Demon Angels

The man in the television, the one that claimed to be a time traveler? He spoke of quantum-locked creatures, evil things, "lonely assassins".... His one bit of advice: "Don't blink."

I didn't listen. I blinked. I turned my back on the angels for only a moment. I blinked. The stone statues crept nearer. I blinked. How do you stop a freight train hauling full speed down the track? You don't. I blinked. Assassins? Those sharp teeth! I blinked. Claws thicker than my fingers. I blinked. They were upon me, then.

Out of fear, I closed my eyes. If the man on the television was right, I was dead. Why stare death in the face? Especially a cold, grey, concrete death with wings.

What came next was surely death - but not the end of life. It was the ultimate explosion of life.

Stone tore at my clothes. Cold hands pressed against my flesh. Three angels worked in tandem and I was soon lifted off the ground, my feet dangled below me. My arms were held wide, my hips pulled forward, and my legs spread around a creature so soft, I opened my eyes in surprise.

I was suspended in a statue contraption; I was the living centerpiece of a tangle of stone arms and wings. The once soft body between my legs was hard as rock, a solid angel preparing to force his entry into my exposed sex. The absurdity of it all rode alongside the sudden thought that I must be quite the sight at that moment. Who would believe that I was not part of some elaborate erotic art display?

As happens naturally, I blinked.

I caught my breath and stared at the monstrous thing in front of me with a weapon of certain death pointed at my cunt. These creatures were quick and in that single blink of an eye, my attacker had doubled in size. His accomplices were just as fast, each now clenching a breast in their talons. There was no pain, only mild discomfort - a shock to my mind.

I blinked again.

A moan escaped my lips as I opened my eyes to find my nipples clamped between impossibly placed concrete fingers. The hips of the angel between my thighs hadn't moved much closer, but he had shifted his angle to gently press against my skin.

Another blink.

My legs were now lodged between the wings and the creature's body, his hands positioned around my waist. A fraction of a second had seen little movement from the two holding me up, but my nipples stung from repeated rolling. Quantum-locked? I began to understand their speed. I bit my lip and took a deep breath.

I closed my eyes for an intentionally long blink.

I panted and stared at the stone hands grasping my waist. One thumb was positioned lower; it had been grazing my clitoris nanoseconds before. I looked to the two still lifting my arms and gripping my breasts and saw their eyes, their empty eyes, staring through me. It was unnerving, but in a good way - in that way that you know you are just a sex object to be used, at least momentarily. I needed no more proof than their own erections lifting the carved cloth below me.

I realized in that moment that I held the power. My body was excited, tight, wet, and waiting. And I controlled eternity.

My lips broke into a devious smile. My eyes closed, and I gave myself to the infinite pleasures offered by these angels. Demon angels.

There can be no talk of their skills as lovers, for they did not love me. They fucked me, fully and truly, taking turns holding me up, slamming into me faster than I ever knew possible, and releasing their essence deep within me. As they spun around me, I kept my eyes tight, focused on every inch of their soft skin against my flesh, every thrust of their release, every firm grip of their hands.

It was minutes of ecstasy that felt like hours. I clenched my eyes, screaming my pleasure into the quiet cemetery.

Suddenly my throat was on fire; sharpened teeth buried deep in my skin and my eyes shot open. Suspended by angelic hands, I was impaled on a thick rock cock, trapped in a contortion of concrete, but I didn't care. Waves of the orgasm speared through me, spasming my body harder onto the angel locked inside me, pulling my neck back and forth through the jaws of the angel bent over me. My mind was numb, I was blind, but still I remained locked in stone.

Minutes, hours, days, time stopped mattering. I lived a thousand lives in the never-ending orgasm, an eternal death in an explosion of life. I saw stars in galaxies far beyond my own, then black holes collided inside my head. I passed out in the angels' embrace.

Eater of Harts

At her 'puter she sat to write
Of a long hard and dreary night,
A tale of hunger so vile and dark,
Savage beasts that leave not one mark
Save a tarnished scar deep inside,
No victim girl or boy can hide.

This she intended yet did fail,
Instead other words did assail
Her poor mind in a jumbled rage,
Protesting inside a ment'l cage,
To be written was the demand,
Released to those of the mort'l land.

This is how the Eater of Hearts
Welcomed their first Eater of Harts.




Hunger. He knew only of the emptiness deep in his belly, the pain severe enough to pull howls from between his trembling lips. There would be no moon tonight, no light by which to hunt, no light to cast shadows and spook his prey. All he had to do was wait for the sun to set.

Purples burst across the sky as pink and orange edged clouds speckled the horizon, shining with the last of the sun’s warmth. Night crept over the landscape. Cool winds awoke and stirred, bringing forth crystalline frost, which played along his breath. Time slowed, grown tired after a long day. Seconds crawled by like minutes, lazily drifting with the leaves on the breeze.

Autumn nights were cruel to the lone wolf. Twig snapping taunts echoed through the forest, alert ears shifted, but it was only the wind breaking the drying trees. He prowled the undergrowth, silent paws leaving little mark on the rough path. The scent of deer filled his flared nostrils, but from where, he could not be certain. Seeping up through the dirt, the smell seemed to be all around. The thudding of his heart belied his excitement at finding some form of trail. It beat loud, close under his skin. Soft vibrations pushed against fur, over his paws, and into the ground.

No, not into the ground, the reverberations came up from the ground. He crouched low, void belly brushing the carpet of powdered detriment and leaves. He lifted his head. Ears twisted and turned, focused in their natural radar habit, and pinpointed the direction of the single animal running.

Closer and closer the deer clopped as his thundering hooves pounded the solid earth. Amber eyes glittered in the dark as the wolf watched, waiting to see the creature he hunted.

Mist gathered along the floor of the forest. It rolled in as the waves wash against the shore, small roils followed by subsequently larger, preceding the deer’s advance. Between thick trunks, the animal emerged, distant and small. It zigzagged forward, effortlessly snaking through the maze, growing larger by the second. The wolf stalled, momentarily taken aback. Long antlers sprang from the head of the deer, silhouetted by the glow of the body. A white hart danced before the wolf.

It is ill-luck to kill one of nature’s emissaries, but the wolf was weeks without food. His only thoughts emanated from his starved core; instinct overrode ingrained teachings and he lunged.

He growled in pleasure as his fangs sank deep in the thick furred neck. Crimson blood poured black in the moonless night; the dark liquid dribbled down the hart’s body and slid sizzling hot down the wolf’s throat. A quick twist of his body snapped the deer’s neck and together they fell into the brush.

The wolf stood and howled his delight. His muzzle buried deep in the dying light of the white flesh as he dug and tore at the corpse before him. He ate until his stomach could hold no more and then turned his attention to the piece he saved for last. He nuzzled aside the remnants of the ribcage and gingerly picked out the keeper of life. With reverence, he lapped away the blood from his prize. Dessert was his favorite part of any meal and he could think of nothing more delicious than the heart of a hart.

Sweet meat drenched his tongue and filled his mouth. He swallowed, savoring the flavor that clung to his canines. Halfway down, however, it lodged.

On a dark, moonless night near the end of autumn, a lone wolf slept, his stomach full and his lungs empty.

Tales Of Miss Doom - Leaving For Vacation

There was much traffic up and down the stairs; pounding footfalls refused to let the sleeping cat sleep. Little calico tabby ears flicked constantly, shooing away the thump of each step.

After ten minutes of fitful rest, Miss Doom lifted her head to investigate the commotion. Set to voice her displeasure, she opened her mouth and eyes simultaneously, only to freeze, stock still, at the sight before her eyes: her humans were carrying travel bags and pillows down to the front door.

Instantly awake, her fur fluffed as she flew off the couch, jumping immediately atop the first bag she could reach. It was not luck that it happened to still be open - it was her pet's habit to finalize his packing moments before walking out the door.

Into the open bag she crawled, squeezing effortlessly between a stack of shirts and a pair of rolled jeans. With ill-hid anger, she glared at her pet and his mate as they came down the stairs again. The girl came first and, predictably, made a soothing noise at Miss Doom.

Frustrated that advances in science fell short of translating human sounds into recognizable speech patterns, she flicked her tail and flattened her ears. As the two bent near, she jumped and hissed, "This is NOT acceptable! You are NOT allowed to leave!"

Unable to suppress her anger, and afraid she would lash out and strike her precious pets, Miss Doom ran quickly behind the nearest piece of furniture to sulk. She turned her back on her humans as the front door opened, closed, and the lock clicked.

She did not fear they would run away, nor did she worry for their safety; simply, she disliked being left behind and missed the added warmth in the bed at night.

As the sounds of their engine died into the distance, she crept out of her hiding spot and slunk off to the kitchen to drown her problems with a smidge of hidden cream.

Tales Of Miss Doom - The Ward

He awoke sometime in the mid-morning. He had scarfed down breakfast, ate until some kibble came back up, then gorged on more. Miss Doom trained her humans well, he thought, They leave me plenty of food. But as he sat staring at the self-refilling gravity feeder, he realized he was no longer hungry. Instead, he was bored. It was a boredom so deep that the thought of more kibble did not quell his idle mind.

He sat back on his haunches and studied his paw. Grey fur filled his face, blinding him to the mess of kibble-explosion on the floor. Hmm, clean. No bath needed. But what to do? He questioned himself, pondering all the activities he did daily. Eating had lost its luster, bathing was a chore for his eighteen pounds of fluff, he had no desire to dig his favorite ball from under the couch, and the male human was not home to attack. His options were limited. Then he had a mischievous spark and smirked.


Miss Doom lay curled atop a piece of partly shredded paper. She was not asleep, merely thinking, envisioning her thoughts as reality. The house was quiet, perfect for a bit of relaxing contemplation. Her eyes drifted to the holes and shreds in the paper, her code tapped out by tooth and fang. It was only a rough draft, the fourth revision this week. She found a flaw, not in the words, but in the plan itself. She sighed as she sat up, her tail wrapping around her legs.


He crouched, watching her back. He rolled his shoulders and twitched his tail, silent. Today is the day, he told himself as he braced for launch. This would not be the first attempt at a sneak attack, but it would also not be the first successful surprise attack, either. As a cat, he had stealth, but he was young and still needed practice with surprise. Twice last week he had caught her off guard. She had not been as thrilled as he, but he did not let that deter him from trying again.

He released the air from his lungs, cleared his mind, and jumped...

...right into her swinging tail. She had spun so quickly he had no chance to escape landing on her paper after a harsh tail thrashing. Her teeth sank into his ear as he skid by, stopping only when his bulky weight slammed into the back cushion of the couch.

Children! she shrieked internally. They ruin everything and make it so difficult to plan world domination!

Aloud, she chided him on his poor timing and even poorer placement. Her soft voice rang clear, "Sampson! If you had bothered to bathe, or at least decided to stand downwind, then you might have had a better shot." Her tail thumped the couch, the only visible indication of her annoyance.

The overlarge juvenile kitten bowed before her was not her offspring; somewhere along the way, after adopting her human and allowing him a mate, she somehow managed to find herself in charge of a stray puffball. She remembered what it was like to be orphaned and let him stay, although after attempting to train him, she was beginning to give up on having an able apprentice. This thought flitted through her mind once more, turning her stern visage into that of a disappointed teacher.

He cowed, mewled his apologies, and slunk off to his hiding space beneath the bed, presumably to bathe and sulk. She looked down at her paper once more and her frown deepened. Such potential, and yet such destructive tendencies. She pushed her ruined notes onto the floor, her mood spoiled for plotting to take over the world.

Tales Of Miss Doom - Chasing The Sun

She awoke when the first bird chirped in the predawn glow. After wondering if it would be worth a fruitless hunt to find the critter, she unfurled herself and stretched. The bedroom was still dark and the pillow was cozy and warm. But it was losing warmth now that fresh air had settled between her belly and the blanket; it was time to chase the sun.

Silently she jumped from the bed, landing into a slow sauntering gait down a path leading to the open bedroom door. She yawned as she walked, sparing no time to chance a stop.

The bird chirped louder as more birds awoke to answer his call. If I could find them... she thought to herself as she began her descent down the single flight of stairs. Oh, who am I kidding? I like their warnings of the approaching light!

At the bottom step, she looked around. The room was brighter, but the sun had yet to reach the window. Yes, plenty of time to enjoy breakfast, she thought, pleased. She glanced around once more, watching for any other creatures that might be present, and, upon finding none, she darted past the couch, down the hall, and out into the garage. She slipped past the sleeping mice and stepped into a box.

Less than a minute later she was scraping litter, Not bad, almost a new record. Note to self: less water before bed. I don't need to waste more time before the sun shines down. With the last push of her paw, she returned down the hall, but turned into the kitchen. Her food remained where she had left it, and was even undisturbed. She smiled as she started to nibble, I should really give those grey things a treat. They make wonderful pets when trained properly.

The chittering outside the window grew louder as she sat eating. She flattened her ears to dampen the annoyance, but could not completely ignore the incessant noise. She took a long drink of water to wash down her Kitty Kibble and lifted her head to the back door window. Her entire back yard was full of birds, some small, some large, and many different sizes in between. She huffed and her tail swatted back and forth. They speak gibberish! At least those grey things can be taught to speak! More fluttered down from the trees and landed in the shadows of the fence.

Shadows of the fence? That means.... She turned toward the living room and her large comfortable couch. THERE! YES! Above the couch, a few feet up the wall, was the bright spot that promised warmth. Quick calculations indicated it would meet the couch at a slight ten-degree angle, counter-clockwise from its current position. She jumped up onto the back of the couch in the exact location she predicted the sunlight to land and stretched out to achieve the maximum potential of the free heat.

Her math was correct and the sun landed directly across her midsection, fanning outward the proportional dimensions of the east facing window. She closed her eyes, smiling, and napped.

As with every sun-filled day, she spent the rest of the morning rolling with the sun, basking in the warm light.

Tales Of Miss Doom - The Moth

This story is dedicated to the memory of Pandora, our "Kitten Of Doom"
November 1996 - July 2010



She was lost. This area was wrong, all wrong. The sunlight filtered funny and the air...the air was stale. No, not stale, it just tasted odd as it filled her mouth.There was something blocking her escape, as well. She knew she had come from the south, but there was something strange keeping her from returning. And it was quiet. Too quiet for comfort; she could not hear her people, the breeze through the trees, or the birds chirping. Nothing. The only noise filling her head was the sound of her blood pumping too rapidly, the thump of her body hitting the invisible wall, and her wings blowing the still air over her tiny body.

Hope drained as realization sank in that she was forever trapped, never again to see her family. Her altitude dropped slowly, as she contemplated the implications of being taken from those that loved her. As she lowered, she learned the invisible wall grew out of a plank of wood, ashen, from...a fire? It smelled different than burned wood, but maybe that was the effect of the strange thing growing? There were many altering symbiotic lifeforms, could it be possible she, a simple little moth, stumbled across a new species? Before excitement could bubble too high, her world went black. She was dead before she could feel the wetness of the tongue that slurped her out of the air.

That tongue belonged to another creature who had been watching the moth dance. This creature had had many thoughts of her own as she watched the moth flit around the door, one of which was a self inquiry of whether the little buzzy thing would taste good.

Yes, she told herself, it was reasonably tasty, if not a little dry. Her ears remained perked, vigilant for any more curious snacks. Upon finding none, she yawned, fangs glinting in the dying sunlight filtering through the front door window. They will be home soon. I should prepare for their arrival.

Languidly she sauntered off across the sun-warmed tile, her toes stretching and clawing into the edge of the carpet. Her back arched and her tail whipped over her head. She lithely jumped onto the soft cushy couch and perched to survey her domain. She was queen and rightfully pampered. She smiled, fur parting across her face, lifting her white whiskers. No other cat can be as happy as I, she purred. She then curled up in a little Calico-Tabby ball to await the return of her pet humans.

Summer Fling

Perching prettily,
You are unafraid.
Why should you be?
My thoughts are hidden,
Secluded,
Buried deep
Just below the surface.
I lay you back slowly,
Caresses flutter down your sides...
Was the moan of anticipation me or you?

My red tongue flicks,
Wetting parched lips,
A growl of hunger soon follows;
I waited for you,
Counted down the weeks,
Marked off the days,
Until today:
Perfectly ripe for the picking,
I have you now.

One hand brushes your firm belly,
Fingers tickling and steadying,
While the other creeps by,
Grasping a handful of plastic,
Just out of view...

Cold steel scrapes your shoulder,
Shudders spread as I smile,
Chills creep along my arms,
Anticipation,
And still you do not fear;
Do my eyes still hide my intent?
I press my mouth to your chest,
A light kiss;
Do I imagine you sigh?

My blade flashes in the light,
Illuminating my face,
Breath catches -
Yours?
Mine?
- Yes!
But still you are trusting,
Lying still,
Waiting,
Anticipating...
...What?
Penetration,
Piercing thrusts,
Slowly sawing in and out,
Swiftly plunging deeper;
Positioning myself
I do not deny you.

It is our game,
The knife has just been a prop,
Blunted edge never scoring,
But before you were not ready -
Until today your trust quivered,
Wavered,
Fear strum along your edges...
- Today you sing!
Sharpened stainless steel sinks,
Tearing tissue and parting flesh!

A shock to your system,
Not a drop dribbles forth,
Hilt-deep I have driven the blade,
Fatal trust frozen forever on your face,
Staring blindly through me,
Onward up toward the ceiling,
Your last breath cool in the room,
Echoing into my ear.

Alone,
I carve you,
Blood cooling and pooling as I slice,
Pale pallor vibrant against your reddened core -
Oh how delightfully gorgeous!
A once-living portrait I cherish,
The same yet different from those that came before;
I wonder if you will taste as sweet...
- Around your heart I cut,
The best I shall save for last,
A succulent dessert after a fine feast.

Your shell barely more than a rind,
Food fit only for the vermin;
Your bones like seeds,
Carefully extracted and tossed aside;
Ruby lips doused in your cool blood
Slurp your juice off fattened fingers;
The center of you remains,
A jewel on my plate.

With care I cleanse my mess,
Clothing covered coyly by a bib,
Eyes dancing merrily over your precious organ;
Tenderly I pick away and work inward,
Reveling in the oral ecstasy evoked.

As the years pass,
My annual tradition I shall keep,
And I shall name you forever my favorite
Until a better watermelon crosses my path.

Sanguine Sins

Welcome to Sanguine Sins
Where the wealthy come to feast alongside Vampires.

"Welcome, welcome! How many?"

"Two, please."

"Smoking or non?"

"Non-smoking, please."

"Will you be needing a drip-mat, sir?"

"Uh..." He faltered.

Mortal, damn. Keep smiling! Damn it, Sheila!

"I take that as a no, then." I managed to keep my voice cheerful, my pearly whites gleaming in the false sunlight filtering through the LCD 'windows'. "Follow me, sir, madame."

I led the couple down the short hallway to the dining area. I hate serving mortals, they hardly tipped worth a damn. The immortal Vampires, however....

"Here we are, a table for two. I do apologize, we are short staffed today, so I will be your waitress. My name is Sheila. Have you been here before?"

His voice was rough, but I suspected he was playing cool and attempting to be suave; I had become accustomed to the deep flow of the Vampire and his negative response grated on my nerves.

"Well, let me again welcome you! If you don't mind me saying so, we love nipping Sanguine cherries, the blood flows quite nicely," I mewled. I gave my deadly grin, flashing false, overly large canine teeth. Completely politically incorrect, but demanded by management. The pair shuddered. Anticipation or fear? Or both?

I handed the couple the simple, single page menu. He immediately lowered his head while she tentatively grasped the laminated paper with perfectly manicured hands and demurely kept her eyes hidden underneath thick black lashes.

"We have several items that are strictly Vampire only and require ID to order; think of it as our blood law to the national alcohol law. These are marked clearly with a red double-s. All of our steaks are fresh, no animals are killed the day before. We are a meat specialty, so we have limited salad options. We are quite proud of our wine, brewed in house. Have either of you been on our tour?"

"We decided we would try the food before we paid for the two hour tour." Ah, tourists. This is just getting better, isn't it?

"Well, you won't be disappointed! All items can be cooked to order and are as fresh as possible. Take your receipt from your meal when you purchase your tour and you will have the dinner total subtracted from your entire ticket price. The tour may be two hours, but when you finish, you will feel as if it wasn't long enough. You will get a full tour of the facility and will see some of the vineyards and pastures sitting on the five-hundred acres behind the restaurant." I paused. I refrained from mentioning the type of livestock kept on the property. "Now, I will take your drink orders and give you a few minutes to look over the menu. What may I get for you?"

I pulled out my notepad and jotted down two a glasses of water. Maybe I would get lucky and get to serve the wine?

I backed away with the smile still plastered to my face. Once in the kitchen, however, my face melted into a hard grimace. I glanced at the clock; it was well after nine o'clock. The regulars will be arriving soon, I thought. Pure joy bubbled up from deep within, the smile that accompanied me back to the dining area was real this time. I delivered the water and excused myself after receiving a quiet reply requesting a few more moments with the menu.

I felt him before I saw him; his stares always felt like a lover's caress down my spine. I turned toward the main entrance and met his deep obsidian pools of lust and blushed deeply. No matter how many times I served him, Alejandro continued to elicit the same reaction. I led him to a quiet corner booth with a double 'window' view overlooking a bluff and the ocean, a perfect summer day glimmered on the screens.

"Sheila, when will you let me bite that pretty little neck of yours?" His voice was honey dripped along my neck and down my chest. I ached to have him lick it off, but that was what he intended me to feel. I still enjoyed it and gave him the dreamy look he deserved.

"Mmm...Alejandro, you will be my undoing! Please, let me work!" I blushed again. Would I get fired if I let him nip, just once? "Now, behave, or I will have to get Margot to take your order!" I returned his playfulness, my threat empty and void of any harsh undertones.

He feigned a chest wound, "Ah, no! Not Margot! She would stake me just as soon serve me!" I couldn't help but to giggle.

"Now, now, no dramatics. You'll frighten the new guests and then where would you eat your breakfast?" I handed him the same menu I had handed the couple and cleared my throat. "In addition to the menu, we have a new shipment of Unrequited Love, Newly Wedded Bliss, Widow In Mourning, and for those who like the tougher game, we even have a small collection of Heartless Shrew. Shall I start you off with your usual O-negative?"

Alejandro groaned, a seductive sound that slithered down my spine. "I think I will have the O-negative, yes. Top shelf, yes? As for the new items, the Newly Wedded Bliss is served with both steaks, correct?"

"Yes, it is a double serving with extra blood-sauce and your choice of two sides. Would you like to order the Newly Wedded Bliss or do you need a few minutes to decide?" I bit my lip at the look he tossed me. "Right, I'll be right back with your blood, sir -" I faltered, "- Alejandro." Get a GRIP, Sheila!

With shaking legs and weak knees, I walked back to the tourist couple. In a daze, I answered questions about the steaks and the sauces. For humans, the answers were always disappointing: no, it is simply beef steak; no, it is just a red-wine sauce; yes, the Vampires really drink blood-wine, but they eat the same steaks the mortals do. If they only knew... I thought to myself as I wrote down a Fang Bender Bites appetizer and two medium-rare Lover's Hearts. Really, though, the appetizer was nothing more than lamb stuffed mushrooms and the main courses just two medallions of Filet Mignon. I ran their order to the kitchen and grabbed a bottle of §On, the house blended O-negative red wine, for Alejandro and a bottle of §hiraz, the house Shiraz, for the mortals.

I poured for the couple and left them to their quiet discussion. Alejandro watched, as did every other vampire in the dining area; tourists were not rare, but every first time visitor was an appetizing temptation for the regulars. I popped the cork on his bottle and began to pour his glass before I realized he had been watching me and not the customers. I blushed.

"You are more beautiful when you redden. Also, more delectable and irresistible. You look so tender and perfect, you should be served up to kings." My blush deepened, a retort at the ready, but I held my tongue. It would not do to provoke playful banter with blood-wine uncorked; bad things could happen, even with centuries old vampires like Alejandro.

I waited until he tasted the wine and nodded his approval before taking his order.

"The Newly Wedded bliss is too tempting an offer to refuse. If it is available, an O-negative pair to compliment the wine? If not, I will take the best available." His hungry eyes bored through my chest to my own heart and listened to the blood pump through my veins. I felt as if I were on fire.

"One of these days, Alejandro, you will find someone who will abhor your need to taunt young waitresses." I tried to keep my voice level, but I knew he heard the heated passion seeping into my words. Breathe. In. Out. Don't look so eager!

"I will just as soon find that person as someone who will share my desire," he whispered, fangs glistening in the 'window' light. I shook my head, still smiling, as I walked back to the kitchen.



Under staffed. How could I forget? Stupid me. The two runners were not enough for an entire restaurant full of vampires and I found myself walking down to the basement to retrieve the hearts for Alejandro's meal. This was the part of the facility the tourists never saw, and with good reason. I passed a door labeled Lover's Quarrel Heartache and the door opposite it, Puppy Love. The hallways behind each were dark; we were out of both and they had been stricken from the menu that morning. The hallway stretched quite far, dozens upon dozens of doors leading down more hallways, all just the same, some empty and dark, some packed and full of various sounds. The sterile hospital white walls contrasted with the brick facade in the dining area. Up there, it felt like a true upscale restaurant while down here felt like a hospital prison ward. I shivered.

About halfway down the main hall, I found the hallway for which I was looking: Newly Wedded Bliss. I pulled the key out of my pocket and opened the thick steel door. A new corridor opened up before me, new doors to search. These doors were labeled with blood types in varying combinations. It took five minutes to locate a double O-negative. I glanced through the peephole and saw light. It was Alejandro's lucky night, we had his order. I reached to the control pad and entered my passcode and the door swung silently open. I took a deep breath and reminded myself They are just cattle. Don't get emotional, keep a blank face.

I walked into a room with a couple entangled in a king-size bed, completely nude. Oh...my... I tilted my head and watched as he penetrated her over and over and listened to the wet sounds of their love making intermingled with her moans of pleasure. I could not look away, even knowing their fate. Memory of Alejandro's mind tricks in the dining area flushed my skin as I watched the couple and I could not help but get aroused. Sheila! No! They are cattle, just cattle, not something to envy or get worked up over!

I took a shuddering breath and released it slowly. I stepped back through the door and pushed the call-button on the control pad for the butcher. I also pushed the 'rush' button, indicating their climax was imminent. Hearts must be harvested at the peak of release for the best steak to be served. Vampires can tell and as a high-end restaurant, our name was on the line with every meal served.

I walked back into the room and leaned my back against the wall next to the door. Sheila...this is not a good idea...get back in the hall! Don't... I berated myself, even as I let my hand travel underneath my skirt. Sheila, this is how you end up on the menu! I had lost control and was pumping myself higher and higher wishing I could join in.

That is how the butcher found me. I stared, glass eyed, as he entered and slit the throats of the couple as they climaxed together. I had not yet reached climax, but could not stop. He set up the pump and removed their blood as he carved their chests for the still beating hearts. His expert hands caressed every body part as he butchered them for the mortal steaks and the slow-cooked rib dinners. My fingers glided in and out in time with his knives.

Then my breath caught. He turned with lightning speed and our eyes met. I whimpered, jaw trembling, pleading with him through my eyes. His grim visage gave way to a sneer. Still bloodied from the couple, his fingers pushed aside his vinyl apron and unbuttoned his jeans. A distended cock sprang forth, hard and ready.

"You like that?" He huffed. "You like watching the blood spurt and the life leave?" I could only whimper again. His blooded hand stroked his cock as he approached. "A little devil, eh?" His coarse voice rubbed my skin like sandpaper. He closed the distance and pinned my body, stilling my fingers.

No! Not this! Sheila! What have you done? I bucked my hips the best that I could, mashing my hand to his groin. He pulled my hand free and clasped both of mine above my head. He dipped and entered me all at once, tearing a delighted shriek from my lips. My head swam as his free hand clamped on my throat. That was my undoing. I came harder than ever before.

Then I felt the blade, swift, cold, and nothing more.




A runner delivered Alejandro's meal. A note, matching Sheila's handwriting, was tucked under a lidded plate:

Alejandro,
Your offers were too great to refuse. Please accept my offering in return.
~Sheila

He lifted the lid to find the Snuff Lover's Dream, a non-menu dessert item consisting of heart smothered in sweet blood-sauce.

Perfection

Perfection. Greek sculptors mastered their art. Realistic carvings in every conceivable way. Astonishing. Mesmerizing. I enjoy touring the ruins and have walked the museums, but never before have I been so lucky as tonight.

It is one of those "friend of a friend" connections that allows me to wander the storage area of a little known museum that houses the newest discovery from ancient Greece. The very male athlete stands, from head to toe, just over six feet. Just like his brethren, there is a tangible realism to his features. He very well could have been a victim of Medusa! There are no identifying marks to credit a sculptor and there is no support signaling a Roman reproduction. Perfect balance, perfect craftsmanship, perfect...perfection. His musculature is well defined. His body poised.

But he is different than all the rest. Where the others follow a contrapposto form, he does not. Neither does he stand rigid and straight. No, there is a real...character...attitude...something...in the way he stands. His head is slightly tilted, his face drawn down, and a very faint serene expression rides his visage. His sole arm extends downward, with a slight outward angle, as if he is reaching for something. His shoulders are wide with very obvious brute strength, and yet...and yet he appears tenderly loving.

He is intriguing. But wait! Loving? I step back and look again at the entire statue. From a few feet away he appears to be reaching for something off a table, but up close....

I allow my eyes follow down his body and admire the sculpted abs. This is an olympian athlete without question! I return to my close inspection as my eyes lower. As with his brethren, he is nude, and very much male. The marble phallus glistens and I realize I have dropped to my knees and gotten a little too close. But is this too close? Never before have I objectified a work of art, but tonight...tonight I am drawn...I need to understand why!

Just one touch? A single touch cannot harm this masterpiece. The limp carving begs to be caressed. One solitary kiss will not hurt. The moment the thought strikes, my lips press forward. Cool white marble shocks my nerves, but I do not pull away too far. I frown at the aftermath of my momentary peck; bright red lipstick screams from the surface of the stone. I reach up and gently brush my left palm slowly down the smooth shaft. A smile twitches my mouth; I am being gentle because this is a work of art and it is ancient, I tell myself. While a man is the most useful to a lot of women when he is hard, I find the softer moments to be a prized pleasure. Engulfing him and feeling him grow inside my mouth is a wonderful experience! But this is not a real man, I admonish my thoughts. To which, I reply, Oh, but to try!

While I argue with my irrational urges, my hand continues to wipe at my lipstick. I watch as my hand closes and begins to stroke the marble cock. I watch in silence, for my thoughts cease to exist. It is a full minute before I realize my fingers are fully encircled and touch my thumb. I know that means something is wrong, but I cannot place exactly what that something is. My hand is a slight shade of pink, the faded lipstick soaking into the stone acting as a lubricant for my stroking. I lean forward and close my eyes as my lips pull the tip of the statue into my mouth. It has been warmed by my hand and continues to melt on my tongue. I expected a rocky taste, but receive a pleasant flesh flavor dancing along my taste buds. My right hand instinctively rises to cup his balls. As I suck, they become soft in my grasp. A moan escapes, sending chills down my spine, tightening my nipples, and soaking my panties. With a full mouth and full hands, I look up. The sight that meets my eyes is amazing! He is not reaching for something off of a table, he is reaching to run his fingers through my hair!

This thought excites me more than I could ever imagine - a one of a kind Greek statue that is not meant as an offering to the gods or as a tribute to an athlete, but as a simple reminder to a wife of her husband's love! The view from this angle is splendid! His face, his arm, his stance is so life-like. As I close my eyes, I fail to notice how the white marble is slowly disappearing. A tan radiates from his groin outward, pulsing with my heartbeat.

As the tan deepens, flesh appears. The focal point is the quickly growing cock deep in my mouth. My mouth feels to be shrinking, but it is only the limp cock waking, stretching, and my throat opens to accommodate the larger intrusion. My eyes flutter open, the chills once again spreading through my body. I look up as fingers brush over my head and a smile greets me in his softening face. I slowly pull my mouth away, letting my right hand take over stroking as my left switches to the soft pouch beneath his delicious cock, but before I can release the tip, he halts my head with his strong hand.

"Please, do not stop," rumbles through the room. His voice is deep, gravelly, warm, and tender. How can I refuse? I once more lower my lips toward the golden hair at the base of his cock. How long had I been sucking on flesh with hair tickling my nose? When had the marble faded?

Questions are useless and annoying when there is a simple pleasure at hand. I ignore my thoughts and concentrate on the enjoyable task. His hand releases his tight grip and his fingers splay through my hair once more. He begins to moan, a deep thunderous yet melodious music to my ears. My panties are no longer simply wet; my jeans, as well, are soaked through. I have had orgasms while giving men pleasure before and I can feel the tell-tale signs of one beginning now. My stomach tightens, butterflies dance inside, and all I can do is moan. He is getting close, too; I can feel him swell and begin to throb.

Just as I begin to cum, just a second before he releases himself down my throat, he whispers, "I am sorry." I do not care, the ecstasy flows.



He stared down at the marble statue of a kneeling Greek woman, face raised with her only arm held up, as if drinking water from a nonexistent fountain. His low voice echoed through the storage room, "The Fates are cruel, but I thank you for your gift of life. May the gods favor you and allow you to shed the curse of Medusa as I have."

Succubus Born

A creature of the night dwelled inside her,
Just beneath the surface of her tanned skin,
Warming her with every man's touch,
Until the outer shell melted away,
And the inner beast could be released.

Her body seemed to hum and glow,
The essence of her beauty was the creature,
Alluring men from near and far to feed,
She never imagined such hunger could be slacked,
Then the beast lay dormant.

She felt something were wrong with her,
There was no desire to bed a man,
And with the passing of her libido came depression,
For no man would look at her the same,
Then her naturally tanned skin faded.

Society called it a dry spell,
She considered it a living death,
To be trapped in a seemingly lifeless body,
Knowing what had been lost to her suddenly,
Yet she refused to admit defeat.

Days slowly turned to weeks,
Weeks quickly became months,
Twelve months to a year threefold,
Depression subsided and energy returned,
But something was different inside.

She stood facing a mirror,
Critiquing her body structure in fine detail,
It was then she noticed the markings,
Like tattoos swirled golden across her thighs,
Up and into the very core of her womanhood.

Fascination led her to trace them lightly,
Her fingertips gliding gently over her soft skin,
She neared where they disappeared,
Small gasps escaped her lips,
And a glow returned to her tanning skin.

Sensations flowed and entranced the woman,
Fingers dipped slowly into her sweet cunt,
Shudders thrilled along her spine,
Eliciting quiet and soft moans,
And still the glow grew brighter.

With eyes closed she could not see the markings,
The golden swirls had begun to move,
Becoming living vines entwining and wrapping her body,
Snaking their way upwards with the increasing inner heat,
Rippling visibly as the creature stirred once more.

Bare to the world in front of the mirror,
She collapsed down to her knees,
Fingers gone from sight and working hard,
Unaware of the traveling and expanding color,
She opened up to the beast begging for release.

Golden strands branched out,
Reaching her delicate and erect nipples,
And sent lightning bolts through her body,
Opening her eyes to the beauty in the mirror,
Revealing to her the horror of reality.

Where once her body stood,
Bland and untouched for years,
Now sat a being of tentacles and light,
Controlling her movements,
Leaching and feeding off her pleasure.

She was unable to stop,
And even more unsure she wanted these feelings to end,
Until she noticed the dancing designs,
Though they felt extraordinary,
Were forming a sinister pattern.

One hand remained between her thighs,
The other traced up to her breasts,
Pinching her tender and swollen nipples,
Enhancing the sensations of the traveling gold,
Pulling inhuman sounds from her throat.

Her eyes were transfixed on the swirls and lines,
Originating from her most secret place,
And tantalizing her most sensual parts,
They caused her skin to crawl just beneath the surface of gold;
She realized they created an image of what controlled her.

Fear welled up inside her belly,
But was quickly transformed into another emotion,
Leaving her mind momentarily blank,
Confused and lost to her previous thoughts,
And just as quickly she decided she did not care.

The vines of gold began to rise,
Becoming more than a crawling of skin,
Assuming a more definitive structure,
Helping to guide the woman's hands,
Urging her on to a long sought climax.

She could no longer see,
Her gaze gone glassy eyed,
She felt her body warm,
And just as she began to tremble,
Release flooded onto her waiting hand.

A scream of ecstasy escaped her,
A blinding light exploded from her glowing skin,
The golden markings flowed back along her body,
Back deep inside her flesh,
And then everything went dark.

She seemed to awaken from a long sleep,
Though only seconds had passed,
And the sight greeting her in the mirror frightened her anew:
Not only was there the creature that controlled her,
But amid all her womanly fluids in her hand lay a second miniature creature.