Mephistophelily
Crazy is...
- Joined
- Sep 6, 2006
- Posts
- 15,955
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Her fingers danced delicately against the reddened marks upon her wrists, her eyes barely opened as she strained to keep the tears contained behind them. They had started to heal, finally... But there would be more. There was always more. These wounds had been caused by rope and twine, bindings to keep her from fighting back... There was far worse that came after. He saw to that.
Pain came in other ways, the way that they came upon her like vultures. Pain with their laughter, the look in his eyes; the proud yet demeaning stare that he gave her as his friends took their enjoyment. He called her his doll, his little pet. "Bete." That was his name for her, the little beast... Part of the Kine, the cattle.
She wasn't even certain as to what her true name had been. Alice, Alicia. Angela? Perhaps.
She knew only Bete now, or girl. Pet. Creature. "Thing." References made in her direction with his outstretched hand, sometimes simply to gesture to her, others to grab hold of anything connected to her form- hair, skin, clothing, the chain he latched to her throat.
That was the one place his friends were not allowed, these dinner guests of his. Anywhere near that collar. It marked what was his, a marking that they seemed to understand more than the open wounds upon her pale flesh. Those seemed to be invitations, dares to leave worse.
They did their best to accept that challenge.
Her days were spent in the lower levels of his sprawling mansion hidden in the hills, a place that seemed endless in its corridors and hallways. She rarely saw the upper levels, the home he showed to those who were unaware of his true nature. Bete was only allowed to tread those floors upon his request, whether it was for one of his twisted parties or simply his own enjoyment.
She shivered as her mind replayed her last visit alone with him, the desire driven by his needs, but the inability to do so without the proper fuel. He removed her collar, his teeth driving into her flesh, the pain of his bite tearing at her as he stole her blood... and it drove him. The more he drank, the harder he used her. It fueled him, added to his lust, the demonic side of him demanding more and more until-
She didn't remember anything after that. She had passed out from loss of blood, only to awaken back in this little room, her hands chained once more and a small platter of food left before her. He wouldn't allow her to simply die. She had to eat, so that he may continue to feed and play, keep at his twisted little games... Be the little pet, the little lapdog, bend to his beckon and there was a chance at being spared the pain. Faint, faint chances....
Her eyes raised to the tiny window out in the hall, the thin ray of light that passed into her area of the house. "Where I keep my most exquisite drinks," he had explained to one of his oblivious guests, his words trickling down to her from that slit in the cement as he showed the visitor his property... That window was her only way of knowing the time of day.
Daylight was failing.
His preferred hours were fast approaching...
What games did he plan to play tonight?
Looking for a well-written, creative dominant man to join me.
Please PM me if interested.
This will be a rather dark vampire thread. I attempted this thread once before with LitShark, so there's some rather devious shoes to fill...[/size]
Please PM me if interested.
This will be a rather dark vampire thread. I attempted this thread once before with LitShark, so there's some rather devious shoes to fill...[/size]
Her fingers danced delicately against the reddened marks upon her wrists, her eyes barely opened as she strained to keep the tears contained behind them. They had started to heal, finally... But there would be more. There was always more. These wounds had been caused by rope and twine, bindings to keep her from fighting back... There was far worse that came after. He saw to that.
Pain came in other ways, the way that they came upon her like vultures. Pain with their laughter, the look in his eyes; the proud yet demeaning stare that he gave her as his friends took their enjoyment. He called her his doll, his little pet. "Bete." That was his name for her, the little beast... Part of the Kine, the cattle.
She wasn't even certain as to what her true name had been. Alice, Alicia. Angela? Perhaps.
She knew only Bete now, or girl. Pet. Creature. "Thing." References made in her direction with his outstretched hand, sometimes simply to gesture to her, others to grab hold of anything connected to her form- hair, skin, clothing, the chain he latched to her throat.
That was the one place his friends were not allowed, these dinner guests of his. Anywhere near that collar. It marked what was his, a marking that they seemed to understand more than the open wounds upon her pale flesh. Those seemed to be invitations, dares to leave worse.
They did their best to accept that challenge.
Her days were spent in the lower levels of his sprawling mansion hidden in the hills, a place that seemed endless in its corridors and hallways. She rarely saw the upper levels, the home he showed to those who were unaware of his true nature. Bete was only allowed to tread those floors upon his request, whether it was for one of his twisted parties or simply his own enjoyment.
She shivered as her mind replayed her last visit alone with him, the desire driven by his needs, but the inability to do so without the proper fuel. He removed her collar, his teeth driving into her flesh, the pain of his bite tearing at her as he stole her blood... and it drove him. The more he drank, the harder he used her. It fueled him, added to his lust, the demonic side of him demanding more and more until-
She didn't remember anything after that. She had passed out from loss of blood, only to awaken back in this little room, her hands chained once more and a small platter of food left before her. He wouldn't allow her to simply die. She had to eat, so that he may continue to feed and play, keep at his twisted little games... Be the little pet, the little lapdog, bend to his beckon and there was a chance at being spared the pain. Faint, faint chances....
Her eyes raised to the tiny window out in the hall, the thin ray of light that passed into her area of the house. "Where I keep my most exquisite drinks," he had explained to one of his oblivious guests, his words trickling down to her from that slit in the cement as he showed the visitor his property... That window was her only way of knowing the time of day.
Daylight was failing.
His preferred hours were fast approaching...
What games did he plan to play tonight?