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Friday, April 29, 2016

The Blood Bather: Chapter 6

The Blood Bather


Chapter 6
            Darryl was halfway through his routine; in that, he had eaten, played a few rounds of Doom, freshly masturbated to the aforementioned gay porn, and was now in the men's washroom trying to clean up. Which was proving difficult because he kept hearing a noise. And the noise was turning him on. It sounded like a woman sighing, maybe kissing. Actually, it sounded like a woman having the world's quietest orgasm and then giggling. It was the most attractive sound. He would put his hands under the water to wash them only to stop every time he heard the sound. He had fantasies of one day making a woman sound like that. Hell, he had fantasies of one day making a woman ...anything.
            His penis was already chafed from the bludgeoning he had just given it. Next time he would have to remember not to touch the salt and vinegar chips until after he came to avoid the rawness he was currently experiencing. Running his dick under cool water was helping a little but he couldn't very well wander around with his dick out. There was a phrase for that, wasn't there? He had heard some the jocks shouting it. Rock out with your Cock out... What would his mother say?             
         He knew what she would say, she would say she wasn't bloody surprised and that he was just like his father. But she couldn't really say that, could she? She barely knew his father, by the sounds of it. He was just a sperm donor, she said. He looked down at his unit, shrivelled to a pickle in the cool water. Man, he wished he could think for even a few seconds without mentioning dicks, his or anyone else's. Being this sexually frustrated had to be a disorder.
            There is was again! The sound of afternoon delight, he was going to nickname it. He turned off the water and froze stock still with his semi-hard dick in his hand. The design of the bathroom was such that a large column of natural light reflected at the window, creating a blinding glare that made seeing his own reflection useless.
            It was then that he realized he was not alone. Which only made his dick harder and in the absence of cold water, taller. A lot taller.
"Hello?" meekly, with a small tremor in his voice. If this got out on campus his hope for a better year was surely down the drain.
No sound. Just the drip, drip, drip of the faucet.
He used the opportunity to tuck his dick away, despite its newfound girth his shapeless jeans could hide anything and turned to exit the washroom. He spun around to leave.
            And found himself face to face with a gorgeous woman. A gorgeous naked woman. A gorgeous naked woman who spoke the following words:
"Hello Darryl"
But her mouth did not move. At least, he didn't see it move. And he was definitely looking at her mouth, full and pouty, shaped like rich red rosebud.
            Darryl blinked a few times. He tried to speak but his throat was too dry. He tried swallowing but that was no use and instead he just coughed. His dick was at full attention and the blood rushing to his groin made him light-headed and weak. He gave up trying to talk, trying to think. He wanted to grab his chicken and choke the living hell out of it, chafing or no chafing. He had to get out of here. He was humiliated and aroused and for some reason the two emotions together created a not insignificant current of rage in the very pit of his stomach. And the whole time the naked woman watched him with her shining black eyes, smirking as though she was following his thoughts and emotions like a card game. This made him all the angrier.
            Understanding this, the woman turned around and bent over, her behind spread apart and her spine gently arched as she touched her fingers to the floor. Her hair fell forward and she looked at him from the thigh gap between her legs. Inside his head he heard the following words: This is what it looks like.
            Darryl nodded. He understood. This was some sort of hallucination. He had been drugged or fainted and hit his head on the porcelain sink. Even now he could be lying unconscious on the bathroom floor, bleeding from his ears, with no chance of help ever arriving. Except the janitor a week from now. He was probably dying and this was heaven...
            Darryl heard: Come to me. There was a terrible weight in his stomach. Darryl looked down and realized that his member had fallen free of his zipper and stood several inches longer than he remembered it. Not chafed at all, but rather beautifully smooth and even toned despite being engorged with blood. It was taking some effort to maintain this erection and there was only one source of relief as he could see it.

            Darryl took a step closer to the woman and put the tips of his fingers on her right hip. The skin was fiery hot, and imbued him with resolve. He could get to like this place, Heaven. The tip of his penis touched her and came away slick with fluid, also hot, almost painfully hot. He heard her giggle again and lost his control. His eyes rolled back in his head and he buried the shaft into the warm folds of her vagina, releasing a deep groan. Yessir, this had to be heaven...

Friday, April 22, 2016

The Blood Bather: Chapter 5

The Blood Bather

Chapter 5
            Dr. Elzbeta Nadasdy was not having a good day. She was weak and getting weaker. It had been some time since she had entertained in the city and it was beginning to show. Her skin was dry and her hair was beginning to loose its lustre. Of course she still looked immaculate but still... she could notice a change. She hoisted the expensive purse on her shoulder, made heavy by its liquid cargo, and made her way to the library, carrying not books but something far more precious.
            After teaching her Victorian studies class Elzbeta crossed the university campus quickly, careful to stay out the late summer sun when she could. Goddamn it, it should be overcast - or better yet - raining at this time of year. Each female she passed seemed to be more beautiful and full of youth than the last. Long tanned thighs in short shorts or mini skirts, diaphanous blouses and soft sighs and giggles as they walked by, oblivious to the fact it filled her with jealousy and pumped adrenaline into her veins, stronger than a stampeding bull. But most of these little serving wenches weren't exactly right, they had been tainted. She could smell it. Her nose was that refined. In these dark times of embarrassingly loose morals, it was rare these days to find the right kind of girl on any college campus, even at the bible colleges the pickings were slim. Little whores, she muttered as she passed a particularly tall and slim blond with a girl with beads in her dreads.
            Actually, this girl smelled differently. Elzbeta inhaled deeply, every fibre of her being focussing on the effort in the brief amount of time as the girl barrelled toward her, toward her no-doubt bright blond future. Yes! Elzbeta confirmed it. It was high and sweet like lilac in spring. It was so truly intoxicating it made Elzbeta drowsy and she twisted her head to follow the smell as the blond passed in a cloud of otherwise noxious perfume. That odious synthetic scent won't save you, my dear, Elzbeta mused. But her burden sloshed ominously in her handbag and she realized that time was of the essence. She made a mental note of the blonde's face and height for later.
            Subconsciously, the blond made a wide arc around Elzbeta, as she was completely engrossed in what the black girl was saying. Kind of worshipful. Elzbeta smirked to herself and moved on. Most of all she hated Love.
            Elzbeta darted under the shaded awning of the library and through the oak double doors, out of the cursed sunlight. Once inside she took a deep breath and felt more herself. Her radiant dark beauty was more penetrating in the dim and she knew it. She passed a series of security desks granting access to professors and graduate fellows without showing ID and jumped into the elevator going to the top floor. It was better this way. Her ID did not show her face, but a face very similar to hers, a distant relative she had discovered living in the same country. She had stalked her and drugged her and taken her picture. No harm done.
            There was a section of this library that held rare books, and it was here she headed. It was like coming home. Some of the books dated back to the crusades, some dated back to the first century and some were as old as she was.
            But that was not where she was headed. There was a practically abandoned pair of washrooms right outside the entrance to the rare book library. This is where she was headed, with her life-giving fluid. As expected, the women's washroom was vacant. The lights responded to movement and blinked on with a series of hums as Elzbeta entered. Alas, motion sensors were the only upgrade the university had done to this room. It had yellow linoleum floors, three pathetic stalls, the doors were without working locks, of course, and - for some reason that only the original architects would understand - a gorgeous panel window that allowed a flood of natural light into the room. It wasn't dirty, no one used it. No one even knew about it probably except the janitor who kept it clean once a week.
            Elzbeta twisted around very fast and locked the main door behind her, now she had it all to herself. She raised her hand in the direction of the ceiling, palm forward menacingly and at once the lights dimmed back down, the humming ceased as the electricity surged out of the wires.
            She dropped her bag in the sink and immediately began to strip. Her beautiful taupe silk shift and matching cashmere sweater became an expensive puddle of fabric at her feet. Her gold necklace, hoop earrings and bangles followed with a clatter. In her haste to tear those off she poked her finger on the back of the earring and a single drop of blood fell to the floor. Immediately the linoleum square began to smoke and bubble, leaving a small dent. Elzbeta was impervious.
            Once naked she clawed at her open handbag slumped elegantly in the porcelain sink and grabbed the soft plastic bags of blood plasma that lay within. These bags came from the paediatric oncology ward of the local hospital. Sick little children, yes, but perfect for her. Using her nails and teeth she ripped a bag open and took a deep inhale. Not too late, she hoped. The smell of iron hit her like a slap and immediately relaxed every muscle in her taut body. Careful not to spill she dipped her fingers gingerly in the bag and painted the crimson mess down her cheek, watching two lines appear in the scratched mirror. It began to dry and turn a darker red, then a rich brown ochre. Yes, she fancied she could already feel a difference. She dipped again and washed her arms and face in the blood. Then her legs and feet. That emptied the first bag and she cracked a second like a cold beer.
            She poured this bag directly down her chest starting at the bottom of her throat and watched it flow between her legs like an inverted waterfall. She massaged it in, careful to cover her breasts and nipples evenly. The action bringing them to sharp attention. Over her hips and buttocks and watched the reflected body of blood in mirror as she massaged it between her legs. To an objective observer, they would see the thing called Elzbeta with its mouth hanging open and her pretty black eyes rolled back in her head, showing just the whites.
            She finished off by wiping her sticky palms through her hair. Her entire body had changed colour. Very quickly the blood had dried to black. She looked like she was carved out of obsidian. Around her were splatters and puddles of blood. It was a crime scene. Crouching on all fours she dipped the tip of her tongue in the nearest spot. Her teeth turned red as she swallowed. She smiled, the natural light catching her eyes, but it was ghastly.
            She proceeded to lick the entire area clean. The linoleum, the stalls, the porcelain sink, the mirror, even the stains out of her clothes. Nothing was left when she finished. Not even the dried black blood that had coated her body.     While she had ministered to her disgusting labours, it had been completely absorbed into her skin leaving it translucent and glowing. Her hair shone and swung freely around her shoulders. Her nails slightly longer, her feet and legs perfectly smooth. Her teeth glisteningly white, if a little small. A tiny imperfection that belied her advanced age. It had nothing to do with the health of her birth mother, who had enough milk for three children while she was pregnant. It was just that a millennia of eating will grind down even the strongest teeth. Most importantly her perfect heart shaped face was taut and wrinkle-free. Of course, she couldn't see this in the mirror, it was more of a feeling, a feeling of eternal youth. The best feeling in the world.
            And standing there, still naked but somehow possessed with an inner light of beauty, Elzbeta smelled something. Something she hadn't smelled in a long, long time...

Thursday, April 14, 2016

The Blood Bather: Chapter 4

Image result for the blood bather
The Blood Bather

Chapter 4
            Darryl, the erstwhile unformed man, was also having a good day. It was the first week of class and he felt very confident that things were going to go his way. Already he had had a great conversation with Audra in class, and it was clear she knew who he was because she actually said his name without being reminded and she had picked up his pencil case - a colourful tin reproduction of an Egyptian sarcophagus that he had picked up at the museum this summer - without even asking. Yessir, things were looking up.
            Now he was on his way to the library to begin studying but first he had to make a stop at the food court on the ground floor before he buried himself in the stacks. He bypassed the salad trolley and set his sights on carb-loading with bagels, cream cheese, Doritos, and a super caffeinated sugary soda. For the next few hours he could be found "studying" in a dark corner of the library, playing first person shooter games and downloading an increasingly alarming amount of gay porn. He wasn't gay - he was attracted to women! - he just hadn't managed to put the theory into practice. Fucking a man, or having a man fuck him, was just somehow more believable. At least he recognized all the parts and knew where they all went. After a quick trip to the bathroom down the hall to clean up, usually devoid of other humans (no witnesses!), he would then crash - "power nap" - right there in his seat, drooling on his laptop.
            Darryl had been raised by his single mother, a dirty blonde morbidly obese smoker who was now confined to a wheelchair and oxygen tank, named Wanda. Life had not always been so hard for Wanda. At age 22, fresh from secretarial college with a Farrah Fawcett hairdo and her first polyester suit that fit like a second skin, she had taken a great job in a law firm in the big city. The farm she had been raised on with her two older brothers and her parents held no interest for her and besides, it was likely that there would be more money in selling the land and equipment than any crop outside of marijuana; which was not yet legal, but that didn't stop her brothers from trying.
            Wanda had shared an apartment with a couple of other girls and diligently saved her money in the bank. By all accounts she was a stellar employee and became head of the secretarial pool within a couple of years. She visited her folks at Christmas and took beach vacations with her girlfriends in the summer when it was cheaper. Wanda caught the eye of every unmarried man at the office and at happy hour, and even some married ones, but despite the few awkward fumblings in the cloakroom after a party there was not much to write home about.
            That was until Wanda walked in one day and found a long stem yellow rose on her desk. No note. She asked her co-workers about it but they didn't seem to know a thing. She kept the rose on her desk, cut down to fit in an old chipped mug with some water until it wilted, and even pressed it between the pages of an old telephone book she found in the drawer of the apartment to preserve it. She was touched. But time passed and nothing came of it, so she figured it must have been a mistake. Or an attempt that fizzled. She forgot about it.
            Until it happened again. This time it was on her desk in a delicately fluted bud vase, room enough for just one bloom. It was spectacular, a muted yellow like the colour of a fuzzy Easter chick. It reminded her of Spring and hope and...           
Certainly, this could be no accident. But no one in the office would cop to it. The rose attracted a lot of office attention. Men made appreciative comments and women walked by with eyebrows raised in silent judgment, and barely concealed jealousy. A few men on the office were inspired to buy their wives a bouquet, just because. The power of the rose was far reaching.
            A short time later Wanda received a new file on her desk. She was beginning to law clerk for the firm, taking classes at night to achieve her credentials. She was doing well, building a career for herself. The case was a fairly dry patent negotiation and well within in her ability as a law clerk, just filing documents at City Hall. She opened a few pages and realized it dealt with some sort of mechanical invention, a new way to process sugar for candy. Sold to the right companies, this process could be very lucrative to the patent holder. The client was a scientist, a Dr. Ballantree...
      
     Hmmm, she knew this name. Wanda picked up a copy of the regional 

newspaper that was delivered to the office every morning and flipped to the 

society pages. It was pretty thin which meant that what she was looking for 

was fairly easy to find. There it was! A colour picture of Dr. David Ballantree at 

recent hospital fundraiser, where he was honoring student 

volunteers. Students who volunteered their time during their high school career 

were being honored and also received a small cash contribution to college 

tuition funded by Dr. Ballantree himself. As a former volunteer himself, he had

long history and connection to the hospital and this initiative had really raised

hospital needs awareness and an interest in science, technology and medicine

among local high school students. It was a truly worthy cause. But that wasn't

what made Wanda remember his name. It was the picture. There he was,

smiling into the camera holding a glass of wine, face flushed in the seeming

candid shot while behind him scores of students stood holding plaques and

small cheques. He was uniquely handsome yet approachable, his eyes sparkled

and he had a gorgeous head of black shiny hair that reminded Wanda a little of

Superman. He did seem heroic, if that was what it was. Wanda wondered if she

would ever meet this client. Immediately she blushed and pushed the

newspaper aside. Enough, she told herself, get back to work.

Thursday, April 7, 2016

The Blood Bather: Chapter 3

Chapter 3

(...Brace yourself, Dear Reader, this part is NSFW...)

            After class Audra headed to the bookstore to pick up what she needed for the upcoming semester. She marveled at the campus still very much in summer's bloom. She honestly felt like September was the finest month of the year in this part of the world. The sun shone until late in the evening, bright and clear. The days were dry and surprisingly warm. All those gorgeous fall sweaters and boots could wait just a few weeks longer. The campus was unbelievably large, a garden utopia in the centre of a big city. The bookstore stood over three stories but it was still morning and classes had already begun so the initial freshman crush was abated. The top floor housed computers and technology, the second floor was where she was headed for course materials. The ground floor held equipment and all the branded paraphernalia that college sports have become known for. She walked between the stacks looking for her section and grabbed a plastic wrapped package of textbook, workbook and CD-ROM materials. She took a breath in the silence of the morning, albeit a bit stuffy. Her footfalls echoed and dust motes fell in the light from the windows. A room full of so much knowledge and potential. This was the true college experience.
            She knew he was there before he spoke. The pull of him was uncanny, like a flower turning toward the sun, every molecule in her body gravitated to his energy. He took the package from her arms and gently placed them back on the shelf. His athlete's body was still warm from his workout and his hair still slightly wet from his shower. He grabbed her chin and kissed her hard. Her Louis Vuitton hobo bag slipped from her shoulders and slumped to the floor. Neither one noticed. He pushed her back against the wall and pressed the full weight of his pelvis against her, pining her, breathless. It made her stomach fall and her knees weak. While kissing her upturned throat he slid his left hand under her shirt and ran his thumb of over the lace of her bra, right above the nipple. Then pinched sharply. She gasped with pleasure and flooded her panties with moisture. She placed her foot on the adjacent shelf, angling her hip bones toward him and ground against him. She could feel how hard he was. He followed her eyes to his crotch and grinned sheepishly, put his hand over his zipper and dipping his chin in an act of false modesty. He looked at her seriously, but hungry, hoping... She licked her lips and nodded.
            It was like a starter's pistol, he rushed at her with strength and power and lifted her onto the window ledge with the summer sun warming her back through the window. He pulled her panties aside and spread her wetness through out, in and out, side to side, backward and forward. She gripped the fabric of his shirt so hard she was frightened she might break another nail...

            He fucked her hard against the window on the second floor of the bookstore, silently staring into her eyes, his left hand gently clasping her throat. The only sound was her gasp, "Oh, Micah..." when she came.