In a slow prowl, she closes in. Her eyes beckon me towards her. Already under her total control, I poise myself for her approach. Her perfume – laced with something beautifully wicked (wretched), like flowers in full bloom brining life to a morgue – overtakes my senses. I comb my fingers through her dark hair, draped over her deathlike pale skin, like a cloak of shadows, and I impregnated my lungs.
Starring into my eyes, she can see a part of my soul that I never knew existed. Her touch is light and soft – but ever so present.
She leads herself through an exploration of the land unknown, and takes mental note of the places that give her the most fancy. Trembling, I return her touch. She is softer than the blackest velvet, as my hand inches over her bare back. I can feel the rise and fall of every deep breath as I press my lips into her breast. Lost in an unconscious state, she massages my neck with her tongue. Deeper and deeper she digs into me, full intent of debauchery.
Our sweat mixes into one, as we solidify our devotion to another. I don’t know where it came from, but suddenly I felt the most intense, pleasurable pain one could experience. A little slip of her wrist, and I sink into oblivion; raking my nails down her powerful arms – her arms that look so powerful as they hold me down. She teases my lips with her moist fingertips, until she finally appeased them with her kiss of Death…
Grabbing a newly sharpened blade, she edges it over my chest, applying ever so little pressure, yet cutting ever so deep. My blood flows thick and hot through my veins. I burn for her – one beat of my heart is barely succeeded by the time the next one begins. Swirling her fingers around in my blood of passion, she etches her name on my chest. With a slightly evil glimmer in her eye, she gently sucked the gash, and I kissed the remaining blood off her voluptuous lips as I take control of the blade. A feeling of utter power and domination consumes me. Quivering, I glide the tool through her with brooding ease - like a lie cuts through a pure heart. I let the blood drain, and run its course over her sweaty skin. It’s a shade of red I’ve never seen; slightly surreal and immortal almost. Taking in the whole essence of her, I lick up her blood – there is something rather sinister about its taste. It’s cold. It burns my tongue like the frigid winter sleet. She caresses my face gently, and pulls me in close. She made love to my blood stained lips, gently whispered, “Sleep well, my love,” and guided my head unto her malicious breasts of deception. My body throbbing; my blood curdling; my skin turning pale – I close my eyes, and reminisce of how I’d been seduced by Death.
Current Mood: |
 sinister |
Current Music: |
Garbage ~ "Use Me" |
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