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#Bell. A (late again) #wankwednesday addition…

August 16, 2011

It’s Wank Wednesday! and you all know what that means! Yes you do! it means it’s time to get those sticky little paws on more lovely smut from all of the writers over at Ruby Kiddles site The Erotic Notebook. You can find that here > < and you can follow her (@eroticnotebook) , and me (@jelly318) on twitter if you so choose. So, without further ado, here it is. Enjoy


“Your sins will be purged in the fires of Hell, heathen woman!” snarled the street pastor, the breath rattling from his lungs. He had lifted his walking stick, barring my way along the sidewalk outside the entrance to the club. His brow was deeply furrowed and his eyes black with unprovoked fury. Small sprays of spittle flew out of his mouth as he spat his admonishment at me, some of it hitting me in the face, some settling in a foamy string in his graying, food stained beard. A mixture of nausea and anger rose in my chest when I looked at him, but his pathetic appearance and the dark looks from the bouncers on the door, stopped me from simply killing him where he stood. ‘Perfect’ I thought.

I grabbed at the stick, unbalancing him from the box he was standing on. My strength, vastly greater than his, allowed me to easily manoeuver him against the nearest wall and pin him there by the collar of his dirty, brown, piss smelling robes. For all his venom, he was just another hapless, helpless victim. His legs turned to jelly, he went limp and began whimpering as he looked into my burning eyes.

“The last time I went to hell, old man, the fires were not so fierce. Far less so than my wrath! which, I warn you, you should not provoke.” I sniffed at him, almost gagging at his fetid stench. “You, holy man?! with your rancid breath still reeking of the cocks you’ve been sucking, and your own balls still raw from the street whores ministrations. You dare to presume to judge me a sinner?! you think that these threadbare old robes give you that right? Fuck you!” I dropped him to the floor and heard him weeping as I walked quickly away. No doubt, like so many others who crossed my path, he had just rediscovered his failing, misplaced faith, and was silently swearing a new oath to serve his god better from now on. Idiot.

I should like to have stayed a while and toyed with his feeble mind, shown him a snippet of real Hell, which he knew nothing about. However, I had more pressing needs to fulfill, and a far sweeter conquest than this one commanded my attentions. This night would be bitter-sweet. Heart breaking and beautiful all at once.The bouncers shook their square shaved heads at me as I passed by them, unhindered, through the doors of the club. No doubt they would have some great stories to tell now, about the night I attacked the holy man. Great!


The girl stood by the window, steadying herself with one delicate, slender hand on the frame. She sipped at a glass of juice I had given her, watching me as I took off the bed sheets and replaced them with clean, fresh ones. Sheets that were free of our blood, come, sweat and saliva.

“How long before the weakness passes?” She asked, her voice gut-wrenchingly feeble. Although it was night, and the sun had long set, the street lights and passing cars still caused her to narrow her sensitive eyes against the glare. This was not the first time we had fucked, she had invited me into her bed several times before, but it was the first time I had tasted her. The sweet, metallic residue of her blood was still fresh on my tongue.

“You will feel better in an hour or two. It just takes a while for your body to renew the supply” I said, “It’s not permanent, the juice will help. You should sleep.” I said, turning back the corner of the newly made bed. I raised an eyebrow and smiled at her. She smiled back and shook her head.

She lifted the hem of her long night-shirt to examine her groin. Even in the half-light of the table lamp, the puncture wounds to her femoral artery still looked quite fresh. Though they would heal before daybreak, the bruising that now accompanied them would no doubt linger for a few days. Sometimes I did get carried away, and forgot my own strength.  I had taken what I thought were a few careful draughts from her, before making my way to her cunt to taste more of her. Perhaps I had been more brutal than I intended, allowing the monster in me to take over too much, but at least this time I had stopped. I hoped that she would end it now, tell me to go and never return. I hoped that this night would see her vow never to set foot in the club again.

“How can I sleep?” she said with a wry, quiet laugh “Knowing that you are out there, that you know the most intimate taste of me? I have heard something of your reputation, you know, from people at the club.” She said, her eyes suddenly sad. “I know how you really feel about us mere mortals, how you treat us with contempt and disdain, and you don’t come around until you want…something from us” Her eyes focused on her toes, which she wriggled, betraying her discomfort. “They say that I should be careful of you. That one day you might get it in your mind to just finish me off “

“You shouldn’t believe everything you hear, Rosie. I’m really not so bad you know.” Our eyes locked as I pulled my gloves on, preparing to leave. Her direct gaze calmly denied my words. As we stared at each other, she lifted her nightshirt again, exposing her raw, beaten flesh to illustrate her silent challenge. “The trouble is that you spend too much time with people who pretend to know me” I said dismissively, though the evidence was to the contrary. Inwardly I winced as I recalled how lost I had become in her, in the feel and taste of her, and the warmth and softness of her sweet blood and sex. I knew she felt it. Each time I came to her my need for her grew more intense, and it was evident in my touch.

I PRETEND TO KNOW YOU!” She screamed, suddenly angered by my ambivalence. Tears welled in her eyes, budded over her long beautiful lashes and fell, splashing on to her forearms that were now folded defensively in front of her. “What am I to you Shayla? Hmm? What do you feel when you look at me? Is there anything there? Or am I just your ‘supply’?”

I paced quickly across the room toward her, tearing her nightshirt from neck to crotch, angrily exposing her. “Your cunt is still glistening with our juices, your nipples still sore from where you begged me to beat them, my fingers are still wet with your come and I can still taste your blood on my tongue. And you? You are standing there asking me how that makes me feel? that’s fucked up Rosie!”

“Shayla, please, stop!”

“What did you think I would feel Rosie? I fuck you, and feast on you, show you the devil inside me and you scream at me like you still want me to love you! I feel sickened by your weakness, and pity your lack of pride. You mortals are all just so pathetic.”

“LIAR!” She screamed, as I turned to pick up my coat, closing my eyes against the pain.

There was no way to adequately explain to her the hunger that I felt for her. She could never fully comprehend the real meaning of forever, and the grief that I had to bear time and time again when I had allowed myself to fall in love with a mortal. Always the same, I watched and watched, waited and wanted. Then, when I could no longer stand the deprivation I would seduce them, feast on them,  take and give everything I could, embedding myself in their lives and veins, and feeling my heart break a little more each night. Then they would be gone and I would be left alone again.

The old-fashioned alarm clock on Rosie’s bedside table clicked. I watched as the tiny hammer struck against the small tin bell, announcing the imminent arrival of the rising sun. She fell weeping on to her bed as I switched off the alarm. I looked through the window, my vision blurred by silent tears of my own, and saw that the sky was already turning an inky, watery blue. It was time to go.

My heart full of ache, I walked through the city, reliving our last night. For all the pain I had caused her I was truly sorry, I wished we could have more. But, she will only bear her scars for one lifetime. I on the other hand, will bear mine for eternity.

From → Erotica

One Comment
  1. Squeaky permalink

    Poignant and beautifully written. Love this.

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