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Poetry competition CLOSED 23rd June 2016 5:47pm
WINNER
J_J_Jay_Jr
J_J_Jay_Jr
RUNNERS-UP:
MadameLavender
and Dhenz
Scare Me.
Poetry Contest Description
i want someone to be able to scare into not wanting to be able to sleep for weeks.
Lasts for one month.
anything allowed as long as its scary or creepy.
Blood and gore is preferred.
i want the most messed up or creepy nightmarish thing you can come up with and GO!
anything allowed as long as its scary or creepy.
Blood and gore is preferred.
i want the most messed up or creepy nightmarish thing you can come up with and GO!
I Love Them Ripe in Rot
It's only been a month since slaughtering
the chick I bought some neon drink. I scored,
then shot her-- cupid's bow and arrow sang
through her pleading form, which I stow in my fridge.
Her sugar knuckles crumble in the grind
and suckle of my mouth. Her drying wires
fracture in the taught tangle of my hand:
Blonde strands I'll save, for years, in mason jars.
I lick her crusty lids and gnaw her lips
off raw. I blissen in her wretched stank.
I nibble tunnels through her pulpy tits.
In her misshapen cunt, sweet rot, I sink.
Oy vey, how quickly she decays. I must
stalk yet another meat-and-bones to satiate my lust.
It's only been a month since slaughtering
the chick I bought some neon drink. I scored,
then shot her-- cupid's bow and arrow sang
through her pleading form, which I stow in my fridge.
Her sugar knuckles crumble in the grind
and suckle of my mouth. Her drying wires
fracture in the taught tangle of my hand:
Blonde strands I'll save, for years, in mason jars.
I lick her crusty lids and gnaw her lips
off raw. I blissen in her wretched stank.
I nibble tunnels through her pulpy tits.
In her misshapen cunt, sweet rot, I sink.
Oy vey, how quickly she decays. I must
stalk yet another meat-and-bones to satiate my lust.
- Night Journey into Darkness -
Based on an out of body experience I had tonight,
on Thursday, February 18, 2016 at 2:00 A.M.
What doth it mean to truly be alive?
An eternal question, asked by many...
To answer it, some eternally may strive,
Lost and longing for nigh unto eternity.
Am I seeking, am I found; I know not...
For I see and hear things I cannot say,
The totality of, nor express it in thought.
How canst the lost hope to find a way?
For words fail, when the senses swim,
Amid dark imaginings clad in shadows.
Where does nightmare end and begin?
Or dream, like fog fallen on meadows.
Am I waking, do I sleep; is there truth,
In hidden things, forsaken by memory?
I see too much to ever try to remove...
What visions I beheld all too suddenly,
This eve, when they came to me cruel.
Unbidden, forcing their way to mind...
From domains utterly ablaze yet cool,
Hellish yet heavenly, awful yet sublime.
What secrets should I try to utter?
A terrible question, asked by saints...
And by sinners too, their hearts aflutter,
With horrific hopes, and heavy taints.
A cold sweat, and heat burning as fire...
These things I felt, along with a dread,
Which cannot be described; very dire.
Very primal, was the fear which bled...
My reason from me, sending me deep,
Down black chasms where all is dark!
Weakness, nausea, the desire to flee...
Such came upon me, and I didst hark.
For I saw with eyes that art not blind,
But unchained, from human clouding...
Voices called me seeker, and to find!
To peer past subconscious shrouding.
And I saw, oh dear gods what I saw!
Too much, too hot, too cold, all bare.
I was there, where sharp things claw...
And piercing eyes, into the soul stare.
What doth it mean to be damned?
A fearsome question, asked not light...
Answered by more insistent command,
Even as I fled, even as I began to fight.
I reached out and my arm was bloody,
Skinless, for spirits require no clothing.
Am I still beautiful, bereft of humanity?
Beautiful and terrible without covering!
In the netherworld, passing the gates...
Seven in number, seeking to live more.
For the dead desire much ere all is late,
And, so, I strove to cross every door...
The blood red queen, within her home.
I could neither run nor ever look away,
Since I was beyond the darkest tomb...
Bloody hands, reaching for light of day.
At length, I felt my skin return in glory,
As I shed the darkness to return swift!
Back to my living world, oft of worry...
And, it seemed as if I hadst never left.
The queen returns, but am I beautiful?
Once in the mirror I still saw in horror,
What I was in that place most terrible!
That vision wracked me unto my core.
But it passed, and all I hadst endured...
I remembered, but could not speak of.
So I began to write this, so enamored,
Once more with living, and joys of love.
Based on an out of body experience I had tonight,
on Thursday, February 18, 2016 at 2:00 A.M.
What doth it mean to truly be alive?
An eternal question, asked by many...
To answer it, some eternally may strive,
Lost and longing for nigh unto eternity.
Am I seeking, am I found; I know not...
For I see and hear things I cannot say,
The totality of, nor express it in thought.
How canst the lost hope to find a way?
For words fail, when the senses swim,
Amid dark imaginings clad in shadows.
Where does nightmare end and begin?
Or dream, like fog fallen on meadows.
Am I waking, do I sleep; is there truth,
In hidden things, forsaken by memory?
I see too much to ever try to remove...
What visions I beheld all too suddenly,
This eve, when they came to me cruel.
Unbidden, forcing their way to mind...
From domains utterly ablaze yet cool,
Hellish yet heavenly, awful yet sublime.
What secrets should I try to utter?
A terrible question, asked by saints...
And by sinners too, their hearts aflutter,
With horrific hopes, and heavy taints.
A cold sweat, and heat burning as fire...
These things I felt, along with a dread,
Which cannot be described; very dire.
Very primal, was the fear which bled...
My reason from me, sending me deep,
Down black chasms where all is dark!
Weakness, nausea, the desire to flee...
Such came upon me, and I didst hark.
For I saw with eyes that art not blind,
But unchained, from human clouding...
Voices called me seeker, and to find!
To peer past subconscious shrouding.
And I saw, oh dear gods what I saw!
Too much, too hot, too cold, all bare.
I was there, where sharp things claw...
And piercing eyes, into the soul stare.
What doth it mean to be damned?
A fearsome question, asked not light...
Answered by more insistent command,
Even as I fled, even as I began to fight.
I reached out and my arm was bloody,
Skinless, for spirits require no clothing.
Am I still beautiful, bereft of humanity?
Beautiful and terrible without covering!
In the netherworld, passing the gates...
Seven in number, seeking to live more.
For the dead desire much ere all is late,
And, so, I strove to cross every door...
The blood red queen, within her home.
I could neither run nor ever look away,
Since I was beyond the darkest tomb...
Bloody hands, reaching for light of day.
At length, I felt my skin return in glory,
As I shed the darkness to return swift!
Back to my living world, oft of worry...
And, it seemed as if I hadst never left.
The queen returns, but am I beautiful?
Once in the mirror I still saw in horror,
What I was in that place most terrible!
That vision wracked me unto my core.
But it passed, and all I hadst endured...
I remembered, but could not speak of.
So I began to write this, so enamored,
Once more with living, and joys of love.
- Domain of the Damned -
Through metal corridors filled with red crumbling rust,
Lost souls scurry, bound by chains of sorrow’s lust…
For happiness deprived like air from a drowning man!
All in accordance with the glory of some divine plan…
Which demands the darkness be filled, with radiance.
Yet therein the fleshly prisoners can only try to grimace!
The chains that bind them, clang against hollow walls,
Until their shrieks abound, where only the raven calls.
Death birds crying in cavernous dwellings of madness,
In time to the tortured ones who are bound by sadness!
Flesh melding to flesh, until new grotesque shapes rise,
From the depths of insanity, amidst the raven’s cries…
Which summon forth the fiends from their old slumber.
Ancient chains are broken, no more to ever encumber,
They who were bound in abyssal dreams, not dying…
Yet not living, but someplace between the two lying.
The old ones come, the ancient ones of eldritch name!
Gods to some, devils to others, emissaries of flame…
Brightly lighting the metallic domains with roaring fury.
There, where creatures crawl and not even rats scurry,
For there are more awful regions in human darkness…
Than in all of Hell, to fill the soul with horrible distress!
The hulking guardians lumber down the black tunnels,
Scraping their gigantic blades behind them, screeching.
Like nails on a chalkboard, like eels in watery funnels!
The sound shrieks, though they are mute, beseeching…
Beckoning to the damned, whose pain they do elevate.
The manifestations of guilt, whose gluttony none sate…
Yet they starve, for evil feeds only upon itself, in time.
Tearing at the flesh, gorging on blood sweetly sublime,
To the taste of the horrors of the pits, who there feed!
How they come, to honor the guardians’ silent creed,
Their blades scraping through bone, grating, grinding…
The guardians of the damned set about thusly binding,
Souls to new forms, shaped by the will of a mad god!
A mad goddess: she who rules, beneath soil and sod.
Before the eye set into the throne, before the majesty,
Of the pale, horned one who crucifies unto ecstasy…
Those who would be martyred by foolishness eternal!
Only to become entrapped: in black chasms, infernal.
Hollow voices echoing in hollow places, singing softly,
A dirge of lamentation they sing, a gray, grim melody.
Who hears it but those whose faith is stronger by far,
Than those who languish, long, like prisoners of war!
Smoke and fog choke the tunnels of the lower realm,
Beneath the shafts where the Titans once were cast…
Beyond which: are sights that could sanity overwhelm.
Madness in the dark, where only fire’s light will last…
But there, is hid a glow brighter than brightest sunlight.
It wears the mask of shadow, but with an arcane rite,
The way to a paradise might be unlocked, by mercy…
Amidst a merciless dwelling, ruled by a cruel divinity.
Cruelty in order to be kind, lunacy in names of love…
Thus works the forgotten goddess, whilst just above,
The ravens gather, the flapping of wings so deafening!
Rusty gears spin slowly, as souls await their turning…
Bound to the gears of karmic law by their own hands.
Thus man punishes itself, by no decree of living lands,
Summoning forth the guardians to oversee the horror.
But each brute bears a sinner’s face like dark mirror,
Held in the hand of some insane cosmic puppeteer…
Though no hand pulls the strings, nor could any steer:
The course of destiny to run in any way it should not.
We trap ourselves, by our own deeds, to be caught!
No laughter rings, in the metallic halls that I describe,
For there are none joyful, condemned to there abide.
Can there be freedom from a purgatory so complete?
Only beyond the place where darkness has its’ seat,
Beyond fire and ice, where deep waters are clouded:
A throne of shadow in a tower so darkly enshrouded!
That night would be more radiant when one compares,
How glorious the glow of the domain no angel dares…
Save those who have grown accustomed to the sights.
No eye views it the same, and by the heat that blights,
The gardens outside the beauty of Elysian tranquility…
Wherein the righteous are rewarded in love’s equality:
By that same humidity, the undeserving so kept apart,
Can only gnash their teeth, tearing out their own heart.
Sanguine offerings to their own vastly brutish agonies!
No altars shall receive them, for they earn no dignities,
Either in life or in death, once they abandon their soul.
When you lose the ability to love, beyond all control…
The abysses I speak of receive you, ever so greedily!
Whilst the guardians lumber along, never as speedily…
As the angels who walk amongst you seeking to save,
Yet how many of them were hypocrites so depraved!
And so I speak truth, not falsehood; thus this warning:
Hold fast, the wisdom of this daughter of the morning.
Through metal corridors filled with red crumbling rust,
Lost souls scurry, bound by chains of sorrow’s lust…
For happiness deprived like air from a drowning man!
All in accordance with the glory of some divine plan…
Which demands the darkness be filled, with radiance.
Yet therein the fleshly prisoners can only try to grimace!
The chains that bind them, clang against hollow walls,
Until their shrieks abound, where only the raven calls.
Death birds crying in cavernous dwellings of madness,
In time to the tortured ones who are bound by sadness!
Flesh melding to flesh, until new grotesque shapes rise,
From the depths of insanity, amidst the raven’s cries…
Which summon forth the fiends from their old slumber.
Ancient chains are broken, no more to ever encumber,
They who were bound in abyssal dreams, not dying…
Yet not living, but someplace between the two lying.
The old ones come, the ancient ones of eldritch name!
Gods to some, devils to others, emissaries of flame…
Brightly lighting the metallic domains with roaring fury.
There, where creatures crawl and not even rats scurry,
For there are more awful regions in human darkness…
Than in all of Hell, to fill the soul with horrible distress!
The hulking guardians lumber down the black tunnels,
Scraping their gigantic blades behind them, screeching.
Like nails on a chalkboard, like eels in watery funnels!
The sound shrieks, though they are mute, beseeching…
Beckoning to the damned, whose pain they do elevate.
The manifestations of guilt, whose gluttony none sate…
Yet they starve, for evil feeds only upon itself, in time.
Tearing at the flesh, gorging on blood sweetly sublime,
To the taste of the horrors of the pits, who there feed!
How they come, to honor the guardians’ silent creed,
Their blades scraping through bone, grating, grinding…
The guardians of the damned set about thusly binding,
Souls to new forms, shaped by the will of a mad god!
A mad goddess: she who rules, beneath soil and sod.
Before the eye set into the throne, before the majesty,
Of the pale, horned one who crucifies unto ecstasy…
Those who would be martyred by foolishness eternal!
Only to become entrapped: in black chasms, infernal.
Hollow voices echoing in hollow places, singing softly,
A dirge of lamentation they sing, a gray, grim melody.
Who hears it but those whose faith is stronger by far,
Than those who languish, long, like prisoners of war!
Smoke and fog choke the tunnels of the lower realm,
Beneath the shafts where the Titans once were cast…
Beyond which: are sights that could sanity overwhelm.
Madness in the dark, where only fire’s light will last…
But there, is hid a glow brighter than brightest sunlight.
It wears the mask of shadow, but with an arcane rite,
The way to a paradise might be unlocked, by mercy…
Amidst a merciless dwelling, ruled by a cruel divinity.
Cruelty in order to be kind, lunacy in names of love…
Thus works the forgotten goddess, whilst just above,
The ravens gather, the flapping of wings so deafening!
Rusty gears spin slowly, as souls await their turning…
Bound to the gears of karmic law by their own hands.
Thus man punishes itself, by no decree of living lands,
Summoning forth the guardians to oversee the horror.
But each brute bears a sinner’s face like dark mirror,
Held in the hand of some insane cosmic puppeteer…
Though no hand pulls the strings, nor could any steer:
The course of destiny to run in any way it should not.
We trap ourselves, by our own deeds, to be caught!
No laughter rings, in the metallic halls that I describe,
For there are none joyful, condemned to there abide.
Can there be freedom from a purgatory so complete?
Only beyond the place where darkness has its’ seat,
Beyond fire and ice, where deep waters are clouded:
A throne of shadow in a tower so darkly enshrouded!
That night would be more radiant when one compares,
How glorious the glow of the domain no angel dares…
Save those who have grown accustomed to the sights.
No eye views it the same, and by the heat that blights,
The gardens outside the beauty of Elysian tranquility…
Wherein the righteous are rewarded in love’s equality:
By that same humidity, the undeserving so kept apart,
Can only gnash their teeth, tearing out their own heart.
Sanguine offerings to their own vastly brutish agonies!
No altars shall receive them, for they earn no dignities,
Either in life or in death, once they abandon their soul.
When you lose the ability to love, beyond all control…
The abysses I speak of receive you, ever so greedily!
Whilst the guardians lumber along, never as speedily…
As the angels who walk amongst you seeking to save,
Yet how many of them were hypocrites so depraved!
And so I speak truth, not falsehood; thus this warning:
Hold fast, the wisdom of this daughter of the morning.
13 years ago...
He is courting me
Giving flowers, chocolates, teddy bear
Picking me at home
And dropping me at work
Calling me every hour
Texting me everyminute
He never stop saying "I love you"
And he promise me that he never leave
"Closer I get to touching you
The closer I get to loving you"
He sing that song to me always
And I sang it now...
Coz tomorrow, i say YES to him..
I will say Yes, I love u too..
I ignore his messages
I did'nt answered his calls..
I want to surprised him...
April 29, 2003
6:15 am
Someone message me
"Hey Hector is Dead"
Until now..
I still heard his voice
I still feel his presence around me
If I say "Hector are you here?"
My phone will light even no msg or call
He kept his promise to me..
That he will never leave me
Maybe if I answered his call at 3:50 am..
He's still alive...
By the way he died April 29, 2003
At exactly 2:55 am
He is courting me
Giving flowers, chocolates, teddy bear
Picking me at home
And dropping me at work
Calling me every hour
Texting me everyminute
He never stop saying "I love you"
And he promise me that he never leave
"Closer I get to touching you
The closer I get to loving you"
He sing that song to me always
And I sang it now...
Coz tomorrow, i say YES to him..
I will say Yes, I love u too..
I ignore his messages
I did'nt answered his calls..
I want to surprised him...
April 29, 2003
6:15 am
Someone message me
"Hey Hector is Dead"
Until now..
I still heard his voice
I still feel his presence around me
If I say "Hector are you here?"
My phone will light even no msg or call
He kept his promise to me..
That he will never leave me
Maybe if I answered his call at 3:50 am..
He's still alive...
By the way he died April 29, 2003
At exactly 2:55 am
Anonymous
<< post removed >>
Anonymous
GG.Creep.kjv.scohfield.r evelation3:3
:-it.starts.tonight-:
right.
after..you
read.
this.
My.eye.never.stops.
it.is.watching.
your.time.is.coming.
-:+SOON.
wait.
your.last.meal.
:-comes-:
:-it.starts.tonight-:
right.
after..you
read.
this.
My.eye.never.stops.
it.is.watching.
your.time.is.coming.
-:+SOON.
wait.
your.last.meal.
:-comes-:
The Sweet Deal
Her hollow hands reach
For your fast soul
You sold for so much compromise
Your bones arch in
As she inhales the saccharine smell
Of your fears
Yes...she caught a healthy whiff
Of innocence and your eyes
And laughed as the dark of hers blacked out your baby blues
She thought of taking every drip drop
Of virgin sweet that bubbled
Into your pink neat flesh
That virgin snatch would put a whole new hue to her sagging grey face...
But alas black heart trumped vanity..
My darling....I took you fast from purgatory
She sold you to me... and baby...you will not need that sweater...
Her hollow hands reach
For your fast soul
You sold for so much compromise
Your bones arch in
As she inhales the saccharine smell
Of your fears
Yes...she caught a healthy whiff
Of innocence and your eyes
And laughed as the dark of hers blacked out your baby blues
She thought of taking every drip drop
Of virgin sweet that bubbled
Into your pink neat flesh
That virgin snatch would put a whole new hue to her sagging grey face...
But alas black heart trumped vanity..
My darling....I took you fast from purgatory
She sold you to me... and baby...you will not need that sweater...
I had forgotten
All of it
Every bit of it
Now
Day by day
Bit by bit
It was coming back
I remembered,
Her email last October 1st.
Asking me - - -
Would I?
Could I?
Maybe?
Join her for a "little" celebration/ceremony on the 31st?
I remembered . . .
The meadow
Candles
Blood red wine
Star shaped white silk cloth spread on the ground
Wine sipping
Ceremonial stripping
Shivering
Dizziness
Caressing
Erect nipples
Erect penis
Lighting the candles
Lying down in the pentagram
Her body splayed to the pentagram's points
Entering her
Thrusting to the strokes of an unseen clock
Those were my memories
Now, on this October 1st
An email
Short
Blunt
A command
“Be here
On the 31st”
I write this
On a plane
To Austin
It is, of course,
The 31st
I, quite literally, could not, not be on that plane to Austin
A car pulled up in front of me at Passenger Pick-Up
Door swing open
Voice --deeper, richer than I remembered
"Get in"
She drove in silence
I stared
Barely recognized her
Longer hair, red so dark it was nearly black, hid most of her face
Breasts, my god, I am certain I would have remembered those
Pearl white skin that nearly glowed
Cleavage that showed the edge of her nipples
Her dress, also a deep, dark, almost black shade of red,
Flowed and hugged her body as if it were a living layer of skin
Her arms, covered with lace sleeves down to her fingers
Her nails, polished that same shade of red/black
The dress, slit up above her waist
Tunic style held with a silver chain just under her breasts
And, yet, the fabric stayed close to her body
Except, as she drove, her movements
Bared her leg
As if the fabric willed it so
Showing, the tunic was all she wore
Showing also,
Pearl white glowing skin and a glimpse of red/black pubic hair
An instant erection
Painful one
Pain in my balls
The ride may have been long or maybe it was short
I don’t remember
Arrived
In full moonlight
at a familiar meadow
In its center, already spread, a white silk star shaped cloth
Like last year
Waiting for us
To finish
What we started
A year ago
She whispered
"Your flight was late
It's almost time
Get ready
Quickly"
I stood frozen
Her red/black tunic flowed off of her
without any effort on her part
pooled at her feet
She looked at me
screamed
"Now!"
I reached to unbutton my shirt
She ripped it off of me
My t-shirt too
Also, my
shoes
socks
pants
briefs
The shredded pile made it clear
How quickly it had happened
Both of us naked
Nipples erect
Penis painfully so
She was already wet
I could see droplets glistening in her hair
Dampening the inside of her thighs
"Lay down
On your back
Spread to the pentagram
Like I was last year
This year, I'm on top.
Now!”
She shoved me on to the cloth, down to my knees
"On your back.
Now!"
Tears in her eyes
I rolled over, splaid myself out
Open, exposed
Penis to the sky
She knelt between my legs
Bent over
Touched the tip of her tongue to the tip of my penis
Slid her mouth down so that all of me was in her mouth
Deep enough, some of me was down her throat
As much of hurry as she had expressed
She took her time moving me in and out of her mouth
Down her throat
Once
Twice
Thrice
I was squirming
The strokes reached
Thirteen
She pulled back from that thirteen stroke
She leaned forward
Her hands reached toward my chest
Simultaneously
Using the nails of her left hand on my right nipple
Her right thumb, forefinger on my left nipple
She pinched, pulled, twisted, and lifted
Pain caused me to gasp
Buck my hips forcefully upward
She had positioned herself perfectly
The force of my upward movement
Drove my dick deeply into her cunt
The slamming pain
Of our pubic bones coming together
Caused us to jerk nearly apart
As an unseen clock struck one
Nearly apart, but not completely so
The clock struck a second time
So too did our pubic bones
Although the pain this second time
Matched the first
It had an ---
"I want more"
Obscene sexual pleasure to it
With each of ten more strokes
Of that clock
My dick drove into her pussy
The obscene pleasure grew
With it
Grew a low sort of growl
In her throat
In mine
Mine deeper than hers
More lustfully, loathsomely, raunchy
Decidedly more male than hers could ever be
Our mouths locked
Our tongues raw from each other's teeth
Our fingers nearly crushed
With the force of their interlocking grip
Our legs twisted and twined around each other
Our pelvis bones bruised from battering
Driving
Crushing
Mashing
Smashing
Against each other
While my cock squished
Drove
Slammed
Smashed
In and out
Of her cunt
Beating on each stroke against her cervix
With what must have been excruciating pain for her
It certainly wasn't love
It wasn't even sex, exactly
The clock counted off
We keep perfect time
It was number twelve we were
Frantically
Frenziedly
Violently
Approaching
The clock struck twelve
Our bodies released
Her cunt contracted, convulsed
I cried in pain
My cock delivered
She gasped at the flood
Her contractions, milked me of everything my body had to give
My discharge filled her
As my penis relaxed inside of her
Cum flowed out
A large wet spot grew on the cloth
Tinted pink with the blood of the violence done to our
Pelvises
Genitals
A seeming moment later
I awoke in my bed a thousand miles north of Austin
This time
I remembered everything
I got out of bed
Glanced at the mirror
Noticed
A deep red/black bruise showing through my dried cum matted dark red, almost black pubic hair
Dick, still red, swollen from its violent use
Nipples with red, bloody nail marks
And
Pearl white skin
From the floor
Curling about my feet
A pooled red/black cloth
Seemed to be climbing my legs
I also noticed
On my swollen lips
A smile
All this seen through eyes
Whose yellow-green pupils were more cat shaped than round
All of it
Every bit of it
Now
Day by day
Bit by bit
It was coming back
I remembered,
Her email last October 1st.
Asking me - - -
Would I?
Could I?
Maybe?
Join her for a "little" celebration/ceremony on the 31st?
I remembered . . .
The meadow
Candles
Blood red wine
Star shaped white silk cloth spread on the ground
Wine sipping
Ceremonial stripping
Shivering
Dizziness
Caressing
Erect nipples
Erect penis
Lighting the candles
Lying down in the pentagram
Her body splayed to the pentagram's points
Entering her
Thrusting to the strokes of an unseen clock
Those were my memories
Now, on this October 1st
An email
Short
Blunt
A command
“Be here
On the 31st”
I write this
On a plane
To Austin
It is, of course,
The 31st
I, quite literally, could not, not be on that plane to Austin
A car pulled up in front of me at Passenger Pick-Up
Door swing open
Voice --deeper, richer than I remembered
"Get in"
She drove in silence
I stared
Barely recognized her
Longer hair, red so dark it was nearly black, hid most of her face
Breasts, my god, I am certain I would have remembered those
Pearl white skin that nearly glowed
Cleavage that showed the edge of her nipples
Her dress, also a deep, dark, almost black shade of red,
Flowed and hugged her body as if it were a living layer of skin
Her arms, covered with lace sleeves down to her fingers
Her nails, polished that same shade of red/black
The dress, slit up above her waist
Tunic style held with a silver chain just under her breasts
And, yet, the fabric stayed close to her body
Except, as she drove, her movements
Bared her leg
As if the fabric willed it so
Showing, the tunic was all she wore
Showing also,
Pearl white glowing skin and a glimpse of red/black pubic hair
An instant erection
Painful one
Pain in my balls
The ride may have been long or maybe it was short
I don’t remember
Arrived
In full moonlight
at a familiar meadow
In its center, already spread, a white silk star shaped cloth
Like last year
Waiting for us
To finish
What we started
A year ago
She whispered
"Your flight was late
It's almost time
Get ready
Quickly"
I stood frozen
Her red/black tunic flowed off of her
without any effort on her part
pooled at her feet
She looked at me
screamed
"Now!"
I reached to unbutton my shirt
She ripped it off of me
My t-shirt too
Also, my
shoes
socks
pants
briefs
The shredded pile made it clear
How quickly it had happened
Both of us naked
Nipples erect
Penis painfully so
She was already wet
I could see droplets glistening in her hair
Dampening the inside of her thighs
"Lay down
On your back
Spread to the pentagram
Like I was last year
This year, I'm on top.
Now!”
She shoved me on to the cloth, down to my knees
"On your back.
Now!"
Tears in her eyes
I rolled over, splaid myself out
Open, exposed
Penis to the sky
She knelt between my legs
Bent over
Touched the tip of her tongue to the tip of my penis
Slid her mouth down so that all of me was in her mouth
Deep enough, some of me was down her throat
As much of hurry as she had expressed
She took her time moving me in and out of her mouth
Down her throat
Once
Twice
Thrice
I was squirming
The strokes reached
Thirteen
She pulled back from that thirteen stroke
She leaned forward
Her hands reached toward my chest
Simultaneously
Using the nails of her left hand on my right nipple
Her right thumb, forefinger on my left nipple
She pinched, pulled, twisted, and lifted
Pain caused me to gasp
Buck my hips forcefully upward
She had positioned herself perfectly
The force of my upward movement
Drove my dick deeply into her cunt
The slamming pain
Of our pubic bones coming together
Caused us to jerk nearly apart
As an unseen clock struck one
Nearly apart, but not completely so
The clock struck a second time
So too did our pubic bones
Although the pain this second time
Matched the first
It had an ---
"I want more"
Obscene sexual pleasure to it
With each of ten more strokes
Of that clock
My dick drove into her pussy
The obscene pleasure grew
With it
Grew a low sort of growl
In her throat
In mine
Mine deeper than hers
More lustfully, loathsomely, raunchy
Decidedly more male than hers could ever be
Our mouths locked
Our tongues raw from each other's teeth
Our fingers nearly crushed
With the force of their interlocking grip
Our legs twisted and twined around each other
Our pelvis bones bruised from battering
Driving
Crushing
Mashing
Smashing
Against each other
While my cock squished
Drove
Slammed
Smashed
In and out
Of her cunt
Beating on each stroke against her cervix
With what must have been excruciating pain for her
It certainly wasn't love
It wasn't even sex, exactly
The clock counted off
We keep perfect time
It was number twelve we were
Frantically
Frenziedly
Violently
Approaching
The clock struck twelve
Our bodies released
Her cunt contracted, convulsed
I cried in pain
My cock delivered
She gasped at the flood
Her contractions, milked me of everything my body had to give
My discharge filled her
As my penis relaxed inside of her
Cum flowed out
A large wet spot grew on the cloth
Tinted pink with the blood of the violence done to our
Pelvises
Genitals
A seeming moment later
I awoke in my bed a thousand miles north of Austin
This time
I remembered everything
I got out of bed
Glanced at the mirror
Noticed
A deep red/black bruise showing through my dried cum matted dark red, almost black pubic hair
Dick, still red, swollen from its violent use
Nipples with red, bloody nail marks
And
Pearl white skin
From the floor
Curling about my feet
A pooled red/black cloth
Seemed to be climbing my legs
I also noticed
On my swollen lips
A smile
All this seen through eyes
Whose yellow-green pupils were more cat shaped than round
Portentous
! extreme content !
This piece is an excerpt from 'The Master (Ritual) written as entree piece for the competition, Abnormal Psychology in Everyday Life. I feel that this deserve it's own place.
©Oxy2016DUP
All Rights Reserved
In the windowless basement,
No sound would escape it.
Don't worry!
Make her scream in terror,
Let her wail in pain!
No one would hear her pleas for survival...
No one would ever care!
Three hours of torture and excruciation,
Strip her, unnerve her!
Gag her, clamp her!
Electrocute her with her feet...
Submerged on a basin of water!
Pull out her nails...
One by one with a plier!
Whip her back and mark her!
Bind her to the Rack,
Dislocate her bones from its sockets!
Slice her tits with a katana,
Burn her clit with cigarette!
Violate her rectum,
With a nine inch choke pear!
Fuck her only after then;
Deposit all of the would be children...
In a womb that'd soon whither!
Slowly drain the life out of her...
With hands incased in a pair of leather gloves;
Besotted with her blood,
Stained with her tears, sweat and urine!
When dawn comes,
And before the sun is up…
Lay her on the earth,
Where daisies bloom…
And Ma awaits underground.
They belong together,
Along with all the others like them!
! extreme content !
This piece is an excerpt from 'The Master (Ritual) written as entree piece for the competition, Abnormal Psychology in Everyday Life. I feel that this deserve it's own place.
©Oxy2016DUP
All Rights Reserved
In the windowless basement,
No sound would escape it.
Don't worry!
Make her scream in terror,
Let her wail in pain!
No one would hear her pleas for survival...
No one would ever care!
Three hours of torture and excruciation,
Strip her, unnerve her!
Gag her, clamp her!
Electrocute her with her feet...
Submerged on a basin of water!
Pull out her nails...
One by one with a plier!
Whip her back and mark her!
Bind her to the Rack,
Dislocate her bones from its sockets!
Slice her tits with a katana,
Burn her clit with cigarette!
Violate her rectum,
With a nine inch choke pear!
Fuck her only after then;
Deposit all of the would be children...
In a womb that'd soon whither!
Slowly drain the life out of her...
With hands incased in a pair of leather gloves;
Besotted with her blood,
Stained with her tears, sweat and urine!
When dawn comes,
And before the sun is up…
Lay her on the earth,
Where daisies bloom…
And Ma awaits underground.
They belong together,
Along with all the others like them!
Anonymous
figure
there's a figure in the dark
that only comes at three
waiting with a smile
beneath the leafless tree
its hands are broken tools
relics of disdain
scratching at the window
driving onlookers insane
all who look upon it
real and slip away
once it has you in its sights
you'll never get away
it hides in light
in search of fear
giddy with your fright
if you feel cold round your neck
its the figure of the night
there's a figure in the dark
that only comes at three
waiting with a smile
beneath the leafless tree
its hands are broken tools
relics of disdain
scratching at the window
driving onlookers insane
all who look upon it
real and slip away
once it has you in its sights
you'll never get away
it hides in light
in search of fear
giddy with your fright
if you feel cold round your neck
its the figure of the night
have you seen it too?
That! have you seen it?
Look at it, over there in the shadows,
it's waiting,
it's watching,
staying masked behind the shadows,
hiding in the cracks on the floor,
cloaked in the dark as what you see as 'only a shadow',
speaking to you as those 'branches' tapping on the window,
breathing it's cold breath over you in the dark of night,
leaving chills brushed off as 'just a breeze',
leaving notes and messages that are blown off as 'just another bad dream',
it is always there even when you do not notice,
it is always watching even when you think you are alone,
it is waiting even if you think it has finally left it hasn't,
it is waiting for the time to engulf you in it's shadow,
cloaking you from existence with pure darkness.
Always be weary of the dark,
that is where it resides,
the thing you always see and hear without ever truly knowing it's presence.
It is what creeps into your dreams at night.
It is the dark
That! have you seen it?
Look at it, over there in the shadows,
it's waiting,
it's watching,
staying masked behind the shadows,
hiding in the cracks on the floor,
cloaked in the dark as what you see as 'only a shadow',
speaking to you as those 'branches' tapping on the window,
breathing it's cold breath over you in the dark of night,
leaving chills brushed off as 'just a breeze',
leaving notes and messages that are blown off as 'just another bad dream',
it is always there even when you do not notice,
it is always watching even when you think you are alone,
it is waiting even if you think it has finally left it hasn't,
it is waiting for the time to engulf you in it's shadow,
cloaking you from existence with pure darkness.
Always be weary of the dark,
that is where it resides,
the thing you always see and hear without ever truly knowing it's presence.
It is what creeps into your dreams at night.
It is the dark
From my upcoming novel Peltz
Her mother lived almost a mile away across Wythenshawe Park. Mandy would never venture into the park at night alone except this night was different. She was hurt she was upset, desperate for help, a bed for the night and her mother’s love and comfort.
Two years she’d been with Kevin. Two long years of promises to quit drugs, stop drinking, get a job. He was always sorry the day after he’d beaten her swearing his undying love. He could be very charming when he was sober and she’d given him chance after chance. None of his promises had lasted more than a few weeks. This time it was different. This time he’d threatened the baby inside her. She pictured again the look in his eye as his hand swung back to stab the new life out of her body, It was the final straw.
As she staggered up the park’s broad path past Wythenshawe Hall the full moon gave its black and white timber frame an eerie, surreal appearance. The yew trees in front cast a deep shadow. She thought she detected a movement, a thing darker than the rest. She stopped and squinted but saw nothing. Shivering in the chill night air she realised she was wearing only a thin blouse over her bra. She decided to speed up to keep warm. She looked again, saw and heard nothing. She shrugged and turned away hurrying onward.
She’d gone about two hundred yards when she thought she heard a sound behind her. She started to turn when someone pushed her violently to the ground. She was sprawled on her front her skirt up around her waist. A knee went in her back and a hand went round her mouth. She tried to cry out but couldn't. She was dragged into the bushes and flung on her back. Terrified she looked up into a smiling face that looked calm, pleasant even.
The man put something very sharp against her face he was sitting astride her pinning her down. His smile was almost benign his voice a whisper. ‘You’re a very pretty girl my dear’ he said. Mandy went to scream but he put his hand over her mouth again. ‘If you’re a good girl and do as I say you’ll still be pretty in the morning.’ He slid the scalpel slowly, lightly down her face to emphasise his threat. ‘Do we understand each other my dear?’
She nodded her eyes wide and staring, her voice muffed behind his hand’ yes, yes!’ she whimpered. He removed his hand from her mouth but kept the scalpel at her face.
‘Have you ever had your pelt felt by a stranger darling?’ His voice crooned sing-song and falsetto. He raised himself off her and kneeling at her side slid his hand under her knickers. He pushed two fingers deep inside her ‘my, my but he must have a fine big cock to fill this’ he cooed ‘just what I'm looking for.’
She was trembling uncontrollably as a tsunami of fear surged through her depriving her of reason. 'Please mister what do you want?’ she said irrational in her confusion 'please, oh please don’t hurt me. I...I’m pregnant. I’m having a baby’ she at last managed to stutter.
e leered at her ‘congratulations dear what’s your name?
‘M..Mandy.’
‘What do you think I want Mandy?’
‘S..sex’ she stammered her eyes wide her hands her opening and closing spasmodically ‘you want sex.’
He smiles broadly ‘clever girl, clever girl.’
She started to babble ‘please mister don’t rape me..I...I could give you a wank.. a blow job even... I'm good at blow jobs... please, please, my baby.. don’t rape me.’
He put a finger to his lips ‘Shush now’ he whispered ‘do what I say and you’ll still be pretty tomorrow’ His eyes held a dreamlike quality as they caught the moonlight’ it was almost like Kevin looked when he was stoned. He might be on drugs.
‘I know where to get some good gear’ she told him in an effort to distract him ‘Top quality stuff.’ She felt terrified but screwed up her courage in an effort to protect the foetus inside her.
‘I don’t want your gear Mandy’ he said in an exaggeratedly polite voice ‘but thank you my dear. I want your pelt dear Mandy that’s all, just your pelt. It won’t take long.’ He knelt up and slashed her knickers at either side dragging them clear. He pulled his cock out through his fly expertly slipping a condom on ‘we don’t want to be leaving any DNA now do we dear?’ His voice was gentle now as if he were talking to a child ‘Just be a good girl for me.’
He entered her then ramming himself ferociously into her dry, tense vagina thrusting and grunting as he ripped his way in. The pain was excruciating and Mandy bit down on her lip until the blood flowed in her effort not to cry out. It was over in a couple of minutes though it seemed like an eternity to her.
He gasped his relief for a few seconds then a mirthless smile spread across his face. He knelt up again producing a large cable tie.’ Now’ he said in the same soft voice ‘thank you Mandy that was just what I needed.’ He waved the cable tie ‘we’ll just make sure you won’t run off my dear.’ His Smile set into a grimace as he rolled her on her stomach. She sobbed gently her whole body shaking violently, utterly consumed by fear. The pain between her legs was intense and she could feel herself bleeding. He quickly slipped the tie around her throat and pulled it until it just gripped her skin.
He flipped her onto her back then and she saw that his smile had changed to a maniacal stare. She knew then he was going to kill her. She tried to scream but he jerked the tie tight closing her airway and the arteries supplying her brain with oxygen. Mandy’s eye’s bulged, her tongue protruded and she started to thrash around her legs flailing and her hands clawing at her throat. He stood and watched fascinated, fondling his penis. With her brain deprived of oxygen she was unconscious in thirty seconds and dead in a minute.
He glanced around the deserted park then went to work humming tunelessly as he made his first incision along the hairline on top on her mons pubis. He worked quickly, precisely slicing down the sides into her groin then slashing expertly as he peeled back the skin. Turning her over he finished the job with a slash under her anus. He held up the bloody triangle of skin and hair in the moonlight nodding his approval ‘nice' he muttered 'a very nice pelt and you're still pretty like I promised Mandy.'.
The book "Peltz" (About a serial killer) will be out later this year.
Her mother lived almost a mile away across Wythenshawe Park. Mandy would never venture into the park at night alone except this night was different. She was hurt she was upset, desperate for help, a bed for the night and her mother’s love and comfort.
Two years she’d been with Kevin. Two long years of promises to quit drugs, stop drinking, get a job. He was always sorry the day after he’d beaten her swearing his undying love. He could be very charming when he was sober and she’d given him chance after chance. None of his promises had lasted more than a few weeks. This time it was different. This time he’d threatened the baby inside her. She pictured again the look in his eye as his hand swung back to stab the new life out of her body, It was the final straw.
As she staggered up the park’s broad path past Wythenshawe Hall the full moon gave its black and white timber frame an eerie, surreal appearance. The yew trees in front cast a deep shadow. She thought she detected a movement, a thing darker than the rest. She stopped and squinted but saw nothing. Shivering in the chill night air she realised she was wearing only a thin blouse over her bra. She decided to speed up to keep warm. She looked again, saw and heard nothing. She shrugged and turned away hurrying onward.
She’d gone about two hundred yards when she thought she heard a sound behind her. She started to turn when someone pushed her violently to the ground. She was sprawled on her front her skirt up around her waist. A knee went in her back and a hand went round her mouth. She tried to cry out but couldn't. She was dragged into the bushes and flung on her back. Terrified she looked up into a smiling face that looked calm, pleasant even.
The man put something very sharp against her face he was sitting astride her pinning her down. His smile was almost benign his voice a whisper. ‘You’re a very pretty girl my dear’ he said. Mandy went to scream but he put his hand over her mouth again. ‘If you’re a good girl and do as I say you’ll still be pretty in the morning.’ He slid the scalpel slowly, lightly down her face to emphasise his threat. ‘Do we understand each other my dear?’
She nodded her eyes wide and staring, her voice muffed behind his hand’ yes, yes!’ she whimpered. He removed his hand from her mouth but kept the scalpel at her face.
‘Have you ever had your pelt felt by a stranger darling?’ His voice crooned sing-song and falsetto. He raised himself off her and kneeling at her side slid his hand under her knickers. He pushed two fingers deep inside her ‘my, my but he must have a fine big cock to fill this’ he cooed ‘just what I'm looking for.’
She was trembling uncontrollably as a tsunami of fear surged through her depriving her of reason. 'Please mister what do you want?’ she said irrational in her confusion 'please, oh please don’t hurt me. I...I’m pregnant. I’m having a baby’ she at last managed to stutter.
e leered at her ‘congratulations dear what’s your name?
‘M..Mandy.’
‘What do you think I want Mandy?’
‘S..sex’ she stammered her eyes wide her hands her opening and closing spasmodically ‘you want sex.’
He smiles broadly ‘clever girl, clever girl.’
She started to babble ‘please mister don’t rape me..I...I could give you a wank.. a blow job even... I'm good at blow jobs... please, please, my baby.. don’t rape me.’
He put a finger to his lips ‘Shush now’ he whispered ‘do what I say and you’ll still be pretty tomorrow’ His eyes held a dreamlike quality as they caught the moonlight’ it was almost like Kevin looked when he was stoned. He might be on drugs.
‘I know where to get some good gear’ she told him in an effort to distract him ‘Top quality stuff.’ She felt terrified but screwed up her courage in an effort to protect the foetus inside her.
‘I don’t want your gear Mandy’ he said in an exaggeratedly polite voice ‘but thank you my dear. I want your pelt dear Mandy that’s all, just your pelt. It won’t take long.’ He knelt up and slashed her knickers at either side dragging them clear. He pulled his cock out through his fly expertly slipping a condom on ‘we don’t want to be leaving any DNA now do we dear?’ His voice was gentle now as if he were talking to a child ‘Just be a good girl for me.’
He entered her then ramming himself ferociously into her dry, tense vagina thrusting and grunting as he ripped his way in. The pain was excruciating and Mandy bit down on her lip until the blood flowed in her effort not to cry out. It was over in a couple of minutes though it seemed like an eternity to her.
He gasped his relief for a few seconds then a mirthless smile spread across his face. He knelt up again producing a large cable tie.’ Now’ he said in the same soft voice ‘thank you Mandy that was just what I needed.’ He waved the cable tie ‘we’ll just make sure you won’t run off my dear.’ His Smile set into a grimace as he rolled her on her stomach. She sobbed gently her whole body shaking violently, utterly consumed by fear. The pain between her legs was intense and she could feel herself bleeding. He quickly slipped the tie around her throat and pulled it until it just gripped her skin.
He flipped her onto her back then and she saw that his smile had changed to a maniacal stare. She knew then he was going to kill her. She tried to scream but he jerked the tie tight closing her airway and the arteries supplying her brain with oxygen. Mandy’s eye’s bulged, her tongue protruded and she started to thrash around her legs flailing and her hands clawing at her throat. He stood and watched fascinated, fondling his penis. With her brain deprived of oxygen she was unconscious in thirty seconds and dead in a minute.
He glanced around the deserted park then went to work humming tunelessly as he made his first incision along the hairline on top on her mons pubis. He worked quickly, precisely slicing down the sides into her groin then slashing expertly as he peeled back the skin. Turning her over he finished the job with a slash under her anus. He held up the bloody triangle of skin and hair in the moonlight nodding his approval ‘nice' he muttered 'a very nice pelt and you're still pretty like I promised Mandy.'.
The book "Peltz" (About a serial killer) will be out later this year.
