Writing The Devil I Know

[Raiha]

[COLOR="DarkOrchid"][FONT="Times New Roman"][center][i]"He is the angel with the scabbed wings
Hard-drug face, want to powder his nose
He will deflower the freshest crop
Dry up all the wombs with his rock and roll sores"[/center]

She flicked her clawed fingers from behind her scapulae, crouched over with the backs of her hands pressed into her back. Graie felt her flesh ripple as she shifted her weight and jerked her hips almost spasmodically to the drumbeats. Thorn knelt to one side of her, moving his hands just enough to draw attention to the parts of her body the light was playing across. She twitched and fell and curled into a ball, then contracted and released and arched back up again, shuddering as Thorn flicked deerskin against her ribcage.[/i]

"Are you sure you want to do it like that tonight?"

"Of course I am. I'm not afraid of drawing blood on the stage if it's me."

"Won't it sting when I hit you with the-"

"Relax Thorn. I'm not a rank amateur anymore. I don't feel pain like I used to."

[i]When the music changed again Graie arched back completely, articulating her spinal cord enough to make some of the less experienced audience members flinch. She fell to her knees, threw her head forward so her hair covered her face, and drew her sharpened nails across her back, creating lines of pink that quickly darkened to red. With a quick spin on the ball of her right foot she let her back relax and the blood began to flow, splattering outward far enough to fleck Thorn's pale arms and chest. He smiled and flicked a drop from his fingertips, smearing it across her back with his flogger. She hugged herself again and drew blood even harder, making the marks even brighter, deeper, heavier all over. Seized with pleasure, she convulsed and screamed in ecstasy, the audience sighing with her.

Painslut. Algolagnia.

Those were her names on the stage. Behind the lights so bright she could blind. And she was blind. Without her contacts or glasses Graie was as blind as a newborn, and it was the reason people would come to see her. Every night she performed at the Birdcage, new people would come to watch. And Thorn would work with her, guide her, even if she wasn't his full time and he would never be her master. She knelt and let him press her face against the ribbons in the surface piercings that ran parallel to his spinal cord. With her teeth she began to untie the bow and she gently tugged back to let the fabric elongate itself. When she tilted her head back the crowd could see the line of black connecting his back to her mouth, and some of them moaned aloud.

Visually it was as powerful as a stroke across the groin, and half the audience shifted their positions. Then the music wound down and it ended with Graie's face pressed down into the stage floor. Thorn's hand covered her entire cheek and forehead, his fingers spread out like claws. People clapped, cheered, catcalled, and Graie flushed red under their praise. Slowly she let herself be dragged upwards by her hair, moving just enough to keep it from being unbearably painful.

Then she bowed as well, and the blood flowing across her back changed directions again.[/i]


[size=1]**Because Allamorph is my dear leader, I have to warn anyone who is under the age of consent. This thread isn't for kiddies, children, immature, those with heart problems or a history of heart problems, those who are pregnant or are about to become preg- You get the idea.[/size][/FONT][/COLOR]

[Vicky]

[align=justify]The music blared through the speakers, except it was seldom paid attention to by the occupants. The tables, placed in deliberation to the Birdcage’s purpose, were washed and shined to reflect the dim lights above. It was a sheen, slick and clean place, shrouded in the faintest hint of darkness.

The darkness. Let’s not forget the darkness, now.

The Birdcage was filling up now, slowly, until [I]she[/I] decided to enter the demon’s belly. Clad in a pinstripe suit loosely but neatly worn, a fitting black hat that hid the majority of her eyes and a cane – that cane that always came first – made from ivory with a metal goat’s head wielded to its top. She was followed closely by a tall and lanky man, whose boyish features were placed upon a pale face, and bleak black hair that was pulled down with texturising gum right to the tip of lines of medusa piercings on his lips.

Thalia Sin (taken without question as her real name) took one glance around with almost hollow and lazy, unfocused eyes. She bit her lip in a brief thought before moving forward weaving through the tables and chairs with her lacky, commonly known as Stretch for his size and other measures, followed behind her fidgeting with his cuffs.

She observed the throbbing crowds for a short period of time, watching them grow and mingle about, the majority of them in some form of intoxication or slumped away in unconsciousness on the blood-coloured furniture in the corners of the club. The quicket of smiles traced across her black painted lips at the very thought of that.

They took themselves into the public bathroom located beside the stage that was brighter than the club itself and plastered with mirrors. It was empty except for one man washing his hands, who glanced up at Sin only briefly wondering why a woman was in the men’s toilets. With a demeaning glare from Stretch the man quickly looked away, lowering his head and sulking his way out.

“It’s a good job this place is our second home,” she told Stretch, “else we wouldn’t have this advantage.” She took the cane and jammed it under the door handle, the other end stuck against a slightly raised tile; deliberately raise and damaged long ago.

“Umhm.” Stretch replied from his throat. He reached for one of the mirrors, jolting his arm slightly so it unhooked off the wall and laid it down beside the sinks and expertly raising his hands to catch the white bag Sin tossed at him.

“Don’t you dare take more than your share. Unless we want a repeat.”

Stretch’s expression suddenly became a little worried and his hand ghostly touching the causal bruise below his jaw line.

“Um. Yeah.” He said, respectfully despite his limited speech.

He poured a dump onto the mirror and took out his credit card, expertly cutting them lines. He finished and looked over at Sin and blinked at her.

“You better be careful it doesn’t get stuck in your nose ring this time.” She told him bluntly as she took off her hat (an unruly mess of blonde and contrasting black hair underneath, cut short just below the ears and her eyes thick with liner).

“Um. Good point.” He toyed with the ring for a moment and let a smile play on his face. “My rings always get in the way.”

Sin sighed out through her nose in some sort of laugh before taking up the first line, then the second, then the third. That taste like horrible rocky grit resided in the back of her throat and her nose burnt, causing her to shake her head a little in sheer irritation.

Stretch moved to take his line and fingered some of the substance to straighten it up. All of a sudden, Sin grabbed his wrist, taking a look at a scarring tattoo, an unprofessional goat head outline, red and burning.

“It’s healing quite well, isn’t it?” she asked him expecting the reply.

“Yeah. It is, actually.”

Sin thread his hand down forcefully and scoffed. “Obviously. Now hurry the fuck up.”

They re-entered the main part of the club without much difference to their attire or demeanours, like it was under complete control (after awhile substance abuse became normal, and the only abnormal thing was when her system was without). They sat down at a table close to the main stage with a few other occupants sitting down with them, giving a respectful and courteous greeting to Sin and blatant ignorance to Stretch.

Soon and sound enough the club became hazy with the faintest smell of weed, a joint being passed around at the back and one passed around at Sin’s table by men in tuxedo’s and jewels. When Sin took her drag she refrained from letting her head fall back and instead threw it forward to her chest, revelling in the sensation of relaxation mixed with surging, pumping heat from the other drug. She took more than her share off the joint but no one said anything, nor [I]intended[/I] to.

“Who is it tonight?” Sin asked.

“The only one that actually puts on a show.” One of the men replied with half a grin.

“Oh,” Sin smirked, “I see.”

It wasn’t hard for Sin to follow whom they spoke of as she herself had kept tabs on this particular entertainer for some time. She rested the cane between her legs and clasped her hands in front of her when the music changed, the said performer entering onto the stage with another.

Sin was watching so intently that she passed up the second joint that was handed around with a fierce waving of her hand. She watched the movements before her – planned, timed, divine and provocative – an eyebrow raising slightly at the sound of the deerskin.

When it came to the most interesting part, the part in which Sin was reminded of her own sadomasochistic tendencies, she found her hands more relaxed on the tip of the cane, running circles around the goat horns. Again her painted black lips twitched into a tiny smirk, which then drew into a full-fledged demon grin and a bit on her lip when blood was drawn. It was so sweet and tender that she had to bit her lip even harder to stifle a laugh.

Sin began to run her long fingernails over her palms and glanced at Stretch who, upon seeing the surface piercings and ribbons, touched his own mass of piercings over his lips and swallowed down his gay pride (though he was in fact attracted to anything). Sin ran her hand as far down the length of the cane as she could before gripping it and pulling it up, hugging it to her shoulder and running her fingers down the ivory (as it would be relatively uncomfortable to watch and sit so still).

The end took place and Sin watched the blood above all else. She narrowed her eyes at the stage, at the one performer whose name echoed the shameful desires of everyone else in the room. With another bite of her lip Sin turned to Stretch, who had been caught with a quivering lip.

“See if you can get the attention of… [I]her[/I],” Sin told him refraining from the use of any name or status, “bring her over here. Or at least bring me near her.”

Stretch nodded.[/align]

[Raiha]

[COLOR="DarkOrchid"][FONT="Times New Roman"][i]In her private room, Graie gently finished unlacing the ribbon from the ringed piercings and set it back on its spool. She turned and let Thorn sponge off her back, flinching only a little, and not for the reasons most humans flinch when he pressed down on the torn flesh. She carefully changed the rings on her nipple piercings and adjusted the angle of her navel piercing. Thorn meticulously began to wipe down every individual strand of his flogger when the door creaked, announcing a presence just at the threshold.

Algolangia twitched once in Graie's mind and she turned immediately to her chair and swirled a gauzy length of silk across her bare chest, tying it off between her shoulder blades. She gave Thorn a quick nod and he opened the door as the boy they knew to be Stretch stood, his arm out in preparation to knock. He recoiled immediately when fixed with an utterly inhuman glare from Algolangia and he almost felt himself flinching.[/i]

"My mistress would like to meet you if you have some time to spare for Her."

[i]His voice was a moist thickening of consonants, made thicker by the variety of metal rings and studs in and around his mouth. Graie looked up at him from where she was sitting and abruptly let the knot loosen, pushing it down around her hips, low enough for the line that marked the beginning of her thighs to appear. He stammered a little when she drew an impossibly long tongue across her lips and severely pointed incisors. Then he recovered when he immediately shifted his gaze over to Thorn, who had put on a loose flowing blouse, covering up the shallow scratch marks Graie had given him in thanks.[/i]

"Tell Her to come see me in the Windsor room when she's ready. My next show is in three hours."

"Really?! I-I-I was...."

[i]Painslut hissed at him, a layered sound and he felt something crackling and popping in his ears. He fled and the door slammed behind him without his touching it. Graie reasserted herself and ran a brush through her hair, pulling snarls out from where Thorn had tangled it with his fingers. She sighed and twisted the locks into individual strands, looping them around casually until they began to twist on themselves. Thorn held up hair ties for her and she began to tie little bows with the silk thread, then went back to cleaning his floggers. She stood and began to wrap her fingers and wrists with black bondage tape, making sure to leave enough room to wiggle her fingers, but not enough to keep them from staying almost in the same positions. Thorn leaned over to help her tie off the strands with square knots.[/i]

"So you're really going to meet with Thalia? Sin?"

"Are you worried that I can't take her? Everything she do to me will be every stimulation I've ever inflicted upon myself, only intensified."

"You think she'll hurt you?"

"I don't think she'll be able to control herself."

[i]He looked down into her eyes and for a moment he saw a brief flicker of the Fallen within her. Instantly Graie suppressed it and gave Algolangia a quick jerk to remind her who she would and wouldn't show off in front of Thorn. Algolangia muttered in the back of her mind in a slightly rebellious whisper, until Graie took a hold of one of her piercings and gave it a wrench to the right. Immediately the muttering was replaced by a long low sigh, and Graie turned back to Thorn with a peaceful expression, so laconic it was almost Zen.[/i]

"We'll be just fine. But your concern is sweet."

[i]Thorn gave her a slight frown, quickly replaced when she rose up on her knees to give him a gentle kiss on the cheek. Without breathing too hard, she adjusted the buttonfly jeans she'd taken to wearing when not performing and walked down into the basement of the Birdcage, where the Windsor room was standing ready. Thorn stayed just outside the door, waiting while she primly knelt on the raised wooden platform in one of the several corners of the room. Letting her eyes roll back in her head, she tossed her neck from side to side and felt Algolangia twitch in her mind.[/i][/FONT][/COLOR]

[Vicky]

[align=justify]Sin sat on the far end of the bar and swirled the glass under her nose inhaling the smell with a slight smirk. She knocked it back, sweet nectar of Southern Comfort on the back of her tongue and sliding down her throat. She really did love that stuff.

Stretch had came up to her from behind scratching his head but she didn’t notice him. Instead, she ordered herself another drink and sipped that one slowly this time.

“Sin?”

Sin raised her eyebrow and turned around slowly on the stool. She raised her other eyebrow upon seeing the blood trickling down from his ear. Stretch’s eyes flicked from her gaze to the blood, which he touched meekly, and gave a lopsided frown.

“You had an accident? Or are you just PMSing from your ear?” Sin mocked.

Stretch breathed out and shook his head, too nervous or too tired to give a reply.

“Well, she wants to see you in the Windsor room. When you’re ready.”

Sin laughed. “Of course when I’m ready,” she whirled the drink under her nose once again and throw it down the back of her throat, Stretch sitting at the bar stool beside her wiping off the blood from his ear.

Sin had, once again, ordered another drink before she planned on moving. She slid half of it down her throat then handed the rest to Stretch. She stood up feeling slightly tipsy from the shots themselves, bracing herself on her cane and leaning in to pat Stretch on the back, who held the drink up almost mockingly.

“Have a good time, like I know you will.”

Sin raised her hand, Stretch flinched. “Watch the fuckin’ tongue.”

Stretch held his hands up and nodded his head, mouthing an apology. Sin only grinned and patted him on the shoulder and he returned a nervous grin, a nervousness he rarely ever bided anyone to see.

Sin walked through the Birdcage, cane in hand and all that demeanour she carried so well, making her way to the Windsor room which was located at the basement of the club itself. The path down to the Windsor room was isolated and lonely; it was a narrow, steep corridor down to a door, where even Sin had to place her hands either side the wall to keep her balance graceful.

She had raised the goat head of the cane to tap at the door, a little hint of modesty and manners shining through, but she suddenly caught herself and whipped it back on her shoulder. Instead she opened the door rather forcefully and stepped in, closing it with the back of her palms.

The room brought a smile to Sin’s lips because it looked almost like an offshoot of her homeland. She stepped forward a little and took off her hat, placing it down on the floor and cracking her neck from side to side.

The room was quite bright, considering, and fresh. Sin took a glance around, almost white washed walls, with certain objects and furniture’s place upon them. It was a small room, actually, with school desks on one side with ropes, chains and whips hanging off the hooks just above them (Sin raised an eyebrow). There was a chalk board, too, with words on it that Sin took no notice on, instead taking notice of Graie, Painslut, or whatever she went by, kneeling on wood.

Sin bit her lip. She was sure to have the cane by her side as she walked through the curtains against the arch and leaned against it, some distance behind Graie, with a grin on her face.

“What on odd place to be meeting…” she chuckled.[/align]

[Raiha]

[COLOR="DarkOrchid"][FONT="Times New Roman"][i][center]"Grind head down tails up define your purpose
Slave til you bleed and you are raw to the bone
Grind head down tails up define your status
Slave til your wallet is full and your soul is gone."[/center]

Algolangia felt Thalia at the door and smiled wickedly, willing her host's fangs to appear only a quarter of an inch longer than the typical human canine's extended. Graie smiled graciously, giving her guest a flash of wickedly pointed fangs as she snaked her tongue across them, pricking the tip just a little. Then she inclined her head, exposing the unmarred flesh of her neck to Thalia as she bowed.[/i]

"It is an honor to receive you here. I thought you might want something that felt familiar, when confronted with the unfamiliar."

"How sweet of you."

[i]Thalia smiled as Graie slowly tilted her body back up, rising 90 degrees up from her horizontal position on the floor. The painslut settled back on her hips and regarded Thalia carefully, a cold fire bursting to life behind her eyes. Algolangia purred deep in her throat and gestured at one of the several student's desks spread across the narror room.[/i]

"Won't you have a seat?"

"Why not?"

[i]She sat, crossing her legs, the pressed creases in her pants creating stark lines across the pale backdrops. Graie leaned forward slightly and let her eyebrows rise upwards slowly. She kept her voice low and smooth, even, not betraying the tingling excitement that was surging through her system, suffusing her with a preturnatural chill.[/i]

"Why not indeed."

"Do you always honor requests for personal time?"

"Not unless those who desire me have the good sense to send their underlings beforehand."

[i]At the oblique reference to Stretch, Thalia smirked and shifted her hand's position on her goathead cane.[/i]

"But enough of that. You may call me... ...Algolangia. How may I be abused by you?"

[i]At her final words, she bowed again, Graie's mind completely withdrawn further back as Algolangia took the front and center. As she did, the Fallen swirled through the pleasure centres of Graie's mind and willed her already large pupils to dilate far beyond their usual scope, drawing the light from the room and sending the electric lights overhead flickering randomly. Thalia didn't draw back so much as she felt herself contract slightly. A Fallen like Algolongia was older than most human's concepts of time, and it'd found a willing and fascinatingly switchable host inside of Graie. Or at least that's what she was being led to believe. Any Fallen could lie as easily as the rain fell.

Graie felt herself being borne along in waves of pleasure, anticipation, and base lust. Surrendering completely, if only for a few hours was another release all of its own, and she knew her body was only being kept still by Algolangia's frightening ability to control nervous responses. Her head still bowed, she registered Thalia's voice and tilted it to one side just slightly.[/i]

"Do you have any particular vice you would not like me to exploit?"

[i]Algolangia let Graie's body shiver and hunch even further inward, the scapulae in her back standing out almost too much to be human.[/i]

"No drugs but pain. No chains but those already in my mind."[/FONT][/COLOR]