"Plissken stood at the edge of the balcony looking below. Hundreds of people bustled below as the city of sandbox moved along, like little ants scurrying about. They've all forgotten about it by now... the 200th. After scamming them all for fools they return to their true nature, moving from place to place looking for the next drama. He thought this all to himself as sudden tingles went up his spine, as a cold coarse hand rubbed his bear rear. He blushed as it went up his spine, both hands wrapping around onto his chest. Jamal pulled him in closely, biting his ear. "My most faithful follower.... shall we make art?"
The artist formerly known as Plissken blushed, putting his hands up to Jamals. Finally, he did not have to offer money for attention... it was all going to happen on that bed behind them again.
Plissken sat on the bed, alone, as Jamal stood above him, pulling out a laptop. Jamal opened
https://epicmafia.com/lobby and went to the lobby chat on Plissken's account. He typed in the usual shitpost, and then took out a whip.
"Same rules as always?" Plissken asked, as Jamal reached into a duffel bag pulling out a leather whip.
"Yeah.... this'll do." He started refreshing. Every time another neg appeared, watery tears rolled into Plissken's eyes. Jamal was his church, his religion, his god. And he was an embodiment of everything Jamal believed in.
And you neggars are fueling this."
- Anon
