Entwined

In the shadowed underbelly of the city, where fog clung to the cobblestones like a lover's reluctant embrace, the old publishing house loomed. It was a relic of Victorian grandeur, its spires piercing the perpetual twilight, gargoyles leering from the eaves as if guarding secrets too profane for the light of day. I had come here seeking truth, or so I told myself, but the air inside the marble-floored lobby carried a muskier scent-ink and aged leather mingled with something primal, something that stirred the blood unbidden.
My name is Kael, a mid-level editor scraping by in the cutthroat world of print media. At thirty-four, I was no stranger to deadlines and deceit, but this assignment felt different. The anonymous tip had arrived in a sealed envelope, slipped under my apartment door: "Uncover the conspiracy at Eldritch Press. They bind more than books." Cryptic, yes, but it promised a story that could launch my career-or bury it. Eldritch Press was infamous for its esoteric tomes, whispered to traffic in forbidden knowledge, the kind that drove men mad and women to ecstasy in equal measure.

The elevator creaked upward, its brass cage rattling like bones in a crypt. I clutched my leather satchel, heart pounding with a mix of journalistic zeal and inexplicable dread. The doors parted on the executive floor, revealing a corridor lit by flickering gas lamps-faux antique, no doubt, but the shadows they cast danced with unnatural vigor. At the end stood the office of the acquisitions editor, a woman known only in rumors as the gatekeeper of Eldritch's darkest dealings.
Her door was ajar, spilling warm light into the gloom. I knocked, and a voice like velvet over steel replied, "Enter."

She was behind a massive oak desk, framed by towering shelves of leather-bound volumes that seemed to whisper as I approached. Ravenna-her nameplate gleamed with it-looked up from a manuscript, her eyes the color of storm clouds, piercing and unyielding. She was in her late thirties, perhaps, with raven hair pinned in a severe chignon that begged to be undone, and a blouse of deep crimson silk that hugged the swell of her breasts like a second skin. There was an aura about her, a gothic allure that made the room feel smaller, more intimate, as if the walls themselves leaned in to listen.
"Mr. Kael," she said, her lips curving into a smile that didn't reach her eyes. "I've been expecting you. Sit."

I obeyed, sinking into a high-backed chair that creaked under my weight. The air was thick with the scent of her perfume-jasmine and something earthier, like damp soil after rain. "How did you know I'd come?" I asked, keeping my tone professional, though my pulse quickened.
Ravenna leaned back, crossing her legs with deliberate slowness. Her skirt rode up just enough to reveal the lace edge of her stocking, a glimpse that sent a forbidden spark through me. "We keep tabs on ambitious men like you. Eldritch Press doesn't hire just anyone. Tell me, what brings a skeptic to our door?"

I laid out the tip without mentioning its source, watching her reactions. She listened impassively, fingers tracing the spine of a book on her desk-a tome with no title, its cover embossed with symbols that twisted like serpents. "Conspiracy?" she echoed, her voice a low purr. "Darling, in this house, every shadow hides a truth. But perhaps you're here for more than words on a page."
Her gaze lingered on my throat, then lower, appraising. I shifted, heat rising despite myself. This was no ordinary interview; the atmosphere thrummed with undercurrents, mysteries woven into every glance. As she spoke of the press's history-founded in the 1800s by occult enthusiasts, now a bastion of literary esoterica-I sensed the conspiracy lurking beneath. Whispers of rituals in the sub-basements, of texts that bound readers to unholy pacts. And women, always women, at the heart of it all.

By the time I left her office, the sun had dipped below the spires, casting the building in elongated shadows. Ravenna had assigned me a temporary desk in the archives, a labyrinthine wing below ground level, to "immerse" in the collection. "Explore freely," she'd said, her fingers brushing mine as she handed over a brass key. "But some doors are best left locked."
The archives were a gothic fever dream: vaulted ceilings dripping with cobwebs, iron-bound shelves stretching into infinity, lit by sputtering candles that cast everything in amber and black. Dust motes swirled like specters as I descended the spiral staircase, the air growing cooler, heavier, laced with the faint tang of ozone and desire long suppressed.

My desk was a scarred oak slab in a alcove, piled with manuscripts awaiting review. I settled in, flipping through pages yellowed with age. The first few were tame-erotic poetry from the fin de siècle, verses that evoked forbidden trysts in moonlit gardens. But as the hours slipped away, the texts darkened. One described a ritual of binding, where a woman's essence was woven into the very fibers of a book, her pleasures immortalized in ink.
A soft footfall echoed behind me. I turned to find another woman approaching, her silhouette emerging from the gloom like a wraith. She was younger, mid-twenties, with porcelain skin and hair the color of midnight spilling over her shoulders. Her name, I learned later, was Kira, an assistant archivist. She carried a tray with a decanter of amber liquid and two crystal glasses, her simple black dress clinging to curves that seemed sculpted for temptation.

"Long night ahead," she said, her voice a husky whisper that resonated in the cavernous space. "Ravenna thought you might need fortification. It's our house blend-whiskey infused with rare herbs. Warms the blood."
I accepted the glass, our fingers touching longer than necessary. The liquor burned going down, spreading a languid heat through my veins. Kira perched on the edge of my desk, her skirt hiking up to reveal thighs smooth as marble. "First time in the archives?" she asked, eyes gleaming with mischief.

I nodded, trying to focus on the manuscript before me-a tale of a man ensnared by spectral lovers in a haunted manor. But Kira's proximity was distracting; her scent, like night-blooming flowers, invaded my senses. "It's... overwhelming," I admitted. "Like stepping into a dream you can't wake from."
She laughed, a sound like wind through cracked stone. "Or a nightmare. Eldritch has that effect. Secrets here don't stay buried." Her hand rested lightly on my arm, tracing a lazy circle. The touch was innocent enough, but in the dim light, it ignited something primal. I felt the conspiracy closing in-not just words on paper, but flesh and whisper, a web of feminine allure designed to ensnare.

As she leaned closer to point out a passage, her breast brushed my shoulder, soft and yielding. My cock stirred traitorously in my trousers, a tame response compared to the storm building within. We talked then, of the press's rumored underbelly: clandestine meetings in the sub-levels, where editors communed with entities beyond the veil. Kira's words were laced with innuendo, her gaze promising revelations far more intimate than any text.
The night deepened, candles guttering low. Kira left me with a lingering smile and a warning: "Don't venture too far without a guide. Some shadows have teeth." Alone again, I delved deeper into the stacks, the key from Ravenna burning in my pocket. A locked door at the corridor's end caught my eye-ornate iron, etched with the same serpentine symbols. The tip had mentioned sub-basements; this felt like the threshold.

I hesitated, the whiskey's warmth urging me on. The lock yielded with a groan, revealing a narrow stairwell descending into pitch black. Torchlight from above barely penetrated, but I pressed on, the air turning frigid, then humid, as if approaching some subterranean vein. Whispers echoed-faint, feminine murmurs that raised the hairs on my neck.
The chamber below was a sanctum of velvet drapes and flickering braziers, walls lined with tomes that pulsed faintly, as if alive. In the center stood a pedestal, upon which rested a single volume, unbound, its pages fluttering without wind. And there, circling it like a priestess, was another woman-tall, ethereal, her form shrouded in a gossamer gown that left little to the imagination. She turned as I entered, her eyes glowing with an otherworldly light. Not quite human, or so the shadows suggested; her skin shimmered with an iridescent sheen, movements fluid as mercury.

"You shouldn't be here," she said, voice echoing with harmonics that vibrated through my bones. Her name, if she had one, was unspoken; she was simply the Keeper, a guardian of Eldritch's deepest lore, rumored to be a succubus bound to the press's founding pact. But in this moment, she was flesh-curves accentuated by the clinging fabric, nipples hardening against the sheer material as the air stirred.
I froze, the conspiracy crystallizing: this was no mere publishing house. It was a coven, women wielding forbidden knowledge to seduce and control, binding men through desire's chains. "What is this place?" I demanded, voice steadier than I felt.

The Keeper glided closer, her presence a magnetic pull. "A nexus of power. Where stories become reality." Her fingers, cool and silken, trailed down my chest, unbuttoning my shirt with effortless grace. The touch was electric, tame yet charged, awakening hungers I'd long suppressed. My breath hitched as she pressed against me, her body yielding yet insistent, the heat of her core evident through the thin barrier of cloth.
"Ravenna sent you, didn't she?" I gasped, even as my hands found her waist, gripping the impossible softness.
She smiled, fangs glinting subtly in the firelight. "We all serve the weave. Feel it-the threads pulling you in." Her lips brushed my ear, whispering incantations that blurred the line between fear and lust. My cock throbbed now, straining against my pants, but she held back, teasing with feather-light caresses, building the tension like a storm on the horizon.

Footsteps echoed from the stairs-Kira, descending with a lantern, her eyes widening at the scene. "Kael, you fool. The Keeper doesn't play gently." But there was no rebuke in her tone; instead, she approached, setting the light aside. The two women flanked me, their hands exploring-Kira's warm and eager, the Keeper's chill and mesmerizing. Fingers danced over my skin, unfastening belts, exposing flesh to the humid air.
I was lost in the gothic haze, the chamber's walls seeming to pulse with ancient rites. Kira's mouth found my neck, sucking softly, while the Keeper knelt, her breath ghosting over my hardening length. "Taste the forbidden," she murmured, tongue flicking out to trace the tip, a tame prelude that promised depths of depravity.

But as their touches grew bolder-Kira's hand wrapping around my shaft, stroking with slow, deliberate pulls-the whispers intensified. Visions flickered: Ravenna watching from the shadows, part of a larger design to recruit me into their fold. The conspiracy wasn't just secrets; it was seduction as weapon, binding souls through ecstatic surrender.
Hours blurred in that underworld lair. They led me through rituals of touch, bodies entwining in dances that escalated from whispers to grips, from kisses to the first slick slides of skin on skin. Kira straddled my lap on a velvet chaise, grinding against me through fabric, her wetness soaking through as she moaned gothic pleas. The Keeper's form shifted subtly, tendrils of shadow caressing my balls, heightening every sensation without full penetration-yet.

Sweat-slicked and aching, I pushed back, fingers delving into Kira's folds, finding her drenched and clenching. "Fuck," I growled, the vulgarity escaping as the tame facade shattered. Her cries echoed off the stones, raw and unfiltered, while the Keeper's mouth enveloped me, sucking with a vacuum that pulled at my very essence.
Yet the story hung in suspense, the true extremity looming as Ravenna's voice called from above: "Bring him to me. The binding begins."

The call from Ravenna sliced through the haze like a ritual dagger, pulling me from the precipice of oblivion. Kira's hand tightened on my cock, her strokes faltering as she glanced toward the shadowed stairwell, her eyes alight with a mix of reluctance and reverence. The Keeper rose languidly from her knees, her lips glistening with the evidence of her teasing ministrations, a strand of my pre-cum trailing like a silken thread from her tongue. "The weave demands completion," she intoned, her voice a chorus of echoes that vibrated through the chamber's stone walls, stirring the unbound pages on the pedestal into a frenzy of fluttering whispers.
Kira released me with a soft whimper, her fingers lingering on my throbbing length as if loath to let go. "Come, Kael," she murmured, her breath hot against my ear, carrying the scent of arousal and aged vellum. "The acquisitions editor claims her due. Resist, and the shadows will consume you; yield, and the ecstasy will bind you forever." Her words were a velvet noose, tightening around my will as she and the Keeper guided me upward, their bodies pressing close-Kira's warmth at my side, the Keeper's ethereal chill on the other. My shirt hung open, trousers barely refastened, my erection straining painfully against the fabric, a testament to the tame fires they'd stoked into something ravenous.

The ascent felt eternal, each step echoing the pounding of my heart, the air growing warmer, thicker with the promise of deeper depravities. The whispers followed, a feminine susurrus weaving through the corridors, hinting at the conspiracy's vastness: not just these women, but a sisterhood spanning centuries, their power drawn from the very ink that stained Eldritch's tomes. Books that didn't merely tell stories-they ensnared souls, turning readers into thralls through waves of forbidden pleasure. I was no longer a journalist; I was prey, drawn into their gothic web where desire was the ultimate pact.
We emerged into Ravenna's office, the gas lamps now burning with an unnatural blue flame, casting elongated shadows that writhed like lovers in torment. She stood by the massive oak desk, her crimson blouse unbuttoned to reveal the lace edge of a corset that cinched her waist and thrust her full breasts upward, nipples dark silhouettes against the sheer fabric. The room had transformed; the shelves seemed to lean inward, books pulsing faintly as if breathing in sync with her measured breaths. "You've tasted the threshold," Ravenna said, her storm-cloud eyes locking onto mine, devouring the flush of my arousal. "Now, witness the heart of our weave."

Kira and the Keeper positioned me before her, their hands roaming possessively-Kira palming my ass through my trousers, the Keeper's cool fingers tracing the veins along my exposed chest. Ravenna approached, her heels clicking like the ticking of a doomsday clock. She was the architect of this seduction, her presence commanding, a high priestess in a temple of flesh and forbidden lore. "The tip you received was no accident, Kael," she confessed, her voice a sultry incantation. "We chose you. Ambitious, isolated, ripe for binding. Eldritch doesn't just publish; we harvest. Men's desires, woven into our texts, granting us power over the veil."
Her hand cupped my jaw, tilting my face to hers, lips parting as she leaned in. The kiss was deliberate, tame at first-a brush of silk-soft mouths, her tongue flicking out to taste my lower lip, laced with the whiskey's herbal bite. But it deepened swiftly, her teeth nipping, drawing a bead of blood that she sucked with a moan, the copper tang mingling with jasmine on her breath. My cock jerked in response, aching for more, as Kira's fingers deftly unzipped me from behind, freeing my length to the humid air. The Keeper's shadow-tendrils slithered up my thighs, cool and insistent, coiling around my balls without quite touching, heightening the torment.

Ravenna broke the kiss, her gaze feral. "Strip him," she commanded, and they obeyed with eager precision. Kira's warm hands peeled away my shirt, her nails raking down my back, leaving red trails that burned like brands. The Keeper's form shimmered, her gossamer gown dissolving into wisps of mist, revealing a body that defied mortality-pale skin veined with faint, glowing runes, breasts high and firm, her sex a shadowed invitation glistening with otherworldly dew. She knelt again, but this time her mouth hovered, breath ghosting over my tip as Kira shoved my trousers down, exposing me fully.
I stood naked in that sanctum of secrets, the three women circling like predators in a gothic rite. Ravenna shed her blouse, her corset unlacing with a whisper of silk, freeing her heavy breasts to sway hypnotically. Her nipples were dark peaks, begging for attention, and she pressed one to my lips, commanding, "Suck." I obeyed, tongue laving the hardened bud, tasting salt and something arcane, like lightning on skin. She arched, a low groan escaping her, while Kira dropped to her knees beside the Keeper, their faces inches from my cock.

The escalation was merciless. Kira's tongue darted out first, lapping at the underside of my shaft with wet, sloppy strokes, her saliva dripping down to my balls. "Fuck, you're so hard for us," she purred, vulgarity slipping from her lips like a spell, her free hand dipping between her own thighs to rub her slick folds through her dress. The Keeper joined, her cooler tongue swirling around the head, sucking the pre-cum with a vacuum that made my knees buckle. Their mouths worked in tandem-Kira's hot and eager, deep-throating me with gagging slurps, the Keeper's precise and ethereal, fangs grazing just enough to tease pain into pleasure.
Ravenna watched, her fingers now buried in her own cunt, skirt hiked up to reveal thigh-high stockings and no panties, her juices coating her digits as she fucked herself slowly. "See the conspiracy, Kael? We bind you through this-your seed, your surrender, etched into our lore." The words fueled the fire; I gripped Kira's hair, thrusting into her mouth, the wet sounds echoing off the bookshelves like profane prayers. The Keeper's tendrils tightened, one slipping lower to probe my ass, a slick, insistent pressure that made me gasp, pushing me toward the edge without mercy.

But they denied release, pulling back as I teetered, my cock twitching angrily in the air. "Not yet," Ravenna hissed, shoving me onto the desk amid scattered manuscripts, the wood cool against my heated skin. She climbed atop, straddling my face, her dripping pussy inches from my mouth. "Taste the gatekeeper." Her scent was intoxicating-musk and mystery-and I dove in, tongue plunging into her folds, lapping at her clit with desperate hunger. She ground down, smothering me in her wetness, her moans a gothic symphony as she rode my face, thighs clamping my head like a vice.
Kira and the Keeper didn't idle. Kira stripped her dress, revealing pert breasts and a shaved mound already slick, climbing onto the desk to impale herself on my cock in one fluid motion. "Oh god, yes-fill me, you bastard," she cried, her walls clenching around me like a velvet fist, riding hard with bouncing tits and feral grunts. The sensation was overwhelming-her heat, Ravenna's juices flooding my mouth, the Keeper's form shifting to straddle my chest, her cool breasts pressing against me as her tendrils explored further, one circling my nipple, another teasing the base of my shaft where it met Kira's greedy cunt.

The pace built, bodies slamming in a frenzy of flesh. Ravenna came first, her orgasm crashing like a thunderclap, thighs quaking as she squirted against my tongue, drenching my face in her essence. "Drink it-bind to me!" she snarled, grinding until I gasped for air. Kira followed, her pussy spasming around my cock, milking me with rhythmic squeezes, her nails digging into my chest as she screamed, "Fuck, I'm cumming-deeper, harder!" But the Keeper held back, her eyes glowing brighter, whispering incantations that amplified every thrust, every lick, turning tame caresses into a storm of sensation.
They rotated then, a carousel of depravity. The Keeper took my cock next, her otherworldly pussy impossibly tight, rippling with internal muscles that sucked like a living void. "Give me your soul through this," she moaned, her voice fracturing into harmonics as she rode, shadows coiling from her body to bind my wrists to the desk. Kira replaced Ravenna on my face, her ass cheeks spreading as she lowered her soaked slit onto my mouth, demanding, "Eat my ass too, Kael-tongue it deep." I complied, rimming her puckered hole with vulgar slurps, the taste earthy and addictive, while Ravenna knelt between my legs, her mouth joining the Keeper's rhythm, licking where we joined, tongue flicking my balls and the Keeper's clit.

Sweat poured, the office a cauldron of moans and slapping skin. The conspiracy unveiled itself in flashes-visions induced by their touches: Ravenna orchestrating pacts with spectral entities, Kira archiving not just books but essences captured in ecstasy, the Keeper as the bridge to realms where women ruled through unending pleasure. My resistance crumbled; I thrust upward into the Keeper's cunt, feeling her tighten, her fangs grazing my shoulder as she bit down, drawing blood that she lapped with ecstatic sighs.
The extremity peaked as they unbound me, positioning for the ritual's climax. Ravenna lay on the desk, legs spread wide, her cunt gaping and inviting. "Fuck me like you mean to claim the truth," she demanded, guiding my cock inside her with a wet squelch. She was molten, walls fluttering as I pounded deep, balls slapping her ass with each brutal thrust. "Harder-ruin me, you intruder!" Kira and the Keeper flanked us, Kira grinding her pussy against Ravenna's thigh, the Keeper's tendrils invading everywhere-probing my ass now, slick and insistent, fucking me in time with my strokes while her mouth sucked Kira's tits.

I lost count of the orgasms ripping through them-Ravenna's second gush soaking my groin, Kira squirting from the friction, the Keeper's form convulsing in silent, shadowy waves. But mine built inexorably, the pressure in my balls a volcanic ache. "Cum inside her," the Keeper urged, her finger-now fully tendril-thrusting into my ass, hitting that spot that made stars explode behind my eyes. "Seal the pact-your essence ours!"
I roared, slamming deep into Ravenna, my cock erupting in thick ropes of cum, flooding her womb as her pussy milked every drop. The release was cataclysmic, waves of pleasure bordering on pain, my vision blurring with the chamber's pulsing lights. They didn't stop; Kira dove between Ravenna's legs, lapping our mixed juices with greedy slurps, tongue delving into the creamy mess. The Keeper pulled me out, her mouth engulfing my still-hard length, sucking the remnants clean while her tendrils wrung my balls dry.

Exhaustion claimed me then, but not before they drew me into the final binding. Ravenna produced the unbound tome from her desk, its pages now inscribed with glowing script-my story, etched in the heat of our union. "You're one of us now," she whispered, as Kira and the Keeper curled against me on the desk, their bodies a tangle of limbs and satisfied sighs. The whispers faded, but the conspiracy lingered, a eternal gothic embrace where truth was pleasure, and surrender the ultimate power.
Yet dawn crept through the spires, and with it, a new hunger stirred. Ravenna's eyes met mine, promising deeper rites in the sub-basements-entities to summon, more women to weave into the fold. Kira traced my spent cock, coaxing it back to life with lazy strokes. "The night is young," she teased. The Keeper's shadows caressed us all, hinting at orgies unbound by flesh alone. I was ensnared, the journalist dead, reborn in their web of conspiracy and carnality.

As the gas lamps dimmed, another figure emerged from the stacks-Ursula, a senior editor with fiery red hair and curves that strained her velvet gown, her name whispered in the air like a summons. She carried a fresh manuscript, her smile predatory. "Ravenna, you've started without me? This one's essence will make a fine addition." Her hand joined Kira's on my shaft, pumping with renewed vigor, the cycle of seduction spinning onward into the fog-shrouded dawn.
The archives called again that night, but now I descended willingly, key in hand, cock already hardening at the thought of what lay below. Ursula led the way, her ass swaying hypnotically, promising violations yet unexplored. In the sanctum, more women awaited-Yvaine, pale and lithe, her body marked with ritual tattoos that glowed under touch; Petra, voluptuous and commanding, her laughter a dark melody. They were the coven entire, each a thread in the weave, their pussies and mouths and asses a labyrinth of ecstasy.

Ursula pushed me to my knees first, her gown pooling around her waist as she presented her dripping cunt. "Worship, initiate." I buried my face in her folds, tongue-fucking her with abandon, her juices tangy and spiced, while Yvaine and Petra stripped, their hands roaming my body. Yvaine's slim fingers wrapped my cock, jerking with feather-light teases, Petra's fuller grip squeezing my balls until I groaned into Ursula's clit.
The orgy erupted in full gothic fury. Ravenna arrived with Kira and the Keeper, the chamber alive with writhing forms. I fucked Ursula doggy-style against the pedestal, her ass cheeks rippling with each slap of my hips, her screams echoing as I pulled her hair like reins. "Pound my slutty hole-claim the conspiracy!" she begged, pushing back, her pussy creaming around me. Yvaine straddled my face reverse, her tight ass grinding down, demanding I rim her while Petra sucked my balls, her tongue probing lower.

The Keeper's tendrils multiplied, fucking mouths and cunts alike-slithering into Ravenna's ass as she rode Kira's strap-on, a leather phallus slick with lube, pounding with mechanical rhythm. Non-human pleasures intensified: the Keeper shape-shifted, her body forming extra appendages that double-penetrated Petra, one in her pussy, another stretching her ass wide, the woman howling in ecstasy as cum from earlier sessions dripped from her chin.
I moved from one to the next, a vessel for their binding. In Yvaine's lithe body, I thrust missionary, her legs wrapped around me, nails carving runes into my back that burned with arcane fire. "Deeper-fuck the secrets out of me!" she gasped, her orgasm triggering mine, but I held back, pulling out to spray across her tattooed tits, the cum glowing briefly before absorbing into her skin.

Petra demanded roughness, bending over a brazier, her massive breasts swinging as I reamed her ass, lubed only by spit and pre-cum. "Stretch my shithole, you bound fool-make it gape!" The vulgarity fueled me; I hammered relentlessly, fingers in her cunt, feeling my cock through the thin wall. She came explosively, ass clenching like a vice, milking a load deep inside, hot spurts painting her bowels.
The women paired off around me-Ravenna scissoring with Kira, clits grinding in slick friction, moans blending into chants; Ursula fisting the Keeper's ethereal pussy, the succubus's form undulating in waves of shadow. I was pulled into the fray, double-teamed by Yvaine and Petra: Yvaine on my cock, reverse cowgirl, her ass bouncing while Petra sat on my face, smothering me in her soaked folds, pissing a warm stream of dominance that I swallowed greedily.

Hours dissolved into a blur of cum and sweat, the air thick with the scent of sex and smoldering incense. The conspiracy's core revealed: each climax wove my essence into the tomes, granting the coven visions of future conquests-seducing rivals, binding politicians through midnight trysts. I came again and again, flooding cunts, asses, mouths, the women's bodies a canvas for my release. The Keeper absorbed it all, her form swelling with power, tendrils erupting to fuck every orifice in a final, extreme crescendo.
As the ritual peaked, they formed a circle around the pedestal, me at the center, cock buried in Ravenna's throat while others licked and fingered the overflow. The unbound book sealed shut, glowing with my story-Kael, the ensnared editor, forever part of Eldritch's gothic legacy. Exhausted, entwined in a heap of limbs, the whispers promised eternity: more chambers, more women, endless depravity in the fog-bound press.

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