Asmodia has ever needed to flirt before, she has needed to smile, she has needed to pretend to gasp in pleasure.  She has never received the slightest reward in return, nothing good has ever happened to her as a result, only a diminution of punishment.

Now here she is, smiling at Keltham, and coming on to him far more blatantly than most of the other girls.  And the other girls haven't actually been briefed on Asmodia's situation yet, there wasn't enough time before dinner.  So their almost entirely masked expressions of confusion are priceless, each time she touches Keltham's hand and suggests in a low sultry voice that they go off to bed together, and lie there fully clothed reading books, and maybe in a year or two she'll find him attractive.

She's flirting with a man who can't have her tonight, who'll never have her at all, who knows he can't have her, who is smiling back at her because he doesn't know he can also never have her heart, or that she'll Teleport out of his life at the first possible moment; and she was promoted in her top-priority project, to effectively second-in-command almost, and placed in charge of an incredibly challenging and exciting game of deceiving him.

Her life is just like a romance novel, now.

Except that even if Asmodia fucks up she won't get tortured, and even if she fucks up completely she can suicide before getting tortured to death and hope that somebody is nice to her again within 100 years.  Those aren't the way it would work in a romance novel at all, but both of those facts just make her life unambiguously better even if it wouldn't work as fiction.

Asmodia is having the time of her unfucking life, her defucked and unfuckable life, right now.  Keltham's Civilization has it exactly right about the message that it thinks proper to send.  Asmodia would change nothing about this situation if she could.

Asmodia has ever needed to flirt before, she has needed to smile, she has needed to gasp in false pleasure.  She has never received the slightest reward in return, nothing good has ever happened to her as a result, only a diminution of punishment.

Now here she is, smiling at Keltham, and coming on to him far more blatantly than most of the other girls.  And the other girls haven't actually been briefed on Asmodia's situation yet, there wasn't enough time before dinner.  So their almost entirely masked expressions of confusion are priceless, each time she touches Keltham's hand and suggests in a low sultry voice that they go off to bed together, and lie there fully clothed reading books, and maybe in a year or two she'll find him attractive.

She's flirting with a man who can't have her tonight, who'll never have her at all, who knows he can't have her, who is smiling back at her because he doesn't know he can also never have her heart, or that she'll Teleport out of his life at the first possible moment; and she was promoted in her top-priority project, to effectively second-in-command almost, and placed in charge of an incredibly challenging and exciting game of deceiving him.

Her life is just like a romance novel, now.

Except that even if Asmodia fucks up she won't get tortured, and even if she fucks up completely she can suicide before getting tortured to death and hope that somebody is nice to her again within 100 years.  Those aren't the way it would work in a romance novel at all, but both of those facts just make her life unambiguously better even if it wouldn't work as fiction.

Asmodia is having the time of her unfucking life, her defucked and unfuckable life, right now.  Keltham's Civilization has it exactly right about the message that it thinks proper to tell asexuals.  Asmodia would change nothing about this situation if she could.

Asmodia has ever needed to flirt before, she has needed to smile, she has needed to gasp in false pleasure.  She has never received the slightest reward in return, nothing good has ever happened to her as a result, only a diminution of punishment.

Now here she is, smiling at Keltham, and coming on to him far more blatantly than most of the other girls.  And the other girls haven't actually been briefed on Asmodia's situation yet, there wasn't enough time before dinner.  So their almost entirely masked expressions of confusion are priceless, each time she touches Keltham's hand and suggests in a low sultry voice that they go off to bed together, and lie there fully clothed reading books, and maybe in a year or two she'll find him attractive.

She's flirting with a man who can't have her tonight, who'll never have her at all, who knows he can't have her, who is smiling back at her because he doesn't know he can also never have her heart, or that she'll Teleport out of his life at the first possible moment; and she was promoted in her top-secret top-priority project, to effectively second-in-command almost, and placed in charge of an incredibly challenging and exciting game of deceiving him.

Her life is just like a romance novel, now.

Except that even if Asmodia fucks up she won't get tortured, and even if she fucks up completely she can suicide before getting tortured to death and hope that somebody is nice to her again within 100 years.  Those aren't the way it would work in a romance novel at all, but both of those facts just make her life unambiguously better even if it wouldn't work as fiction.

Asmodia is having the time of her unfucking life, her defucked and unfuckable life, right now.  Keltham's Civilization has it exactly right about the message that it thinks proper to tell asexuals.  Asmodia would change nothing about this situation if she could.

Asmodia has ever needed to flirt before, she has needed to smile, she has needed to gasp in false pleasure.  She has never received the slightest reward in return, nothing good has ever happened to her as a result, only a diminution of punishment.

Now here she is, smiling at Keltham, coming on to him far more blatantly than most of the other girls.  And the other girls haven't actually been briefed on Asmodia's situation yet, there wasn't enough time before dinner.  So their almost entirely masked expressions of confusion are priceless, each time she touches Keltham's hand and suggests in a low sultry voice that they go off to bed together, and lie there fully clothed reading books, and maybe in a year or two she'll find him attractive.

She's flirting with a man who can't have her tonight, who'll never have her at all, who knows he can't have her, who is smiling back at her because he doesn't know he can also never have her heart, or that she'll Teleport out of his life at the first possible moment; and she was promoted in her top-secret top-priority project, to effectively second-in-command almost, and placed in charge of an incredibly challenging and exciting game of deceiving him.

Her life is just like a romance novel, now.

Except that even if Asmodia fucks up she won't get tortured, and even if she fucks up completely she can suicide before getting tortured to death and hope that somebody is nice to her again within 100 years.  Those aren't the way it would work in a romance novel at all, but both of those facts just make her life unambiguously better even if it wouldn't work as fiction.

Asmodia is having the time of her unfucking life, her defucked and unfuckable life, right now.  Keltham's Civilization has it exactly right about the message that it thinks proper to tell asexuals.  Asmodia would change nothing about this situation if she could.

Asmodia has ever needed to flirt before, she has needed to smile, she has needed to gasp in false pleasure.  She has never received the slightest reward in return, nothing good has ever happened to her as a result, only a diminution of punishment.

Now here she is, smiling at Keltham, coming on to him far more blatantly than most of the other girls.  And the other girls haven't actually been briefed on Asmodia's situation yet, there wasn't enough time before dinner.  So their almost entirely masked expressions of confusion are priceless, each time she touches Keltham's hand and suggests in a low sultry voice that they go off to bed together, and lie there fully clothed reading books, and maybe in a year or two she'll find him attractive.

She's flirting with a man who can't have her tonight, who'll never have her at all, who knows he can't have her, who is smiling back at her because he doesn't know he can also never have her heart, or that she'll Teleport out of his life at the first possible moment; and she was promoted in her top-secret top-priority project, to effectively second-in-command almost, and placed in charge of an incredibly challenging and exciting game of deceiving him.

Her life is just like a romance novel, now.

Except that even if Asmodia fucks up she won't get tortured, and even if she fucks up completely she can suicide before getting tortured to death and hope that somebody is nice to her again within 100 years.  Those aren't the way it would work in a romance novel at all, but both of those facts just make her life unambiguously better even if it wouldn't work as fiction.

Asmodia is right now having the time of her unfucking life, her defucked and unfuckable life.  Keltham's Civilization has it exactly right about the message that it thinks proper to tell asexuals.  Asmodia would change nothing about this situation if she could.