Evangelina looked as if she belonged in the most rarefied echelons of high society, sipping cocktails and quipping with the beautiful people.

Laura looked like she belonged passed out on a moth-eaten sofa in her drug dealer's squat, a wad of jism running down her face from where someone had creamed her in her sleep.

Unarguably true.

What decides that though? What is it that makes Evangelina look like a classy bitch and Laura look like messy trash? 

What they wear? What they do? How they carry themselves? What they say?

It can't be.

Because what they both wear is nothing.

Because what they both do is lez up all night every night in the sex pits and boudoirs of Castle Vesh.

Because how they carry themselves is in an equally twisty, wriggly manner, like orgasmic slow-motion snakes.

Because what they both say is all just shit like, "Mmmm, yeah babe....right there...mmm, fuck. Yeah. Yeah. Yeah. That's so fucking good, babe."  

In terms of behaviour, comportment, and activity the two cunts are identical. They're just two lesbian vampire whores, rolling around in each others juices, fingering and licking each other in an eternal loop of passion until their world ends. Practically, they should be as indistinguishable as one Madame Sausages from another. But somehow, against all odds, Evangelina comes across like a classy bitch and Laura like messy trash.

Recently, Laura's been suffering from migraines. They're the worst.

The night of the Minotaur's Assault on the Castle was their first night back in the cellar's sex pit since Laura had to take some time off. And she had a controversial suggestion.

"Babe," she said. Evangelina was kissing her neck, but they hadn't started the full-on lezzing yet, "What if we didn't writhe tonight?"

"Oh sure. Like, if you're still too wiped out to fuck..."

"Aw no! No! I wanna fuck. I want my tongue in your vag at your earliest availability. I just thought...for a change...we might not, y'know, writhe?" 

"I don't get it." Evangelina was real confused. How could lesbian vampires possibly fuck without writhing?

"Like... all the rolling about and moaning and hissing and shit? Could we, like, dial it back a little?"

Laura could see from her wife's trying-not-to-look-hurt expression that she wasn't getting it.

"I don't mean, like, not respond to each other's bodies and touches with pleasure and excitement! I wanna do that for sure, just maybe tonight, while I'm getting over the migraines, cut down on the kind of... I dunno... performative stuff."

"Performative?" asked Evangelina.

"Yeah...like I wanna fuck you like it's just us here. Not like we're doing it for some kind of imaginary audience, y'know?"

Evangelina got it now.

The homosexual vampire lord Chevoy Vesh had married them both for their looks and dancing skills. They were ornaments. The kind of writhing, lezzing, waton, blissed-out evil whores that any respectable vampire ought to have as Dark Brides orgasming decorously in a sex pit. They were part of the castle's... set dressing.

And even though the two undead cunts loved each other tenderly and sincerely... they still always fucked like they were filming 1970s porn. Or on stage at a Russian sex club. Their sex may have been the two of them making love, but it looked as if it was for the benefit of some absent male gazers who liked their erotica cheesy and kitsch.  

Laura stroked Evangelina's cheek.

"Bitch," she said longingly, "I wanna fuck you tonight like two wives who love each other. Not like we're putting on some kind of show. I wanna fuck like nobody's watching... I want my body to respond to the motions and ministrations of yours alone, not to writhe as I imagine it should be doing..."

"Okay, so here's the problem with that..." said Evangelina.

Now Laura looked confused. She thought what she'd just said was romantic as fuck and hadn't been expecting critique.

"If we stop writhing," Evangelina explained, "I don't think we start again. Do you get me? It's one of those things where like...we've been fucking that way for three hundred years. If we stop writhing like retarded porno backing dancers... if we just fuck like normal married lesbians...I think that's it. We don't go back. We'd mean to go back, but we wouldn't. It's one of the things where once you stop making the effort, you've stopped making the effort..." 

Laura thought. Her wife was probably right.

"Okay. Yeah. Maybe we wouldn't. Maybe having sex that's just for us, that's just ours, maybe that would be crossing a line..."

"Yeah."

"But..." Laura took a deep breath she didn't need to because she was a vampire, "Would that be so terrible? The Burgrave doesn't care what we look like. The bored Heterosexual sure doesn't. Who're we even putting on a show for? There's nobody but us here."

"Excuse me," said a cute, chubby green dryad with a round-face and slightly droopy teats.

"WHO THE FUCK ARE YOU?" screamed Laura.

There was a third bitch in the sex pit!

Red alert! Red alert!

Who the fuck was this? Where the fuck did she come from? What the fuck was going on?

"ARGGGHHHH!" shrieked Evangelina, as she extended her fingernails into deadly talons and slashed the dryad's throat.

The wound spurted pear-green blood and the dryad fell dead to the floor.

Then disappeared.

The two lesbians looked at each other, neither wanting to say "Well that happened" like in a modern Hollywood movie. 

"Was there just a fat green bitch in our sex pit?" asked Laura.

"Uh-huh."

"And did you just slash her throat open?"

"Uh-huh."

"And did her corpse just disappear?"

"Uh-huh."

"And did we nearly just rashly change the entire shape of our three-hundred year-long marriage because I'm getting over a migraine and feeling too zonked to fuck as performatively as usual?"

"I don't know the whole dynamic here but that's how it sounded to meeeeeeeeeeee," said a second chubby green bitch who was falling down the pit towards them.

"Fuck!" screamed Laura. A second chubby green bitch! Who looked identical to the first.

The falling dryad landed. Badly. She broke her neck, died, and the corpse disappeared.

Laura and Evangelina were freaking out. Over the centuries they'd lived in the castle, the only people who'd ever been in the sex pit had been themselves and (on a few cringe occasions) the Heterosexual. Now, suddenly two chubby green bitches had dropped down there, died, and vanished.

They both looked up. A third identical chubby green bitch was now falling down the pit.

This one landed better, stood up, and said, "Hi! My name's Peartree!"

 "Oh, okay. You're a dryad, right?" asked Evangelina.

"Yeah."

It all made sense now. This creature was a humanoid projection of the nymphic spirit of a tree. All three chubby green bitches were the same girlie, projected one after another as they died. Her tree must be nearby, projecting these humanoid extrusions into the Material World.

Evangelina was a little less freaked out now she knew what the creature was. And she looked really cute! With her chunky thighs, round face, and dumptruck ass. She was already hoping that whatever this situation was, it would end up with Peartree lezzing with them.

Laura was still freaking out. Why was the nymphic spirit of a tree projecting fat humanoid extrusions down into their sex pit? What the actual fuck?

Laura punched into the dryad's chest and tore out her heart.

Unlike the Heterosexual Vampiress, these bitches did know how to weaponise their dark vampiric gifts.

Can you guess what Peartree's heart looked like?

A fourth instance of Peartree was now plummeting down into the pit.

“Where are these cunts coming from?” yelled Laura.

“The dryad’s tree’s gotta be up the top there… projecting its humanoid form down the pit…”

“Oh, I don’t have a tree anymore, silly,” said Peartree. This instance of her had landed like a gymnast, “Not since daddy carved me up and bound me to his battleaxe.”

The lesbians stared at each other in alarm. This situation felt very unsafe all of a sudden.

“Daddy?” asked Laura.

“Rutt the Minotaur. I was gonna be his mommy, but then he raped me so nasty that he’s my daddy now and I live in his axe.”

Nothing good was happening here.

“Why’s your daddy keep throwing you down here?” Evangelina wanted to know.

“Oh, I think he’s just fucking with you.” Peartree explained, “Before he kills you.”

There was a deafening laugh.

The lesbians looked up. Right there, in the cellar of Castle Vesh, at the rim of their sex pit, was a whole ass Minotaur. Steam pouring from his nostrils.

“Yeah, I’m just fucking with you. Saw you bitches down that hole and… well, I was gonna piss on you. But then I thought… what’s the point of having a magic axe that shoots out saggy-titted green slags if you can’t throw a few down a sex pit?”

Laura and Evangelina looked again at Peartree’s teats. They were hardly saggy! How mean!

“Hey, mister!” Laura yelled, “Her tits are fine!”

Rutt leaped down into the pit and battle began.