Misanthropic Chronicles

Oh, never has the word “no” sounded so beautiful! Amazing how a single combination of a consonant and a vowel can have just as much – if not more – range of expression as the entire spectrum of color gives to a painter and as the Great Staff offers a musician. The word, like a melody, can have as many meanings as there are contexts. It can change from a frustrated growl as it was a few times when filtered through our subjects silver glazed fangs, or it can take the form of a desperate and pleading whimper when just a tiny dash of estrogen is released from whichever of the life-leaking glands I speak of.

But there is far more to this ecstasy than just the merry way its vibrations lick at my eardrums; the sight of it is quite something to behold: the lovely Goddess contorted in such a miraculously awkward position, Her whole skin organ tinged with a robust azure (a color equally versatile in it’s self, but that’s another story), the focal point being where it is slit by the inky blackness of Her tightly sealed eyes. A pity we can’t see the ethereal, wet kaleidoscopes of Her optic jade orbs, but I’ve quite enough memories readily accessible at this point. Her hair, which shines like a raven's flock in natural moonlight, is considerably, yet of no less beauty, darker and dirtier in this artificial glow of my ceiling lamp. There is also another lovely redness at the single conjuncture of Her wrists and ankles that is further intensified by the scalding rope burn that unites Her extremities.

I’ll get to the other three senses (while it is your challenge to find the sixth) in due time, but while on visual notion, I will now cease to beat around the bush (no pun intended). What shall I compare the form of our main attraction to? I’ll cop out with the popular analogy of a rose bud. In fact, this is more than perfect, because I’ve always had the strange habit of picking small leaves and immature flowers of plants and opening them to reveal a colorful extravagance that may have never been beheld even in their death. This is a second nudity; sure the long-awaited site of the mysterious cleavage flanked by the modest mounds of Her jiggling breasts was exciting enough, but to see even that shield penetrated is more than I could ever ask for, especially since I’m about to make a third intrusion on this most exquisite of female orifices.

And now I speak: “My Goddess....”, I begin in a confusingly tender voice, “It’s going to happen no matter what you say or do. Whether you like it or not is up to you. I do not want to torture you, I never have. As the saying goes seductive pain is blissful pleasure. You have the power to make this one of the greatest moments in both our existences.”

This was followed by more of the delightful noise making discussed in paragraph one. It was at this time I was prompted to make use of my handy dandy razorblade, as I only had one more inquiry to make. “I worship you even now, the blade shall see your pleasure.”

“Is it that bad, really? This is all relative. Have I told you about my wild case of wanting to do things to you that I was afraid you would object to? You were willing to show me your toes and feet, not to mention your navel and the soft abdominal wall of pale perfection around it.” Yes, I’ve been reciting to myself for a while. “If you were raised as a Muslim, you wouldn’t even want your hair exposed. So, you need to remember everything you know about letting go and priding oneself. To you this is your talk-sensitive child depository, an intriguing little hole that you give birth through. But are you not forgetting the sensual massage you doubtlessly feel while thus utilizing it?”

“Wanna know what I think of it? I think...............it’s absolutely gorgeous. This is about as far inside somebody you can get, aside from emotions and brain waves, but you couldn’t let me in on those, could you?”

“I bet you, if you’ll be open-minded enough, I can bring back some dark entranced memories with this little button.” My fingers run between Her divine legs held wide by the ropes, and a finger travels between the wet slit and up to her navel.

“Guess what this is?” A slightly different blend of sounds occurs now, even more interesting since She’s obviously trying to remain silent as I apply and massage into Her flesh an oil meant to soften the pale skin between Her delightful thighs. My tongue escaping from my lips to steal a taste of Her wet desires as I massage.

After an uncertain period of pampering the skin around, and the entrance to Her intrails I notice Her velveteen folds beginning to relax. Now that I have got it all wet and baby smell-good I decided to have a go at it.

I hear a small little ‘M’ sound but still respect Her right to remain silent. After a while of this I hold my breath and begin dancing my tongue over it. The reactions sound remarkably similar to the ones mentioned in the beginning, only this time.......

Just as one might shoot soda from their nose did I blow a gush of air, which led to an even higher-pitched squeal. I respond with a couple minutes of wild cackling followed by an awkward (can you imagine?) silence. My tongue would lie between the folds, dancing for an hour within the womb to drink of the sin She produced from her nirvana-like desire.

Eventually I say the magical words, “S’pose I should let you go now.” A big sigh of disappointment from the Goddess, as I release Her from bondage and allow Her to dress, having teased Her to the point of coming for me and stopped. After worshipping the last few moments of Her divine twig of a birthday suit, I lick my lips.

Then She says, “You better....”, and smirks.. then quickly runs from the room and disappears into the night a most sensually intoxicated goddess, leaving me to clean up my mess.

Nightfall, once again. The fires still burned greater begging for something to feed on, surrounding a sole darkness standing before a black altar. Her eyes were cast to the black stone, oblivious to all that was raging about Her, solemn and exquisite. Ravenous black locks flowed in the heated breeze and Her skin was glazed by sweat produced from the fire's warm caress. She was a jewel, the only calm in the midst of this raging firestorm about Her. Adept, and perfect in the silent gaze She cast upon the unholy altar.

I believe it was high midnight, She still had not taken Her eyes from the luxurious obsidian stone in which She had laid eyes hours earlier. I could feel the gaze of something mysterious and cold upon us, to step precariously upon us in the darkness. It was my master, Shrouded in the shade that maleficently carried His Sinfulness. His eyes were cast to the glistening pale skinned Goddess at the altar...eyes that hinted a vague impression, that hinted His intrigue. His steps were mighty and proud, and I could feel the Jewel's heart pounding faster. I knew She could feel him. I knew not a soul that could ignore my Master's void within, it was a chilled place.

Not once in my servitude did my Master ever smile. His damned features were regal and perfect in the blaze's cast. Perhaps if one would ever make the Maelstrom smile it would stop the hearts of those who knew Him best. I could not understand why my Master had come to this remote place...to Her. Even though I could sense Her heart pulsating ever more rapid, She turned not. She fought the smile tugging Her lips at the feelings Her stature gave away..I still believe it was His arrival. The night was alive within Her, it had been for the weeks I was housed in this temple. She truly was a demon, but so was my Master.

His steps grew closer, so close I felt my life fade inside. This eerie feeling was cast throughout the burning room as the clouds rolled like predators devouring the sky. My eyes were cast upon Her, this mystery adorning my mind like a heavy weight. In that brief moment her lips moved mouthing four words.

I frowned in disbelief. My Master was capable of love? I could not believe such a wicked joke. As deviant as it may have been, my eyes were cast to my Master and His regal malevolence, and then to Her once more. She was grinning, like pure evil was the spice of Her life. It froze my soul in place and left me unable to move. Unable to speak. Only my gaze was left to wander, and it was lifted to my Master once more....For the first time ever when she mouthed those words, my Master smiled....


	Virulent Syn \| -Virulent Syn- Obsessive Lyric \| Satanic Script \| Misanthropic Chronicles Misanthropic Chronicles - A dream told by Shade.... - Oh, never has the word “no” sounded so beautiful! Amazing how a single combination of a consonant and a vowel can have just as much – if not more – range of expression as the entire spectrum of color gives to a painter and as the Great Staff offers a musician. The word, like a melody, can have as many meanings as there are contexts. It can change from a frustrated growl as it was a few times when filtered through our subjects silver glazed fangs, or it can take the form of a desperate and pleading whimper when just a tiny dash of estrogen is released from whichever of the life-leaking glands I speak of. But there is far more to this ecstasy than just the merry way its vibrations lick at my eardrums; the sight of it is quite something to behold: the lovely Goddess contorted in such a miraculously awkward position, Her whole skin organ tinged with a robust azure (a color equally versatile in it’s self, but that’s another story), the focal point being where it is slit by the inky blackness of Her tightly sealed eyes. A pity we can’t see the ethereal, wet kaleidoscopes of Her optic jade orbs, but I’ve quite enough memories readily accessible at this point. Her hair, which shines like a raven's flock in natural moonlight, is considerably, yet of no less beauty, darker and dirtier in this artificial glow of my ceiling lamp. There is also another lovely redness at the single conjuncture of Her wrists and ankles that is further intensified by the scalding rope burn that unites Her extremities. I’ll get to the other three senses (while it is your challenge to find the sixth) in due time, but while on visual notion, I will now cease to beat around the bush (no pun intended). What shall I compare the form of our main attraction to? I’ll cop out with the popular analogy of a rose bud. In fact, this is more than perfect, because I’ve always had the strange habit of picking small leaves and immature flowers of plants and opening them to reveal a colorful extravagance that may have never been beheld even in their death. This is a second nudity; sure the long-awaited site of the mysterious cleavage flanked by the modest mounds of Her jiggling breasts was exciting enough, but to see even that shield penetrated is more than I could ever ask for, especially since I’m about to make a third intrusion on this most exquisite of female orifices. And now I speak: “My Goddess....”, I begin in a confusingly tender voice, “It’s going to happen no matter what you say or do. Whether you like it or not is up to you. I do not want to torture you, I never have. As the saying goes seductive pain is blissful pleasure. You have the power to make this one of the greatest moments in both our existences.” This was followed by more of the delightful noise making discussed in paragraph one. It was at this time I was prompted to make use of my handy dandy razorblade, as I only had one more inquiry to make. “I worship you even now, the blade shall see your pleasure.” A quick, emotionally ambiguous grunt from the Goddess. “Is it that bad, really? This is all relative. Have I told you about my wild case of wanting to do things to you that I was afraid you would object to? You were willing to show me your toes and feet, not to mention your navel and the soft abdominal wall of pale perfection around it.” Yes, I’ve been reciting to myself for a while. “If you were raised as a Muslim, you wouldn’t even want your hair exposed. So, you need to remember everything you know about letting go and priding oneself. To you this is your talk-sensitive child depository, an intriguing little hole that you give birth through. But are you not forgetting the sensual massage you doubtlessly feel while thus utilizing it?” I’m lightly tapping it now. You might call it spanking but I’m pretty sure the definition only applies to the cheeks. Well, another fun sound either way. “Wanna know what I think of it? I think...............it’s absolutely gorgeous. This is about as far inside somebody you can get, aside from emotions and brain waves, but you couldn’t let me in on those, could you?” Another feminine grunt escapes her throat after a loud rehydrating gulp. I’m now making small, gentle cuts with my razor upon the shoreline – if you will – of her breasts. “I bet you, if you’ll be open-minded enough, I can bring back some dark entranced memories with this little button.” My fingers run between Her divine legs held wide by the ropes, and a finger travels between the wet slit and up to her navel. I want to believe that She silently laughs at that as She shudders, but She’s always been too complicated for me to predict such things. “Guess what this is?” A slightly different blend of sounds occurs now, even more interesting since She’s obviously trying to remain silent as I apply and massage into Her flesh an oil meant to soften the pale skin between Her delightful thighs. My tongue escaping from my lips to steal a taste of Her wet desires as I massage. “Ah, the all-too familiar sweet feel of baby oil, eh?” “I.......don’t want to talk right now.” “I never said you have to, dark angel.” After an uncertain period of pampering the skin around, and the entrance to Her intrails I notice Her velveteen folds beginning to relax. Now that I have got it all wet and baby smell-good I decided to have a go at it. “Let me know if this is too much”, I say as I begin to poke my middle finger through the lip-like opening, while rolling my thumb against Her succulent flesh and clit. I hear a small little ‘M’ sound but still respect Her right to remain silent. After a while of this I hold my breath and begin dancing my tongue over it. The reactions sound remarkably similar to the ones mentioned in the beginning, only this time....... “That fucking tickles!!!!!!!” Just as one might shoot soda from their nose did I blow a gush of air, which led to an even higher-pitched squeal. I respond with a couple minutes of wild cackling followed by an awkward (can you imagine?) silence. My tongue would lie between the folds, dancing for an hour within the womb to drink of the sin She produced from her nirvana-like desire. Eventually I say the magical words, “S’pose I should let you go now.” A big sigh of disappointment from the Goddess, as I release Her from bondage and allow Her to dress, having teased Her to the point of coming for me and stopped. After worshipping the last few moments of Her divine twig of a birthday suit, I lick my lips. “I know I am a tease..but I swear I will finish next time,” I say with my trademark crooked grin. Then She says, “You better....”, and smirks.. then quickly runs from the room and disappears into the night a most sensually intoxicated goddess, leaving me to clean up my mess. \| \| --SaTaN-- \| - Beautiful - Nightfall, once again. The fires still burned greater begging for something to feed on, surrounding a sole darkness standing before a black altar. Her eyes were cast to the black stone, oblivious to all that was raging about Her, solemn and exquisite. Ravenous black locks flowed in the heated breeze and Her skin was glazed by sweat produced from the fire's warm caress. She was a jewel, the only calm in the midst of this raging firestorm about Her. Adept, and perfect in the silent gaze She cast upon the unholy altar. I believe it was high midnight, She still had not taken Her eyes from the luxurious obsidian stone in which She had laid eyes hours earlier. I could feel the gaze of something mysterious and cold upon us, to step precariously upon us in the darkness. It was my master, Shrouded in the shade that maleficently carried His Sinfulness. His eyes were cast to the glistening pale skinned Goddess at the altar...eyes that hinted a vague impression, that hinted His intrigue. His steps were mighty and proud, and I could feel the Jewel's heart pounding faster. I knew She could feel him. I knew not a soul that could ignore my Master's void within, it was a chilled place. Not once in my servitude did my Master ever smile. His damned features were regal and perfect in the blaze's cast. Perhaps if one would ever make the Maelstrom smile it would stop the hearts of those who knew Him best. I could not understand why my Master had come to this remote place...to Her. Even though I could sense Her heart pulsating ever more rapid, She turned not. She fought the smile tugging Her lips at the feelings Her stature gave away..I still believe it was His arrival. The night was alive within Her, it had been for the weeks I was housed in this temple. She truly was a demon, but so was my Master. His steps grew closer, so close I felt my life fade inside. This eerie feeling was cast throughout the burning room as the clouds rolled like predators devouring the sky. My eyes were cast upon Her, this mystery adorning my mind like a heavy weight. In that brief moment her lips moved mouthing four words. "My love, He's here" I frowned in disbelief. My Master was capable of love? I could not believe such a wicked joke. As deviant as it may have been, my eyes were cast to my Master and His regal malevolence, and then to Her once more. She was grinning, like pure evil was the spice of Her life. It froze my soul in place and left me unable to move. Unable to speak. Only my gaze was left to wander, and it was lifted to my Master once more....For the first time ever when she mouthed those words, my Master smiled.... And It was beautiful. \| \| --SaTaN-- \|