Forbidden Games

I loved Dark Shadows as a young man. But I would have had it go a different way. Barnabas would have embraced both the vampire curse and the witch's obsessive love personified in the beautiful Angelic. I would have conspired with her to rule the night and I would have made thralls of all the Collin's family. I would most definitely have enslaved the morally ambiguous mind and heart of Dr. Julia Hoffman. I would have devoted myself to learning Angelic's ways. The family would have brought me blood sources so that I never had to scavenge at the docks risking discovery. I would have cast the darkest of shadows across Collinsport relinquished of the chains of morality that come from the emotional blackmail of mortality.

I suppose it was no surprise that I was drawn to the great Wanderer of the Night, Hekate. I found a crossroads nearby and offered lamb. Then I took a trip with the Golden Teacher and captured urine after the experience. I added it to my free plant container that grew captured weeds. When I was certain that the roots of those plants had time to absorb my gift, I pulled these carriers and bound them in a yellow cord and left them at the crossroads. The third offering was made after I gave myself a long overdue haircut and shave. I took the shavings and put them in the water of an icetray. After it was frozen and the next new moon shielded the night, I left it for Her.

She is invoked through throat-fucking, commanded exposure of female flesh, and unrepentant lasciviousness. She provides the opportunity of revenge absorption and guards the only way for a Blood Male to be "mindful" - the Hunt.

In my own domain, I mastered the three shapes: fire sphere of fortune, pyramid points expanded intent, and cube face systems. I moved forward to honor she who set me free from my Oedipus enslavement, Eris. I approached the tree of self-awareness to eat the golden apples of strife that she gathered for me. One apple to open the descending knothole into a land peculiarly my own.

To the right is the seduction of suicide. The Secret One has since put a gate to prevent premature exits.

At this entry point there is a pool that allows me to see my true faces. I gaze and take what I see with me. I enter the cabin at the base of the cliff. Therein is the faceless woman who cooks the transforming meal. I have fucked her before, leaning her over the old wooden table. It was good. So is her food. After eating, I can master my spinal energy wings that were suppressed when I took a body for training. They become black spidery legs that can easily climb the cliff wall and take me to Her cave, Hecate's Hole.

In the past, Fredrick would transform the spinal energy to wings and ascend from the dark hole to the top of the cliff. There is where his sarcophagus keeps his resting and resigned form. My friend is under protection until that time that I have grounded a better expression. It is in a garden outside of Vesta's Temple. What he could not achieve in the light, I will achieve in darkness. What he could not achieve from above, I will strike from below. My friend will be vindicated, and his rest completed.

The slave-witch brought Me the black ritual that allowed Me to connect with the Secret One. Now I work in the Hall of Heretics and possess the power of the freed Greycoat. Hecate blessed My ritual blade and used it to completely claim this domain as My own. Her water ran across the blade heated by Her anger in My behalf. The water was cold and pure. Thus, the blade is imbued.

I visited one of the families in the valley. The Father bowed before Me and offered his home to Me. I bade his wife to cook their infant child for us all to eat, and she obeyed without question. While we ate the fatted calf, I took his beautiful young daughter's virginity for the family's entertainment. His daughter was instantly impregnated with a new child to replace her little sibling we had consumed. I told his son to milk his mother thoroughly for I was thirsty. It was not enough so I had the son beat her until My cup was filled with both milk and blood.

As I departed, I gave the mother to the son as a slave and blessed him with My sadistic hunger. I gave the daughter to the father as a sex slave so that he could sodomize her until the child was born. I blessed him with My lascivious appetite for young flesh. I blessed the enslaved women with wet cunts that orgasmed whenever they encountered the semen of the masters. They were all to honor My child amongst them and obey him as he grew. All their property to include themselves was in stewardship to his growing Intent.

Satisfied that I had created one truly happy home in the valley, I returned to the Hall of the Heretic.

Introductory Story:

Once she had his attention, she unfastened the top button on her white blouse. His attention returned to the expensive food in front of him. He took a bite of the blackened salmon and looked at her again. She unbuttoned the next one and smiled at him. He continued chewing, but gave her an appreciative nod. Not enough. She had dared to come here. Dared to pretend to be in his economic status. She had ordered a meal that would probably cost her a month's groceries. Her roommate had made fun of her pitiful strategy. She unfastened yet another button to expose as much cleavage as the surrounding mores would allow. She began eating slowly and seductively, letting her lips pole dance on the fork. She allowed some of the crème sauce to drip into the valley of her exposed mounds.

He sat back in his chair and granted her audience. He clanged the knife in his hand to his plate as she swallowed the molested morsel. But the food found its way into her airway and she immediately began to gasp. She could not wrestle it free and began choking. "No, no, no!" she silently screamed as she began struggling for a life sustaining breath.

Then it happened. Strong arms pulled her from her seat and grasped her from behind. The Heimlich maneuver was being administered to her with violent thrusts, a welcome rape of her dignity. She went face down into her meal, bent over the table as the strangler was projected outward. The arms of her target had not released her, but held her in this position, because she was quivering with an unexpected orgasm.

Once she recovered, he released her back to her seat. Her blouse was completely torn open exposing her glorious mounds and the black lace of the chosen brazier. Her face was a lavish bukkake.

"Thank-you."

He stood up and pulled her blouse off of her body. She did not resist. He used it as a rag to wipe her spoiled face.

"Sit with me while you recover."

"Yes, of course. Thank-you."

He did not return the blouse after she moved to his table. He smiled at her, and said, "It serves you right for teasing me."

"I was trying to get your attention."

He laughed. "You succeeded."

"Why do you desire my attention?" He continued.

"Because you seem to be alone in the world, and I also am alone. I just wanted to know what it was like to be with someone who had achieved so much, from what I have read about you."

"So, you are a stalker?" His face seemed to grow more serious.

"No sir. I am just trying to find a better way to live life. I am a quester."

"Give me your hand." He reached out toward her. She hesitantly responded by presenting her left hand in response. He took it with both of his and pulled her forward across the table. His right held her wrist while his own left squeezed her hand to his, palm to palm. He said one word that reverberated within her own mind.

"TRUTH"

She went blank for a moment as the word echoed in the empty chamber of her pretense and found her core.

"My roommate found you online. She has always been a cruel anchor for me. I love to create but have found no way to market the way my mind works. I am often depressed. She said that I needed to find someone who will act as a protective shield. She has grown tired of me. It was her idea that I attempt to seduce you. She said that I have nothing to lose and everything to gain. I am sorry. It seems so selfish when I say it aloud. Please forgive me. I am so embarrassed."

"What do you create?"

"I take pictures and project them onto canvas, then paint around them. I write poetry. I have tried sculpture because I like the feel of it. But I have no business sense and so I have lived with Jennifer, my roommate, for three years now. I have known her since grade school. I think she remains friends with me because she likes fixing people. Or maybe she just likes taking captives."

She smiled sadly.

"Why have you not asked me to return your blouse?"

She sat silently for a moment. "I..I find it strangely arousing that you have taken it from me, and that you used it like a rag. I had an orgasm during your noble rescue of my pathetic attempt to captivate you. I don't know why. And I don't understand why I am being so open with you."

"You are beautiful, and yet your hymen remains intact, and you are not a virgin. Why?" He said through a forceful whisper.

"How do you know that!? How?"

"I ask, you answer. TRUTH."

Her resistance to his invasive probes disappeared. "I am saving that experience for one person, for someone who actually wants me. But I have performed a lot of oral sex, and have diverted the insistent phallus of past lovers into my anus. It hurts, but they are happy to take me in that way. God, why am I telling you this?"

He sat back and asked, "So, you have been with a lot of people you felt did not want you beyond using you for their own gratification?"

"It is difficult being alone. It is easier for a woman to quest others into her life with the flesh of her body. The power becomes an addiction. "

He smiled kindly, "Indeed it does." He released her hand. "Stand up and give me your cell." She complied, and he snapped a few pictures of her. He returned her phone. "Now, create something for me and send a picture of it to the number you now hold."

She looked down at the palm of her left hand and saw a number clearly engraved into the skin of her palm. "How...?" she whispered.

"Call Jennifer to pick you up. You are too intoxicated to drive. Eat what you want. Meals at this table are already paid for. You are not the first quester to seek my attention. I am going home. Give me something that warrants risking my valuable time on you." His sarcasm was obvious when he said quester. He stood up suddenly and left without returning her blouse. She was stunned. She called Jennifer. "Please bring me a blouse. I need a ride. I am too drunk to drive."

"What? What happened to your blouse, Titster?" She had grown used to that nickname from high school, because her puberty provided her with ample breasts and mean friends. Jennifer made sure it was a label that stuck. Even some teachers had begun using it during roll call. Three years ago, when she moved in with Jennifer, it became a prerequisite that she change her last name to the English surname of Rape. She agreed because it meant she had a place to stay rent free for a year.

"Mr. Fredrickson took it and used it to clean my face. I kinda choked in front of him and he rescued me."

Jennifer laughed heartly, and shouted, "Our course you did! And now you are sitting there in the restaurant in just your bra?"

"Yeah, he left me here." Titster whimpered. "The food at his table is free. He apparently keeps a tab for those of us desperate enough to make a fool of ourselves. I can pay you back on his tab."

Jennifer kept laughing as she hung up.

When she got there, she brought a wet t-shirt two sizes too small. "Give me your bra and I'll give you the shirt." Titster knew there was no sense arguing. Jennifer was going to have her fun. She quickly stripped off her brazier and struggled to get into the cold, wet shirt. Jennifer was filming it all on her own cell. She reached over and pinched one of her exposed mounds and Titster screamed, attracting unwanted attention. She survived the evening and was relieved to return home.

She shut herself off and masturbated into a long peaceful sleep. She spent the next week creating a painting of the picture Mr. Fredrickson had taken. When she sent an image of it to the number he had provided her, he told her to send him her address and he would send her an invitation to a social event at his estate. She complied.