|
Post by Ninette De La Magnifique on Aug 20, 2007 16:26:27 GMT 8
“Forgive me Father for I have sinned”. A soft, feminine whisper permeated the shadows riddling the high ceilings of the century old cathedral. Crimson and silver clad figure rocks back and forth on the raised dais of the altar, hands clasped and held closed to barely hidden cleavage in a remorse pose.
But only for a moment, before slender arms flails, a demented giggle parted from painted lips as pressed thighs parting nonchalantly before the petite form. “And it was entirely his fault!” A whimper was then heard, followed by a hollow scream from a half naked form; torn and bound at the wrists, lying on its back before the altar. A slender digit was pointed to the downed man, the giggle receded to a mocking chuckle as crimson tinged cerulean gaze caressed the marred flesh of his chest and back.
“For being so sweet and delicious” Came the husky, almost innocent, voice yet again as petite form slipped from its perch to slither upon the shivering mass of abused flesh as the shadows begins to chant in an ancient tongue. A pale hand rose to touch his arm, cold fingertips caressing angry welts, making their way towards the rosary binding his wrists; the beads gleaming from the mixture of his sweat and blood. She leans forth, bringing soft tiers to his ear, pressing soft curves against his form. “Tell me, dearling, was it as good for you as it has been for me?”
Bloodshot eyes glared at her grinning face, quivering lips moving though naught was heard. A shrug then ensued from the Jesterette, as her cold fingers rose before his chest, blue-tinged nails elongating into impossibly long talons. “Sadly, it wouldn’t have worked between us, dearling. You are just too.. kind and innocent for the likes of me” She would whisper, crimson tongue protruded to glide along his warm earlobe. “Well, not so innocent when it comes to that..” The giggle returned but was soon drowned by a raspy gasp escaping from the young pastor’s lips as his eyes widened in absolute fright and shock; talons bit into his marred flesh, piercing skin and sinew, puncturing lungs and heart.
A deathly gurgle resounded as blood began to pour from his mouth and nose, body shuddering violently. Painted cheek nuzzled the side of his face, lips moving, nipping along his jaw, proceeded to leave a trail of butterfly kisses upon his high cheekbone until finally pressing cold tiers upon his forehead. A parting kiss. The last heave of his cold breath was then seen escaping from his agape lips, weaving up, drawn to her hovering form and to the dangling ruby shard between her full mounds.
“So bad.. so sad” She whispered finally as she pulls back, resting her full rump on the motionless torso of the dead pastor. “But it was fun while it lasted” A soft chuckle erupted from her lips once again, dainty digits patting the now warm Ruby shard before scantily clad form rose from corpse. A murr escapes her as the shadows descended on her petite form, surrounding her, caressing cold skin with their pliable fingers.
Soft footfalls resounded in the still air as the lone Jesterette made her way towards the tall entrance of the small town cathedral.
|
|
|
Post by Ninette De La Magnifique on Aug 20, 2007 16:37:30 GMT 8
That subtle sound, the click of lissom digits, so faint, yet so insistent. It infused the still air in the wake of the fleeing spirit, in the gaze of her hasty and fulfilled retreat from the sanctuary of her victims impotent godling. The most skilled of orators could not have poured as much power into an hour long speech as there was in that single, tiny little click. And it's effects were staggering. The doors she so gleefully approached were nearly wrenched from their hinges, the inky black of the night beyond rushing in upon her as waves of chill wind whipped through the broken portcullis, the cathedral so calm a heartbeat before now awash with all the elemental fury of the winter winds unleashed. Deafening was the whine, extinguishing the last candles that defiantly smoldered as though snuffing the life from its enemies, smothering their essence with those tendrils of icy breeze.
And yet as quickly as the storm came it ceased, leaving her wind whipped and startled within the sudden dank chill of the frighteningly still air of the nave. And yet as frightening as so sudden and mysterious an assault upon the house of god may have been, it compared little in her psyche to the remembered vestiges of terror that were awoken by the honeyed purrs that shifted the still airs a breath later “Oh where oh where has my little pet been…” From behind her those whispered words came, and though she may have sworn she could feel his scalding breath across her chill flesh she would spin to find him perched atop the altar, dark prince and carrion lord in one. Darkness enveloped him like a mantle of power; burning eyes clear even in the cloying black of the midnight shadows. Blood marred his lips, his fingertips, stolen prizes from her recently slain priest, his taste of the sweetness that she had extinguished. An impossible figure, the air about him fairly screamed in agony at the discord his very presence caused, and yet despite it’s protests, it’s pain, it was subservient to him, as were all the elements of the dark. Once she had counted herself amongst those who bowed to him. Once.
But he was not so willing to dispose of his most distracting of servants, his most delicious of slaves, capricious as he could be. And so he had pursued his errant child, his stolen toy, and at last found her. The delicate point of his tongue slid out, lapping the last of the crimson stains from perfectly formed lips, teasing the scarlet streams away from pallid fingertips. Those fingers reached to her, beckoned to her, even as eyes promised an eternity of torment should she disobey even that most casual of requests “Come closer my little pet, my Magnifique… You have been a very naughty girl…”
|
|
|
Post by Ninette De La Magnifique on Aug 20, 2007 16:38:48 GMT 8
Instinctively arms would rise to cover her face from the brutal beating of the cold wind. Splinters and debris flying past her stationary form like tiny missiles, a few hitting her torso and thighs, causing droplets of dark crimson to fall from punctured flesh. Gasps escaped her painted, cold tiers; eyelids pressing tight against pale cheeks as full mounds rise and fall in rapid heaves. Though naught from fear or pain but pure shock from ears hearing a voice long forgotten. No, no. Not quite forgotten but rather silenced by the summoning of her tainted spirit upon the material world by the Mistress. The rumble of a lost voice; soft yet commanding, melodious yet eerie. So strange yet familiar.
Then it hit her like the weight of a slamming fist against her dead heart. His was a voice to be adhered to. His was a voice of authority. A voice of a master. Master of the pilfered spirit inhibiting the Jesterette form. Slender arms would fall slowly, as eyelids fluttered upwards, revealing cerulean pools. A blink then ensued as the voice continued to ring within her ears; petite form turning around to face the very altar she had claimed as her perch not a minute past. And then their eyes met and all else were forgotten. Even the shadows retreated to the farthest corners; leaving her in the embrace of total darkness.
Memories came flooding back with every syllable that fell from his lips. Lips parted then as she felt the caress of an icy touch upon her naked shoulder, body wincing visibly, though not a word came to her lips. She mouthed the word, but her voice betrayed her. “M… master?” And as if having a mind of their own, her shapely thighs would move, edging closer to the magnificent yet terrible figure upon the dais. His every word a command she could not seem to resist.
|
|
|
Post by Ninette De La Magnifique on Aug 20, 2007 16:44:47 GMT 8
His raven haired head rolled back, the pallid pillar of his neck supporting it’s rocking weight before it slumped forward once more, a hiss of pleasure stealing from grinning lips even as eyes narrowed upon her nearing flesh. His words mimicked her own, adding a cuttingly feeble note of weakness to her question “M…Master?”
Inky orbs bore into her, slicing away at her defences like so many blades, scourging the new found independence she found away from his lair. She was his creature, and she would not soon forget it. “You sound surprised to see me my craven little Magnifique. Did you think to hide from me forever? Did you think I would not be wounded by your betrayal?” He paused for a heartbeat as he stepped forward to the edge of the blood splattered altar.
A hand slid out, manipulating the empty air, plucking at strings of insubstantial shadow and summoning them to his grasp as surely as the hound to it’s master. Within his grasp a weapon fabricated, long and slender and cruel, the enormous whip hung its many headed length across the forlorn figure of her soul stolen pastor. His next words were chill as the grave, his impossibly handsome visage twisting in a malevolent grin of triumph “Did you not think I would have my revenge?”
The lash whistled through the air, faster then eyes could follow, the biting cold of its many tailed point wrapping her and lashing across the alabaster expanses of her flesh. The supple curve of her thighs, the ample swell of her rear, the trim lines of her flanks, all felt the sting of his summoned whip, all shed crimson in the wake of its departure. Yet even as pain flared in the wounds there came a reminder, a delicious memory of his conquests over her body, cruel and hard and painful, yet promising the most exquisite of depraved pleasures, the most delightful of sinful experiences.
Again came the lash, marring her perfect skin, as he stepped from the altar into mid air, his power arrogantly eschewing the concerns of gravity as he stalked her through the winds. “Does my pet have an apology to make?”
|
|
|
Post by Ninette De La Magnifique on Aug 20, 2007 17:05:26 GMT 8
Eyes widen as they feast upon his corporeal form; locks turning within her mind, undoing the secrets and opening the doors to her past. Ample mounds continued to rise and fall, icy air filling empty lungs, vapors spilling from dainty nostrils, lips moving as if to offer replies to his vengeful retorts; their words biting into her unconscious thoughts. Never had she come across an entity that could reduce her to this. Not even the Summoner herself; the Carnivale mistress, Mother. She wanted to fall back, to retreat into the world outside; to run. This was all too much for her. The memories, the familiarity, rushing at her, threatening to drown her all at once. And then there was the guilt of abandonment. Though it was not of her free will. But would he care?
Lips part in a silent plea as the whip found her cold flesh, marring, tearing at mortal flesh. Rivulets of dark crimson splattered across her satin bodice. Still she could not find her voice. Please, please Master. It was not my doing. I did not leave you! Please! Her voice echoed, disembodied it would seem, between whimpers and moans. Moans? Odd it would seemed but the pain that came brought with it slivers of pleasure. Pure and dark. Biting at her dormant senses, waking up the demon within. A shrill scream tore from her throat, a blood curdling gurgle resounding soon after as she shudders; her satin dress was in shreds. Fists curling at her side as she fought the urge to hurl her petite mass onto his oncoming form.
“Please.. please, master.”
|
|
|
Post by Ninette De La Magnifique on Aug 20, 2007 17:23:31 GMT 8
Another subtle flick of his wrist, the barest of movements, and the whip was hurtling towards her once more. Braced for impact though she may be those stinging tips swung clear of her flesh this time, expert wielding shearing nought but the tattered remains of her dress from her cold and pale flesh. The vortex like dark of his eyes ravished her with its glare, unashamedly drinking in the sight of her, shivering, screaming, pleading, naked flesh smeared with her own drooling blood. He sucked in a deep breath, shivering at the sensation of his reclaimed prize, the thrill of her willing flesh beneath his cruel caress again.
But he was not done with her yet, not by half. His midnight clad form circled her on the eddies of chill wind, tendrils of inky black garbing him, sinking tight to his flesh for a heartbeat to tease her with such sinful visions before billowing about him like a great pair of wings, a dark seraphim taken to flight on the hunt.
He came before her, pausing as she whispered those words, those pitiful words. The whip darted forward again, twined lengths of silken shadow coiling about her neck as he wrenched her towards him, sending her tumbling to her knees before his floating form. The growl her gave was low and full of contempt, the shadowstuff suddenly hardening to bit deep into the flesh of her neck; as noose or collar she could not be sure “You have spent to long from me my pet, to plead so pitifully… whispered words when those sweet lips could be put to a more diverting course. Too much easy prey like your pathetic priest, it has made you weak…”
His lip curled up as he at last sank to the ground before her, feet touching with the slightest hiss as the sanctified ground rejected his touch. Delicate digits took her face, a thumb caressing tear stained cheeks as he peered down upon her, benevolent and yet terrifying as he whispered to her “Perhaps you are not the same pet that escaped me so long ago… has your depravity fled you my darling slut?”
|
|
|
Post by Ninette De La Magnifique on Aug 20, 2007 17:57:34 GMT 8
A few more lashes took the shredded material from her quivering form; leaving her naked but for the Ruby shard dangling nonchalantly within the cleavage of her full mounds. She whimpered at his accusations; the bodily pain was suffered and ignored. And then there was the familiar sensation building somewhere within her. Goose bumps erupted upon bloodied, mortal flesh; shudders taking over petite form as whimpers continued to flow from smeared lips. “No, no..” Came her whispered reply, eyes rising to rest upon his magnificent form.
Lips fast becoming parched as they feast upon him as he moved forth from his perch, onto the vacant space, defying gravity. Then all too soon she was on her knees, having tumbled after his merciless tug, gasping for air as the shadow forged whip tightened around slender neck, threatening to break the mortal form. Tiers parted soon after, issuing another bout of pleas, though no words came for the constriction around her slender neck was too tight. Tears flooded her eyes, falling rapidly into rivers along blood splattered cheeks. Eyes pleading as she felt his touch.
But then something snapped within her dark mind. The great bolt was finally released, letting the purest of evil escape from its confinement. Talons elongating as digits grabbed at the hardened whip around her neck. A feral-like snarl ensued, sharp canines snapping inches from his jaw as he drew close; cerulean pools replaced by amber cat-like orbs. You have little control over me on this plane, Master". Came a raspy voice, strange yet familiar. A chuckle bubbled upon crimson lips.
|
|
|
Post by Ninette De La Magnifique on Aug 20, 2007 18:24:27 GMT 8
He did not even blink as those glimmering fangs snapped at him, offering no reaction at all for a few heartbeats before a slender brow arched, listening to her words of defiance. Perhaps his little hellion had some venom left in her after all. Perhaps she was worth saving, worth carrying back to his harem to be his pet once more. Perhaps… but first he would have to break her of this independent streak. The beatific smile slid onto his features again, the saintly look all the more incongruous on his callous and cruel features, digits smoothing again over her moistened cheek, tracing delicately over the soft pout of her full lips “Mmm, my dear little Magnifique… a little is all I need…”
The saintly smile twisted into a wicked grin as eyes blazed, inching down to settle upon the glimmering pendant that remained nestled between her breasts. Black nailed digits coursed out, seizing it in their deceptively gentle embrace, twisting the little trinket in his grasp as its stolen power radiated along his ivory flesh. “Ah… soul drinker… Perhaps I shall claim this charm from your disobedient corpse…” He snarled suddenly as that hand lashed to her throat instead, fingers lengthening to wicked talons in the blink of an eye. Inhumanly strong he whipped her out at arms length as though she were no more then a doll. “You think your soul beyond my appetite, little Jester?”
Fingers crushed tight, sapping her of breath even as his arm flailing at her sending the scourge biting into her mortal flesh again and again and again. He hurled her down then, twisting and tossing her so that her nude form hammered and skidded to the altar, her death only halted by the fact that her impact was lessened by the cooling body of her victim priest. He stalked over her, fangs bared, his form suddenly the feral and wild demon rather then the cosmopolitan vampire. “It seems my pet shall have to be broken in once more… how tiresome…”
|
|
|
Post by Ninette De La Magnifique on Aug 25, 2007 13:31:20 GMT 8
Facial muscles contorted, banishing delicate mask to make way for grayish, demonic features; fangs and canines apparent between snarling tiers. The feral growl resounded yet again, vicious and defiant. Elongated nails whipped across the devil’s massive arm as digit bore down upon her slender neck; the sharp talons biting hard into unworldly sinew, causing black bile to spew from broken skin. A scream exploded from her throat from his merciless beating, though the would-be shriek was killed before it could be heard, by the iron hard grip of his digits around her neck. Hands became fists, flailing madly at him as she gurgled and writhed, blue lips gasping for air that was not forthcoming; dark crimson rained upon their proximity.
As death approaches her mortal body, dark memories flooded the gates of her corrupted mind, images of a succubus in chains, writhing wantonly by the Devil’s feet, flashing before her eyes; a too familiar picture. Cat-like eyes blinked in recognition, causing a whimper to rumble within her constricted airway. Pathetic and weak. Cold sweat rolled along the side of her human face; the demonic features gone as swiftly it had appeared; leaving the tainted porcelain features of the Jesterette, obsidian eyes blinking rapidly as if pleading for mercy. Talons flew at him once more, a last attempt to free her mortal form from a certain death.
Suddenly a loud heave was heard; alien and disembodied it would seem to the jesterette. Denied lungs were allowed to breathe, bringing much needed oxygen to the mortal form. But all too soon it was robbed once again, fragile form smashing onto the hard marble of the church’s floor, tumbling and skidding against the now cold corpse. Eyes blinked in disbelieve, mouth moving though naught was heard but the bubbling of blood, flooding within her mouth before spilling over tiers. Curiously, a chuckle was later heard, arms moving from their impossible angle, bones would be heard snapping into place as the jesterette stir, bringing upper body to an upright position. She glances at him, an arm rising to wipe the crimson drool from pale chin. “Oh, master. You tease me so..” Soft, mocking syllables radiated upon tainted lips, eyes receding once again to cat-like slits. “And must you be so insistent? Can't we let bygone be bygone?”
|
|
|
Post by The Master on Aug 29, 2007 18:35:15 GMT 8
*Darkest seraphim, fallen angel, he towered above her crumpled form in all his fell majesty. She could nearly hear it, the air about him blistering as his footfalls carried him closer and closer to the sanctified altar, as though the wind itself mouthed catechisms of expulsion against his presence there. But the priest was dead and by her own hand, his blood staining the holy ground, and the wind held no power over that ancient evil. Lips drew back, a crocodile’s smile, fangs glimmering in the cloying black, beacons that offered no refuge from the darkness. The long coils of that punishing whip dissipated in his grasp, though the ghosts of its caress still criss-crossed her supple flesh, wounds bright with crimson blood. Mortal blood. The sizzling rivers from his own wounds cascaded along his arm, ebon droplets splattering the ground in the wake of his advance, the mosaics of the chapel floor bubbling and cracking at its acid kiss.
A talon tipped digit issued forth, grazing across the crimson stained lines of her moistened tiers, stealing from her grasp the few droplets of blood that still defiantly clung there. He straightened, those midnight pools locking to hers, holding her gaze as his tongue stole out to taste those precious samples of her lifesblood. A shiver raced his spine, back arching as her essence, slight as it was, tainted his mouth with its coppery flavours. About him the darkness flared once more, shadows suddenly more then insubstantial shades, the sheets of dark cocooning them as though in the eye of a hurricane; great streams of jet whipping about them in a sudden frenzy. “My, my, little Ninette, and here was I thinking that throw would have broken your precious little spine. Foiled by the clergy once more it seems…” He grinned then as a hand shot down once more, seizing at her wrists and wrenching her up to kneel before him, recently mended bones nearly shattering once more at the violent treatment “Who would have thought my darling pet would have been saved by a priest… Even in death he remained faithful to you…” He smiled cruelly as he hefted her higher, from her knees to her feet and further still, till her supple lips dangled before his fanged maw.
“Bygones be bygones? Ah… perhaps, should you kneel… and submit to me once more. Then… what need have I for anger…” A predatory smile slipped over his lips as he paused, the sudden cruel pain of a razor edged claw tracing the vulnerable flesh of her inner thigh wracking her, promising agony and dizzying pleasure in equal measure “… when I can turn these hands to more diverting tasks. Will you accept your punishment? Or shall I break you here on the altar of the mortal’s hollow Lord?”*
|
|