Posted by feitheachd on Fri 17 Jul 09, 7:00 PM to feitheachd's blog.
She liked to imagine that her prey, all men in fact, had a small secret gland hidden deep between the eyes; a redundant gland, a bud, which, like the appendix, no longer fulfils its purpose. She saw it there - small and shrivelled, dried up and hard like a pea.
But she knew its forgotten purpose; she knew how to coax it back to life. A sly smile, a beckoning glove sheaved finger and the bud would spasm and twitch; a murmured command, a plume of smoke blown skyward and it would ripen and glisten. Then, when it had grown a little, she could reach out and stroke it softly; she could blow on it gently and encourage its engorgement with whispered insistent promises. Slowly but steadily it would fill with its ancient sweet poison, it would grow and its wet red skin would stretch and shimmer; and when the bud fluttered with new born purpose, she would take it in her mouth and let her tongue drift lazily over its surface. Then the skin would shudder and split and a single bright tear would blossom for an instant before dissolving and sending its busy atoms of primal fixed commands to the brain and the heart and the soul.
And sometimes, just because it was too delicious not to, she would take the bud between her teeth and slowly bite down on it, savouring its soft yielding flesh and its final quiver of pointless resistance.
Edited Fri 17 Jul 09, 9:27 PM by feitheachd
| 18 Jul 09, 9:51 PM sardax UK, 6 yrs   |
Definitely inspires one! |
