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Monday, September 1, 2008

Tantalizing Tribulations {Part 2}








There! He was sure of it, a quiet footfall. His head snapped to the left senses on high alert, the surface of His skin prickling with tension. There it was again, the crackle of high heels on the pebbled walkway. Someone was approaching.
Boredom had led Him here, into the eerie yet comforting quietude of the Cemetery. These last few days he had wandered about listlessly, aimlessly, entertaining Himself with mindless banter with the whores and transvestites that traversed the laneways of this desultory part of the city. Torn fishnet stockings, black leather mini-skirts, 3" spikes, eyes glazed over by the sheer apathy of their lives, detachment in every hobbled step, worn down like the cracks on the pavement they tried to step over, He felt nothing but pity for the miserable lives of these men and women, contempt for the wretched dregs of society that desperation dragged down here, seeking solace for a $20 blowjob. Maybe He was doing them a favour every time He was overpowered by His appetite, an Appetite for Destruction. Axel Rose had it right-Welcome to the 'Fucking' Jungle.
Now He found Himself walking along rows of headstones, some stunning in their augustness, works of art and design, paid for with love and adoration. Yet others achingly beautiful in their simplicity, bouquets of wilting flowers, remnants of incense sticks even. Ground mist had covered the pathways and gravestones in an ethereal shroud, lit by the soft muted light of the moon making it seem as if the whole world was slowly floating away. Yet it was not enough to lessen His dispassion. He had to piss and for an instance He even thought to defile Edith Hawser, 1867 ~ 1913, but smirking, decided that perhaps watering a tree was in better taste.
Now as a steady stream issued out of His cock, footsteps! He was sure of it. Clamping His scrotum together stopping the stream mid-flow, He slowly pushed His member back into His jeans and silently buttoned up, thankful He wasn't wearing the one with the zippered front.
Barely noticing the trickle of piss that ran down His inner thigh to nestle against the back of His knee, He crouched down and watched as the figure approached. She was tall, nearly as tall as He, measured gait and a straight back spoke of high-society and perhaps nobleness. There was also no trace of fear in her walk, self-assurance and a quiet arrogance. Her hair, a dark mane that billowed outward, full breasts that bounced softly with every step, she was a beauty indeed and He growled-a low bestial rumble as His bright red tongue flicked out to wet His lips. Suddenly, His night had improved with every gracious step of those black high-heeled boots. He grinned, His heart thudding in His chest, breathing short and shallow. He cursed Himself for not completely relieving Himself as the urge to piss again suddenly filled his loins. But He will wait for another moment. He licked His lips again, running the back of His hand across His mouth.
"Come to me sweet heart", He whispered, His voice hissing snake-like, raspy with visions of what she would do to satisfy His demonic lust. A serpentine lust that no mortal had yet to quench...

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That's Life

That's Life
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The Master Of Her Domain

The Master Of Her Domain
There is One for everyone. The Master of my Domain is the axis in which my world spins. There shall only be but One. Among men and women, those in love do not always announce themselves with declarations and vows. But they are the ones who weep when you're gone. Who miss you every single night, especially when the sky is so deep and beautiful, and the ground so very cold......