Monday, May 17, 2010
Friday, May 14, 2010
Monday, May 10, 2010
Song Parody
I hopped on my bike at the apartment complex with glasses and a homemade luncheon
Welcome to the school of riches, excess, whoa, am I going to fit in?
Walked in the doors, here I am for the first time
Look to my right, and I see doctors in a line
This is all so crazy, everyone seems filthy rich
My head is pounding and I'm looking for some quiet
Too much chaos and I'm lacking a niche
That's when I opened the door
And the host club welcomed me
And the host club welcomed me
And the host club welcomed me
So I put my hands up, they're all around me
Color flames in my face
shaking my head like no
Scrambling backward like no
I put my hands up, they're all around me
Not sure I'm gonna be okay
Heyy, it's a party in music room 3
Joining the club in my boys uniform
Everybody's looking at me now
Like who's that boy who's dirty poor
Shouldn't really be around
So hard with this glamour all around me
Definitely more like harem party
Cause all I see are more ladies
Guess they really like me
This is all so crazy, everyone seems filthy rich
My head is pounding and I'd really like some quiet
Too many guests and I'm tired
That's when a gentle hand patted me
And I growled at Tamaki
And I growled at Tamaki
And I growled at Tamaki
Welcome to the school of riches, excess, whoa, am I going to fit in?
Walked in the doors, here I am for the first time
Look to my right, and I see doctors in a line
This is all so crazy, everyone seems filthy rich
My head is pounding and I'm looking for some quiet
Too much chaos and I'm lacking a niche
That's when I opened the door
And the host club welcomed me
And the host club welcomed me
And the host club welcomed me
So I put my hands up, they're all around me
Color flames in my face
shaking my head like no
Scrambling backward like no
I put my hands up, they're all around me
Not sure I'm gonna be okay
Heyy, it's a party in music room 3
Joining the club in my boys uniform
Everybody's looking at me now
Like who's that boy who's dirty poor
Shouldn't really be around
So hard with this glamour all around me
Definitely more like harem party
Cause all I see are more ladies
Guess they really like me
This is all so crazy, everyone seems filthy rich
My head is pounding and I'd really like some quiet
Too many guests and I'm tired
That's when a gentle hand patted me
And I growled at Tamaki
And I growled at Tamaki
And I growled at Tamaki
Friday, April 16, 2010
Overdrive Cont. (This might be out of order because I'm not sure where everything is)
She accepted his hand happily; a pleased and adoring gleam in her eyes. Their gazes met and Tara knew what was coming next. The thought made her pulse quicken. She saw his dark eyes shift to observe the thumping of her veins under the pale skin of her throat. Then he led her away. The crowd parted to let them through, all with knowing stares. There were no secrets here. Everyone knew what she gave whenever her master asked. Her blood and her body.
The room they often used lay behind the stage area. It was a dark room, decorated in varying shades of red. Vanilla candles lit the room with their soft, flickering light. The room looked like it belonged in a stately manor rather than an old warehouse, with all it’s velvet and gold.
He released her hand and settled himself on the bed, in his familiar position of legs crossed and chin propped in hand. Tara unzipped her knee high shoes and slipped them off. Next, she slid her bracelets off, placing them on a low table. Her hand went to her hip, where the zipper that held up her skirt hid in folds of cloth. It fell to the ground and she stepped out of it. Leaving it there, Tara walked forward, hands gripping the hem of her t-shirt. She pulled it up over her flat stomach, her breasts, and then over her head. It joined her skirt in a heap. As they always did, Master Damien’s eyes traveled along the curve of her shoulders, the expanse of flesh across her chest, the new and old bite marks he had personally left on her neck. Once again he reached out to her and pulled her violently past him onto the large bed. She landed sprawled on the covers, left only in her undergarments and fishnet tights.
She felt fingers pulling at her tights and lifted her hips to assist him in getting them off. They were thrown carelessly aside. The mattress sank beneath her and Tara looked up to find him hovering over her, eyes burning. His fingers played lightly across her skin. They started at her thighs and worked up. One bra strap slipped over her shoulder, then the other. All other things were meaningless now that it was just the two of them together. Tara felt goose bumps rise on her flesh despite its superheated state. The world slipped away as his body and hers flowed together, giving each their own kind of satisfaction, one of serving and the other of domination.
***
Tara’s party dress was in one word, fabulous. It was black and strapless, hugging her body to accentuate her gentle curves. From her hips the skirt flared out, a mass of cotton and tulle ending just above her knees. The shoes she wore were bright pink satin, with rhinestones glittering at her toes. She took two hours to straighten her hair, another to get her make-up just right. Her eyelids were a shimmering rainbow of color accented by thick black eyeliner. Only a few special kandi bracelets were around her wrists and her neck was left bare.
Tara had rose around noon to face the day of her 18th birthday. Her once bright and cluttered room was now stripped down to leave only pink walls and cardboard boxes filled with her worldly possessions. She had been packing for a week, avoiding her parents notice, and only told them of her intentions three nights previous. Her mother had cried, her father lectured, but Tara was unaffected by their emotional outbursts. She was going to a better place. Tonight would be the first night that she spent in her new home with Master Damien. The thought was exciting, to be in his service at all times without question! There were no regrets of leaving her childhood home, only thoughts of her master.
During his lecture, her father had referred to Damien as ‘that boy’. Her parents were not at all aware of the true nature of him or their daughter’s position with him, just like they had no idea about her experiments with drugs and loss of virginity. They had never seen the bruises that every night spent in the bed in the warehouse left. They never would.
She picked up a compact to inspect a particularly sore part of her neck. Around the newest bite marks was a deep purple-blue bruise. A semi-circle of yellow bruise showed where a row of teeth had left their mark. That night had been indescribable, a night that made Tara feel more alive then she could ever remember feeling. Master Damien had seemed like he was enjoying himself as much as she was, such was the ferocity of his bite. The bite that sent them both over the edge of ecstasy, providing the release that they craved.
Tara used the puff to carefully powder over the bruise. She wanted to look flawless for this night. The door to her bedroom opened and her mother entered. There were tears in Kara’s eyes.
“You look beautiful, darling. I hope you enjoy your party. You’ll call, won’t you?” her mother said.
Tara nodded. Her mother sighed.
“There is a car here for you.”
The car was a limo of the non-stretch variety. Tara swept silently past her sulking father and very confused little sister. She stepped out into the night with excitement tingling in her nerves. A uniformed chauffeur held the door open for her. Without looking back to her family in the doorway, she got in, the door slamming shut behind her. Tara heard the man say something about a moving service coming for her things and then they were off to the party.
All seemed quiet when they pulled up to the warehouse. Tara walked in with anticipation throbbing in her veins. The beats started when she entered. Eager party-goers thronged around the birthday girl, holding wrapped gifts. All were dressed in their rave best; the bright colors creating a thriving mass of confusion. Guards came out of the shadows, pushing the crowd back. Some started taking presents and setting them on tables laid out for that very purpose. Tara made her way through the parted crowd to the dance floor. The seats of the masters and mistresses had been moved to the stage area. Tara was thrilled to find her favorite DJ spinning the tracks. Some people were already on the dance floor, twirling their glow sticks to create a show. Tara clapped and the dance started. She pulled her friend Derek into the middle of the crowd with her and they danced.
A moan of disappointment broke the crowed when the music stopped a few hours later. However they all fell silent at the sight of Master Damien on his feet. He nodded and Tara joined him on the stage. With a snap, one of the other pets approached with a silver tray. Upon it sat a tall, thin glass bottle. The cork was stained the same crimson red as the liquid in the bottle.
“Is that what I think it is?” Tara breathed, eyes wide. Master Damien picked up the bottle by the neck and held it out to her delicately. Tara fell to her knees.
“Th-th-thank you, Master.” She reached up with trembling fingers to take the gift. It was a bottle of Master Damien’s own blood. In this world where nearly everyone took drugs, vampire blood was among the highest coveted. Only a few privileged experienced the high it provided in their lifetime.
“Rise,” Master Damien said, putting one finger under her chin, guiding Tara slowly to her feet. He turned her to face the intently staring and silent crowd.
[Insert Raena’s stuff, also the drive]
She was in a room full of toxic intentions. Her brain was still fogged from whatever she had been forced to inhale. It was a dark, windowless room. Tara attempted to sit up, in order to better inspect her surroundings, only to find that hard metal cuffs secured her wrists to the bed post.
“Well, it’s about time, Miss Taralynn,” Asher said sarcastically.
Tara couldn’t remember exactly what had happened, but only one thought entered her mind. She took a deep breath.
“Master Da—”
He slammed the wall and something crashed next to her ear. Fury swarmed Asher’s eyes. “Don’t speak that name.”
She whimpered, recoiling as far as she could away from her captor.
“Pathetic,” he muttered. “You call him ‘master’. That’s disgusting.”
In a fit of rage, Tara worked up a gob of saliva in her mouth and spit it at him. She missed, but her anger was easily recognized.
“How dare you!” she screamed at him, pulling at her bonds. The edge of the cuffs bit painfully into her skin. “You have no idea what it means to serve him! Let me go back to him! Master Da—”
The room they often used lay behind the stage area. It was a dark room, decorated in varying shades of red. Vanilla candles lit the room with their soft, flickering light. The room looked like it belonged in a stately manor rather than an old warehouse, with all it’s velvet and gold.
He released her hand and settled himself on the bed, in his familiar position of legs crossed and chin propped in hand. Tara unzipped her knee high shoes and slipped them off. Next, she slid her bracelets off, placing them on a low table. Her hand went to her hip, where the zipper that held up her skirt hid in folds of cloth. It fell to the ground and she stepped out of it. Leaving it there, Tara walked forward, hands gripping the hem of her t-shirt. She pulled it up over her flat stomach, her breasts, and then over her head. It joined her skirt in a heap. As they always did, Master Damien’s eyes traveled along the curve of her shoulders, the expanse of flesh across her chest, the new and old bite marks he had personally left on her neck. Once again he reached out to her and pulled her violently past him onto the large bed. She landed sprawled on the covers, left only in her undergarments and fishnet tights.
She felt fingers pulling at her tights and lifted her hips to assist him in getting them off. They were thrown carelessly aside. The mattress sank beneath her and Tara looked up to find him hovering over her, eyes burning. His fingers played lightly across her skin. They started at her thighs and worked up. One bra strap slipped over her shoulder, then the other. All other things were meaningless now that it was just the two of them together. Tara felt goose bumps rise on her flesh despite its superheated state. The world slipped away as his body and hers flowed together, giving each their own kind of satisfaction, one of serving and the other of domination.
***
Tara’s party dress was in one word, fabulous. It was black and strapless, hugging her body to accentuate her gentle curves. From her hips the skirt flared out, a mass of cotton and tulle ending just above her knees. The shoes she wore were bright pink satin, with rhinestones glittering at her toes. She took two hours to straighten her hair, another to get her make-up just right. Her eyelids were a shimmering rainbow of color accented by thick black eyeliner. Only a few special kandi bracelets were around her wrists and her neck was left bare.
Tara had rose around noon to face the day of her 18th birthday. Her once bright and cluttered room was now stripped down to leave only pink walls and cardboard boxes filled with her worldly possessions. She had been packing for a week, avoiding her parents notice, and only told them of her intentions three nights previous. Her mother had cried, her father lectured, but Tara was unaffected by their emotional outbursts. She was going to a better place. Tonight would be the first night that she spent in her new home with Master Damien. The thought was exciting, to be in his service at all times without question! There were no regrets of leaving her childhood home, only thoughts of her master.
During his lecture, her father had referred to Damien as ‘that boy’. Her parents were not at all aware of the true nature of him or their daughter’s position with him, just like they had no idea about her experiments with drugs and loss of virginity. They had never seen the bruises that every night spent in the bed in the warehouse left. They never would.
She picked up a compact to inspect a particularly sore part of her neck. Around the newest bite marks was a deep purple-blue bruise. A semi-circle of yellow bruise showed where a row of teeth had left their mark. That night had been indescribable, a night that made Tara feel more alive then she could ever remember feeling. Master Damien had seemed like he was enjoying himself as much as she was, such was the ferocity of his bite. The bite that sent them both over the edge of ecstasy, providing the release that they craved.
Tara used the puff to carefully powder over the bruise. She wanted to look flawless for this night. The door to her bedroom opened and her mother entered. There were tears in Kara’s eyes.
“You look beautiful, darling. I hope you enjoy your party. You’ll call, won’t you?” her mother said.
Tara nodded. Her mother sighed.
“There is a car here for you.”
The car was a limo of the non-stretch variety. Tara swept silently past her sulking father and very confused little sister. She stepped out into the night with excitement tingling in her nerves. A uniformed chauffeur held the door open for her. Without looking back to her family in the doorway, she got in, the door slamming shut behind her. Tara heard the man say something about a moving service coming for her things and then they were off to the party.
All seemed quiet when they pulled up to the warehouse. Tara walked in with anticipation throbbing in her veins. The beats started when she entered. Eager party-goers thronged around the birthday girl, holding wrapped gifts. All were dressed in their rave best; the bright colors creating a thriving mass of confusion. Guards came out of the shadows, pushing the crowd back. Some started taking presents and setting them on tables laid out for that very purpose. Tara made her way through the parted crowd to the dance floor. The seats of the masters and mistresses had been moved to the stage area. Tara was thrilled to find her favorite DJ spinning the tracks. Some people were already on the dance floor, twirling their glow sticks to create a show. Tara clapped and the dance started. She pulled her friend Derek into the middle of the crowd with her and they danced.
A moan of disappointment broke the crowed when the music stopped a few hours later. However they all fell silent at the sight of Master Damien on his feet. He nodded and Tara joined him on the stage. With a snap, one of the other pets approached with a silver tray. Upon it sat a tall, thin glass bottle. The cork was stained the same crimson red as the liquid in the bottle.
“Is that what I think it is?” Tara breathed, eyes wide. Master Damien picked up the bottle by the neck and held it out to her delicately. Tara fell to her knees.
“Th-th-thank you, Master.” She reached up with trembling fingers to take the gift. It was a bottle of Master Damien’s own blood. In this world where nearly everyone took drugs, vampire blood was among the highest coveted. Only a few privileged experienced the high it provided in their lifetime.
“Rise,” Master Damien said, putting one finger under her chin, guiding Tara slowly to her feet. He turned her to face the intently staring and silent crowd.
[Insert Raena’s stuff, also the drive]
She was in a room full of toxic intentions. Her brain was still fogged from whatever she had been forced to inhale. It was a dark, windowless room. Tara attempted to sit up, in order to better inspect her surroundings, only to find that hard metal cuffs secured her wrists to the bed post.
“Well, it’s about time, Miss Taralynn,” Asher said sarcastically.
Tara couldn’t remember exactly what had happened, but only one thought entered her mind. She took a deep breath.
“Master Da—”
He slammed the wall and something crashed next to her ear. Fury swarmed Asher’s eyes. “Don’t speak that name.”
She whimpered, recoiling as far as she could away from her captor.
“Pathetic,” he muttered. “You call him ‘master’. That’s disgusting.”
In a fit of rage, Tara worked up a gob of saliva in her mouth and spit it at him. She missed, but her anger was easily recognized.
“How dare you!” she screamed at him, pulling at her bonds. The edge of the cuffs bit painfully into her skin. “You have no idea what it means to serve him! Let me go back to him! Master Da—”
Tuesday, March 30, 2010
Overdrive -Flashback-
"Get that thing away from me!" said the girl, trying to jerk away from her captors. Two men held onto to each of her arms, their hands gripping hard enough to bruise her pale skin. Her light pink button up blouse was ripped open down to her naval. Long, curly brown locks stuck to her face, which was streaked with tears and sweat.
The men forced her to her knees and she hung her head as another man approached her. His very aura radiated power. He had jet black hair which shielded one eye, the other glowed a gentle red. The girl shook in fear and finally all but gave up on her quest for freedom. She saw the man raise his wrist to his mouth and heard a sick squishing sound. Then the wrist was held out to her, dripping red sticky blood onto the floor.
The girl wasn't entirely sure what she was expected to do until the wrist extended above her head, She looked up at it, numb, blood dripping onto her cheek. The hot trail of droplets made its way towards her lips. She pursed her lips, determined not to let the blood pass through them.
This...this is some kind of sick joke, right? This can't be happening. Who are these people? Is this some kind of cult?
The man with the bleeding wrist nodded to one of the men at her arm and he pinched her nose shut. Her blue eyes widened as her panic kicked into overdrive, using up her stored oxygen in a few short moments. The pain, the pain in her chest was unbearable. Her mouth gasped wide open and the bleeding wound was pressed against her lips...
And then she looked up at her master with a smile in her eyes, blood running down her chin.
The men forced her to her knees and she hung her head as another man approached her. His very aura radiated power. He had jet black hair which shielded one eye, the other glowed a gentle red. The girl shook in fear and finally all but gave up on her quest for freedom. She saw the man raise his wrist to his mouth and heard a sick squishing sound. Then the wrist was held out to her, dripping red sticky blood onto the floor.
The girl wasn't entirely sure what she was expected to do until the wrist extended above her head, She looked up at it, numb, blood dripping onto her cheek. The hot trail of droplets made its way towards her lips. She pursed her lips, determined not to let the blood pass through them.
This...this is some kind of sick joke, right? This can't be happening. Who are these people? Is this some kind of cult?
The man with the bleeding wrist nodded to one of the men at her arm and he pinched her nose shut. Her blue eyes widened as her panic kicked into overdrive, using up her stored oxygen in a few short moments. The pain, the pain in her chest was unbearable. Her mouth gasped wide open and the bleeding wound was pressed against her lips...
And then she looked up at her master with a smile in her eyes, blood running down her chin.
Monday, March 29, 2010
Overdrive 2
Tara came to about five minutes later. She reached up to feel the throbbing punctures on her neck. There was a small pool of blood on the floor, but she was in no hurry to clean it up. First she got a washcloth and started wiping the blood from her skin. She winced, applying pressure to scrub the dried flakes away.When she was presentable, then she turned to clean the pool on the floor.
Wrapping the towel once again around her, Tara left the bathroom and went back to her bathroom to get dressed. Her skirt was short and pink pleated. Underneath she wore black fishnets, with random holes on her thigh and calf. The t-shirt she wore was lime green with yellow smilies and neon splatters. She pulled on high top converse that went up to her knees and completed her look with about 20 brightly colored plastic bracelets that clinked cheerily. Tara pulled open the curtains in her room and slipped black oval sunglasses over her eyes. Before leaving her room, she settled her hair in curtains around her shoulders, so that the bandaid on her neck could not be seen. She went down the stairs to the kitchen.
"Honey, you need to stop staying out so late," a kind-faced woman with the same brown hair said, standing at the stove. Kara was her mother, a woman who dressed sensibly at all times. Not one thing she wore wasn't functional and cheap. She browned hamburger in a skillet. Tara's father was likely still at work and her little sister Sara was watching cartoons in the living room. Tara sighed and rolled her eyes behind her glasses.
"I'm going out," she answered, grabbing a stuffed dog backpack from where she had tossed it that morning. The door slammed shut behind her.
Tara leaned against the closed door for a second, fingers lightly tracing the angry red scabs. The cool night air felt good on her skin, which still felt like it was on fire. Then, with a slight skip in her step, she left for the party.
The rave was in full swing by the time she arrived. Pulsing electronic music filled her ears and she felt at peace. The dance floor seemed to shake from all the people packed on to it, moving to the tecno beats. Glowstickers had a corner towards the back to show off their skills, the hardcore druggies another corner to roll in by themselves. And there in the corner adjacent from the door, the masters and their pets. It was this corner that Tara made her way to.
Men and women, all young and beautiful, lounged in comfortable armchairs that seemed oddly out of place. In the middle of the group was Damian, one ankle balanced on the opposite knee, leaning his head against the hand he had propped on the arm of his chair. Tara approached meekly, and settled at his feet at a nod from him. A few of the other people glanced her way, especially when she tied her hair back to reveal the marks on her neck. They grinned secret grins and turned back to observe the goings on of the party.
Tara looked up at him when she felt his hands in her hair. He did seem to love her hair. There was a sense of longing in her blue eyes, but no emotion from him looking back on her.She tilted her head to the side and looked away, her eyes back on the action on the dance floor. The beat pounded in the floor, sending vibrations across her skin and it seemed down to her bones. Though most people found the power of EDM irresistable, Tara did not even twitch, for she did not have permission from her master to do so. After maybe half an hour of nothing but sitting, she felt a hand on her shoulder and rose to her knees, extending her wrist. The plastic beads of her bracelets clicked as they hit each other and fell, revealing another expanse of her pale skin. The man named Damian bent his head and bit into her skin with no hesitation.
This time was nothing like the time before. Before they had just been in the silence of her bathroom, but now, with the lights, music, and just the aura of the party, Tara found the sensation made her eyes roll back in her head. Pleasure tingled down to her toes, rippling across every nerve in her body. When he was finished, he pushed her wrist toward her own lips and she obediantly drank deep until a gentle touch told her to stop. Her eyes blazed as she gazed up at her master and waited for her next order.
"You may go," he said in her favorite purr. Tara rose to her feet, bowed low with her still bleeding arm crossed in front of her chest, and excitedly went off to join the crowd on the dance floor. Joyous cries of "Tara!" and "Kitty Cupcake!" followed her through the crowd. Other kids covered in the plastic bracelets called 'kandi' flocked around her, holding out their hands in an offer to give her more bracelets. A few even pulled long neck chains of beads over their heads and held them out. However, most of them retreated when they saw her bleeding wrist.
Not one person in the warehouse wasn't aware of the hierarchy that existed there. They were all servants in a way to the masters and mistresses, slaves to the parties they held. When the word went out that a rave was going to be held, all the regulars knew they had to show up or else.
Wrapping the towel once again around her, Tara left the bathroom and went back to her bathroom to get dressed. Her skirt was short and pink pleated. Underneath she wore black fishnets, with random holes on her thigh and calf. The t-shirt she wore was lime green with yellow smilies and neon splatters. She pulled on high top converse that went up to her knees and completed her look with about 20 brightly colored plastic bracelets that clinked cheerily. Tara pulled open the curtains in her room and slipped black oval sunglasses over her eyes. Before leaving her room, she settled her hair in curtains around her shoulders, so that the bandaid on her neck could not be seen. She went down the stairs to the kitchen.
"Honey, you need to stop staying out so late," a kind-faced woman with the same brown hair said, standing at the stove. Kara was her mother, a woman who dressed sensibly at all times. Not one thing she wore wasn't functional and cheap. She browned hamburger in a skillet. Tara's father was likely still at work and her little sister Sara was watching cartoons in the living room. Tara sighed and rolled her eyes behind her glasses.
"I'm going out," she answered, grabbing a stuffed dog backpack from where she had tossed it that morning. The door slammed shut behind her.
Tara leaned against the closed door for a second, fingers lightly tracing the angry red scabs. The cool night air felt good on her skin, which still felt like it was on fire. Then, with a slight skip in her step, she left for the party.
The rave was in full swing by the time she arrived. Pulsing electronic music filled her ears and she felt at peace. The dance floor seemed to shake from all the people packed on to it, moving to the tecno beats. Glowstickers had a corner towards the back to show off their skills, the hardcore druggies another corner to roll in by themselves. And there in the corner adjacent from the door, the masters and their pets. It was this corner that Tara made her way to.
Men and women, all young and beautiful, lounged in comfortable armchairs that seemed oddly out of place. In the middle of the group was Damian, one ankle balanced on the opposite knee, leaning his head against the hand he had propped on the arm of his chair. Tara approached meekly, and settled at his feet at a nod from him. A few of the other people glanced her way, especially when she tied her hair back to reveal the marks on her neck. They grinned secret grins and turned back to observe the goings on of the party.
Tara looked up at him when she felt his hands in her hair. He did seem to love her hair. There was a sense of longing in her blue eyes, but no emotion from him looking back on her.She tilted her head to the side and looked away, her eyes back on the action on the dance floor. The beat pounded in the floor, sending vibrations across her skin and it seemed down to her bones. Though most people found the power of EDM irresistable, Tara did not even twitch, for she did not have permission from her master to do so. After maybe half an hour of nothing but sitting, she felt a hand on her shoulder and rose to her knees, extending her wrist. The plastic beads of her bracelets clicked as they hit each other and fell, revealing another expanse of her pale skin. The man named Damian bent his head and bit into her skin with no hesitation.
This time was nothing like the time before. Before they had just been in the silence of her bathroom, but now, with the lights, music, and just the aura of the party, Tara found the sensation made her eyes roll back in her head. Pleasure tingled down to her toes, rippling across every nerve in her body. When he was finished, he pushed her wrist toward her own lips and she obediantly drank deep until a gentle touch told her to stop. Her eyes blazed as she gazed up at her master and waited for her next order.
"You may go," he said in her favorite purr. Tara rose to her feet, bowed low with her still bleeding arm crossed in front of her chest, and excitedly went off to join the crowd on the dance floor. Joyous cries of "Tara!" and "Kitty Cupcake!" followed her through the crowd. Other kids covered in the plastic bracelets called 'kandi' flocked around her, holding out their hands in an offer to give her more bracelets. A few even pulled long neck chains of beads over their heads and held them out. However, most of them retreated when they saw her bleeding wrist.
Not one person in the warehouse wasn't aware of the hierarchy that existed there. They were all servants in a way to the masters and mistresses, slaves to the parties they held. When the word went out that a rave was going to be held, all the regulars knew they had to show up or else.
Friday, March 26, 2010
(Copying Ichijou) Overdrive
She was a happy child. She always had been, all of her life. That was before she was introduced to the truth. Before she was introduced to him. To Damian.
The sun had just gone down when Taralynn Donahue rolled out of bed, memories of the previous night racing through her head. Pale legs shone in the semi-darkness, sticking out from beneath her pink shorts. A white tank top hung ruffled around her slender form. Thin, light brown hair fell to the middle of her back. Her locks were touched by splashes of color, pink here and some blue there. There was orange and green in her slanted bangs. Her blue eyes blinked wearily at the digital clock on her nightstand. It was scarecly seven p.m. Tara groaned and stumbled across the hall to take a shower.
The hot water streaming over her body did little to revive her. All of the girl's movements were tired, buy strangely graceful. A sense of stumbling poise surrounded her like an aura. After she finished washing up, Tara simply stood under the jet of water, staring blankly at the tiled wall, not really seeing it.
A voice called from downstairs. Tara mechanically turned the knobs to shut off the water and stepped out, reaching for her purple towel. She was only half shocked to find him holding it out to her. Her master.
Tara took the towel silently and wrapped it aorund her. For a few moments, they simply regarded eachother. Then, after a nod from him, she started to dry herself off, showing no sign of shame at her state of undress. His dark eyes watched her movements closely. When she was finished he beckoned to her and she stepped towards him. Her face betrayed no emotion as he gripped her shoulders and turned her around; he ran his fingers through her hair before gathering it up and draping it across her shoulder. His lips pressed gently against the skin at her throat. She couldn't suppress the shiver that ran down her spine, but a smile graced her lips.
She truly loved these moments with her master. His nails dug deep into her skin. The pain was intense, intensely pleasurable. His teeth pressed against her neck; her nerve endings sent pulsing electronic messages to the receptors in her brain, which were going crazy from the sensation. And then it came, the moment when his fangs pierced the barrier of her skin and they were as one, joined by blood.
Seconds passed, then minutes, and finally Tara saw black starting to gather at the corners of her vision. She crumpled to the floor, her master wiping his mouth clean of blood. And then he was gone.
The sun had just gone down when Taralynn Donahue rolled out of bed, memories of the previous night racing through her head. Pale legs shone in the semi-darkness, sticking out from beneath her pink shorts. A white tank top hung ruffled around her slender form. Thin, light brown hair fell to the middle of her back. Her locks were touched by splashes of color, pink here and some blue there. There was orange and green in her slanted bangs. Her blue eyes blinked wearily at the digital clock on her nightstand. It was scarecly seven p.m. Tara groaned and stumbled across the hall to take a shower.
The hot water streaming over her body did little to revive her. All of the girl's movements were tired, buy strangely graceful. A sense of stumbling poise surrounded her like an aura. After she finished washing up, Tara simply stood under the jet of water, staring blankly at the tiled wall, not really seeing it.
A voice called from downstairs. Tara mechanically turned the knobs to shut off the water and stepped out, reaching for her purple towel. She was only half shocked to find him holding it out to her. Her master.
Tara took the towel silently and wrapped it aorund her. For a few moments, they simply regarded eachother. Then, after a nod from him, she started to dry herself off, showing no sign of shame at her state of undress. His dark eyes watched her movements closely. When she was finished he beckoned to her and she stepped towards him. Her face betrayed no emotion as he gripped her shoulders and turned her around; he ran his fingers through her hair before gathering it up and draping it across her shoulder. His lips pressed gently against the skin at her throat. She couldn't suppress the shiver that ran down her spine, but a smile graced her lips.
She truly loved these moments with her master. His nails dug deep into her skin. The pain was intense, intensely pleasurable. His teeth pressed against her neck; her nerve endings sent pulsing electronic messages to the receptors in her brain, which were going crazy from the sensation. And then it came, the moment when his fangs pierced the barrier of her skin and they were as one, joined by blood.
Seconds passed, then minutes, and finally Tara saw black starting to gather at the corners of her vision. She crumpled to the floor, her master wiping his mouth clean of blood. And then he was gone.
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