A drow. A fairly normal looking drow. Possibly a prostitute. Possibly a slut. She didn't seem to care either way. She stood fairly tall for a drow, over five feet. Under six feet. She weighed about what you expected, eighty pounds or so. Her eyes? That delicate crimson colour that most drow had. Her hair was cropped short, as if done by her own hand, and definitely not with any care, coarse, sloppy, and most definitely not done with any grace in mind.

Her voice was soft yet husky, a smoker's voice, for sure. Delicate when she wanted it to be. Her lip, pierced, her nose? Pierced, as was her ear. All with tiny gold studs. She was rather well traveled creature of the night at any rate. Her long legs shot out below her as her only symbol of pride, toned, muscular, and certainly capable of carrying her away from any threats.

Her neck was slender and smooth, an expanse of soft ebony that spilled out into breasts too large to fit into the tops she wore. They weren't a ridiculous size for Sinfar, only being Double D's, she simply couldn't afford a bigger top, and didn't care enough to hide those thick and plush sweater puppies of hers, letting them jostle free in the open air when she felt like it. Her belly was flat, toned, smooth, and certainly not the kind of thing you'd expect from someone as experienced as her.

Still, she had that air of wisdom and time, oddly enough. And while she might seem a picture of perfection above her clothes, beneath she was anything but. There was a reason for her attitude. She was a hermaphrodite, and frankly, her condition could only be delicately described as 'well used'.

Her pudgy, plush ass cheeks, often cradled a tiny little plump star that pushed outwards ever so slightly from the constant, nightly ravagings of fuck hungry taverns and overly eager owners and slavers-- not to mention male drow that wanted an excuse to lord over something with a feminine figure. Ever sore, and stretched, it gaped easily and took far too long to close.

Her lithe pouch between her thighs held the same quality, that poor little herm's cunt was a gaping mess most days, when it wasn't forced across a thick rod too large for her body, it was clenching and unclenching softly, unable to truly close anymore. So abused had it been that it constantly remained split open more than a few inches. Her cervical barrier had long ago been battered and destroyed from whatever magical menagerie had been forced onto her.

Her sack and shaft, while sizeable, and easily just over a foot long, and more than a few fingerwidths thick, was an equal proponent of experimentation, as someone had long ago shoved a multitude of cruel and crude studs all along it's length. Rippling it with power and the delicate sheen of metal. Her sack? Similarly pierced.

She's generally at home topping as she is bottoming. But don't assume she's a sub.

~Lights~

You can't shock me. Go wild.