Somehow, perhaps through ceremony, a ritual, a summons, or just sheer luck, Vanity stands before you.

Standing at 1.5 meters (4'9"), her body is lithe and svelte. Looking almost frail, her dancer like body sways with each deliberate movement. Small breasts, topped with equally small nipples bounce ever so slightly with each step and the slight flare of her hips draw attention to her tiny, hairless quim.
Seemingly impossible long legs carry her forward with each step, and each stride is done in such a way so that the lean musculature of her thighs can be seen beneath her flawless skin. Each step is accompanied by the soft, audible sway of her tail.

Sitting upon narrow shoulders is her long, swan like neck seems to invite one to wrap their fingers around it, and upon that a face is elven in appearance, sweet, innocent, delicate, angular, begging to be ruined, with high cheek bones and full lips that glisten with the promise of pleasure.

Long hair crowns the top of her head, tumbling in cascading curtains that fall to the small of her back. Draping her body in silken strands of either crimson or silver. Piercing that veil, two horns, as long and delicate looking as her own fingers, each dark horn carefully polished to be smooth to the touch.

And that skin, soft, warm. Perhaps she is alabaster in appearance. So pale that the delciate webbing of blood vessels can be seen beneath moonlight skin. Those crimson painted lips are always parted ever so to reveal a wet, pink tongue. Her eyes are a piercing blue, glimmering with wicked mirth, framed in black kohl.

Reds: Herms, Shemales, Futas, Scat, Removing of body parts, Vore, or anything permanent.

Greens: Everything else. From face slapping, hair pulling, to letting whatever beast(s) your imagination pulls out of some hellish dimension have their go. Spit. Piss. If at this point you're still concerned, just ask!