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xmag.com : November 2001 : Girl Trouble


"Vampirella"

He saw her fine faery form unfold at a fetish night. Dragonfly wings she wore, flapping from her insect-like shoulders and tight torso squeezed into black PVC. Her spidery legs covered by fishnets and black boots, she was fragile yet deadly; maybe more wasp woman than dragonfly. Dark lipstick, jet-black hair, pale skin, her blue eyes seized mine from across the dance floor. I smiled, thinking about her willowy neck, how badly my teeth wanted to bruise her there--the succulent hollow where her shoulder meets her hair. She didn't smile back, just floated my way. We were dancing without words exchanged. She seemed too easy, yet strangely aloof, like she descended from another world. As if reading my thoughts, she grabbed my waist, pulled me into her. Effortless strength. I would have lost my balance, but she pushed back into me. And her neck, taut, tendoned and tender, beckoned. I had to swallow my saliva. So enraptured I was, I didn't notice when a Gothic dom, older, mischievous, started circling us. Next thing I knew, she was binding the wasp woman and I together with electrical tape wrapped around our bodies, from our shoulders to our knees. Cocooned, we were. Still, we said nothing. Strange heat from her stomach and pointed hips pressed against me. Boiling hot and hungry, I couldn't hold back for another second. I dipped down but she already knew what I was after; tossing her head back, she laid it bare for my mouth, my teeth, probing the elixir of her flesh. Her throat. It has to be the sweetest, most vulnerable part of any woman. I imagined choking her, taking away breath and giving it back just before she came.

With her supple strength, she started walking me backward through the crowd, toward the bar. Strange four-legged animal, soon my back was pressed against the bar; she ordered vodka straight-up. I shook my head. The drinks arrived--vodka in shot glasses. She just smiled, started to unravel our bindings. Standing on the wad of gummy black on the floor, we could have gone our separate ways, done anything. But moving one centimeter away from her heat seemed impossible. Then, the most astonishing thing happened. She didn't drink the vodka or expect me to drink. Instead she stepped back, lifted the glasses, threw the alcohol on her wings, flicked my lighter she had snuck out of my pocket and set her wings on fire. She flapped around in a mad circle, the flames licking closer to her shoulders, her hair. Icarus, were you saying, 'Let's fly into the sun together?' She answered with a shrug, once then twice, and her burning wings fell to the floor. She stomped them out with her elegant boots.

Needless to say, we were escorted out instantly. Standing outside in her long leather coat, she looked like a Gestapo boy-soldier--her wide jaw set, her eyes probing mine with questions. And still we did not speak. Across the street in the parking lot, 2:00 AM, my car waited. Big blue station wagon had plenty of room for her and I. Turned on the heat, reclined the power seats--no console in the middle so it's like a bench seat. Perfect for sucking on a cool, clear autumn night. She opened her coat and I dove inside the pliant perfumed goat leather. Her nimble hands reached around and undid clasps at the back of her PVC insect armor. She hesitated just a moment for my brain to wrap around the sight I was about to see.

Flat-chested with nipples turned to stone, my mouth seized on one, then the other. Appetizers. Little hors d'oeuvres of love. My hands reached around her back, feeling all the strength coiled up in her gymnast-like body. Two fingers found her smooth, hairless opening already wet; I gave them to her. Still we did not speak, as she rocked against my hand and my mouth inched closer to the place I wanted to devour from the moment I first saw her. Her hand rubbed me frantically, expertly, through my pants, down my leg, tracing my length. So skilled was her touch, I thought I might cum in my pants. But then my mouth fused with her throat and I was onto something greater. The muscle and esophagus like a penis with her head thrown back, following the length from her jaw to the base of her throat, I sucked up and down that stalk. She was getting close. I felt her deep moan vibrating up through her neck like a reed I was play

ing with my lips and teeth. I moved my mouth to the side of her neck and let my teeth bite down without mercy. I thought she would scream, but instead her hips started smashing against my hand while her head shook side to side. I felt like a predator holding onto the neck of its prey, no matter what, until it dies; and all that tension in her taut body pushed out of her with a shattering scream.

Still, we didn't say a word, as my zipper whispered of things to come. He was out in her tiny, soft, strong hands. One hand played the shaft and head, the other teased and tempted the juice in my balls. I started to push the back of her head downward, expecting her to yield, give me the sucking pleasure of her mouth. Instead she resisted with serpent-like strength, driving back against my hand. This battle continued: I pressed harder, she pushed back just as hard. It was hopeless to guide her anywhere. I stopped. In that moment, holding all of me in both her hands, she looked me dead in the eye. She simply opened her mouth, then smiled for the first time. Too late. I saw the gleam off her canines sharper than ivory daggers. I pulled back but she had me in both hands squeezing. I cried out in pain. An animal sound like the shriek of a bird tearing into its prey filled the metal sarcophagus as she flew into me. Her teeth sunk into the same place on me where I had bit her. Only hers instantly broke through the skin. Pain so intense, my eyes felt like they would jettison from my skull. I screamed, tried to move in any direction; she had me in both hands crushing.
I couldn't tell which pain was worse and then I knew, as the sucking sound came and her throat began to gurgle with joy, I was never the hunter, always the hunted.

She released her vicelike grip on my loins; resistance was futile. Something deep inside surrendered to the heat in my neck. My brain tasted an opiate-like narcotic numbing the initial pain. I followed the sound of my blood being swallowed in rhythm with my pulse. Pain was replaced by warmth and pressure allowing me to feel my monstrous ezrection that must have originated in hell. And so it was I who spoke first, in a whisper, meek and fractured, "Take me."

I was only blood and desire to her and she was taking both when the force of every orgasm I'd ever known surged up through my cock, my whole body. The warm liquid spilled with no beginning, no end; it poured from me like a stream rushing over a dam, falling into a black lake.

Then nothing but a rhythmic hypnotic hum...her ancient heart beating against my face cradled to her chest. Her hand closing my wound with loving pressure, finally she said,

"You are mine now."

 

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