Roses as a Gift - August, 1997
Blood Red Rose, DarkerPoet
Subject: Roses as a Gift
From: DarkerPoet@aol.com (DarkerPoet)
Date: Mon, 4 Aug 97 04:00:09 EDT
Several long steps past the MorCon's grand entrance doors, a lithe wirey figure rests upon his hands and knees, belly low to the floor amidst a circle of long stem deep crimson roses. Kept gently with in his mouth is an especially long rose, its thorns jutting out and into thin lips to puncture the flesh. Trickles of blood slide down ghostly pale facial features to drip onto more rosebuds. Black velvet skirt tucked into folded legs, he can be seen trembling ever so slightly, a tint of deep red blush added to his cheek from the humiliation.
His dark gaze is watery with the lasting sensations of jagged pain, tears threatening to spill over his cheek and run the thick amounts of eye liner in the process. Knowing such would be unexcusable, he simply waits, concentrating soley upon the scent of sweet roses in bloom and wondering what his new Mistress will be like. A folded note rests on the floor inches from his nose, its dark flowing script reading,
'A gift for Blood Red Rose, I hope you find him satisfying...
...A Secret Admirer...'
Subject: Watches a pet..
From: IXISunIXI@aol.com (IXISunIXI)
Date: Wed, 6 Aug 97 16:44:08 EDT
The gentle young woman sits quietly on the wall, swathed in one long, red silk, bound to choice curves and features. Her knees are bent up at her chest as she keeps her eyes on the vibrating, crumpled form of Rose's offered servant.
Her throat gave a soft, honey sweetened purr, contented to watch the poor thing writhe alone. She leans over on her elbows and knees, low to the ground, her gray eyes wide with fascination. She crawls to him a bit, trying to be as inconspicious as possible, whispering at the little male pet as she approached.
(sw)"Hello little one.. Lady Rose will find you soon.. ssshhh..." Her fingers run over his head, and down his back, caressing the little thing, almost protecting him:: "She will be here soon, promise"
Her eyes show honest compassion, humming lightly to the little thing.
Subject: ::claims said pet::
From: BldRedRose@aol.com (BldRedRose)
Date: Wed, 6 Aug 97 17:58:53 EDT
>CLICK<
::at the other end of the expansive front hall, she plants a stiletto heel hard against serpentine marble::
::her eyes narrowed to emerald slivers, she peers curiously at the upraised rump draped in red silk... she gives a little grimace of contained wrath, her gloved fingertips fluttering dangerously close to the butt of a bullwhip coiled at her belt, a move she's no doubt picked up from too much time spent in the company of her angels::
>click< >click<
::two more paces forward, one sleek leg extended before the other, and she pauses once more, her gaze caught at last by the gift and the manner of its presentation::
::time stands still in that moment... her heart rises to her throat... a flush of the most sublime bliss overtakes her features, tinging her cheeks of molded porcelain with the mildest rose hue... but the pleasure is not reflected in her eyes, which are merely blank, or her smile, which is nonexistent, only a tiny, perplexed frown in its place::
::only one man could ever know her tastes so well... only one man would ever think to grace her with such a gift, in such a manner... who else had ever done such extensive study on the use of her favorite crimson roses, all to woo her?::
>click< >click< ... >click< ...
::another few hesitant steps forward, as she braces herself to read the name on the accompanying card, fully expecting it to be a name she would sooner spit out in anger than embrace in the spirit of friendship::
::but as she closes the distance between herself and the gift awaiting her, and sinks into a fluid crouch, nudging the intrusive girl aside with little more than an impatient sneer, her eyes fall on the card... and she sighs with relief::
Perhaps your Master will buy you a pet, little one... you shouldn't have your hands on mine... ::comes a dispassionate monotone, but a purr nonetheless, each syllable a rich, soft ripple of crimson velvet::
::a gloved hand snakes out, a single slender fingertip swiping at the congealing blood welling from the boy's death-dark lips... and she lifts the scarlet confection to her own lips, her tongue flickering out to taste::
Name: What ever his Mistress wishes to call him. Matthew will suffice for now... fathomless dark eyes are accented with heavy eye liner, his facial features ghostly pale. A full head of roughly parted hair so deep a shade of 'bottle black' it devours all light without shine ends at his shoulders. His thin lips are painted a dark black, rarely seen smiling unless in the presense of his Mistress.
(Marital Status: Submissive bondage slave)
Twenty-eye black patent leather Doc Martins encase his feet and calves, a pair of ripped fishnet stalkings clinging to the expanse of leg and disappearing beneath a mid-thigh black velvet skirt. His lithe, wirey upper body is wrapped in a longsleeve spiderweb mesh shirt, inch wide black leather bondage bracelets circling his wrists snugly (Three 'O' rings clinking lightly with every movement.). An iron Ankh hangs on a necklace at his chest. At times he can be seen with a small black Goth box, although he opts for the small tattered book in which he scribbles poetry... He is a fetish boy, in love with bondage and his submissive side. "We suffer for the elements of the Dom/sub lifestyle because we are not whole without them."
|
|