their eyes," she said with flared nostrils. "Let's see how keen you all are to meet my machines."