Slithering; hissing; she encircled the man in the middle of the room, cowering on his knees and begging her Master for mercy. They always did this, and yet she could never understand it – her Master was as far from merciful as they came.
Hissing; bearing fangs; drawing nearer; if she could have she would have laughed as the smell of his fear spikes. It was delicious.
Drawing closer; tasting the air; she would take her time with this one. She wanted to truly savour him, in a way that she rarely allowed herself to do; in a way that her Master rarely allowed her to do.
She would savour his fear; relish in his pain. Her Master had left her a lovely little gift – a delicious looking meal – and she would delight in it for as long as he would let her.
"Enough!" he sounded almost bored.
She froze – if she were human, she would be smirking – stilling for long enough to reassure her present, before coiling; lunging; using her momentum to launch herself at him, mouth open; almost grinning.
She sinks her fangs into his shoulder, pinning him down and delighting in his screams of agony.
She was hungry.