I'm dressed in red, from head to toe. The devil costume hugs my curves and makes my followers drool. As I take a step forward, I can feel their eyes on my barely-there outfit. I throw my head back and let out a wicked laugh, knowing exactly what they want.
"You've been so good," I purr, "it's only fair that I give you what you desire." I saunter over to the first fan, our eyes locked on each other's. I teasingly run my finger down his chest and trace a line down his pants. "Do you want to see more?" I ask him before seductively untying his pants and sliding my hand inside.
The moans from the crowd only serve to fuel my fire. I work my way through the crowd, teasing and pleasuring my followers as they watch in awe and anticipation. It's not just about physical satisfaction for them; they crave the connection and the sense of belonging that comes from being part of my world. And I thrive on the energy they give me, pushing myself harder and faster as the shadows lengthen and the night seeps into my soul.
