I watch them scurry in the approaching twilight; lively as a herd bent on an evening drink with the stink of nervousness in the updraft, teasing them softly with faint whiffs of danger as the night begins to drain the power of day. Observing from my balcony high above them, they do not see me watching through bored eyes, tired eyes, eyes that have seen too much and yet not enough. Eyes that once held the gift of innocence and youth but gave it away for a moment of revenge, eyes that no longer cry over the silly haunting of a love that never really was or mourn the loss of the soul they once framed.

I am my own creation, that is to say, I am what I created. Jealousy is the bamboo of the emotional world, growing in leaps and bounds overnight, twisting and turning itself into a tangle of half-lied truths and honest lies. A wall of ill-content and self-induced delusions with no beginning and no end: only a blinding structure of martyred torture no war machine could ever destroy. Innocence has no place here.

I never expected my torturous cry to be answered that soft rainy day nor did I thank the one who delivered me from my madness. I had no right. I freely traded one gift for another: my eternal soul for eternal hunger. A fair exchange in the eyes of the Gods to be sure. I only saw Her for once brief second, green eyes iced over with hate and loathing for all of those who had caused Her beloved Zeus to stray. I lived a lifetime in that second, I swear, and when I felt Her sympathy for my pain I latched on tight, answering Her question even as I felt my soul escape my eyes, shattering the window of innocence. The world spun around me, cloaking me in a fog of righteousness as I began to morph within Her cocoon. The pulse of change raged through my body, turning me from a creature of light into a demon of the night. I remember I began to laugh with the joy of power, the glee of revenge dripping from my lips and running down my chin. I felt... alive.

I came to myself within the light of false dawn, cold and naked and of all things, blessedly alone in a small hidden wood. The beauty of the coming morn was lost upon me, and I remember pondering it when I heard the screams. I had barely managed to get back to my room in my father's house when my mother began to beat upon my door. I drew on a robe as she came in, bearing a horrible expression. My betrothed had been found dead with another girl. I ran out of the house with a thousand alibis building in my mind. I need not have worried; Hera provided me with one. She had sent the sounds of a broken heart to my mother's ears and she swore I had been in my bed crying all night. I was safe.

I never grew old. I realized it soon after my sisters married and began spitting out more soldiers and obedient wives for Greece. In the dark of night I fled on the wings of fright, fearful my secret would be discovered. I ran away from the shell of a girl that died along with her first love. A newly embittered woman entered the hall of Hera's temple. A new recruit for Her cause: revenge upon Her husband's greatest creation, humans.

Over the centuries I learned much at Her feet and through my own ventures. Humans are cattle, nothing more, an endless crop of fodder to dine on at my leisure or pleasure depending on my nightly mood. Mother always said never play with my food but she never said anything about toying with them. They are such frail weak creatures, humans, you'd think Zeus would have prepared them better against creatures like me.

The scent of evening grows stronger as Apollo beds his chariot for the night. He has only seen the after effects of my feedings, burning the scars of my sins upon my immortal flesh with his judgmental rays. Alas, his jeers at dawn no longer sear me; the scars have grown too thick even for him. He moved on to better victims long ago; 'tis Morpheous who taunts me now; my only witness to my crimes of nourishment. He offered to make me Queen of his realm once upon a time but he soon learned never try to cage one of Hera's chosen ones. Now, he too bears a scar as pretty as mine.

I lick my lips with remembrance and realize I can still taste my dinner. I stumbled across him in a shady club in lower Manhattan. Dark eyes and darker curls with a touch of cool olive to intensify his effects on females, his body betrayed him for what he really was: food. I smiled expectantly as he gave his speech. I made small sounds of eagerness, a long practiced habit. He looked at me with decided eyes that spoke of a one-night stand. I looked back with eyes that answered with challenge. He was up for it... for a while anyway.

The motel was clean at least but not that it mattered. What we did was far from clean. Simple foreplay quickly turned to sweat and saliva. His, mine and ours. I've always found it gives me a better appetite, an edge to my hunger and lust. At last we lay naked, with him on top. He pulled my hands over my head and bound them with his tie. Then he decided to turn ugly. I hate when they do that.

'My lil ho think she's all that in her leather dress and high boots?' SLAP

'My lil ho think she's gonna run the show?' SLAP

'Do you think you're better than me, bitch?' SLAP

'How 'bout I fuck that sweet lil ass for you, cunt? Huh?' SLAP SLAP

The look of shock on his face when I pushed him easily off me was priceless, but the look of horror that followed when I ripped my wrists apart turned me on... badly.

I remember looking down at him a few minutes later, lying there properly trussed up like an Italian Thanksgiving offering. I watched as he struggled in fear and indignation. I smiled and felt the change begin, laughing inside as I listened to his childish bleats thru his filthy sock held in his mouth by his own belt. One should never underestimate a girl who carries rope in her purse. I believe he began to cry then.

I ran my face across his chest and nuzzled his neck, feeling damn near intoxicated from the smell. No cologne invented can compare to the scent of fear. The aroma can almost get me off ... but not quite. It takes a little more than that.

My tongue tasted his salt and dew, making me shiver with anticipation. As many times as I have performed this nightly ritual, I still hold it sacred. I rubbed my body all over his, moaning softly against him. My teeth found his nipple as my hot wet pussy found his thigh and I began to work both in unison, making both damp with my fluids.

His protests began to ebb as his body reacted against his will. His cock came alive with its own will, standing hard against my stomach. I giggled and bend my head down, licking the head and shaft, feeling my food shiver with need. I worked my mouth up and down, moaning louder as he grew within my hot orifice. Sliding off of his thigh, my nails found his sack and began to fondle, then scratch softly... then dig in. He bucked and screamed thru his homemade ball gag, and I giggled harder around his shaft. Pain is such an aphrodisiac.

I slipped up above him and slipped his cock inside my waiting pussy, groaning at the feel of it. I had to admit he was a decent chose for a meal. Nine inches of beef begging to be eaten and my cunt gobbled him up eagerly. I rode him hard and fast, feeling him thrash and buck under me. I stopped as I felt him suddenly throb and grow hard; I wasn't ready to feed just yet. I pulled off of him and heard him groan in agony. Looking into his eyes, I saw he badly needed to cum and was suffering for it. Good.

'Are you having a good time, my pet?' SCRATCH

'Are you enjoying yourself, my pet?' SCRATCH

'Do you need to cum, bitch? SCRATCH

'Are you ready to die, my love?' SCRATCH

He lay whimpering helplessly as the blood trickled down his chest and on to the sheets. In another life he would need many stitches, but not in this one. I drew a finger across his wounds and dabbed a drop of blood on the end of his nose. For a moment I smiled from a memory of my childhood and then grew cold. Marcus had once looked like that on a cold day, nose and cheeks red from running a foot race. My only love...


I grabbed his half hardened cock and jerked it roughly, feeling it spring back to full life in my hand. I suckled it hard and brutal, hearing my poor pet moan and cry out in pain and pleasure. I reached down and picked up my purse, removing an ivory dildo. I pressed it against his ass and pushed. It resisted for a moment and then went in halfway. I had to hold on tight as he jerked up from the pain. He tried to get away but was held tight by the ropes. I pulled it out and pushed again... and again.

Despite his objections, his cock told a different story. He was so hard that I could feel the veins against my tongue. I stopped sucking and leaned up to his face.

'Do you like it in the ass, my pet?'

He cried openly now, hot tears running down the sides of his head, dampening his curls flat against his ears. I brushed them off gently and kissed his forehead.

'Soon, my pet, very soon.'

I moved back down and began to fuck him in earnest, shoving that huge cock over and over into his virgin ass, watching as his cock strained to bursting, licking the dribble of cum off the head. I positioned myself between his legs and began to rub my soaked clit as I gave him head and fuck him raw.

He began to moan, and then yell through the belt ensemble, almost screaming. Red smears had begun to appear on the ivory, ripping him from the inside. I deep throated his cock and felt my incisors begin to grow and rub against the shaft.

Almost... almost...

He bucked up suddenly, his cock turning to rock as I opened my mouth wider. I felt his sperm hit my teeth as I bit down through the base of his cock. I swallowed as he came in a screaming orgasm. I moaned as my own began and I shoved 3 fingers deep inside my vagina. I swallowed more as I shoved the dildo all the way up his ass through his prostate, feeling it rip and tear. He bucked harder and screamed over and over. I swallowed and kept swallowing, feeling the sperm turn into blood. I swallowed and fed, feeling his life force enter me, nourish me, sustain me. I was dizzy but still I fed and kept cumming, rocking on my fingers like a desperate lover.

As he weakened, so did I, but not from loss of life but rather loss of momentum. As he quieted, I could tell he was almost as drained as I felt. I pulled my fangs out and slowly crawled up his now still body. Removing the belt, I touched his cheek tenderly as he tried to mouth something.

'Shhh... Do you want to go to Heaven, my pet?'

I kissed him gently once... then covered his mouth with mine and began to inhale. It was coming, I could smell it. Roses.

The soul. That tiny small thing that separates us from the lower branches of the animal kingdom. The only thing Zeus ever did right by humans. He created them from clay and left them naked and alone to fend for themselves with no protection from the elements, the animals or disease. Only with help from some various deities who took pity did they manage to survive. But the soul, that is a remarkable thing. The soul is the basis for inspiration, for courage, for compassion and for all other emotions humans have. I sold mine for love, and so I have become what I gave up: I am a soul eater.

I feel it enter me, touch me inside, fill me with light and wonder and goodness. I consume it as it consumes me... and then it is gone.

I used to feel rage afterwards, to feel that kind of thing for only a moment and have it taken away seemed highly unfair but as time went by and I saw what humans have become, perhaps its just as well I don't have one anymore. Maybe in some strange way I am doing humans a favor. I don't know anymore. I don't care anymore. But it does dull the emptiness for a short time.

I live to hunt and I hunt to live. The irony of it all is that I am what I eat: I am a soul eater. A succubus. I am a creature of the night. The night is mine and perhaps one evening you will meet a quiet blonde goddess in a leather dress and high boots. Do you want to go to Heaven?

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