16 May 2013

The Woman Who Drinks Hearts


She hunts down her meals, intoxicates them with the vanilla bean scent of her Aveeno covered skin.  The invitation overwhelms their senses; they can’t keep away.  She moves sensually through a hidden, red-silk laced corridor with small lights setting the mood along the way.  Following her every move, they round a corner and fall head-on into several barred metal contraptions.  She glides around each one, breathing in the scent they emit.  From the air, it seems, she produces a small strip of cowhide and cracks it once – the noise resonates throughout the open concrete room.  In the far corner, there’s a round bed drenched in velvet blood and white satin feather downs.  Each man, in turn, gets a teaser before the darkest of them is released.  He’s led over to the dimly lit bed and she begins. 

She touches his smooth, mocha skin, caresses his muscled chest and slowly drags the gentle brown cowhide down his body – from his chin to the top of his precious cargo.  Crawling back up, she sets her body down, passionately presses her lips to his and seductively allows her tongue to dance with his.  His cargo soon pressed against her leg. 

It’s time.

Taking his face in her hands, she leans in and whispers against his lips, “You’ve been so compliant tonight.  I thank you.” 

            Her poisoned kisses have left him paralyzed beneath her.  She smiles as his face sinks into itself, stretching the skin to look like thin creeping vines across a building’s side.  She reaches for his chest and, swift as a hummingbird, plunges her hand inside and grabs his heart.  Pulling it out for him to see, she sets her lips to the left ventricle and sucks his soul through it.  Her own heart swells with pleasure as his eyes slide into his brain.  For good.

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