Just Because I Can....

In order to know virtue, we must first acquaint ourselves with vice.

Juicy Fruit Friday

Tantalizing Tribulations {Part 7}

As she turned on her heels to walk away, the beast sprang. Her words, caustic and defiant, scythed through Him like a blade and struck a nerve deep inside. No one speaks to Him like this. No mere mortal had ever addressed Him this way and lived. He had reduced these frail creatures to quivering masses, devouring on their souls as they prayed to be released from the depths of their agony. They submitted to His every whim if only they were allowed to die, for death was peaceful in contrast to the pain. And yet, as he launched Himself towards her, there was something about her that gave Him pause. Biting down harshly onto His tongue to control the raging demon that was now fully awake and aroused, He was beside her in two bounds. With the acrid metallic taste filing His mouth, breathing deep to suppress His anger and lust, He forced His voice to remain steady.

Grab her hair! Drag her back to the tree! Use your teeth! Put your hands to good use! Do it now!!

"That's no way to treat a gentlemen My Lil Vixen".
She stopped to look Him straight in the eye and that's when He acted. With snake-like speed His left hand was entwined in her hair, His right hand about her throat. His face so close to her lips He could smell the fruity aroma of her lipstick, "In fact", He sneered, His breath rustling a few wisps of her red mane that strayed across her fine face, "I would dare to venture that your disposition is down right rude, don't you think?"
She did not make a move or make a sound. Every muscle in His body coiled tight to deal with any fight that she might put up, screamed with tension and His hands began to shake. Her lack of resistance coming as a surprise.

Fight you bitch! claw at my wrists! bite my hand! kick and struggle why don't you! make this enjoyable!!

She remained steadfast, her body rigid and composed as she glared back at Him with eyes that smouldered brazenness and open impudence. The realization then hit Him like a hand out of the darkness almost knocking Him backwards. She was not afraid! This was exactly what she wanted. He had played right into her own diabolical game. A game where the rules were to be made up as the actors walked onto the un-earthly stage. Removing His hand with deliberate slowness from around her neck and taking a step back, a carnal grin uncurled across His lips as He released her hair feeling it curtain down the back of her coat.

"Excuse my impulsiveness m'lady, I didn't mean to frighten you. Perhaps you would like me to walk you home?"

From deep inside, the beast raised it's head and howled, it's foul breath rustling the leaves of the trees as it rushed out into the ink dark night.

Tantalizing Tribulations {Part 6}

Peering up to Him she did, her went idle, fingers ever so slightly splayed atop the eroded and pitted stone of some obscure mortal that had lost their life. She mused a moment or two at his comment ‘My Lil Vixen’. The right hand corner of her mouth, twitched almost without notice a quiet reflection of her arrogance. She all but drank in all His movements gauging his next move perchance? Distinctive articulate actions. His voice, surreal not of this earth or so it seemed, playing tricks upon her mind, for the underscore of his voice was almost commanding growl hidden beneath his well spoken manner hood. What in god’s creation had she met up with on this night as the wind seemed to pick up behind him, the creaking groan of the bare branches void of leaves moaned out eerily into the night. She gave a sound almost kindred to that of a grunt at his last comment, giving shrug as though she cared not what he called her.

“As you desire then.” Her tone flat, nonchalant even, her one hand still resting on the tombstone, the other now at her waist, the black leather of the trench coat bunching there, as it opened, revealing to him, the boots, thigh high black leather the faint glint of metallic boot heel as she shifts her weight from the left foot to that of the right. Naught much else could be seen in the dimness of night.

“Time?” She sneered now. “Whatever so do you mean by that Dirk?” Her stance slight more defensive in nature now, the green eyes narrowed slits of almost hateful distrust. “I am afraid I do not have the time to dally; the hour is late and I am tired. And slightly hostile; the longer I am kept from a warm fire and my glass of wine.” Her small house sat alone on the other side of the cemetery and now she was becoming agitated her tone touching on caustic. Her head tilted back as the moonlight cascaded a beam atop her, alabaster neck slender now fully exposed as she mocked him next each word hinted laughter. “Be gone with you man, you are not worth my time and effort. Take it to some filthy subservient slut or wench. For that I AM NOT.” Mutters something along the lines that…..”…be damned I would fight you tooth and nail…..”

She boldly turned to leave thusly momentarily turning her back on him to return back to the pathway that would take her home the rest of the way through the cemetery.

Tantalizing Tribulations {Part 5}

He could have smiled or snarled, she couldn't quite tell in the dark. Lips pulled back, teeth iridescent and bared in the waning moonlight, His face still shadowed. And then she heard Him laugh. A soft sound, ominous like the distant sound of thunder, yet with undertones of genuine mirth...

He watched as she took two steps forward knowing that her curiosity had overcome her fear. Drawn like a moth to a lantern, she had to see His face. He chuckled again at her words, her voice soft as a plucked harp yet brimming with arrogance, defiant in the face of the unknown. In an instant, He took a liking to this woman. He admired her resolve, and just as instantly resolved to take it easy with her. Easy prey indeed. He giggled to Himself as His mind went off on yet another tangent, congratulating Himself on the silly word-play that came to Him so easily.

'Cos I'm e-eas-ay, e-easy on a Sunday mor-orning', sang The Commodores inside His head.

With yet another effort, He snapped out of His reverie, reminding Himself that this woman deserved His attention. "Get a grip man, there is business at hand!", he snarled inwardly. He took a moment to assess the situation once more before He made any move. She was obviously armed and not afraid to use the little dirk which had disappeared just as quickly as it had appeared. There was the imperious manner in her poise. The graceful elegance in her stance. He could also tell that she was used to getting her own way. His first assessment of her was right. Of course it was-He was never wrong. He wondered what attire was hidden beneath the long coat -if there was anything at all. A vision flashed before His eyes, of her kneeling naked and face down on, tears spilling down the cold hard granite of the gravestone she was pushed upon, her silken alabaster back violated by three gash marks slashed diagonally across her skin. Bright red droplets marking the angry trail.

The beast awakened by the rude percussion, slowly raised it's head and growled, low, deep and long. It smelt her fear above the scent of her perfume - Lilac and Lavender, and the tattoo of her nails as it tapped atop the headstone, beat in perfect metre with it's cold dark heart.

The marked contempt in her voice coursed through his belly to the creature inside to blow softly upon it's fevered brow. It stirred, stretched out a stiff limb and flexed a claw cragged and knotted from an eternity of darkness. A hooded shadow crossed His eyes as the beast peered forth at this woman and He almost flexed a hand towards her. The urge to reach out and hook a talon along the top of her long coat - to hear her breath hiss with each pop of a button, to release her ample breasts, to graze a sharp nail along a soft rosy nipple, raged through His being. He would bring her to her knees with a single command. He would slip His still moist cock from within His jeans, hard and throbbing. She would extend her tongue, eyes closed and accept the sacrament of His host with docility and submission. She will please Him as He sees fit.

From deep within, the beast raised it's monstrous head and growled, it's loins aroused by the depraved vision. It's malignant heart beating once again to push the malodorous blood through it's blackened veins. Parched scales stretched and cracked as it's body slowly uncoiled. A serpentine tongue flicked out to savour the moment as a longer, abominable growl escaped it's withered lips.

He cleared His throat, to mask the sound. Stepping forward into the moonlight, fighting back the carnal urges, His features soft and expressive, He addressed her, "At the risk of sounding trite m'lady, what's a girl like you doing wandering through these grounds so late at night? You never know what lurks within these shadows"

He watched her start, a flicker of something cross her face - eagerness perhaps, fear or willingness?

He smirked, and His eyes flicked to her tapping fingers, long and slender tapering to perfectly filed nails. "I shall call you My Lil Vixen-for now. There is time enough to learn your true name"

Tantalizing Tribulations {Part 4}

He watched her approach and His loins stirred from a long forgotten longing. A burning hunger that had to be repressed after ages of unsatisfactory encounters. His heart began to thud in His chest, His breath puffing out of His flared nostrils in small wisps, the hairs at the nape of His neck erect and tingling. A smile borne from the carcass of a thousand dead souls, crossed His face, pure evilness glowing from the shadowed features. His tongue flicked once more across His lips as He scrabbled forward silently, the sound muffled by the soft, moist soil of the freshly dug grave, the rich smell of the earth permeating His senses.
She must have heard something for suddenly, a glint of steel flashed in the cool night. His breath caught in His throat and He froze as the realization that she was armed hit Him.
"Shit!" He swore under His breath. This was an unexpected turn of events, but still within His control nevertheless. Just would not be as easy as He had hoped. His mind flashed back to the last time someone had resisted Him, or tried to, He corrected Himself. She had put up quite a fight, impressive for such a petite little thing. He had picked her up up not two blocks from here with promises of a hot meal, a shower and $200 for an hour of His entertainment. She was pretty, one of the better looking ones, legs accentuated by high heels, ending in tight ass, flowing blonde hair and lovely pert breasts. A shame about those breasts really, and what had to be done to them. She had collapsed like a rag doll finally, wetting herself, ruining the expensive stockings He had asked her to wear, when He had exercised His master-stroke upon the soft skin, nipples pushed erect by her sheer terror.

He shook His head, snapping out of His reverie. There was business at hand and this new woman was walking towards Him. He marvelled at her stride. Back erect, head held high, measured steps so perfectly in time, He could have composed a symphony - perhaps a swan song? he snickered. But His composure was short-lived as she turned towards Him and stopped not more than 3 metres from Him. His cock jumped within the tight constraints of His jeans, all feelings of relieving Himself again forgotten. An icy hand clamped across His chest, making it hard to breathe and His heart pounded so hard against His rib cage, He was forced to steady Himself against a cool, hard rock of a nearby headstone. How the fuck did she know He was here! Did she notice Him or sense Him? Had He spoken out aloud? His face prickled with anticipation and near awe at the sheer courage of this woman. She was stunningly beautiful, now that she was so close, Her features soft and delicately carved. A long neck flowing downwards to an ample bosom that rose and fell with her breath. A glimpse of defined cleavage beneath her coat, and He knew instantly how he could use that tight space. He slurped at the spittle that almost escaped His lips, trying to decide His next move-and then she spoke.

"Be you man or beast..."
The sound of her voice, delicately garnished by a thousand years, soft and lilting, accented by history, sent a bolt of bright blue electricity through Him that He had never felt before. It filled His ears with a thunderous roar, prickling His face and neck as it surged downwards through His belly to jolt against His loins. The beast awakened by the rude percussion, slowly raised it's head and growled, low, deep and long. It smelt her fear above the scent of her perfume - Lilac and Lavender, and the tattoo of her nails as it tapped atop the headstone, beat in perfect metre with it's cold dark heart.

He stepped out of the shadows on silent feet, the silvery moon cloaking Him in a shroud of obscurity and faced her.
"Good Evening m'lady, Please let me introduce myself". Glancing down at the small weapon in her right hand, His eyes flicked upward to meat her emerald orbs, bright in the reflective moonlight, before bowing to her,
"My name is Dirk"

Tantalizing Tribulations {Part 3}

"We produce books for the discriminating collector. The compulsive inmates set the type, the listless ones do the binding and prepare the ink."

Her hands jammed into the front pockets fingernails cutting almost half-moons into the delicate flesh of her palms. No mark, no callouse marks her hands a feature she would not be able to hide, even though all else of her nature, Highborne, hidden and covered with a back alley drawl. Her gait even straight and narrow with the gentle rolling of her hips, left, right, left right. The tattoo of her boot heels echoed her passage further, deeper into the Cemetery, iridescent green eyes flicked to the left and right, the looming head stones carving surreal shapes into the misted rolling fog that enveloped the pathway almost illuminated sadistic twisted visuals. The fine hairs on the back of her neck stood erect all of a sudden, her nostrils flared in warning as the icy tingle ran down her spine, she quirked a brow stopping, her right hand racing out of her pocket. Armed. A glinting of silver caught the bestraggled moonlight above as the clouds flee across the midnight sky. A lady like dagger, the blade twisted to a fine honed point acidic etchings into the blade worn away from age. The hilt, white ivory, rolled fluidly in the palm of her hand as if welcoming an old friend. She once again continued her walk, her eyes shifted untrustingly to the unfathomlessness that surround here, muting her senses, twisting her thoughts. She thought she heard something, her head cocked to the right her gait slightly slower, but still self assured that she could handle herself. Guttersnipe, cut-throat, vagabond beware, she thought. Unruly locks of her coppery hair twisted about her alabaster face in which reflect naught of her terror but of her own heightened amusement; for she now knew she was not alone. What? Whom? She did not know, but she was sure going make sure they got the point firstly. Nipples instantly hardened, why? She knew not, but the fine points cut into the roughness of the black wool sweater tight against them, her breasts testing the tight confines, pulled taunt till the five glass buttons threatened to pop with strain. Withdrawing her left hand she felt out for the head stones as she now left the path, her boot heels sinking easily into the soft wet laden earth. Bramble snagged at her legs, she was not as quiet as she wished. A low growl came from her red tainted lips as her left hand snaked out onto a weather worn head stone of a head bowed Angel, wings tilted inwards to shadow the Dead that lay below. Her breasts heaved as she breathed deep; a bitter taste came up over the back of her mouth. Fear. Standing bold, upright, shoulders back, enough of this! Her voice a soft almost ancient accent filtered in and out of her words.

“Be you beast or man. Come out now and know outright that I bow to no man or god. “

Head up, chin level, the aristocratic poise was unmistakable, the attire a putt off, a sham. A wolf in sheep’s clothing perhaps was she. Her fingernails curled over the top of the head stone of ‘ I. B. Fine’ in almost annoyed beat she began to tap those long tapered fingernails against the hard gray stone.Twirling the dagger in that of her right hand, the blade flinting silver in the moonlight accenting herself as being armed. Unbeknownst to her, she had walked directly towards him, that silent calling that tugged her; this way and that till she was there and now. Waiting…waiting….

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...

Tantalizing Tribulations

" One is never so dangerous when one has no shame, than when one has grown too old to blush."

Storm had ended, the night ripped open painfully dark, the moon tore through the black set night like shredded velvet, the black wispy tendrils caressed the full face of the yellow moon. A faint echoing down the bare city street, a clicking of metallic boot heels against the pavement, down the middle of the road she walked. A stray faint arcing of blue as the steel tipped heels found a pebble in the pavement. Attired in a full black leather trench coat, billowing out behind her as her gait was swift and even, hands balled to fists shoved in the front pockets. Damp curling red hair hung in tangled wayward waves down her back. She was walking home, the buses stopped an hour ago, and well a cab would not be caught dead here in this part of town. To her left the Cemetery came to view, all around her silence not even a rat or alley cat. An odd eerie illuminescent glow game over her, each time she passed under the street lamps that lined the road. Her only source of light as she left the road and turned into the Cemetery, taking the short-cut home, would cut off at least thirty minutes off her walking time. Into the Cemetery she traversed, without really a second thought pushing open the rusted wrought iron gates. Now her boot heels clicked and echoed the Sanctuary of the Cemetery, she had no fear of waking anyone up here, everyone was dead asleep. She snickered and disappeared into the darkness, the low laying mist grabbed and snatched around her booted feet as she went down the narrow lane......