(no subject)
After a few days without meds, I can feel my passion for life returning to me! I feel vivified, rejuvinated, and very creative.
What better way to express that then by writing some porn? >8D
It's non-con. It's demonhuman
It's het.
I smell her approach from a few blocks away. Amidst the stench of filth from the slums of the city, my former colleague pierces the air with sweetness. I lick my lips and breathe. She draws closer, and I wait up against the wall of some abandoned residence, holding my cane tightly in my hands. I feel instincts rise to combat reason, I can feel my disguise waning and threatening to disappear altogether, because I smell her and I want her and so very soon I will have her.
She steps into view and my pupils narrow into slits so that I might see her clear as day. She wears a blood red dress, and in her pale blonde hair sits a silk red rose. Her buttons come up to her throat, and her skirts are wide and elegant. I beckon her come with a wave of a finger, and solemnly she obliges. I can see the hatred in her eyes. I bury my nose into her hair and inhale, and she flinches, shudders, and turns away.
“Christine,” I say into her ear, putting my hands on her sides and letting them roam as they choose, “it would be a shame for you to have come so far only to have your dear Lenora’s head on a platter. Obey me, or else I’ll turn much more barbaric attentions to her.”
She gulps, and I can hear every muscle contraction and release as she swallows.
“One day,” she vows, “one day you’ll pay for this.”
She amuses me so, my dear Christine, a pretty human with wit on her, and such passion. Now she has a passionate hatred for me, and I’m ravenous for the sentiment, but even more to feel her body fighting me off as I take her for myself.
I shatter the wooden door with barely a push. Christine, always horrified by my strength, has widened eyes, and a resigned grimace. I know she fears my brutality, and I am glad- her fear only feeds my lust. To have her fear me is to make her mine completely, body and mind and spirit.
I pick her up and feel her tense in my arms. Slowly and ceremoniously, I search for a room suitable for our purposes. I kick open doors at random until I find a bedroom. I love the room already, it’s rather foreboding, with a dark red canopy over a thick and sturdy bed. I lay my conquest on the bed and toss my cane, hat, and overcoat aside. She watches me, paralyzed, as I undo layers of clothing on myself and then her. She makes no move to help or hinder me, which amuses me. She seems so lovely when she’s resigned.
“Christine.” I say, leaning towards her tenderly, pushing hair away from her face. She still has the red flower in her hair; I rip it out and toss it away. The force of the action has her trembling faintly, and she looks so delicate and vulnerable. This close to her, I can smell Lenora on her flesh, faintly, from when they had last made love. I was sure that, despite Lenora and I being the same damn species, she was certainly loving and gentle, none of which was in my plans for the evening. “Ah, that’s right, my love. You’ve never been properly fucked before, have you?” She blinks back tears. I start to salivate; just looking at her in such a state of helplessness makes me hungry for her.
I put my hands on her breasts and squeeze hard. She hisses and wrenches her eyes shut, determined not to let me get under her skin.
“My precious whore, don’t be ashamed at your own pleasure.”
“I take no pleasure from this!” she shrieks, tensing even more beneath my fingers as I claw into her flesh.
I brush her hair aside, and say very clearly into her ear,
“If you say one more word of defiance, I will kill you.”
She clenches her mouth; I can hear her teeth grinding behind her delicate pink lips. I continue clawing at her skin, leaving bright red streaks on her torso and sides. Soon enough I pry her legs open and shove myself into her.
My little whore screams out in pain, and I smile as she twists and writhes in the sheets. I push deep inside her, tearing and searing her delicate skin. She speaks not a word, but can’t stop screaming.
I revel in the screaming, am encouraged to go further, to inflict more pain. She is cold and burning at once, she is agonized and humiliated and I need more of her. I want to own her because she does not yet belong to me; I want her to succumb to me until she draws her every breath for me.
I lean down and clamp my teeth on her shoulder, and it must take her all her will not to push me off. I sense her overpowering need to get away from me, but my will is stronger, and my brute strength greater than hers. I pin her arms above her head to enforce my dominance. I fuck her until my pleasure in her overtakes my pleasure in destroying her.
After a long while, I finally collapse upon her, shaking with pleasure. “Christine,” I say mock-lovingly, “I love you, Christine.” Yes, I love hurting you, fucking you, making you weep and howl in disgrace. I love imagining how you will return home, all broken and bruised and smelling of me. Lenora will know. She’s like me, a demon with super-human senses and a taste for vengeance and sex and blood. “I love you, Christine.” Because I do love her, in all ways a demon should love a human. I love controlling her and feeding on her despair.
I pull out of her and begin redressing myself.
“Until we meet again,” I say with a gentlemanly tip of my hat, “sweet little slut.”
I modestly prop the door back up so she can change, and exit with a flourish of my coat, back into the world of night.
.