-Shards splintered in her mind, refracting light and a dull twilight phosperence through her thoughts. Nails pull against sheets like talons clawing, and there he is, upon her, watching, with the advantage, his leather, her lace, and the splendid toil of pathos and meta, together, in rapture.
Dreams can ravage.
"EXCESSIVE SORROW LAUGHS, EXCESSIVE JOY WEEPS"
Blistering like a rake through the embers, flickering gently, the fireplace now cold and vacant of smoke, as her eyes stare about the room, now void of Life. A black shadow. A mosaic of tragedy. Words bleeding her frustration hatred of the Raven that dove out into the night. Leaving her a hollow shell. A woman echoing...
"I will not stay here, Lerida. This place is not what was promised. Everything you speak is a fable. You knit lies with every breath!"
The whispers of what took place in this very room shook her frailed body, curled at the knees against bony chest, shivering in a room, alone yet very together, despite the chill of the past.
He turned and watched the courtyard below, long-stemmed roses wavering in the gentle wind outside. She watched him, feeling the unusual pull in the pit of her stomach, grinding at her, whispering, taunting. Her lips went taut as her eyes bore into his back. If he left she would have left her greatest asset yet. And so with serpentine ease, she crept behind him, slithering sinewy ivory arms across his shoulders from behind, feeling the texture of his coat as her crimson nails play across the felt edge of his colour. Oh! Here was a Man of Masquerade-the greatest magician of them all! And behind him an accomplice of dire mirth and blazing cruelty, when provoked, like whiplash against tile. But here she pressed her face into his back and exhibited her true self without restraint. But he broke free and turned, clutching her cool hands in his and embracing her, dipping her back and kissing her like the last great Lover. His eyes feasting upon her moonbeam dappled flesh as starlight twinkled in the distance and the shadows of night claimed each soul as their own. Except he had already broken free of their tendrils, and Lerida was only just beginning to enjoy her charmed coil of destruction. She was ensconced by the inky silhouettes parading across the ceiling as he sunk into her and took her through ecstasy and left her gasping in all her feminine pleasured rife, surrending to his mercy, leaving her dazed and shattered.
But she left that subsequent morning. The greatest mistake yet. And her fingertips still hot from his touch, as though branded by his resplendent Tears of Pleasure.
That night still strained her face. But she wanted to look upon him again. Just once. Hoping that those tear stains marred him somehow. The elusive Treasure that pioneered her Lust-
Dreams can ravage.
"EXCESSIVE SORROW LAUGHS, EXCESSIVE JOY WEEPS"
Blistering like a rake through the embers, flickering gently, the fireplace now cold and vacant of smoke, as her eyes stare about the room, now void of Life. A black shadow. A mosaic of tragedy. Words bleeding her frustration hatred of the Raven that dove out into the night. Leaving her a hollow shell. A woman echoing...
"I will not stay here, Lerida. This place is not what was promised. Everything you speak is a fable. You knit lies with every breath!"
The whispers of what took place in this very room shook her frailed body, curled at the knees against bony chest, shivering in a room, alone yet very together, despite the chill of the past.
He turned and watched the courtyard below, long-stemmed roses wavering in the gentle wind outside. She watched him, feeling the unusual pull in the pit of her stomach, grinding at her, whispering, taunting. Her lips went taut as her eyes bore into his back. If he left she would have left her greatest asset yet. And so with serpentine ease, she crept behind him, slithering sinewy ivory arms across his shoulders from behind, feeling the texture of his coat as her crimson nails play across the felt edge of his colour. Oh! Here was a Man of Masquerade-the greatest magician of them all! And behind him an accomplice of dire mirth and blazing cruelty, when provoked, like whiplash against tile. But here she pressed her face into his back and exhibited her true self without restraint. But he broke free and turned, clutching her cool hands in his and embracing her, dipping her back and kissing her like the last great Lover. His eyes feasting upon her moonbeam dappled flesh as starlight twinkled in the distance and the shadows of night claimed each soul as their own. Except he had already broken free of their tendrils, and Lerida was only just beginning to enjoy her charmed coil of destruction. She was ensconced by the inky silhouettes parading across the ceiling as he sunk into her and took her through ecstasy and left her gasping in all her feminine pleasured rife, surrending to his mercy, leaving her dazed and shattered.
But she left that subsequent morning. The greatest mistake yet. And her fingertips still hot from his touch, as though branded by his resplendent Tears of Pleasure.
That night still strained her face. But she wanted to look upon him again. Just once. Hoping that those tear stains marred him somehow. The elusive Treasure that pioneered her Lust-