duannewalton
2nd Level Red Feather
- Joined
- May 7, 2001
- Messages
- 1,306
- Points
- 36
I feared it lost in the cyber ether, never to return. But return it has and I'm pleased to present it. Enjoy!
Blood And Laughter
by: Duanne Walton
"There's too much fear in it."
I looked up at her. "Why's that? I figured you'd come a long way."
She turned her attention from strapping my wrist to the bedpost to me. Her eyebrows wrinkled in puzzlement.
"I mean I thought your, uh, kind were less scary and more, uh, sexy these days. You know, Tom Cruise and Brad Pitt."
"And Antonio Banderas," she added with a grin.
It was my turn to be puzzled. "Antonio?"
"He played Armand."
I still wasn't clear.
"He ran the theater in Paris."
"Oh, right."
She continued strapping my wrist. "Yeah, things are a lot better than they used to be. But fear and death always surround us, looming like shadows everywhere."
I chuckled. "Like Dark Shadows?"
She gave me a smirk. "Yes."
After strapping me to the bed, she turned off the light and allowed the soft glow of candles to fill the room. She turned on the stereo, surrounding me with music haunting and soothing and sensual. Returning to the bed, she gently straddled me and trailed her fingers down my cheek, gazing at me sadly.
"Fear isn't good. It pollutes the blood."
"You can taste it?" I asked.
"Yes. Many of us thrive on the taste of fear, but I can't stand it. It's so foul and evil. There's not enough joy in our existence, not enough ecstacy." She tapped the tip of my nose. "Not enough laughter."
"Well, I'm not afraid," I whispered.
She rewarded my courage with a kiss. She slid her hands down my neck and shoulders, and began slowly unbuttoning my shirt.
She seemed to absorb the candlelight. Her eyes glowed warm and inviting, like cocoa on a winter's day. Golden streaks appeared in her dark hair. Her skin wasn't ghastly white, but a glistening alabaster. She was more a living sculpture than a reanimated corpse.
She opened my shirt, revealing my bare chest. Her crimson lips curled into a mischievous smile.
"Do I get to make you laugh after you're done?" I asked between deep, slow breaths.
"Definitely," she purred.
She started teasingly trailing her fingernails up and down my chest. I twiched under her tingling touch, trying to hold back the chuckles growing in my throat.
"Don't hold back," she cooed. "Let it flow free. Let me hear you."
My throaty chuckles escaped. A steady stream left my lips. Her face lit up with delight.
"That's it! That's what I like!"
Her fingers ran faster as she teased my chest, stomach, sides and waist. My chuckles evolved into gasping giggles.
"Kitchy-kitchy-koo!" she crooned. "Kitchy-kitchy-kitchy- koo!"
"St-st-stop a minute!" I managed to say. "L-let me catch my breath!"
"No! I want to hear you laugh! Laugh for me!" I couldn't deny her as
explosions of laughter rocked me. Her fingertips ran along my ribs as she planted kisses on my chest.
"You enjoying this?" she whispered.
"It's torture!" I howled.
"But are you enjoying it?"
Several bursts of involuntary mirth left my mouth before I choked, "Yes! Yes I am!"
She grinned devilishly, then slid down to the foot of the bed, where my bare feet were strapped.
"Are your feet as sensitive as the rest of you?" she asked as I felt her finger run across the tips of my left toes. They twitched. "I'll take that as a yes."
She attacked both soles, sending twin jolts up my legs, into my quivering stomach, then out my mouth in a hysterical burst.
She gave a triumphant laugh of her own as she traced the curves of my arches and circled her fingers around my ankles.
"You-you'll laugh harder than that when it's my turn!" I sputtered.
"I can't wait!" she answered.
Her teasing continued as she slowly made her way back up to my chest. Her titillating touch, my peals of laughter, the candlelight, the music, and of course, the way she felt atop my squirming body combined to create an ecstacy I'd never felt before.
"Almost there," she moaned. "Almost there." At first, I thought it was a trick of the candlelight. But it really happened: her teeth lengthened to sharp points!
"Ah, t-there they are!" I gasped.
"Yeah, they only come out when I'm about to use them." I leaned my head back, exposing my bare throat, and waited with my eyes shut. I could hear her panting as she came closer. She gently planted her moist lips on my neck, as if teasing me by not surrendering her kiss. I shrieked as she flicked her tongue tip on my sensitive skin. She reponded with muffled chuckles.
Then the twin points of hardness.
Penetration.
"So, how'd you like it?"
"It was nothing I'd ever felt before," I whispered. She'd unstrapped me, so I was able to put my arms around her. We melted into each other, becoming one. I gazed into her face, basking in the gentle warmth. A trickle of blood hung at the corner of her mouth. I gently pushed it in with my fingertip. She gratefully sucked on it.
"How'd I taste?"
"Exquisite," she purred.
"So, when do I get to make you laugh?" I asked. She started to speak, but then her lips grew into a twiching smile.
"Well?"
"Right now," she murmurred. Her whole body started trembling. "Your laughter, I can feel it in me."
She exploded with gales of uninhibited laughter, even harder than mine were. As I watched, her face changed first to a pale rose then a very healthy peach. She looked perfectly normal.
THE END
Blood And Laughter
by: Duanne Walton
"There's too much fear in it."
I looked up at her. "Why's that? I figured you'd come a long way."
She turned her attention from strapping my wrist to the bedpost to me. Her eyebrows wrinkled in puzzlement.
"I mean I thought your, uh, kind were less scary and more, uh, sexy these days. You know, Tom Cruise and Brad Pitt."
"And Antonio Banderas," she added with a grin.
It was my turn to be puzzled. "Antonio?"
"He played Armand."
I still wasn't clear.
"He ran the theater in Paris."
"Oh, right."
She continued strapping my wrist. "Yeah, things are a lot better than they used to be. But fear and death always surround us, looming like shadows everywhere."
I chuckled. "Like Dark Shadows?"
She gave me a smirk. "Yes."
After strapping me to the bed, she turned off the light and allowed the soft glow of candles to fill the room. She turned on the stereo, surrounding me with music haunting and soothing and sensual. Returning to the bed, she gently straddled me and trailed her fingers down my cheek, gazing at me sadly.
"Fear isn't good. It pollutes the blood."
"You can taste it?" I asked.
"Yes. Many of us thrive on the taste of fear, but I can't stand it. It's so foul and evil. There's not enough joy in our existence, not enough ecstacy." She tapped the tip of my nose. "Not enough laughter."
"Well, I'm not afraid," I whispered.
She rewarded my courage with a kiss. She slid her hands down my neck and shoulders, and began slowly unbuttoning my shirt.
She seemed to absorb the candlelight. Her eyes glowed warm and inviting, like cocoa on a winter's day. Golden streaks appeared in her dark hair. Her skin wasn't ghastly white, but a glistening alabaster. She was more a living sculpture than a reanimated corpse.
She opened my shirt, revealing my bare chest. Her crimson lips curled into a mischievous smile.
"Do I get to make you laugh after you're done?" I asked between deep, slow breaths.
"Definitely," she purred.
She started teasingly trailing her fingernails up and down my chest. I twiched under her tingling touch, trying to hold back the chuckles growing in my throat.
"Don't hold back," she cooed. "Let it flow free. Let me hear you."
My throaty chuckles escaped. A steady stream left my lips. Her face lit up with delight.
"That's it! That's what I like!"
Her fingers ran faster as she teased my chest, stomach, sides and waist. My chuckles evolved into gasping giggles.
"Kitchy-kitchy-koo!" she crooned. "Kitchy-kitchy-kitchy- koo!"
"St-st-stop a minute!" I managed to say. "L-let me catch my breath!"
"No! I want to hear you laugh! Laugh for me!" I couldn't deny her as
explosions of laughter rocked me. Her fingertips ran along my ribs as she planted kisses on my chest.
"You enjoying this?" she whispered.
"It's torture!" I howled.
"But are you enjoying it?"
Several bursts of involuntary mirth left my mouth before I choked, "Yes! Yes I am!"
She grinned devilishly, then slid down to the foot of the bed, where my bare feet were strapped.
"Are your feet as sensitive as the rest of you?" she asked as I felt her finger run across the tips of my left toes. They twitched. "I'll take that as a yes."
She attacked both soles, sending twin jolts up my legs, into my quivering stomach, then out my mouth in a hysterical burst.
She gave a triumphant laugh of her own as she traced the curves of my arches and circled her fingers around my ankles.
"You-you'll laugh harder than that when it's my turn!" I sputtered.
"I can't wait!" she answered.
Her teasing continued as she slowly made her way back up to my chest. Her titillating touch, my peals of laughter, the candlelight, the music, and of course, the way she felt atop my squirming body combined to create an ecstacy I'd never felt before.
"Almost there," she moaned. "Almost there." At first, I thought it was a trick of the candlelight. But it really happened: her teeth lengthened to sharp points!
"Ah, t-there they are!" I gasped.
"Yeah, they only come out when I'm about to use them." I leaned my head back, exposing my bare throat, and waited with my eyes shut. I could hear her panting as she came closer. She gently planted her moist lips on my neck, as if teasing me by not surrendering her kiss. I shrieked as she flicked her tongue tip on my sensitive skin. She reponded with muffled chuckles.
Then the twin points of hardness.
Penetration.
"So, how'd you like it?"
"It was nothing I'd ever felt before," I whispered. She'd unstrapped me, so I was able to put my arms around her. We melted into each other, becoming one. I gazed into her face, basking in the gentle warmth. A trickle of blood hung at the corner of her mouth. I gently pushed it in with my fingertip. She gratefully sucked on it.
"How'd I taste?"
"Exquisite," she purred.
"So, when do I get to make you laugh?" I asked. She started to speak, but then her lips grew into a twiching smile.
"Well?"
"Right now," she murmurred. Her whole body started trembling. "Your laughter, I can feel it in me."
She exploded with gales of uninhibited laughter, even harder than mine were. As I watched, her face changed first to a pale rose then a very healthy peach. She looked perfectly normal.
THE END
Last edited:
I love dead. Hate living.
