Oh, Lola

Lola is being a brat.

Her office is closed today. She wants me to stay home with her and I can’t, so she’s acting up.

First, it was pouting. Those soft lips of hers, tinted pink, puckering into a perfect little rosebud while her chin dimpled, and her Wedgewood blue eyes glittered with tears. She has this way of inclining her head and looking up at me through her dolly lashes. It looks innocent enough, but the way she pulls her arms in and leans forward so I follow the line of her eyes, to her pout, to her cleavage reveals it for what it is.

Manipulative little so-and-so. Every other time I’ve seen her pull that trick I’ve grabbed her and kissed her breathless, so why she thought it would work today is anybody’s guess. Continue reading “Oh, Lola”

Achingly Beautiful

She was a flame, divine
My pathic call of duty, irrefutable
Her eyes they paralyzed me, froze the flow of time
A glimpse so achingly beautiful
Verse from Achingly Beautiful from the album “Cryptorania” by Cradle of Filth

I’ve seen and done a lot in my short life. More than most people will see and do in a lifetime. But none of the happiness or sadness, joy, pain, or suffering I’ve experienced could have prepared me for this moment.

When I’d received the featherlight touch of her fingers – sheathed in black lace – on my shoulder… choosing me… I’d thought I was ready. But now, here, in the muted light of her candlelit crypt, I understand the enormity of my own arrogance.

I am not ready for Libertina.

But she is ready for me. Continue reading “Achingly Beautiful”

Sons of Satan

Screaming hinges was one of the worst sounds in the world. It set my teeth on edge and gave me an itch in my head that was impossible to scratch. I assessed the solid double doors in front of me with weary eyes. Weathered wood, wrought iron studs, and hinges that looked like they hadn’t moved in a thousand years. Yeah, this one was gonna be a screecher.

Grumbling quietly to myself, I let my fingers curl around the imposing black ring on the inner side of the door on the right. It was icy cold, making me shiver just like I had the first time I’d walked into this derelict old church. Something about the place felt off. Sinister. Continue reading “Sons of Satan”

One Day, You’ll Learn

My muscles twitch, making my body tremble. I shake so hard, I hear the wooden frame of the bed rattle. Sweat snakes down my ribs and waist, pooling on the sheet beneath me and making the small of my back itch. I’m soaked with the sheen of anticipation, of struggle. Of the fruitless attempts to retreat from the punishment my questionable behaviour has earned me. Continue reading “One Day, You’ll Learn”

The Price of Defiance

She was watching me. Standing in the corner of the room, crop in hand, her eyes were fixed on me. I tried not to wince when she slapped the leather tip off the bare plaster wall behind her, but I failed. I cringed so hard the weight-lifting bench I was strapped to scraped over the floor, just a little, and her resulting snigger, though soft, seemed so loud to me. Continue reading “The Price of Defiance”

What Bad Girls Do Best


Image used with permission of Molly’s Daily Kiss

He’s at it again. The guy next door. Every Friday it’s someone new. Two weeks ago it was the purple haired geek who serves popcorn and hotdogs at the cinema. Last week it was a bronzed, toned metalhead from the local gym.

Gods, the noise they’d made! Never had a one night stand sounded so much like a pissing contest. They’d vied for power, for volume, for dominance. Just when one seemed to have accepted that they were there to bottom for the other there’d been a series of crashes and yells, swiftly followed by the one who was no longer in command groaning and begging for reprieve. He’d taken the upper hand in the end, though, naturally. Continue reading “What Bad Girls Do Best”

The Instrument and the Ornament

THE INSTRUMENT AND THE ORNAMENT

Hands behind my head, I sang along with the song playing quietly on my iPod, plaiting my waist length hair into a thick black rope. It was awkward and time consuming, but this was the way it had to be and I wouldn’t have had it any other way.

Jagged Little Pill. I’d always loved this album. It had been released in the mid-nineties, around the time I was charging head first into adulthood and what my mother had cringingly called my sexual awakening. It was also the time I discovered boys, and what wondrous, horrendous creatures they could be. I’d been abused, deceived, used, and fooled. But that was then. My now was very different, despite its similarities to my past. Continue reading “The Instrument and the Ornament”

Tick…Tick…Tick…

TICK...TICK...TICK...

Five hours. I’d been sitting on the floor for five hours. The incessant tick…tick…tick of the clock was loud in the bare walled room, slowly driving me insane, reminding me of how long I’d been made to wait.

I shifted, and the chains around my ankles clinked, chaffing like crazy. They were cold, and I was cold. The puddle I was sitting in was cold, too. It splashed my legs when I moved, and I ended up with my hand in it when I tried to redistribute my weight and slipped on the tiled floor. So, so cold, and it stank. Continue reading “Tick…Tick…Tick…”

Halloween Town Tales No 9 – Trick and Treat

TRICK AND TREAT

Halloween 2016

I couldn’t have been more entertained when Iris Day slammed her front door on my visit.

Her daughter, Debbie, marched me along Crow Street, in the direction of Chillington Cemetery. She was heading to the annual Halloween Haunt, and so was I, but not just yet. I had a task I needed to finish first. A tradition, if you will. Something I’d been doing for the past six years, ever since my ex-girlfriend’s kid sister had come home crying because the tight-fisted fuckers in the neighbourhood had sent her away with no treats in her little ghost shaped bucket.

Continue reading “Halloween Town Tales No 9 – Trick and Treat”