Random Ramblings...

[VampiricTouch]

Christening the Boudoir

Slowly she walks through, admiring the elegant steel that stands proudly, inviting, foreboding to any who dare to test it's strength... and she can't help but want to be part of it. Surreptitious glances show that the boudoir is quiet, the halls are silent and she gives in to the urge.

A single bound brings her onto the the sheets as she falls back and stretches languidly across smooth satin, her appreciation expressed in a soft rumbling purr. A new bed... must be christened!

She runs from the room and returns in a thrice with a bag set aside to play with. The button up, the skirt are both rapidly tossed aside to reveal the corset sitting just under the curve of her breasts. The laces tightened to make her small figure that much smaller. The garter makes it's defined line down her thighs to the black laced stockings molding jealously to her legs.

The anticipation excites her. The rapid thrum of her heart beat heightens as she places the leather cuffs on her wrists. She gauges the height and distance as the stand is set up by the foot of the bed, and several lengths of chain before she climbs on...

Taking a deep breath, she ticks through her mind just what she needs to do to make this work... before continuing. The clamps. Her breath releases as her hands find their way to her nipples. Gently she coaxes, bent before the dildo secured to the stand as she rocks her sex over the toy now humming away. It doesn't take long before they stand at attention under her ministrations and the clover clamps bite in. Her moan dies in a sharp gasp as each clamp is secured, the pair connected by a jeweled chain.

Attaching the chain to the headboard, she brings her hands back to cuff behind her. The key sits in the palm of her hand in the event she needs to escape. Carefully, she rolls her hips backwards, feeling the strain against the chain as they tighten their grip on her nipples. The head of her toy sits just within the folds of her sex. There are two heads, one already feeding the want in her loins, and the other, smaller one, pressing gently, insistently against her ass.

There she hesitates. Her body needs more, but should she lean back to press against her toy, the second head would undoubtly invade her ass and the clover clamps will tighten, entering into the first spectrum of pain. But she needs it. Her breath is heavy now, short gasps constrained by the corset that limits her oxygen as she rocks back once more.

"oh... oh fuck.... oh god..." The cry shudders from her as her ass and pussy are filled. The clamps tighten painfully now as her body trembles, struggles to balance herself. Rarely has pain ever felt this sweet. Her need blurring the fine lines of her pain and pleasure as her body rocks, thrusts, and pulls against the chain that holds her down. The sweat glistens from her as she works herself into a frenzy. The arch of her back beautifully restrained by the glittering of her chain that holds her to her place.

Lost in that nirvana, the excitement upon another's bed, the pleasure, the pain that consumes all.... she loses track of the room, of the surroundings of even her voice that resonates in harmony in her struggle against steel.... and one more stroke buries her toy to the hilt as the jolt against the chain tightens her clamps another notch and she screams... The tension snaps as her body convulses to wave after wave of her climax.

Spent, she falls forward and the toy slips from her depths with a wet pop as she shudders in it's passing.... She knows not how long she rests before her eyes open and the haziness fades away. The dull ache against her nipples is a sore reminder that she needs to still free herself. Wearily, she fumbles with the key and after a long grueling second, the cuffs come free. Undoing the clamps she groans again as the blood rushes back to fill her tortured nipples...

______________

OOC: This scene was done after I saw the bed in Minx the Sphinx's Boudoir
I realize christening a bed usually means having sex in it... so I guess self bondage doesn't completely count, but... I was without a partner at the time I was writing this.
​

 

[DarkEmpress]

Fear

Victoria helplessly tried to blink the tears away as she stared at him in disbelief. She could not belief this was the same man she had once loved with all her heart.

“There is nothing wrong with me,” she half screamed at him as she turned to walk away from him, tears blurring her vision. His hands clamped down around her arms holding her in place and spinning her around to face him again.

“Where do you think you are going?” he quipped, fury kindling in his dark eyes.

“Let go of me Michael,” she hissed at him as she tried to squirm out of his grip. It was futile, he was simply too strong. She knew from experience that there was no way she could escape from him.

“No, I will not. Talk to me Victoria … what do you want?” he asked as he backed her up against a wall and pressed his body up against hers. He was exceptionally good at using her body’s reaction to him as a means of defusing her anger.

“I want to be myself Michael. I do not want to be judged … or prayed for … or sent for counselling … or watched like a child. I am submissive! I’m not the spawn of the devil,” she shrieked at him as she squirmed wildly. “There is nothing wrong with me,” she repeated again.

“You want to be dominated, don’t you?” he asked in a dark voice, the glimmer in his eyes scaring her. He pushed her into the corridor where none of the neighbours could see them, nor would anyone hear her. “You want me to hurt you, to force my will on you, don’t you?” he whispered near her ear.

Victoria’s entire body trembled against him. She had never been so scared in her life. “Let me go Michael,” she pleaded, her words falling on deaf ears.

Michael tore the clothes from her body and crushed her to the concrete wall. His fingers jabbed viciously into her warm depths wrenching a pained cry from her lips as she dug her nails into his shoulders. “Let me go Michael,” she gasped.

He buried his hand in her hair pulling her head back sharply, nearly cutting her oxygen supply as he hissed darkly above her, “you will obey me.”

Tears streamed down her cheeks as she tried to mute the sobs that were shuddering through her body. “Please…” she gasped as his fingers sawed into her body, lifting her off the ground with the amount of force he was using. Somehow, she had known telling him would be a bad idea. He did not grasp the concept, did not understand her need … could not comprehend what it meant to crave submission.

He felt inferior, as if he had done something wrong. He could not understand why his wife wanted anything different, becoming insanely jealous of the people she spoke to, as if somehow they were ‘in’ on the ‘big secret’ that she was hiding from him. In his need to try and give her what she wanted, he had turned into the very thing Victoria had feared her entire life.

He finally slammed into her, crushing her against the wall … silencing the scream on her lips. Somewhere in the distance, Victoria registered what he was doing to her, but her mind had shut down. If this was what subspace supposedly felt like, she did not want to ever experience it again. It felt more like her body was trying to shut out the incredible pain he was inflicting on her as a defence mechanism.

Her violet eyes fluttered shut … her body becoming an unwilling vessel to his cruel punishment.

~~~~***~~~~​

Victoria blinked … sunlight flooding in from the window blinding her for a moment. She groaned, every inch of her body screaming in pain. She half propped herself up on an elbow and found Michael sprawled on the bed next to her. Her entire body trembled involuntarily at the sight of him.

Silent tears meandered down her cheeks as she quietly lifted herself off the bed, her body protesting in agony. The fear screaming through her mind was suffocating her. She grabbed the few things she could without waking him and walked through the house one last time.

This place was once filled with love and laughter … it used to be her home. Now, it was nothing more than a house of horrors. Victoria bravely raised her chin as she stepped out onto the street, disappearing into the crowd. She was just another person with a broken heart, disillusioned by love and scarred by the brutality of it. She would survive … her heart would never recover.

 

[DarkEmpress]

Home

A train whistle blew somewhere in the distance and she blinked away a tear. The world was a scurry of wind and noise as the train came rushing through the tunnel. Lights flickered from the windows like a film strip … each square holding a face, a memory … a life.

So many…

She could almost see his face before her, a haunting ghost of everything dancing in her past. The things that could have been … should have been … but never were.

The train came to a screeching halt and the doors flew open. For a moment, she stared at the open door … transfixed. Should she … or shouldn’t she? The big austere piece of luggage beside her contained everything that held her grounded, everything that defined what she was … who she was. The door, was a different world, a different place … somewhere, where she could re-invent herself, do all the things she wanted to do, be who she wanted to be.

She slowly tilted her head to the side, dark raven hair falling down her shoulder as she lifted her hand to her lips, trying to stop the sob that was there. Violet blue eyes stared at the open door with so much uncertainty … trepidation.

Everything in life is a choice. Making this one would mean that her life up to this point had been a waste of time, that nothing she had experienced, felt … lived, had meant anything … had any meaning.

But it did.

She had loved … she had known what it felt like to lose that love. She had been hurt … but she had also never been as happy before. Life comes with the good and the bad and it is a narrow and fickle line we walk between being true to yourself and finding your place in life … where the sun shines … just for you.

The doors slowly closed and a moment later the train hummed into motion, disappearing into the dark void of what could have been … should have been … and never were.

One solitary figure remained standing on the platform.

She finally found it … contentment … the place where she belonged.

…Home

 

[DarkEmpress]

A moment...

You know that one moment, where the world seems perfect. That one small glimpse of complete and utter happiness, where everything in the world seems right. You are happy with the person that is staring back at you in the mirror and you are smiling at yourself.

You know what I like to do at a moment like that?

I listen to music.

I turn it up loud until it drowns out the world beyond these four walls and I sing … at the top of my lungs: Screaming out the words of some happy song that makes me feel as if I am on cloud number nine.

My eyes will be closed, my arms outstretched … and I will be spinning in the middle of the room … hair flying around me … my feet keeping time with the music.

It is a rare and precious moment of pure and absolute bliss.

I sigh out loud, staring at the wall with a dreamy look in my violet eyes before I turn and stare at you, my eyes smiling into yours.

“When last did you feel like that?”

 

[marauder13]

Taken

[OOC : This little scene was inspired by this image.]

She took tiny, timid steps backward. Her attempts to keep her distance from him were in vain, as he stalked after her. She could see the lust in his eyes as clearly as the other evidence further down his likewise naked body. She was confused over what she felt. There was fear about what would happen. She knew what, but not where, or even how. But there was also an excitement about it too that made her heart race that little faster.

He drank in her appearance, hungrily enjoying the sight of her finally revealed. He felt a slight joy at the way she sought to avoid the inevitable, or was it to draw out the prelude. He heard her denials, her requests to stop, but he also saw how all of this was teasing her, delighting her in ways he wondered if she even knew were happening. He managed to keep his face from betraying the knowledge he had that it would soon move from the prelude to the main act. In her desire to escape him, she was only going to trap herself.

Her focus was firmly set on him, afraid to look away and permit him the chance to make his move. She believed that by watching him, she would deny him the chance to do what he wanted... and what she was starting to desire.

Her lower back met something solid and cold. She let out a short squeak of surprise, managing to keep watching him. But it made little difference to the outcome. He moved quickly, grabbing her waist in a firm grip, lifting her onto the counter. He grabbed her thighs, lifting and parting them, forcing her back against the mirror. She was now afraid again. Her thoughts ran rampant through her mind - Was she afraid of what he was now clearly going to do to her, or was she afraid of how much she would enjoy it.

He paused for a moment. He looked over her open before him, totally vulnerable and knowing it. The way it manifested visually sent a shiver of pleasure running through him. His hunger for her in that moment was almost palpable. When he returned his gaze to her face, he let his joy at her outward fear show in the smile he gave her. He looked down at her awaiting sex, glistening obviously and advertising her truest thoughts of what she felt about where she was. He needed no further encouragement, nor any other signal to know he had read her intentions correctly.

He aligned his shaft with her moistened entrance, then looked back at her face as he sank into her with one strong thrust that ended with the loud slap of their bodies meeting.

 

[marauder13]

Shoes

[OOC: In a lounge thread, Zydrate made some interesting comments about shoes. Those comments inspired the following.]

I sat, relaxed in the firm, supportive embrace of the leather chair. My eyes remained closed as I waited for your arrival. My imagination filled in the time with all manner of images and sensations of what could possibly happen. A barely noticeable wicked grin curved my lips. It was the only hint of what I was thinking.

The loud rapport of heels confidently making contact with the hard wood floors echoed from down the hall. My grin grew into a smile, my mind's eye working hard to match a visual to go with the sounds. The rhythm was steady; the click of the heel, the softer tap of the toes and the light shift of the other foot being lifted in it's stride.

The sensual sway of your hips came to mind, clad in a free flowing, soft fabric that moved with a teasing grace. Sheer stockings, of course, sheathed the well toned and defined legs artfully shaped by the footwear that announced your presence.

Your steps had grown louder before you paused. I imagined you in the doorway, teasing me. Tempting me to gaze upon you. Your stance was sultry, a personification of desire.

I waited. I wanted to see you in motion once more, rather than in a mere pose, no matter how entrancing that pose might be. The way you moves fires my blood in ways that no other woman does.

The loud cracks of your heels in motion signals me to open my eyes. Your feet are enclosed in shoes that remind me of obsidian; darkest black that shines in the lowest of light. Your feet are also angled by the thin spike that keeps your heels three inches above your toes. As imagined, black stockings cling to your legs, helping to focus my eyes on their delightful lines.

A tantalizing band of bare thigh exists between the stocking's tops, and the lower edge of your corset. The sway of your hips surpasses my imagination's feeble attempts to match the reality I am greeted with. I find my breathing deepening at the wondrous display.

The corset, soft earthy tones hugging your torso, clearly aiding showing off a desirable array of curves. The corset appears to be more supportive than molding of the flesh in encircles. How it could improve on your body, one that is so magnificent to start with?

The confident stride continues to bring you closer to me. I find your eyes on mine, locking my gaze, denying me the chance to look elsewhere. By the shape of your eyes, I know you're smiling too. This adds to my growing heat. Adds fuel to my desire. Elevates your beauty even higher.

The walk that I saw was natural, easy flowing and naturally graceful. For a moment I wonder if other have been fortunate enough to see that stride. But it doesn't matter, because you walk that way for me to see. A sight that brings much joy to me.

One of the stocking clad legs brushes the outside of one of my thighs, soon followed by the other brushing the outside of the other thigh. Your weight slowly glides into my lap. Your arms come to rest on my shoulders as mine circle your waist.

No words can ever hope to convey the messages that our looks give each other. Your warmth in my lap and your hands combing my hair both soothe and excite me in equal measure.

We both agreed that it was the perfect start to a perfect evening.

 

[DarkEmpress]

My Ex

A little image that came crashing into my mind yesterday. Enjoy

~~~~***~~~~​

It was one of those cocktail parties, where you didn’t really know anyone but you were there supporting a friend in a business venture, adding a face to the guest list so it didn’t look so empty.

I have always admired Jennifer’s work and as I stood staring at a particularly eclectic piece of art adorning a sugar white wall, I marvelled at her artistry. A painter must have exceptional imagination to be able to translate it so well into something you can touch, see ... I took a step forward and ran my finger across the oil clad canvass, wanting to feel it.

A hand joined mine, a sublimely masculine one that made mine look small. I could feel his body heat next to me, an inch away but close enough to let me know he’s there. His scent was spicy, fresh ... as if he had just shaven.

“Hello Ashley,” A hauntingly familiar voice said next to my ear, his breath sending shivers down my spine.

I blushed - couldn’t help myself - as I turned to stare into his brilliant emerald eyes. I could cheerfully have strangled Jennifer that instant for inviting him. He was no doubt another face to fill the crowd, a mutual friend ... and a not-so-mutual love fling that happened years ago.

“Br-Brian!” I stammered, the startled sound in my voice grating.

“Still single?” he asked, nonchalantly lifting my hand and inspecting my ring finger. That was something I loved about him, the way we just ... ‘flowed’ as if I belonged to him.

I nodded, giving him an appraising look designed to keep him at bay, but curious nonetheless. “You?” I asked, running my hand along his arm and gently turning his wrist to display his ring finger for my viewing pleasure.

He lifted his hand, displaying the barren finger before me with a little teasing glint in his eyes. God, if only he knew what that did to me, even after all these years.

A guest intervened, standing a little too close for comfort. Brian turned away from me and usurped a glass of champagne from one of the roaming waiters. Striding across the room he turned and leaned against the opposite wall. His thumb was looped through the top of his faded denims, the other holding the delicate stem of the champagne glass between his fingers. He looked so comfortable, so breathtakingly alluring. His jeans hugged his legs, the off-white dinner jacket he wore accentuating his dark hair, the crisp white shirt unbuttoned at the top to give a glorious glimpse of the tanned skin beneath.

I mirrored him, finding a cocktail chair and taking a seat. Crossing my legs, I placed an elbow on the table, resting my chin in my hands as I leaned forward ever so slightly giving him a ringside seat of my cleavage, the outrageously short cocktail dress I wore giving him a daring glimpse of legs.

Brian stood across the room, undressing me with his eyes. Every now and again he would lift his long-stemmed glass, opening his mouth slightly so I could just see the tip of his tongue flitting across his lips before he would take a sip. I could actually see him expel a breath, as if it was the most invigorating sip of champagne he has ever had in his life.

My kitten creamed herself, just looking at him. I knew exactly what his tongue was capable of ... his lips. The little knowing smile that tugged at his lips spoke volumes. It was doing delicious things to me and he knew it. He was every bit as gorgeous as he has always been but there was a hint of smoky sexuality that came with age. He knew what he wanted and I was number one on his list this evening.

The thought made me shiver as I took a sip of my own champagne, fighting the urge to gulp the entire glass down as sustenance against the inevitable flame that was Brian. Our relationship had been passionate in every sense. We fought passionately, we made love passionately. We used to push each other to the limit and maybe that was why our relationship went up in a spectacular ball of flames. A moth to the flame, the saying goes.

I was so distracted, Jennifer had to repeat herself twice and when she followed my eyes she looked back at me with a knowing smile. “You’ll thank me in the morning,” she said teasingly before disappearing like a beautiful social butterfly amongst the patrons of her domain.

And I did ... three times over

 

[DarkEmpress]

The Day it Rained

I remember the day it rained. It rained so hard outside, the big drops falling and leaving little craters in the gathered water that was streaming down the gutters. The sky was dark, ominous ... it was cold and gray ... the day it rained.

I was running, so hard ... so fast, the rain hiding the tears that were streaming down my cheeks. It was just another ordinary day, but my whole world had just fallen apart. An aching hurt screamed through my chest, oozing pain through a gaping hole in my heart, that no amount of tears could fill.

I was running to your door, running to your arms, hoping you would wrap me in your warm embrace and hide me away from the world. I wanted to feel you beneath me, against me, inside of me. Your mouth crushing to mine in a desperate, love-starved kiss, laced with lust and raw need.

It was raining, so hard. The thunder crackled through the clouds in a bright boom, illuminating the sky in a blinding flash that drowned my cries. My legs were numb, I couldn’t feel my feet anymore and yet I couldn’t stop ... couldn’t pause ... couldn’t breathe. I needed to get away, hide away from the world ... and find you.

The lofty double wrought iron gate stood proudly against nature’s onslaught as I ran through them, down the road. Big, round raindrops fell from the heavens in a never-ending stream, as if the angels were crying with me, trying to solace me in their own way.

My clothes were soaked, clinging to my form like a visceral glove, my hair matted around my face and sticking to my shoulders. My eyes were drowning in a mixture of rain and tears and as I finally reached you ... I collapsed, kneeling, my body racked with sobs.

I could see you, feel you ... breathe you. Your hands in my hair, your lips on mine, pressing your warm body against me. Your voice was in my mind and my thoughts ... my whole being incensed with you.

I buried my hands in the soil, letting them squirm between my fingers as my tears joined the water to purify the soil, drown the pain and bury the anguish.

Your grave was still fresh, the tombstone not yet lain ... and with every fibre in my being I wished I was lying next to you, blissfully unaware of the world of pain that lay above me in the gray sky...

... the day it rained.

 

[DarkEmpress]

Cry

Writing and creativity is synonymous. It is a way of expressing oneself. A way of giving free reign to your imagination and a way of looking at what was, what is and what could be. Not just in your own life, but in the world around you, the country you live in ... the culture you belong to.

The letters, words, phrases, sentences and paragraphs that surround us paint a picture of the present tense that you find yourself in. The letters, magazines, newspapers, books and even the internet record every moment in history and immortalises it in black and white. It is our freedom - our freedom of speech - that defines our society, defines the world that we live in and serves as a vehicle for the truth and the just.

I can picture myself standing on the crest of a little hill overlooking a meadow that is filled with sunshine, majestic green trees and flowers arching their delicate stems to soak up the warmth. But the thunderclouds are gathering on the horizon, an ominous black mass that is threatening everything I hold dear in this meadow. Every hope, every dream, and every outcome I had ever imagined.

In this altered world I am chained to the ground, the pen ripped from my hand ... my words nothing but dust on the pages of a book that has morphed into a machine with its own wicked author. My mouth is taped shut and tears filled with black mascara are running down my cheeks as I watch my meadow go to rack and ruin. Its existence is altered and shaped into another that is not my own. The once glistening trees are bare, black leaves spiralling to the parched ground ... along with my will ... crushed ... broken.

How do you fight a monster? How do you make a stand against something that will surely strangle your spirit, sap your strength and leave you unarmed and incapable of fending against the fast approaching storm? How many people have given their lives in the name of freedom? How many are prepared to die for what they believe in? How many? Did we not learn anything?

Cry my beloved country...

Cry

 

[VampiricTouch]

The Programmer

She's bent over her desk in her cubical. The formal little black skirt pushed aside to crumple about her waist and the sheer black panty-hose ripped conveniently for him.

Soft wet velvet wrapped around steel...

Every harsh pounding of her cunt drives her hips hard against the table, jarring the monitors as she attempts to focus on the task at hand... Failing miserably as her body trembles with a low moan, the feminine sound punctuated with the crack of his hand against her ass.

"Get back to work!" He snaps at her, knowing the losing battle she's fighting.

His eyes are on the hand print reddening across her ass, his prick pummeling the softer folds of her sex, and hers... hers are on the screen, struggling to focus her dilated eyes on the monitor as manicured fingers type frantically at the keys.



He ravages of her pussy, uses it, takes his pleasure from it. Large hands easily grip the small of her waist, pulling her blouse open as another hard thrust drives her breasts over the keys. Rewarded with another slap against her ass cheek.


She can feel his large cock twitch in the tight folds of her hole, and her panic rises another notch. He doesn't wait for her. His large finger hit the compile button before she finishes despite her pleas...

Her code won't compile. She knows it and so does he. Not when it was written under such circumstances.

But he's not forgiving. Not when he's expecting her to be good at her job.

He pulls free of her grasping sex, wet with her own arousal as she looks back and cries out at the loss... The first spurt of cum flies high to streak down the monitor as the second splashes on her cheek. Jizz spills over his crown as he wipes it across the torn hosiery.


"Use her ass this time... Maybe she'll be more productive that way."

 

[DarkEmpress]

The Promise

This one was inspired by a song: Within Temptation - Lost

~~~~***~~~~​

I made a promise. But as he stood there, my body … my mind … froze.

It looked just like him … exactly like him.

His tall frame, the confident set of his shoulders, his strong hands … his broad chest. I could feel my heart constrict as I imagined those arms wrapped around me. The wind was playfully streaking some of his hair across his cheek, his lips were pursed in concentration … those lips. God, the memories were crisp in my mind, his lips on mine, searing with heat, moving with intense passion.

Something inside me quaked. I did not realise just how much I have missed him, craved him … longed for him.

His eyes … they were once the most glorious blue I have ever seen … but now they were almost a shimmering red with a glowing, evil quality to them. There had always been a softness to them, but these eyes were hard, evil. The look in them was the same though. He was appraising me, calculating my thoughts … my actions. I was trapped and he knew it. But this time I was not the person he would give his life for. No. I was an object of obsession, someone he was hunting.

“Rosa, what did I teach you?” He asked me in that same voice that had been haunting my dreams for a year now. I couldn’t help the gooseflesh that erupted all over me. His accent was still the same and I could swear there were tenderness in those words … his eyes belied it.

“Don’t think,” I answered automatically. He taught me how to fight the creatures of the night, how to incapacitate them … how to kill them. I had made a promise to him that if he was taken … I would kill him.

I couldn’t.

My body would not obey. The feelings I had for him were too powerful, the hurt and pain was still too raw. My mind was calculating the angle of attack, feeling the cold metallic touch of the stake in my hand, but my heart would not let me. How could this thing look exactly like him? I knew this was just a shallow husk of the glorious man I knew, but I could not reconcile what I knew with what I saw. Surely he was still in there? Somewhere?

“Don’t make me do this,” he said, as his body coiled, ready for attack.
“I promised you,” I breathed, my heart shattering into a million pieces.

The next moment he came at me. Everything was a blur. He was much faster. Much stronger. I knew I had to be better than what he taught me, if the student were to master the teacher. I dodged every attack he threw at me, bittersweet memories of the time spent in the training courtyard rushing through my mind. I had to detach my emotions, repeating over and over to myself that he was dead. Antonio was dead. This was not the man I loved with all my heart and soul.

“Join me Rosa,” he hissed as he sidestepped a calculated stab from my stake, the metal glinting in the eerie light of a globe above us. “We could be powerful together.”
“Never,” I said beneath my breath as I launched myself at him.

He sidestepped, grabbing my arm. Neatly swirling me around, he pinned my arm behind my back and propelled me forward to crash into his chest. His other hand swiftly and brutally twisted my free wrist … and I heard the stake clang to the ground.

He still smelt the same.

He took a few steps forward and pushed me up against the wall, his face a few millimetres from mine. My breath was rushing past my lips and my heart was racing in my chest … I was certain he could hear it … feel the blood rush beneath his fingertips, feel the heat radiating from me.

He was ice cold.

Without warning he lowered his head and he pressed his lips to mine. I moaned as I succumbed to the need in me. Tears were streaking down my cheeks as I closed my eyes, drinking him in. I felt whole for the first time in a long time … even though I knew these were the last living breaths I was taking. We moved like love starved lovers against each other and in that moment I realised that I would rather live out the rest of my years as a forsaken undead, than face a lifetime without him.

Antonio ended the kiss and his lips gently fluttered across my cheek, making their way to my ear … painstakingly slow. I turned my head, giving him full access, as his breath played across the tender flesh. A shiver ran down my spine and my breath was still racing, every fibre in my being achingly aware of his presence, his motives … his intentions.

I felt his lips brush across my neck as he pressed a kiss there, sealing my fate. I tensed as I felt the sharp tips of his fangs slide across my neck.

“I love you,” I whispered.
“I know,” Antonio breathed before he sunk his fangs into me.

There was a brief sting of pain before the venom spread through my system, propelling my mind and body into an euphoric realm of bliss. Antonio released me and wrapped his arms around me, supporting me as I felt my body melt against him. Memories of him slowly paged through my mind as the life seeped from my veins. My heart was beating slower … and slower … I was getting weaker.

“Don’t … let me go,” I managed to whisper before darkness came to claim me.




“I won’t,” his voice echoed from inside the darkness.

 

[VampiricTouch]

Cum Slut

“I wanna be your cumslut.” A purr as she sidles up to him. Reaching for him with one hand, the other she rakes back her flaming red hair, letting the cascades of short red strands fall in their natural disarray. “Please?”

​Her hand slides up his chest, looping around his neck to pull herself close. “I’m hungry. And you smell edible. Deliciously edible. Won’t you feed me? Pretty please?” She sighs as her lips caress his skin. Her breath comes hot as it rushes over him and her teeth captures an earlobe.

​The sting of her teeth is sharp, but brief. It lasts only an instant and the sensation is gone. Having moved on. Down towards what she really wants. Her descent is smooth. A slow paced drop to her knees as her hands trail behind. ​ The intense lust in her cat-like eyes that hold his gaze, along with the impatient swish of her tail all speak volumes of her barely restrained impatience.

​ She wants him. Now.

​She pauses as her full breasts press gently against his prick. A growl of want rumbles deep inside when she feels him twitch. She can feel her meal bubbling, so close, but still oh so far. His manhood springs free from the trappings of her breasts to tap against her chin. It makes her breath catch in her throat. She nuzzles against his groin, letting out a soft moan as her hands cup his balls, knowing so well that her reward will come. Soon.

​With only a kiss at the base of his cock, she slides lower still to capture his sac into the warmth of her mouth. Her tongue zigzagging over sensitive skin. She can feel the muscles in his thighs tense. It makes her smile as she looks up, over the rim of her glasses and past his pulsing need, at him.

​Perhaps that was a bit much. His growl alone says so. He reaches down, both hands gripped tight around her curved horns to pull her face towards his cock.

​“Impatient are we?” She coos. Her mouth is already open. Her tongue flicks across his crown to catch his first drop of pre, a pearl of white adorning the tip, before he stuffs her mouth with his cock. Each thrust of his hips pushes well into her throat as he holds her head by the horns just so. Fucking her face with at a desperate pace.

​it's been too long since she's had a nice hard cock in her mouth...

​He wants this just as much as she.

​She breaks his rhythm mid thrust. Holding her place with her nose pressed to his pubes and his prick lodged in her throat. She holds herself there for a long moment before she pulls free with a juicy pop. The string of saliva that is precariously strung from his prick to her lower lip sways with every heave for air she draws.

​“This is what you really want isn’t it.” Her hands lift her breasts, the soft flesh spilling over her small hands. Soft flesh encases hard steel, and his cock disappears into the globes of her breasts. Her tongue is waiting when his crown peeks through the valley, swirling, dancing across the tip before it vanishes again. His breath hastens. Each stroke testing the limits of his will as his body tenses, and draws so much closer to the release he so desperately needs. Like a coiled spring ready to snap. She can smell the cum in his balls. The proximity makes her growl.

​“I’m your little cum slut aren’t I?” His cock twitches at her husky words. “So cum for me. Cum all over me.”

​Her words are a catalyst. He loses eye contact as his eyes roll back. A strangled cry, accompanies the arc of his seed that erupts over her, streaking over her face. Strings of his cum paint her face and glasses. Crisscrosses of his sticky tribute strung together to dribble off her chin and splatter onto her breasts. A stray strand of red hair, now sticky and limp, dips, dotting her cheek with the slightest mark of cum.

​He empties himself upon her. White pearls on sun kissed skin. The last few spurts, weakly splash onto her decolletage before puddling into the valley of her generous breasts. Spent.

​His dirty little cum slut.

She licks her lips with a satisfied smile, tasting the sticky, messy reward splashed over her. “Thank you for the meal~!”

~~~~~~~~~~**Cum Slut**~~~~~~~~~~​

This scene was originally posted in "This is for you" in the lounge. I'm reposting it here because I want to keep a copy I can easily find. It was written specifically for Chronie. I strove to include as much of what lodges his mind in the gutter as I could. However, I am certain that there are many out there who also appreciate a scene of this sort.

 

[VampiricTouch]

His Bitch

She struggled in vain, cried in vain, fought in vain. The nipple rings clipped to the slab kept her in place, as did the cuffs that kept her hands out. The lock clipped to her five inch heels kept her feet from kicking and the straps minimized the range of her motion. Even then. Even knowing it was futile, she struggled. Writhed and moved against the scant millimeter she had, to fight what promised to happen next.

"I cannot do zees while she ees moving." His accent was heavy, and the equipment poised in his hand stilled as he looked up at the one who had commissioned his work. The tent of his trousers couldn't be helped. Not when he was staring at her bared ass cheeks, bent over the hard wood slab, knowing full well what his compensation would eventually be.

"You're right." A good natured reply. The artist took a half step back as he reached for the cane. The cane was normally enough to quell most of her dissent, but this time, she didn’t care. His face hardened. Annoyed that he would have to resort to caning her.

It was the tenth strike that finally reduced her to broken sobs. He knew from experience she held out far longer than the five that broke her the previous time he had to administer the cane. “Will you behave now? Or should I continue until you do?” The whisper in her ear carried the edge of his anger.

Her body stilled. Shaken only by the hiccuped tears that continued down her cheeks. “Good girl. You should’ve behaved earlier, instead of making me resort to this. You’ll have to make up for it.”

He picked up a gag, popping the plastic ring into her mouth while it was still slack. The soft gurgle of a protest emanating from the gaping ‘O’.

“I think we’re ready to continue?” He offered the artist a friendly smile. His pants dropped and he slid his prick deep into her mouth. Her body shuddered, gagging when his thick length lodged itself into her throat. His hand slid down her cheek. smearing the steady stream of tears to press his fingertips against the throb of his cock in her throat as she struggled for air. Feeling her tighten further as the needle penetrated to ink her skin, etching across her ass cheeks in bold black italics, “Chris’ Bitch”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~​

This was originally posted in "This is for you". I'm logging it here so I have a copy I can easily find.

This is for.... hmmm I'm not sure. Rainingheat. Freekles maybe? Scuttles maybe? Brit maybe? Are any of you people interested in this? Who's list is this sort of scene on?! I'm not sure if this scene is up anyone's alley of kinks. If it is, it's for you.

I used "Chris" for lack of better name, but please imagine yours there, or offer me a better one and I can edit.

This scene was something I read years and years ago, not on this site. It was extremely well written, to the point where I was scared witless reading it. I have long since been unable to find it, and this is my recreation of what I remember. Unfortunately, it only captures a shadow of the original scene. I hope at least someone else will be able to enjoy it.

 

[VampiricTouch]

Prowler

A feline stretch drapes her over the chaise. Her bare feet dangling languidly over one end as she eyes his entry with keen interest. Her head cants when he closes the door behind him. Gazes meet. That moment of stillness is brief. Her long legs swivel off the back of the chaise and her hands brace herself up. The robe was wrapped loosely over her body and that moment of action affords him a glimpse of white lace before the view is taken away.

There are no kisses when she finally stands before him. It was unlike her. One who so enjoyed the expressive meeting of lips to avoid his now. Rather, her hand reaches for him. Hooking two fingers under the collar of his button up and ripping downward. Hard. The buttons pop and fabric rips where buttons would not yield. Her other hand went to the belt. Undoing it, and pulling it off sharply, the loose end whipping the air before it clatters to the ground behind her.

He held his ground. A slight sway the only counterbalance to her aggression.

She strips him without ceremony. The pants unbuttoned and unzipped slide without protest to the ground as he steps free. That he went without boxers brings the glimmering of a smile to her eyes. Her gaze having never left his this entire time.

There were no words. No platitudes of affection. This was beyond that. This was lust. Pure and simple. The atmosphere was thick with it and no words would conceal it, or do it justice.

A lone finger presses against his chest. A gentle push and he yields to her lead. A slow dance as she pushes him towards the bed behind him. Until the back of his knee touches the mattress and he sits.

The finger trails downward. The front of her robe falls loosely, to allow him a view of her pert breasts. Her fingertips brush against the crown of his hardening prick, as her palm slides down and her fingers gently close around his balls. His cock jumps at the soft squeeze of her hand. Rapidly coming alive as her hand slides upwards to smooth her fingertips over his crown.

Her eyes watch him still, even when his gaze wavers to the sensations she inflicts. Her other hand draws lightly over his knee, spreading his legs further than they were already as she sinks to the floor. She looks up from there. There is no silent query. No askance in her eyes. Just the predatory gleam, that what she wants, will be hers.

Her tongue darts out to taste him. She can smell him. The musk of his arousal tempered with the dull edge of sweat. Him. All this she tastes on his skin, her tongue capturing the first droplets of his essence. She takes her time. Her tongue drawing wet lazy paths along the veins of his prick, enjoying that sharp intake of breath when she flutters over that tender spot.

Her lips part for him, quickly enveloping him in the warmth of her mouth. Her small hand wrapping around the remaining length she failed to take in. Her hands are tiny. The one hand scarcely circles his girth, but she tries anyways. Starting the steady stroke of her hand and keeping time to the slow bob of her head. Her tongue flutters the underside of his cock as she presses forward, then languid circles on his crown as he leaves the warmth of her mouth. It’s a steady rhythm.

In a moment of greed, she pushes deep. Unsure if she can take him, but she tries. For herself. For him. Her nose presses to the curls of his pubes, and her body shudders for the air that she denies. She holds herself there, before coming up for that gasp of oxygen and returning to her rhythm again. Broken every so often in a crossbeat as she lets him push to the depths of her throat.

His hand coils into her hair. Demanding. Wanting. Needing. She yields to his lead. Letting his hips lift to fuck her mouth. Working him into that frenzy of lust they’re so familiar with. She wants the beast. The primal. Him.

She wants to be fucked

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~​

This was originally posted in "This is for you". I'm logging it here so I have a copy I can easily find.

This is the first shipment of words. The ones my uncooperative muse can recall. I need to sleep. So I stopped here.

I don't know who this is for. It definitely has the names Chronie, FD, Scuttles, Thyri, Brit, Palemoon on the list. I think Freekles would like it too, but I'm not sure. I don't work with people enough to know. If this is up your alley, if you don't mind letting her drive, if you enjoyed this scene, this is for you.

 

[DarkEmpress]

Desire

I was listening to one of my favourite songs and these two dropped into my mind... Enjoy

~~~**~~~

He was staring at me from across the room, languidly lounging against the wall. His crisp white shirt was unbuttoned at the top with sleek faded denims that moulded to his imposing form as the sun shimmered in his dark hair. Smouldering dark eyes were peeling the clothes off my body as they slowly meandered from the top of my head to the tips of my toes and then leisurely made their way back up … momentarily pausing at the apex between my legs … rolling up to my breasts … and flitting back to my eyes … raw, carnal desire flaring in their depths.

I could feel a soft blush spread across my cheeks as my insides blistered with aching need. God, he was fucking gorgeous. It still took me by surprise how easily he could reduce me to a smouldering heap of wanton desire with that look …

The chords of a slow and sultry song were gently playing across the sound system, propelling my legs forward as I drifted towards him. He pushed off the wall and met me halfway, enveloping me in a warm embrace, standing cheek to cheek, slowly swaying to the music.

“I’ve missed you today,” he half growls at me as he nibbles my bottom lip.
“It was torture -,” I agree as my hands snake up his chest, his muscles flexing beneath my palms as I wrap them around his neck. One of his hands sleeks down my spine to the small of my back and pulls me flush against him and my eyes flutter shut, a moan ghosting from my lips, his desire pressing against my tummy.

His free hand meanders lower, flitting across my hip to smooth across my inner thigh, pushing my panties aside before dipping a finger into my wanton depths, already moist with desire. My breath hitches in my throat as desire spirals through my body from the source of his onslaught.

He nuzzles my neck, planting soft kisses just below my ear, tracing a blazing trail down to my collarbone. I tilt my head to the side, raven hair spiralling down my back, providing him better access.

He inhales deeply, sending delicious electrical sparks through my nervous system before breathing across the delicate skin in the crook of my neck, “You smell like sunshine and sunblock.”
“Mmmm,” I moan as I find his lips and kiss him ardently, the world slowly disappearing into a haze leaving him and I alone in our cocoon of lascivious desire. We kiss each other like star struck lovers, our tongues fervently searching for the other, shifting our carnal yearning onto an entirely different plain.

He groans against my lips as he slides his hands up my hips, bunching my sundress around my waist. Picking me up, I wrap my legs around him as he pushes me against the wall. “God, I want you,” he breathes, the words falling into a quiet rock pond, sending ripples of heated longing to ebb through my body as I hear his zipper.

Freeing himself from the restraints of those delicious denims, he thrusts into me, pinning me against the wall as we both groan in ecstasy. Slow, rhythmic movements keep time with the haunting music as he slides in and out of me, my body expanding and welcoming him into the searing depths of me. Our hands are everywhere, our lips can’t get enough of each other … skin on skin … racing hearts and electrified breathing.

“Come with me,” he breathes against my ear and I can feel my body crackle in response as he pushes me further and further, closer to the precipice where I teeter for a heart-stopping moment as my body stiffens before free-falling into the welcome abyss of a shattering release that reverberates through my being, convulsing around him.

He screams my name and thrusts into me, his hands clasping me in place as he joins me, his own release exploding within me. We are both gasping for breath as we slowly float back down to earth, holding each other tenderly.

“Wow,” I breathe, “a girl could get used to this.”
“if it was up to me -,” he says with a devilish gleam in his eyes, before pressing a chaste kiss to my lips.

 

[yeishia]

Steals this...

the world slowly disappearing into a haze leaving him and I alone in our cocoon of lascivious desire.

shivers remembering such wonder...it h been awhile.

 

[DarkEmpress]

This Song is streaming through my headset as these words fall from my fingers. Enjoy

~~~****~~~~​

It was one of those days, where I just wanted to lose myself in the music. My soul was one with the raging strobe lights that were blazing through the charismatic room that held so many memories of evenings spent lost in the sound of total submersion. Time stood still, the people around me blurred into non-existence. All that mattered was the music; the words; the beats; keeping time with the thrumming instrument of life in my chest.

My body was moving of its own accord, my feet tapping to the insane beat crashing into my chest. So loud. So vibrant. My eyes were closed, my hands swaying above me in the air as my hair whirled around my shoulders, my head slowly lulling from side to side, keeping time with the base drum. My hips were gyrating, my legs slightly bent, accentuating the skinny jeans that were hugging them, my sequinned top glinting in the multitude of colours that were washing over me like an ocean of sound waves.

I felt his eyes on me. Burning … smouldering. My violet eyes fluttered open and our gazes locked. Oh god … that look in his eyes. The smouldering eyes of a complete stranger that had his sights set on me. There was nothing more alluring, nothing more fascinating and nothing that could make a woman feel more like a goddess in a room full of beautiful bodies. I felt like I could melt into a puddle of ecstasy on the floor in the blaze of his gaze.

He slowly moved across the dance floor, his eyes never leaving mine. The lights were shimmering across his skin, the purple fluorescence glowing on his sugar white shirt and picking up delectable white flecks off his stonewashed denims. He was the complete embodiment of sublime, masculine sexiness; oozing confidence and he was heading straight for me like a freight train colliding with the Milkyway flickering incessantly above me.

He came to a standstill behind me, his hands lightly resting on my hips, sending waves of excitement through my system. I could feel the heat radiating from him as he matched my every move as if our bodies have been waiting for this one moment to find its perfect match. Delectable little touches were teasing my wanton flesh, shaping the imposing form of his frame behind me, feeding the music frenzy that was spiralling through my soul like a precious lifeline.

We moved as if our lives depended on it, completely lost in the sound of exuberance, young wantonness and the beautiful unity of the unknown. All that mattered was the here, the now, the music, the lights, his body, my body, sweltering heat, smoking sexuality and the beats of our hearts that found a kindred soul in the glorious throes of the music.

I'll be your light, your match, your burning sun,
I'll be the bright, in black that's makin' you run.
- OneRepublic – Love Runs Out

 

[DarkEmpress]

This haunting song was streaming through my ears as this scene came into focus. I hope you enjoy

~~~****~~~​

Isn’t it strange how time changes you? In your mind, you are still the same person you were ten or twenty years ago, though the ravages of time become apparent, especially in friends and loved ones you have not seen for a while.

The eyes are the mirrors of the soul, and that is so true. They stay the same: that naughty little glint that you get when you spur a memory … the way he holds your hand; and it fits, just perfectly … the way he can wrap you in his arms, and it feels like home … the way he can still kiss you so the world melts away …

It has been a long, hard day. I stumble into the house, drained and tired and he steps in behind me, wrapping his arms around my waste, pressing a soft kiss to the curve in my neck, just below my ear, sending a shiver of delight down my spine. “Hello there,” he says, with his chin on my shoulder, while he gives me a warm hug.

“Hey there,” I say as I turn in his arms, to look up into those beautiful hazel eyes. “How was your day?” I ask, as I press a kiss to his lips.
“It got a whole lot better when you stepped through the door,” he teases, as he slips my handbag from my shoulder and places it on the kitchen counter.
“What do you feel like, for dinner?” I ask.
“I had a delightful pussy in mind,” he says brazenly, as his hands drift up beneath my skirt, spreading across my derriere before meandering to the front.
“That sounds…” my words trail off, as his fingers dip into my tender folds, swooping across my clit, eliciting a moan from my lips.

Not to be outdone, I undo his buckle and the button atop his denim before I slide the zipper down. My hands are like hungry demons, wanting to touch him as much as he is touching me; to give in to the yearnings and deep-seated need that he unleashes in me in the blink of an eye.

Stripped of our clothes, our hands moving across the other’s skin like a wildfire while our lips devour the other’s. He lifts me to sit on the kitchen counter, while he stands between my legs. Sinking his erection into me with his hands placed on my hips for extra leverage, I throw my head back, my hands in his hair as a moan escapes my lips. I absolutely love the feel of that first thrust, as my body moves to make space for him, deep inside of me.

He slams into me, repeatedly, edging us both on to a much-needed release. Each thrust of my hips is a glorious and primal delight, the scent of our lovemaking in the air and the sounds of our laboured breathing and grunts and moans, filling the house.

I can feel his body tensing, the way his breathing increases, the urgency of his movements letting me know that he’s close. Raking my nails down his back, I whisper, “Fuck me hard, baby,” in his ear, and he goes wild. He increases the tempo to a frenzy, dirty words of lust falling from his lips as he slams into me, edging closer to the edge, until he slams into me for a dramatic finale; Every muscle in his body tightening as he holds me in place, his member quivering and exploding within me, a basal grunt escaping his lips, his eyes closed as he soaks up the euphoria of the moment.

I love that look on his face…

We both slowly float back down to earth, the world gradually coming back into focus. Our clothes are everywhere. I smile and gently trace a finger across the laugh lines on his face. “So, what’s for dinner?” I repeat my question from earlier and his eyes glint up at me, devilishly, “Now, that that’s off the table,” I add with a knowing grin, intending the pun.

 

[VampiricTouch]

Faythful Passing

On June 1st, 2016, we had to let Faythful go. Faythful was a sable Burmese cat, born June 11, 2008. She joined my house in October of 2008 and was almost 8 years old when she passed on.

Even though I had to make the decision to let her go, even though I held her as the life left her eyes, even now, a few weeks later that I’m writing this, it still seems surreal that she’s gone. The empty house still feels like she’s with my family on a temporary stay, as if I’ll see her again when I go back to visit my parents.

On Friday May 27, Fay had stopped eating and by Friday night she was running a fever. Saturday morning we took her to a vet, speculating that she had eaten a hair tie that was causing an obstruction. The Memorial Day Weekend meant that most clinics would not be open. We were referred to an Emergency Clinic that would be open throughout the Memorial Day weekend.

On close inspection of the xrays, they found several hair ties in her stomach and promptly recommended surgery to remove the blockage. She was put on an IV to replenish liquids and nutrients before surgery began at midnight, finishing up around 1 am Sunday morning after pulling 4 hair ties out of her stomach and giving her two blood transfusion.

By now we were optimistic. While stomach obstruction is a major surgery, it was also the most common problem when cats had health issues. The recovery process seemed straight forward once the obstruction was removed.

When Sunday afternoon came around, the vets were puzzled. They had expected Fay to bounce back. She had not. Even during our visits, she was lethargic and unresponsive. The vets re-evaluated the blood work they had done prior to surgery. They noted that her blood counts were low. All of them, hence the earlier blood transfusion. Red, white and platelets were at dangerously low levels and her body was not making more.

This was when they warned us of a possible underlying condition. The vets speculated that she had a suppressed bone marrow since she was not making more blood. Where the most likely cause was cancer of some sort. They explained that while they speculated cancer, it was not practical to do a biopsy because she was too feeble. They were afraid that she might not heal an internal wound on top of the surgery she’d undergone.

Monday was a day of observation. We were hopeful. While still hospitalized and on an IV, she responded to us. She recognized me and made a concerted effort to jump off the table to be in my lap, We hoped that perhaps the hair ties were causing the other effects and once she had more time she would recover.

Tuesday, she was discharged from the Emergency Clinic and we drove her home to see a local vet. Looking over the patient log and tests, the vets repeated the same message. That we needed to be mentally prepared that there was a chance she would not make it. She spent the day at the clinic again before I took her home for the night. I spent the night with her in fitful bursts of semi sleep. She was adamant about sleeping on me, using small bursts of energy to move herself about 2 feet before curling up to rest for a few hours. Repeating the process over the span of several hours until she had curled up in the crook of my arm for the night.

Wednesday morning, before work, I took her back to the vet and approved the feeding tube so that we could get nutrients into her body. On the drive into work, I got a call from the vet. She told me that she had noticed Fay had difficulty breathing and decided to do an xray of her chest area. The Xray showed multiple tumors in her chest and breathing area. Confirming our worst fears that Faythful had cancer.

They could not safely give her anesthesia to put in a feeding tube, and since she was not eating on her own, it was only a matter of time. I made the decision that afternoon to let her go.



I remember that I picked Faythful to prove to my mother that not all cats were evil, dirty, unloyal creatures. I remember the argument I had when I first introduced Faythful to my mother and the utter fury she gave me - “Just because you named a cat Faythful, does not mean the cat is faithful.”

In many ways Fay felt more like a dog than a cat when she walked me to the door, or greeted me when I came home from work. Staying up to sit by the garage door if I came home late or went on travel for a few days. I toilet trained Fay to prove that she didn’t require someone to clean up after a litter box. There were days when Fay would insist on sitting with my mother in the window seat while she read the bible in the morning. Eventually Faythful proved victorious and my mother changed her refrain. It is now “All cats are evil, dirty, and unloyal - except for Faythful.” I’ll take the small victories where I can.

I remember playing WoW during college, farming while dinner was cooking on the stove. To avoid getting killed by the opposing faction, I flew pretty high out of reach before I ran to the kitchen to check on dinner. I came back to find Fay curled up on the soft warm keyboard of my laptop, and my character dead. Faythful had dismounted my character and it had fallen to its death. Faythful - 1, Warlock - 0.

I remember the territory disputes waged over my bottom. Fay would lay claim and curl up there while I read or wrote at night. My other half would discover her there a few hours later and a battle of glares would commence as they fought over who would hold the small scrap of territory that was my bottom, since neither would deign to share.

I remember that Fay would somehow manage to take up a third of our cal king bed. She always slept on my side of the bed because I would keep her safe from my other half rolling. She learned quickly that it was dangerous to sleep next to my other half for the same reason. At the same time, she learned that I would not roll on top of her. So she could slowly push me over and expand her territory during the night. Considering how small she was, it was remarkable to wake up every morning to find her somehow holding a third of the bed, no matter where we started the night before.

I remember coming back from traveling abroad, and the lectures I would get from her. The way she would refuse to let us pet her or hold her until she had spoken her piece. The long and short meows of complaint sounded like sentences, a sharp reprimand to not leave her behind for so long, that she had missed us. And now that she has left us, no words can describe how much we will miss her.

 

[DarkWarrioress]

We are so sorry for your loss, VT. We feel your heartache. I have known said heartache before. Most of us that have a faithful cat or dog in our life times, have felt it at some time or another. It doesn't get better. I still miss my first beloved sheltie. I will miss this one when I must help her cross the Rainbow bridge.

Faythful is now free of pain and capable of following you no matter where you go.

Personally, I recommend that not in the far distant future that you ask the Universe for another fur baby to fill the hole in your heart. It doesn't make it better but it does help.

Hugs,

Cait and Dryfter

 

[DarkEmpress]

Aaaah VT.

I am so sorry!

Only saw your post now, almost a year later.

Big /hug my friend. I know how much you loved her.

DE

 

[DarkEmpress]

Halloween

Hatred smouldered in the witch’s dark eyes as she levelled them on me. Every part of my being cringed away from her, but I stood my ground.
“Leave this place,” she commanded in an ominously quiet voice.
“No,” I answered.

She tilted her head to the side and regarded me with an expression that made my blood run cold. “Very well,” she decreed, before she started to roll a ball of light in her hands that appeared out of nowhere. The sky grew dark and lightning tore through the black clouds as the wind shrieked around us.

“The mask that you wear will be your only link to life,” she said, and I felt my heart scream with debilitating fear.
“Please, don’t do this,” I begged.
“Upon this day, your body will take form-“
“Please stop!” I cried.
“Until you can find redemption-“
“You can’t, I have done nothing wrong,” I implored her.
“You will be … no … more,” the witch cursed me.

~~~~***~~~~

Every year on Old Hallow’s Eve my body takes form, and I find myself at the mercy of wherever the mask has drifted. One year I landed up in a brothel and it turned out to be one of the most entertaining evenings I ever had. Another day I found myself in a desolate town with no living being in sight. Yet another, I found myself in the company of a lonely little girl who enjoyed having someone to talk to as much as I did.

The years became a blur, so many of them. The people I once loved are now long gone and the world around me is changing at a dizzying pace, I hardly recognise it anymore. Big extravagant parties are the order of the day these days on Halloween and I invariably land up floundering about, desperately searching for the person that could free me from the curse.

He came in many guises, always an echo of my beloved Richard somewhere in his voice, his appearance, his personality. It was just enough to torture my soul and kill my spirit a little bit more, plunging a knife into my heart and slowly twisting it … every year. One day was never enough time. It never had enough hours, minutes or seconds in it to try and make a connection, to find redemption … whatever the hell that meant!

The clock struck 0:00 am on the morning of 31 October. The mask lies on an ornate chest in the living room of a lavish home. A soft and swirling mist surrounds it and my body slowly takes form. I am wearing a black evening gown that I found last year with raven hair draped loosely around my shoulders, reaching the small of my back.

Voices - a few voices - reach my ears from a room next door. Panic flares through my mind. I never quite know how to explain my presence. One year, someone actually shot at me and I really didn’t want a repeat of that event. The mask hides my features as I peer around the corner, looking for an escape, a door, a window … anything.

“Well hello,” a sublimely male voice says behind me, an eerily familiar one. “You must be one of Heather’s friends?” the voice enquires.

I turn and my breath catches in my throat. “Richard…” I gasp. He is the splitting image of him. Tall, dark hair, steel grey eyes. He is dressed in faded denims and a casual t-shirt that contrasts my evening attire completely and hilariously.

“Oh please, it’s Rick,” he says, sweeping my hand up from my side and chivalrously planting a kiss on top of it. “My mother is the only one who calls me Richard, and it normally implies that I have done something outlandish,” he says with a devastating smile.

I feel my pulse rate leap to life. “Rick,” I say stupidly, all the words in the world completely leaving me in that moment.

He takes a step back and lets his eyes meander up and down my body, “Did Heather not tell you that the party is tomorrow?” he asks, before glancing at his watch and correcting himself, “I mean tonight?”
“N-no,” I stutter.

“Well then, let’s get you comfortable,” he says as he takes a step closer. Mesmerised, I watch, as if in slow motion, as he lifts his hands to the mask, touching the delicate porcelain surface of it, his fingers grazing the side of my cheeks. I can feel electricity crackle between us as he touches me … and his hands still. Did he feel it too?

A frown creases his brow as he quickly sweeps the mask off my face and it is his turn to look astounded. “I –“ he stammers, disbelief flashing in his eyes. We both just stare at each other for the longest moment. I know why I am staring, but I have no idea why he is looking at me like that.

Taking a deep breath, I summon the courage to try my voice. “What’s wrong?” I ask.
“I could swear -,” he says, tilting his head to the side, his gaze becoming probing, “that I’ve seen you before.”
“I get that a lot,” I smile, trying to make light of his comment, though the smile doesn't quite reach my eyes. Is this my redemption? Is this Richard incarnate?
“You are going to think this is strange -,” he says, lifting a hand and letting it gently sweep across my brow, “But you have been haunting my dreams … for months,” the last two words a whisper of disbelief, as if the months tortured him.

The air escapes from my lungs and I can’t quite make a sound. This time I’m the one with the incredulous expression. “You … you have?”
“Yes,’ he affirms. “I feel like I know you, somehow,” he adds as his brow furrows into a frown.

“What have you been dreaming?” I ask, my eyes never leaving his, hope flaring in their depths.
“I always dream that we are desperately in love,” he says as he places his hands on my waist, tentatively, before he pulls me into his arms, as if he is sizing me up, his hands remembering what it feels like to touch me. I close my eyes, the feel of him against me absolutely heavenly, it has been so long. “Mmmm,” the sound hums on my lips.

“I dreamt that fate dealt us an unjust blow,” he says, as he gently places his head against mine, breathing in the scent of me.
“What happens then?” I ask, tears shimmering in my eyes.
“We are torn apart,” he says, pain in his voice.
“Lost in time,” I whisper against his lips.
“Victoria,” he says my name, and I shut my eyes tightly, the tears streaming down my cheeks.
“Oh Richard,” I breathe.

The mask slowly cracks … the surface splintering … before it shatters into a million pieces.

I am, finally, free…

 

[VampiricTouch]

Tea Time

It’s an elegant affair. The English tea set at the table, small dainty desserts set on trays with the tinkling of silverware on porcelain. The long table cloth adding so much to the elegance. And hiding even more.

She thanked the attendant that helped push her chair in as her dress skirts spread in a perfect half circle around her. Sighing as the first touch gently sneaked up her thighs and she picked up her tea cup. Groaning softly as she tasted the cake, and lips pressed to her nethers.

The tongue wasn't involved yet, just kisses first. Smooth skin, and soft, pressing to her soft little sex. Teasing, taking her lips between theirs and gently teasing them apart. Sucking softly at the sides, and beginning to open her, to part her folds and then lathe that tongue between them.

"Would madam appreciate cream, or milk in her tea?"

The attendant asked. As always seeking to provide a perfect experience.

She sampled her tea and nodded. “Mmm... milk would be lovely”

Her eyes fluttered shut when she sampled the chocolate eclair. A soft ooooh of appreciation as her hips lifted for the one beneath the table.

The attendant nodded and beckoned to a woman at the end of the room. The loose flowing linen was cinched by a wine red corset. Her breasts spilled over the underbust. She curtsied before taking a small porcelain pitcher. And with a practiced hand pulled her top down to show voluminous breasts and coaxed milk to fill it.

Her show began. The milk maid slowly attaching both hands to her bared beast, and squeezed gently. Not with her fingers but with her hands. Wringing down, slowly creating a thin stream from her teat to begin filling the tiny pitcher.

It started with a dribble. Small droplets that coalesced to a thin stream caught in the small pitcher. Her own nipples tingled a bit at the show. The dark wide aureoles in beautiful contrast to the creamy milk the woman produced. Once the tiny pitcher was filled and set on the table, the woman curtsied again and returned to her post.

She nodded her thanks before adding the milk to her tea. Noting with approval that not a single drop had been spilled from the woman’s breast.

Hands shifted under her bottom. Smooth hands, still indistinguishable, supporting her raised hips, and helping her stay upright as seated, so that there wouldn't be notice of the under the table special. Cheeks stroked her thighs as the questing mouth went deeper.

Was that a small scrape? Or her imagination? A man underneath her table? Then the tongue flickered over her hooded clit, and deeper. Fluttering inside her. Deep inside her. There was a sharp intake of breath as tongue and lips spread her sex. She jolted when tongue flickered over her clit, the sharp breath punctuating her calm. She steadied the teacup with both hands as a flush rose to her cheeks, and the low moan of pleasure came forth as she sampled her tea.

 

[DarkEmpress]

I often have music playing while I'm writing, to create the mood and the setting I'm trying to portray. It helps me to channel the emotion I want to underpin.
At the moment this is the song I'm wanting to write to.
It's haunting, powerful and so emotional...