It was the end of three long days at the convention and I was tired. I had come down to the NASCAR Cafe for a sandwich, mainly because it was the only...bar in the Sahara that didn't have video poker...I lose a lot of money playing video poker. Well there I am with my beer and sandwich, and I glance toward the entrance just as she's strutting toward a table.Convincing she was not, a crossdresser without question. But pretty, really pretty. And the way she walked, shit, I was getting hard just. Empathy was not a skill that demons advertised. It was rare and it was looked down upon. Had Zai ever told the palace he was an empathy, he could of expected a job washing dishes. At best.But Zai's empathic skill was as twisted as his sexual desires. He didn't feel exactly what his victims felt, but a dulled down version. So the deeper the pain he caused, the better his resulting ecstasy. The boy before him had turned out to be a resilient soul, and Zai had been brought to ever higher peaks by. More

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