Tuesday, 26 July 2011

See Me

{Somewhere, in the depths of subconscious, when the dream tide washes me up on the shores of reality, I am aware that I am dreaming, but then the undertow of the rolling surf drags me back down into the depths of sleep and my skin is hot, sheened with sweat, muscles aching from building walls... brick upon brick.. wall within wall until I am trapped in a prison of my own construction, fuck...right... yeah..as if erecting barriers could keep out the grim fucking reality..Tory and I are in deep fucking shit, true. 
  As if partitioning off my hunger would somehow sate the ravenous animal clawing under my skin...nice try V...It's just an empty room, true... without her, without Tory in it...It's just a secret room and you didn't even have the balls to let her in..to show her what you really need from her...the hard-ass warrior is afraid...afraid she doesn't want your sick depravity.. Scared she doesn't want you.. in the dream my own demented laughter reverberates in the enclosed space, mocking me... I am alone in the hidden, sound-proofed room, with it's black candles and the rack, the wall of toys and my own mirrored reflection staring back at me in silent accusation...
  I am dog tired, weary of tilting at windmills...and I hunger, so fucking hungry, famished...and the very thing I crave, Tory's scent is everywhere, permeating the air, flooding my senses, thunderstorms and dark spices and leather, hardening my cock to aching, steely arousal...fuck...gloved hand drifting inexorably down, coasting over hard abs, fisting the thick shaft, a cold substitute for the embrace of Tory's lusciously tight, silken flesh... but here in my dream it is not my hand that strokes the hard length.. fuck no, it's her, and when I come, alone here in the candlelight, the hot evidence slick in my palm, no crystal tears will burn my eyes because the pitiful, lonely release only serves to make me miss her more... no, here in the dream it is her body winding down on my cock fitting me like a tight, velvet glove, in the dream we are together, complete and the contact is electrifying, soul searing... Fuck...}
*I am fury and sex poured into leather and silk, a thunderstorm laced into a bladed corset and stockings, I am hunger and need bared to the air as I cross the suite, newly refurbished, so fucking perfect...but something is missing...I didnt point it out when he brought us home...the lack of everything...the wall of toys, the rack...our old home had catered to our every perverted want. Why had he got rid of such a haven of beautiful depravity? Our bedroom, adjoining the nursery but set away, walled off from our young, separating parents from lovers...in the end, just a beautifully crafted, deliciously dark bedroom, with a glass wall and mirrored ceiling...nothing to signify we will take up our dark proclivities...was Caith right? Was he going elsewhere for his base needs? Maybe he hasnt given up his Dom lifestyle..he's just given it up with me? Snapping my head in a vicious shake, trying to wake myself from the melancholy...
  I am an addict, I crave, I yearn, I long to possess and be possessed once more. I cannot take it. My withdrawal symptoms are a permanent state of arousal, V's kiss, his scent, his voice, the way he holds me when we sleep, the way we feed, keeping me in a constant sexual state of suspended animation, going through the motions with only half of my self, the other drifting on tenuous links. It has always been sacred to us...the physical unity. So untrusting of anyone, our first time was borne out of pure, animal lust, no thoughts, no time to contemplate repercussions, we wanted, and we took...and our hearts followed on instinct, trusting, learning...loving. V denies us our soul alchemy, denies us the sanctuary of each others bodies, and maybe I havent pushed for it, but no one wants to be rejected by their world and an inner voice spewed its insecurity all over my arousal whenever I even thought about seeking him out. Purring low in my throat as memory rushes through me, the remnants of a dream, the animal appreciation, the female thrill at the forefront, remembering being suspended, vulnerable only to him, from the shiny chains hanging from the ceiling, painted in molten wax, having him so deep inside me I thought we would never be separated...but that wont happen again until he wants me, until he sees me as a female, not merely the mother of his young.
  God...had he even noticed when I slipped from our bed to hand the twins over to Jodi? Noticed when the door closed as she took them into Rehv's Penthouse next door, close enough to protect, but far enough that we had free rein in our redecorated suite? Probably not...I doubt V even realises when I'm not next to him anymore...selecting my torment of choice from the bag I had Fritz bring, an alarm clock of sorts that will rouse my male from his day sleep, palming the smooth handle and stalking, a predator, out to the newly walled off bedroom, on stockinged feet, panties left off. No point deceiving either one of us. In my scheme of things, they would only be a hindrance. Faltering in my predatory gait, a nervous smoothing of skin-tight leather, a tug on the suspenders, uncharacteristically shy...my eyes closing briefly...you are as you were Tory...he'll want you still...my mantra, chanted in my head as I push the bedroom door open...only to be assualted by anger...a rage that hurts in it's vehemence...
 Beauty and power, and barely leashed sexual hunger is on our bed, a caged beast fighting for freedom from a dream that has worked my male into a storm of sex that apparently only his own hand can sate. Well. Fuck. That! And fuck it fucking sideways! I dont even think, my voice snarls out with the crack of the whip, lashing V's upper thighs with the tightly braided strands of leather* Warrior!
Fuck!! {lids flying wide on a snarl as searing heat strikes a lash of agony over my skin... and holy mother of fuck...this is no fucking dream. Tory is death and seduction in tight leather and silk, fury and raw sex pouring off her in waves, astonishing, breath-stealing pain burning off the cloudy haze of sleep...diamond eyes, glazed with confusion following the path of your penetrating, accusatory stare down to my lap...fuck...busted...fully, massively erect, my arousal lying right up my tight abs, gloved hand curled tight around the heavy shaft...Fuckfuckfuck!! Snatching at the black silk to cover the evidence...too disorientated to comprehend that it's way too late to front, swallowing hard, clearing the gravel from my throat, diamond gaze slowly lifting to yours as though you controlled my eyes, jaw hitting the fucking floor, taking you in from lithe stockinged legs, midnight waves curling at your bare ass, lush curves encased in tight leather, the whip swinging in your grip, right up to the seething sexual light blazing in your emerald eyes} Tory....
*my name...you used my name...I fight the urge to close my eyes and savour that connection, in such a sexually charged environment, you used my name...and I am no longer hard fury...I am liquid desire, anger sparking the atmosphere around me...softer, but no less dangerous for the fact that I am insanely aroused. Strange, such conflicting emotions, I want to make you suffer, hurt as I hurt...betrayal sharp in the second strike, tearing silk from your skin with a slash of the whip, leather hitting the reddened flesh of your thighs, dark satisfaction in the way you jolt, in the way your gaze darts from my head to my toes, jaw dropped, your body bared to the thunder of my tumultuous emotions, a demand in the black hide-encased lines of my tense form...my words are low, rough, forcibly detached...how could you not come to me?* Did I tell you to stop, warrior? Or is my presence less stimulating than a dream? Stroke, warrior...I want to watch...*I want to see...I want to see if your desire fades under my gaze...if your dream female will hide in the face of my wrath, I command your obedience even as my hand trembles around the wooden shaft of the whip, caressed like a lover and striking out again, a single lash flaying the skin of your hip, my control on the edge...I'm going to break...I love you and I need to know..*

{fuck...Okay...Tory has my full, undivided bonded-male attention, even before my eyes dart to the sudden flick of your wrist, the droning whine of the whip cutting a swath through the electrified atmosphere, my jaw snapped shut on a loud hiss, thigh muscles jerking as the tip cracks over my inked skin, a hairs breath from the mess of scar tissue at my groin, the silk sheet whipped away, fangs punching down, lethal twin daggers...heckles raised at your barked command, but my  cock jerks to attention, the lash of pain striking a match in the deep, dark cave of my twisted desires} You want me to give you a show? {the words are edged with anger, when inside your words flay my soul raw...dream female? Fuck...no dream could touch the feral eroticism of this moment...circling one another for so long, weapons drawn, stepping on the shattered glass of our relationship...and here you stand, drawing first blood, lashing out with same fury and frustration and sexual heat that is boiling up inside of me...lids lowering as I look at you...really look at you, lust rolling off my tense body in dark, erotic waves, the sheet tugged lower down my thighs, exposing myself fully, my words a husky command} look at me Tory...no...not my eyes...Look at what you do to your male... watch how you make me feel {the tattoos in my groin stretching as my thigh shifts, tongue licking a slow, wet draw up the centre of my gloved palm, closing the slick hide around the rock-hard achingly aroused shaft, the touch of leather on sensitive skin searing, my breath catching as I slowly stroke fine skin over the iron core, my eyes locked on you, watching you, growling huskily} you like what you see, shellan mine?

*no...I will not be appeased...I will not...but the moan is already bubbling in my throat, snatched back by sheer force of will, jaw locked, concealing wicked long fangs, biting out, fingers holding a death grip on the whips handle* Fuck...*your question, the dark anger crawling through your arousal mirroring mine, refracting the fury writhing a tempest in my soul off crystal desire...Fuck I want you, but you have to be absolutely sure you want me...I have to be sure...a threat escaping on a growl, no words as your command strikes at my longing, your body completely exposed, warnings bold, stark at your groin, and every word has been licked, touched, tasted...when I was allowed so close, when you didnt turn to your own hand...and you hold me, captivated, unable to look away from the fingers wrapping black leather around the thick shaft of your cock, stroking up the steel silk length, working yourself into the tight fist that evokes my jealousy and steals my breath, heart hammering, thighs slick, anger warring with lust, love battling with insecurity, a constant fight between oppositions that tear my body into a mess of chaotic arousal, rioting emotions confusing the flush of my skin with a furious need...what am I? Are my reactions borne of this emotion or that one? The only thing I am certain of in the electrical storm running bolts through my veins, is that I can see only you, hear only you. My name on your lips, the title that deems us mated...your shellan...well fucking prove it! My body answers any and all questions you pose, blooming the sultry scent of my hunger, glistening with the molten love that burns for you...and my hand flicks back, a subtle motion, cracking the bite of leather into your hip, a kiss from my lips would hurt more at this time, approval laced into the pain, my body aching to ease you, rooted to the spot by misgivings* What is the name of your shellan?
{hips jacking up off the black silk, the stinging kiss of leather only fuelling the flames of lust that lick over my scorched skin, diamond eyes narrowed, fanged bared in defiance, gritting out the words} Tory... my shellan's name is Tohrture... mate, soul, fucking Mistress... I will have no other, true {dropping back into the black pillows, abs contracting, hips rolling, powerful forearm flexing and releasing as I work the thick girth of my erection through my gloved fist in long, lazy strokes, the blunt head offering up a single crystal tear as I focus friction at its base, breath quickening... Darkly hooded eyes on you, always on you, free hand releasing its grip on the black silk to stroke the scarred skin of my sac, my voice a rough, lusty rasp} you want to be doing this to me, don't you Tory? {sucking in a ragged breath} I can smell the arousal coming off you right now {eyes flaring ice diamond, pumping fist never missing a stroke, growling low} I could take you down on the floor right here, Tory, pinned under me, I could be deep inside you in a single beat of that fluttering heart in your chest.. and you wouldn't fight me, would you, shellan mine? {lips moistened by a flick of my tongue} Do you want to watch me come, Tory? Keep this up much longer and you're going to find out exactly how badly I am fucking dying to come inside of you again. Don't fucking deny you want it too. We need this, Tory...
*the moans that spill out are pure animal...emerald fire torn between falling into your gaze and tracking the rhythmic strokes working your cock, every word growled from your lips knifing through my core, lances of vicious desire tainted with the dark intensity of our need for one another, feeding off the sexual energy that warps reality until life's a blur and the world falls away to black, midnight, lit with diamonds..my resistance snaps...no one can contain a storm for long and it breaks free, a lightning strike jolting my core, ripping away any boundaries I built up, setting fences on fire, the hurricane of my need tumbling walls I didnt even know had risen...and when I touch you, a thunderstorm of passion is roaring in every cell, a smirk curling my lip in something too dangerous to be mistaken for a smile...so dominant, my male is...so fierce, pushing me, breaking me, stripping me to the foundations by blatantly thrusting my own lust into the arena of our sexual battle...No fucking way in hell will you take your pleasure from anywhere but inside me...one smooth, flawless move and the silken liquid sheath of my core replaces your hand, a rapid reach and expert fastenings leaving your wrists manacled, chained to the headboard, my thighs caging your hips, seated to the hilt before either of us can draw another breath...my body aflame, going down in the inferno of my hunger...fuck...you're inside me...you're inside me and as the thick shaft of your erection caresses my inner walls, filling me to near painful capacity, I can breathe again, my heart can beat steady, the world can realign and those strands that have been stretched so taut, have marked the distance between us, can entwine once again in the tangle of our souls...the tears that blur my vision are crystal, blinked back, leaving emerald free to fall into diamond pools as my body winds down an erotic dance of sensuous, rough desire, slick, yielding velvet gripping the iron of your shaft possessively with each undulating slam, dictating the pace, my fingers curling into your chest, raising bloody gouges, my passion a snarling purr in my throat* Vishous... 
Fuck YES!!! {snarling raw, animal satisfaction as you yield and launch yourself on me, a frenzied feline assault of lithe limbs and whipping, ebony hair, instinct driving me to yank at the manacles that pin my arms, body flailing beneath you, struggling, denied touch.. but Ahh fuck!! My mouth breaking open on a low groan, your slick, swollen folds parting over the exquisitely sensitive head of my cock, impaling yourself on the thick girth of me, vicing my shaft in the molten silk fist of your core..the contact jolts shocks of sexual current through my body, hips bucking up off the sheets to drive every last inch through your clenched resistance, kissing your depths on growled moans...the gathering storm of release clouding my diamond eyes...sweet fuck, but you are pure animal sex, no inhibitions, no awkwardness, undulating, inked skin winding down my iron length...this is my Tory, my fierce warrior female, my soulmate, my shellan, taking what is hers with rough authority...so fucking erotic, clinging by my fingernails to my sanity, orgasmic tension wound tight, the pressure unbearable agony, the clawed score of your nails in my skin catapulting me over the edge} Fuck!! MINE!! Tory MINE!!
*a symphony of whimpered growls and snarled purrs singing the melody our bodies grind to, writhing down in brutal counter-thrusts as your hips kick up, punching you into the heart of me, pounding you over the sweet spot inside me that radiates the orgasmic tremors throughout the rippling spasms in my core, primal, feral ecstasy crashing into me with every lithe, sinuous rotation of my hips, nerves humming with my need, resonating on the grinding penetrations burying you ever deeper, the primitive choreography of our souls driving the pace, amping up the high voltage current lighting us up like the fucking sun, a circuit of pure, undiluted, uninhibited, wanton desires binding us close, your soul in the bright diamond of your eyes, unwilling to look away even as my head snaps back, my hair a silken whip flaying your thighs and my ass, everything raw, tender, my emotions glistening on my skin, wild as I take you...fucking MINE! Your warriors roar echoes my scream of possession, your name torn from my lips as the chaos of our love and near fucking psychotic hunger seizes me in the tempest of carnal release, my climax a shattering, atom-splitting detonation that jerks us into mirror images, spines arched, taut as ecstasy assaults us and my nails rake viciously through your skin, colouring you with my brand* Fuckfuck!! Yours, Vishous...all fucking yours...
{your name roared from my lungs, craving you for so very fucking long, starved of your touch, the ravenous animal unleashed, out of control on sensory overload, hips kicking up wildly between your thighs, as though I could punch myself any damn deeper, stretching the depths of your shuddering desire, the scoring drag of your nails down my pecs felt in the pulsing of my cock, deep inside your rhythmically contracting walls that vice me tighter with every quivering wave of release and fuck.. I am derailed by the sensations, the pain, the agonising pleasure, the current of emotion flowing between our connected bodies, love and lust a raging fever in my blood, consumed, my spine bowed up, the manacles on my wrists tearing into my flesh, fangs drawing blood from my lower lip as I erupt, a blinding explosion of pent-up frustration and need, jolting hot bursts of exquisite ecstasy right to the heart of you, branding you inside, snarling your name, a bloom of exotic, possessive spices on my sweat glistening skin, head falling back on a ragged pant} fuck, I missed you Tory...I fucking love you, my twisted, crafty, sex on the edge, warrior shellan... so damn good to be home, true..
*half laughing, half crying, tears salting your skin as I collapse, my fingers working to free you from the chains so I can feel your touch, so your fingers can soothe the tremors in my body, can just fucking hold me, skin to skin, heartbeat to heartbeat, the tears involuntary, crystal happiness and release falling into the hollow of your shoulder, aftershocks ridden out in slow rolling twists of my hips, bursts of ecstasy live wires under my skin, keeping my arousal at the edge, a single touch could send me flying right now, free falling into the oblivion of soul-soaring euphoria once more* I was right here, Vishous....always here...I missed you, I love you, my infuriating hellren, my master, my lheage...my fucking everything...we're home...*sighing in contentment as need unfurls, languid, closing the DM door over so we can...rest....*
 

Sunday, 17 July 2011

I Miss You

{closing myself into the walk-in closet, rack upon rack of neatly ordered black on black, running my hands through the leathers and muscle tees, the air in the confined space sultry with the scents of masculinity and dark, spiced possession, yet finding it strangely easier to breathe in here. Since the births, Tory has worn my oversized shirts, like this one flowing through my gloved hand now, the ones that skim her thighs at just the height to draw a male's gaze higher still and leave him wetting dry lips and aching fangs, following the shadowy patterns of my ink up her inner thighs with the promise of stolen, erotic glimpses.


She is utterly oblivious to the torture the most simple actions inflict on my traitorous body. 
The sweep of dark waves over one shoulder, exposing the slender, pulsing column of her throat, the flash of emerald fire in those beautiful, seductive eyes, the feline arch of her spine when she bends to lift Khaos or Xsykhe from the crib... swallowing back a groan..and fuck, as though taunting me, those curves just snapped right back into shape,  starved, diamond gaze watching the steady physical transformation as my old Tory re-emerges, but with a little extra nuance of tantalising femininity in the subconscious sway of her hips that is my fucking undoing. 


What cruel fucking fates conspired to make her even more desirable... how was that even fucking possible? And the agony and the irony is that I can't bring myself to fucking touch her. Early attempts at intimacy sabotaged by the crying demands of the twins, the well-intentioned interruptions of the Chosen, who have zero concept of privacy, true.. and most of all the bone-deep exhaustion of new parenthood that leaves Tory unconscious in my arms before the shutters even come down.... exhaling into the quiet of the closet's confines.. so I hold her, I feed her when she hungers, do what I can with the young.... but she never asks for more... she stopped asking.. I stopped demanding... Impasse, stalemate, deadlock...call it what you will, it's fucking killing me. 


Gloved hand clenched into a fist, teeth ground hard, tamping down the icy dread that she no longer desires me... males of my kind are bonded for life... females, not the same fucking biological deal, true...flayed raw with hunger, a snarling beast, pacing the bars of a cage of my own fucking making, because what kind of bastard would I be if I forced myself on her, true?.. but God, just the scent of her makes my breath quicken and my body heat....pausing.. head cocked curiously as my hands close around the black corset tucked discreetly away at the end of the rail.. gloved fingers stroking the glinting steel blades sheathed into the straps.. lids closing over haunted diamond eyes, the fabric fisted and crushed to my face, inhaling deep, drawing that scent down into my lungs...she is all over this fucking garment, steeped into every fibre and my cock hardens to a straining demand in the tight bondage of my leathers.... lethal blades and supple black hide and the scent of my female.. a potent, drugging cocktail that strikes a match to the volatile lust coursing through my already fevered blood. 


Forehead dropping to the wall, gloved hand running down my abs on instinct to cup the aching bulge of my erection, hips grinding the hard ridge into my palm, fangs punching down on a growl, Tory's scent flooding my senses, punishing myself like the sado-fucking-masochist I am, whispering hoarsely into the empty space} fuck Tory, I miss you.. you're right here but I miss you like fuck, true... 

Thursday, 14 July 2011

Meeting A Secret

*Someone is going to die if I find what I think I'm going to find in the beautiful, dark, kinky Penthouse suite we made our home in, and it isnt going to be pretty. No clean cuts, no protecting the females I fought for, they submit to my male, they touch him, feel the hunger I know is winding him up to something more than feral...they'll die...if he uses them, instead of me...they'll die. Fuck...I'm even dressed for the occasion, all assassin in leather, sleek hide molded to now pretty much taut curves, corset buckled around the holsters of my daggers, delineating every inch of my body in the exquisite mold of a predator...Might as well be pretty for my victims, since I never get the chance to wear it anymore...spit-up and leather dont mesh well...this 'run to the store' may take longer than anticipated if he really is keeping females in the Penthouse...or even if he isnt, isolating the scents and tracking the females down could take a while. 


The young left in the capable hands of their father, asleep, fed, a shitload of diapers and milk on hand if I'm not back, I'm thinking I wont be missed as I materialise on the balcony of our home...God I missed this place. Black silk sheets over a giant bed, the rack, the wall of toys, the splotch of purple paint covering a good portion of black wall...our scent, his bond, on every surface...if it smells of anyone else...Growling as I push the thought from my mind and take the step towards the doors...eyes widening on a shimmer of tears. For the Penthouse is not empty, there are...inhaling deep, senses flared out...five of my own kind in there...males. My heart stutters, hammering so loud against my ribs I am sure it can be heard through the sliding glass door. So...I guess it isnt considered cheating if it is with the same sex..no betrayal if it isnt with a female...is that it? Have I neglected him so much that a mere one wont satisfy, he has to work them out in multiples? A quiet snarl, all predator, all silent grace and lithe lines of violence, the air freezing as it touches me, chilled by my rage, the glass doors parting, not daring to deny the flex of my will, bidding me enter the cool suite...and ultimately flattening up against the hard wall of a male chest, a soft 'oomph' leaving my lips as I back-peddle, canines elongating in a warning hiss, exposing bright pearly daggers* Who the fuck are you?!! 


*Falling easily into a battle stance, the lethal silver of my blades glint the beams of moonlight to refract off a face paler than my own, not even porcelain, a shade lighter than anything I've seen, translucent in the glimmer of mercury kissing my palms, hilts flat to my wrist...apparently my daggers are just as eager to slice something tonight. With his hair slicked back, a platinum blond rarely found anywhere but a dye bottle, eyes a blood red, flashing amusement and annoyance down at me, the male looks like some sort of mutated Brother lesser...a threat, maybe, trying to intimidate me with the loom and silence. Eyes rolling on a derisive snort. Only ever serves to piss me off...or in V's case, turn me on...to act as though you can possess me. And this male is, his eyes narrowed to shrewd slits, gaze appraising my every leather encased curve, alighting with a quickly hidden flash of interest on the twin blades kissing my skin...I'm not naive. The countless females I have found who bowed to the wrong Master...and he is nothing if not a Master, good or bad. The arrogance, the slight camp air to his demeanor, the self-assuredness that comes with knowing he can get most anyone on their knees...and make them like it. It raises hackles that haven't been raised in a while and as I wait with the ever growing urge to kill him, a voice from inside cuts into a silence rife with promises of pain* <<Master, should we stop?>> *the response is quick* <<No, Markhas. Just a female with the most beautiful emerald hell-fire in her eyes. I believe I can handle her. Continue. This is a special request. Do not fuck it up!>> *there must have been an answer of some kind but it is lost to the white noise clouding my thoughts with insidious murmurings, Caith's voice the incessant niggling trying to convince my soul of something it refuses to acknowledge* 


<<Let me guess...*my eyes track with feline slits of green, the circling of this male, his voice deep, crimson eyes scanning the length of my body* You must be Tory. No wonder his scent flares so strong and he retired...when one has such as you surrendering to him, any male would give up his fancies for one try at bringing you to hand>> *a compliment? Maybe...but the snarl that rips from my throat is anything but submissive. I like to think I'm logical...but if V is keeping these males for, whatever...I dont trust my voice, it feels too raw, too on the edge, too desperate and as the words spill, his expression changes...from interest to sympathy* I am his...In the world you know, he is my Master, my lheage...to me, he is that and more...he is my soul, my world, my hellren and I need to know...*God, it feels like everywhere I turn people are forcing me to let my soul speak. To let out the things that were ours alone...to prove my love for V, to fight for him...as though I should have to. Fuck it. Vishous is MINE! Shaking his head, the male answers before my question can be spoken and my soul can die, his tone softening, calming the beast in me with a deep, accented rumble* <<Dear, dear, female...such violent possession...*his head cocked, eyes meeting mine, debating what to tell me* you dont like secrets do you? I am sworn to the most solemn of oaths...and I have no desire to meet the consequences if I break from that vow. He is not doing what you have been led to believe he is doing. Trust someone who has no reason to lie to you. Trust in your hellren...go back to your young, and stop brandishing those pretty blades at someone turned on by pain>> 


*well that shuts me down and my hand knocks from its threatening position, point of the dagger once pressing a glare of anger to his stomach, sheathed to my hips. Refreshing to find someone who isnt spewing bullshit that in all my post-natal insecurity, sounded plausible...even if everything else screamed it a falsehood. Damnit this strange male with his lesser looks makes sense...and I hate him for popping the bubble of my anger and uncertainty with the pin of his resolute belief. Absently peering around the bulk of his body to the bustle and clang shimmering out through the parting in the doors, my murmur low*  I trust only V ...*But instead of screaming and raging, of killing, torturing...I allow him to shoo me from the doors with a flourish of hand and leather crop, the glass silently sliding shut behind him as he returns to the black of the suite, leaving me to stare out over the twinkling night of the Caldwell skyline...my mind a little more at rest, my curiosity replacing the homicidal urges to kill anyone that may have been willing to answer V if he called for someone to sate him. Scrubbing a hand down my face, hair pushed from my eyes, the thick waves whipping my ass with a sweep of air rushing the corner as I demat to my soul and the squirming bundles of miracles that no doubt are cuddled with their father on the white linen expanse of our temporary bed*

Tuesday, 12 July 2011

Business

{lying to Tory came with a big side of gut-curling self-hatred.. cut right against the grain, true, but fuck it, I won't force this on her until she is literally begging for it. If she knew what I had planned here in the Penthouse, well... last thing I want is Tory feeling she's not giving me what I need. Doing this now was an insurance policy for our future. I only hoped to fuck she would see it the same way. It was a calculated risk. So I lied to her, fronted with some bullshit about Wrath hauling my ass back to Caldwell on Brotherhood biz, when in reality I'm holed up in the Penthouse waiting for a rendezvous with my past. And the cocksucker is late.. Archos, aka the Master, a title hard-earned, notoriously difficult to track down, known for his perfectionism and his discretion, both highly prized on the scene. Long damn time since I'd called on his services, true but fuck I wanted the male. Only the best was acceptable and he is the fucking best. End of. Pacing the Penthouse floor, sucking on a hand-rolled, awaiting his arrival... and when it comes, it is true to form.. fashionably late and melo- fucking-dramatic.


 Materialising on the balcony, larger than life, casting long shadows in a floor-dusting leather trench and black mirrored wraparounds, white blonde hair slicked back, skin translucent pale, a riding crop in one hand. The highly affected, Old Country inflection in his baritone voice, dripping thick as molasses <<Vishous>> the sibilant pronunciation slithers down my spine <<You look...different, old friend.. are the rumours really true? Has the infamous Lheage finally been leashed?>> {Growling a flash of lethal ivory canines} You're late, Archie {watching as he slowly slides the shades up to reveal glowing crimson eyes, the corners creased with humour, but incredibly shrewd.. albinos amongst our kind were exceptionally rare, most were killed at birth on account of an ancient lore that claimed they were the evil spawn of the Omega. Those that survived were outcasts...disowned by family and Glymera alike.. not even the whores would feed the poor bastards.. So, yeah, this male and I had common ground. Our paths had crossed in the shady underworld my own exile had dragged me down into. But for the genetic defect, Archos would have been Brotherhood material, as it was, he took his considerable skills  underground, this tough son of a bitch had taught me more about survival than I'd ever learned under the Bloodletter's regimen had even introduced me to the lifestyle... though his preference ran almost exclusively to males. 


Those who misread the camp demeanour as weakness didn't live to regret their mistake. I respected the fucker <<mating hasn't improved your social skills, V>> the male's nostrils flaring on a deep inhale <<but, damn, that scent you're throwing off...simply fucking divine... I could bottle and sell you on the black market>> a low growl rolling out into the already tense atmosphere} I'm not on the fucking menu Archos <<no? Then why exactly am I here, Vishous? Caldwell is a dangerous place for me.. I haven't forgotten the welcoming committee your Glymera buddies sent out for me last time I showed up>> {the corners of my mouth lifting up in a fanged grin and by the twitch of Archie's lips I can tell he's remembering the good times too} I saved your sorry ass from that crazy lynch mob, Archie..you owe me, and I'm calling in the favor, true {his eyes flip up to meet mine} <<true, Vishous, I owe you my life. I am at your service warrior. I take it, as it's not the carnal pleasures of my body you desire, that it is my skills in the dungeon department you seek?>> {nodding curtly by way of an affirmative} True, the current arrangements are... unsuited to our needs..


 {dismissing me with a flourish of the riding crop to push through into the Penthouse, a satisfied smile spreading over his face as he takes in the decor...sighing dramatically <<Fuck, yes..one of my finest works... >> watching amused as his face dissolves into a scowl, the horse whip thrust accusingly towards the centre of my chest <<but the purple paint? Vishous, what the fuck?>> barking a laugh as I recall the day Tory decided to 'redecorate'} long fucking story, Archie true... <<well pour us some of that evil paint stripper you call vodka and let's get down to business, shall we, warrior>> {rolling my eyes at the exaggerated wink, gloved hand reaching for the shot glasses and the bottle of Goose, shitkicker pushing a barstool in Archie's direction by way of invitation to sit} good deal, old friend, good fucking deal. I'm giving you carte blanche on the re-design, but the rack stays, true.. and high-grade soundproofing is a non-negotiable...mirrors, suspension chains, state of the art sound system.. use your imagination... go fucking wild...money no object, feel me? But my shellan hears nothing about this, true..Oh and {a wicked grin pulling at my lips} you're taking on the nursery while you're at it...no fucking pink, or even I won't be able to save your ass from Tory's wrath {the male's expression as he spits Goose all over the bar is fucking priceless, of all the weird shit he's been asked to design over the centuries...the SOB looks like he's going into shock...clapping a gloved hand hard down on Archos' shoulder as I will the door to close on our planning} I know you'll do me fucking proud, my man...

Friday, 8 July 2011

When Doubt Calls

*chin propped on my hand, curled on my side on the thick rug in the centre of Rehv's living space as the twins wriggle their way across the luxurious fabric, two tiny bundles squirming away from the kisses blown on their little round stomachs, the tickle of my fingers on the bottoms of those miniature feet, growling playfully to incite the giggles that make my soul smile and my body relax. Pushing the heavy fall of my midnight curls over my shoulder, my lips drop a kiss to Xsykhe's tiny nose, smoothing the shock of black hair on her head, one hand walking fingers through the dense material of the rug to gently tackle Khaos' worming flail of limbs in an assault of delight* you guys cant get enough, can you, my little warriors? *the cooing tone of my voice cut off as a frown furrows my brow, the vibrating cell pulled from my pocket, number unfamiliar, pressed to my ear, a single growled word down the line the only greeting I'll give* What?! *at first nothing, the sound of music in the background, a heavy bass that twigs my brain and puts the song on the tip of my tongue...then a voice...a voice I know, from somewhere...did I punch this female? The drawl a seductive, catty pitch..with a hint of neediness and insecurity...speaking seven words that knock my heart into my throat, pull my soul down from its soar and still the hand placating my now fussing young* <<Knew you couldn't satisfy him for long...>> *Choking on the snarl that rises, bolting upright from my lounging* Who the fuck is this?!!! *then realisation...the same bitchy intonation the first time, spoken over Jessie J's 'Do It Like A Brother', only that time it had been 'You know you wont be able to satisfy him...'. A female, my own kind, whoring after Brothers like it was the end of the fucking world, slamming down the shot of Absinthe to the table and stalking off in the direction V had gone...probably to offer to ice where I'd hit him...what seemed so very long ago. Unleashing the building snarl on a distorted word* Caith..*all I need right now, for some nympho female trailing after my male, hovering, like some vulture waiting to feed off the sexual tension and unmet needs, to offer herself as his sub...but wait..what the fuck is she talking about? Her laugh answers my unspoken question* <<Your male is wandering, Tohrture. You're not female enough for him, I presume, or he got tired of whatever vanilla fuck you can give him now you have your young. If you are fucking him at all. Apparently your little friend Laehsandra is more what V needs..the hard-core fuck that makes a female bleed, scream, and crave more. Fuck knows the freak female can take it. He came in here trolling for her. Specifically asked for her. And then got up close and personal with her, hot, heavy whispers that made her eyes wide and her cheeks blush. *a low laugh of husky cutting pleasure* and when he had his hand on my wrist..if he hadnt found her, I have no doubt I'd be pinned to a wall by now>> *and there it is...what I hadnt dared contemplate, that the reason he isnt touching me, that we got no further than kisses that blew my mind...he has another to see to that base need. The Dom in him not easily discarded in light of our new living situation, V apparently cant come to me to sate the urges. Teeth grinding, anger evaporating any tears, the temperature dropping until the young murmur their discomfort and I force the chill aside, replacing it with the white hot of my rage* Listen here, you little bitch. *mind screaming as my soul writhes in a confused mess of agony, so sensitive, so unsure of how he feels towards me now, and dead set furious at myself for letting this jealous gnat of a female make me think that he would betray me. My soul convinced it's a lie, my heart hurting, he is male he has needs I am not meeting...hissing out with feigned sincerity* I'm so sorry that the object of your..addiction..found you unworthy, but can you blame him? Who would take a female who has willingly sought out the attentions of not one, but all of his Brothers?  Whose legs pop open at the mere smell of leather, but is really too much of a coward to be able to take the full force of his hunger? Who aspires to be a sub as well renowned and well respected, and well served as Laea, but does not have the discipline nor the understanding of what it means to not only receive pleasure, but to give...you, female...are a sexual parasite, hopping on the back of people's needs and latching on where you arent wanted. He is MY fucking drug, the cravings for V's presence, his touch, his kiss, are soothed, eased, sated, my addiction is him and I am his. There is no way some two-bit whore like you is ever going to be the methadone to that addiction. I am in his skin, in his soul and if you touch him again, you'll have to learn to wait tables with no fucking hands and no fucking head! *disconnecting the call, the twin cries start up as my voice raises, taut with fury, at her, at my inability to cater to my male, at the doubt that is creeping in...God, when V gets home he better touch me... Of course she's lying...it cant be true, not after everything we've been through. But...to slay all uncertainty...I guess I'll be taking a trip back to our Penthouse.*

Thursday, 7 July 2011

Dark Favours

{Head and shoulders above the masses as I wind my way towards the back recesses of the Reverend's club, the place is heaving tonight, the air heavy with the scents of sweat and alcohol and sex, the thoughts and desires of the clientelle coalescing into a cacophony of white noise that reverberates inside my skull, like wading through a swaying ocean of bodies, the crowd undulating in waves around me to the heavy, hypnotic bass beat of the music. The proximity of all that humanity makes my skin crawl beneath my leathers. The air of menace rolling off me gives most the hint to give the mean MOFO a wide berth and the drunk, boundary-less asshole who splashes beer on my shitkickers stumbles away after briefly locking defocused eyes on my face. Whatever he saw there, the growled 'fuck off' was redundant. Lifting my gaze above the crowd, making eye contact with the androgynous head of security who gives me an odd look as if to say 'what the fuck is your mated ass doing in here', diamond eyes narrowed on an unspoken 'none of your goddamned biz, true'. The female, Xhex, is a true pro, seeing nothing she hasn't witnessed in here a thousand times before. She looks away, but the accusation in those cold grey eyes leaves a bad fucking taste in my mouth. 


The broad expanse of my shoulders coming to rest against the wall, goateed jaw cast in shadow, raising the Goose to my lips while I scan the crowd, looking for what I need. What I get is Caith...long black hair...the resemblance to Tory ending there...but then, no female compares to Tory, true. Caith, one of our kind...a female with a rep as a Brother chaser, sashaying up into my grille, purring <<Hey V>> in that low sexy voice, her eyes drifting over me, predatory and hot} Evening Caith {nodding, taking another sip of Grey Goose} You seen Laehsandra in tonight? {her full bottom lip jutting out in a seductive pout <<wouldn't you prefer to hang out with me, V?>> the hand that reaches out to touch my jaw caught hard by the wrist and jerked away, eyes narrowed to diamond slits, the words a growled warning} Not. Interested. Female {composure slipping, her indignant stare is less than flattering, but she pulls it back together with a flick of that long, black hair, shoulders thrown back, dark eyes gleaming defiantly as I release my grip on her wrist <<I like when it hurts, V. You hunger warrior, a female can tell. Why deny yourself?>> tossing back the Goose, it occurs to me that my body is totally inert, this female's attributes hold no interest for me whatsofuckingever, the muscles across my shoulders tightening under the skin where Tory's name is carved} No offence, Caith, but you're not what I came here for {with an exaggerated shrug, she turns on one impossibly high stiletto, the retort thrown over her shoulder <<you should try me sometime, V>> but my attention is already diverted, zeroing in on the flame-haired female standing with her back to me, the lacings of her leather corset crisscrossed down the curve of her spine, cinching an already impossibly narrow waist.} 


Laehsandra {Tapping one gloved finger on her shoulder, she spins on a gasp, surprise morphing into a wide smile, flashing small, white fangs, her voice breathy <<Vishous...>>  her smooth brow creasing in confusion <<I understood you were...>> her voice trails off, the words...mated, bonded, hellren with young all remain unspoken, but they wound nonetheless, shaking my head as I lean in to speak quietly in the female's ear} I need something from you, Laehsandra and before you say no, remember, you owe me, true. I know you gave Tory the address of the Penthouse {she stiffens visibly and I feel a stab of guilt. It was a low blow, I'd wanted Tory to find me that night, fuck, I should be thanking the female, not threatening her, but the intel I need is a close kept secret on the BDSM scene, so I need the leverage} I need a session with Archos {her brow arches <<The Master? But, don't you have his contact details? I thought...>> cutting off the conversation with a short laugh} Yeah, I did, but they got...destroyed.. long story, true. Besides, I know you have influence with him and it needs to happen soon, feel me? {a female of worth and an accomplished sub, she knows better than to enquire further} Of course, my Lhe...I mean, Vishous {the blush across her cheeks visible despite the low lighting, her tone contrite} Old habits...anything for you my...friend...your shellan is very special...she is good for you, V and she is lucky to have you {her soft smile is genuine and I exhale returning her smile, inclining my head} Tory is everything to me. My thanks, Laehsandra. Appreciated, true. I am in your debt...

Craving

{Materialising onto the Penthouse balcony to the backdrop of the pulsing Caldwell city lights, the night so much warmer here than up in the Adirondacks where I left Tory with the twins. The cold breath exhaled from my lungs condensing into a plume of vapor. Hot air meeting cold... goddamn, like that's not a recipe for a fucking tornado, true...and fuck, but something inside of me is all stirred up, a fire in the blood, born of frustration and unexpended sexual energy, heightened by the sultry, electrically charged, summer atmosphere, the frisson of returning here to the Penthouse, where it all began... raking a hand through my hair, shame knotting a tight coil my gut, loathe to acknowledge that it actually feels good to break free from the endless feed-change-sleep-repeat routine with the young and the constant chafe of feeling like a piece of shit SOB for making demands on Tory that, despite a stoic front, she is clearly too bone tired and caught up with the twins to meet. No amount of punishing my body in the gym or gutting lessers taking the edge off this major case of the goddamn frustrates. Wound so damn tight, last time I stood behind her something snapped. Fuck I'd been ready to just slam her up against the wall, cheek to cold plaster and fuck her senseless, right there, willing or not, with the young crying for attention in the next room. Scrubbing a gloved hand down my face. Thank fuck Tory didn't see the expression in my eyes... feral, animal, out of control. And so I wind up here, alone, full circle, needing to do... something... to release the pressure. Diamond gaze dropping to the steel toes of my shitkickers, planted right on the scorched mark where she ashed my little black book...shit... Lids closing as I palm the flat of a gloved hand over the nape of my neck... very fucking inconvenient, true, this was going to create...complications. The services I require... specialist, underground shit, true, not the kind of contacts you keep on your speed dial friends list...lifting my head, diamond eyes narrowed as my feet take me to the glass sliders and into the Penthouse}


{Willing the glass sliders to part, black candles flaring to life, casting pools of light around the huge black cathedral of an open plan room, studiously avoiding the mess of black silk on Tory's and my mated bed, where her scent lingers still, shitkickers eating up the distance to the statement piece of furniture that dominates the room. The rack, with its coordinated backdrop wall of toys. Sucking in a breath. Fuck. Nothing says home sweet home like a hard-core BDSM set up and the scent of old candle wax, true. Letting my hands run over the wooden surface, familiar as an old friend, the rough edges polished smooth with the patina of blood and wax and sex...not unlike myself, I guess you could say, but fuck I had some rough edges right about now. Trailing my fingers over the wall of whips and floggers, the flails running through my fingers, chains and clamps, leather masks, barbed and studded, calculated to elicit just the right amount of pain and fear, a master at knowing just how much they needed. That was the reason they came to me. So many memories here....but only one replays in my brain, over and over...Tory, gripping the wooden sides of the rack while I carved my name in her skin, and after, the cheeks of her ass mashed into the hard wood, my fangs buried deep in her throat as I pounded my release inside of her. Not fucking helping, V. Slowly pushing boundaries with Tory, opening the release valve on the demons of her past, exploring the knife edges of control and trust.. I could see the direction our relationship would have taken. She, the perfect foil to my needs, me the key to freedom from a toxic past. But that was before she carried our young, true and somehow shit got derailed. Centuries of control, release on demand, a gourmet, à la carte menu of depravity just a call away. There was no internal switch you could just flick to turn that shit off... reaching out my gloved hand to take hold of one of the leather binds ... yeah, derailed.. not like Tory and I would be getting our freak on here, with the young looking on, a peanut gallery of cute, gurgling innocence. Happy fucking families. Not. Story of my life. Who was I kidding, we couldn't even pull off the straight vanilla shit right now. So something has gotta give and there is nothing..nothing.. I won't do to get my future with Tory back on track, even if it means trolling Zerosum to get what I need to get this shit back under control.....}