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The Kindred Chronicle
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THE MONSTER OF EALING
Last night, several people reported the sighting of a "screaming red monster" in a quiet neighbourhood of Ealing. After a power shortage in the area, a building caught fire. It was then when, what was described as a "man shaped, footless creature" emerged from the flames, leaping, running, and screaming. One woman has told our reporters that the man had "teeth like a wolf, and the face of the devil". Police officers are still trying to get to the bottom of this; neither the power shortage nor the fire have still been explained. A spokesperson from Scotland Yard has stated that the "so called monster" might be a wounded person, escaping the fire.

TRAGEDY IN TOOLEY STREET
The police has found the bodies of three TFL workers in the construction site at Tooley Street. One of their colleagues raised the alarms last week, when the three workers didn't attend their shifts. The bodies of the men have been found in a deep hole, uncovered by the refurbishment works that are taking place in the area. According to the Police, the bodies were horribly mutilated, which has led to the wildest speculations. The names of the three workers are being kept anonymous, following the wishes of their families.

HOROSCOPE
MARCH 8 - PISCES
You are used to making sacrifices, to prioritising the happiness of others before yours. Even though that is a noble attitude, there are times in life where the only healthy alternative is to embrace your own selfishness and allow yourself some enjoyment. Reserve one hour per day to do something you really like. Treat yourself! Your colour for this month is blue.
Echoes from the past ring back into London. Their intensity increases until they are deafening. What once was a faded memory of a glorious time, now becomes a shocking reality. The consequences of actions taken decades ago ripple into the present, altering the lives of everybody in the City. Unguided and blind, Kindred wander around, trying to make profit out of the reigning chaos.


The appearance of four mysterious figures turned the city upside down. Mistrust and jealousy became the official currency of London. Serpents and fiends rise to power, misdirecting the blaming eyes of the Camarilla towards imaginary enemies. Only those with clear vision and the ability to trust each other strive, while the rest run towards a shallow grave.



Across The Board
Current Chronicle: Dragons and Lions; Pride and Fire
Current Season: Spring
Controlling Sect: Camarilla



Index
Getting Started
General Information
Central London
North London
East London
West London
South London
Miscellaneous
Out of Character


Population: 31

Camarilla
Anarchs
Other
Ventrue: 1
Toreador: 5 (6)
Brujah: 2 (3)
Malkavian: 7
Tremere: 2
Nosferatu: 3
Gangrel: 1
Ventrue: 1
Toreador: 0
Brujah: 2 (3)
Malkavian: 0
Nosferatu: 1
Gangrel: 1
Setites: 5
Sabbat: ???


THE CAMARILLA

Prince

Nobody

Sheriff
Meredith Furlong
Hounds
Robyne Sheridan
Rosella Marie Allain


Keeper of Elysium
Davvad Bisset

Grand Harpy
Catherine Wilke

Primogen
Ventrue: Marcus Antonio Russo
Brujah: Thomas Krusen
Gangrel: Alexa Mallik
Malkavian: Ellora Reese
Tremere: Hannah Sundling
Toreador: Arsenio Pozzi
Nosferatu: Dogan Khojak



ANARCHS

Baron

Khoza

Baronets
Enfield: Leslie
Haringey & Barnet: Clarice Harris
Harrow: Jelena Korolenko

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Welcome To The Night

You find yourself in London on a dreary, foggy night like any other. But what lurks in the shadows is the stuff of fantasies and nightmares, far from mortal reality.

This game uses the cursed and immortal vampiric condition as a backdrop to explore themes of morality, depravity, the human condition, salvation, and personal horror. We are a writing and roleplaying community dedicated to telling complex and engaging stories.

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I'm going Slightly Mad; Closed.
Topic Started: Friday, 13. December 2013, 22:23 (2,985 Views)
Mac
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Goddess of Fuck and War
* * * * *
It takes a moment for the ground to become solid, toes gripping the floor, heels well placed and steady, waiting for knees to really solidify to the feeling of blood running through her legs good and proper. They felt noodley, like the bones had gone to liquid and she wanted to sink to the floor, as if she started to move they would wobble and cave like thick rubber gloves. She wouldn't let the feeling cause her to do so, instead she took the time to acclimate to the new standing position, Church even pausing her with a hand to keep her from having to play the stuck up badass and try and walk even when she shouldn't. She was like that, boy knew her to well. Aguirre's jacket was pulled away, a cool wash biting against her skin in the sudden breeze caused by its removal. It nearly startled her, making her flinch a little as goosebumps shot up over the exposed flesh of her torso.

Church's pause to let his fingers roam her skin was delightful, cool fingertips trailing over the goosebumped flesh. The areas around the bullet punctures burned warmer than the rest of her, and considering the temperature she usually ran at they felt like mini easy bake ovens under his chilly touch, skin slick with a damp layer of moisture. A large part of her just wanted to go weak in the knee's all over again under his touch, just give up on trying to maintain her attitude and slump into a heap of exhausted want... She wouldn't though, she was on the home stretch of this torturous waiting game, she just had to make it into the shower. Make it into the shower, and knock him over onto his ass so that they could play games lower to the floor. The thoughts running through her head were enough to start the slow trickle of chemical stimulant inside her brain, vivid imagery of everything she wanted to do to him causing her insides to start a new burn again.

Yeah, she was always dirty... His commentary making her grin, which in turn made her shift slightly sideways as she went to take a step towards the door of the kitchen. Her knee's seemed to lock together a moment, a rush of warmth and blood flow to the appropriate places causing her to pause and enjoy the rush. Her good hand came down on the counter she had just vacated, a hot sigh of breath as Church made for the kitchen door. Fuck yessss... The waiting was done, she was going to get to -celebrate- the kill, the death of a fucking dickhead with an ego bigger than her own! That was such a mind fuck, eve now the way he spoke still made her want to burst into giggles. How had she ever made it to the point of getting down and dirty on the blanket? She must be way better in character than she ever thought, because looking back she just wanted to fall over in a fit of the giggles at the conversation flow. It had been so...

So not her. She liked it gritty and real, she liked swear words and threats (ones that came true were even better), not soft romance and gentlemanly 'vigor'... Hahaha. Jesus. She grinned remembering it, and when Church went for the freezer and pulled Hammy from it's depths she couldn't help but laugh. She would have brought the bowl of blood if he didn't, and she was surprised to see him so carefully carry it away as he called for her to follow him with baby steps.

She did so, pausing in the kitchen to lean down and pick up the scraps of her dress with her good hand and throw them into the sink. It felt strange to leave it cluttered on the floor like that, even in her state she had this need to...tidy up almost. In the morning, or the afternoon, whenever the fuck she woke up from the sleep she'd inevitably give into, she would bleach this kitchen down like mad. The dead would wake up to chemical smells and shiny floors, because bitch liked things clean when all was said and done. When it came to the bowl of Archons last juices, she was also glad he was doing the carrying, because despite the fact her legs were feeling more sturdy and obeying her demands that they move, carrying a bowl of blood might have proven difficult one handed. How much pressure could she put on this fucking sewed on piece of garbage?... None. She'd just have to get inventive, try and figure out a way around the one handedness of the situation. She needed to keep up with him, prove that even when she was down she couldn't be discounted... She could still please him, hurt him right, still bring the violence that he craved and she -loved- to give him. He'd just spent the last hour picking bullets out of her carcass, sewing her hand back on, and patiently entertaining her and trying to keep her mind off the potentially mind fucking repercussions of her stupidity tonight. She -owed- him.

As she watched him walk ahead of her, she had the urge to demand he take off his pants before they went any further. She was wearing a thong, and nothing else. His overly clothed figure was definately unfair, and she'd have a hard time tearing his clothes off with one hand. Fuckkkkk... She had the feeling she was going to get frusterated very soon.

“Sponge bath baby? You doing Nurse duty now too? You're definately wearing to much to be a Nurse...And I'm certainly wearing to much for a sponge bath...”

Nurses did their job naked right? ... She sure wanted him to do it naked. She also wanted him to stop stopping, get the fuck on with it! She was a loaded gun and she needed to unload, she needed to slide in close and feel the his cool body beneath her as she burned for him, throat tight with a certain level of expectation, eyes full and heavy with a need to escape the last hour with her favorite distraction.

She'd slide into his room around him, making sure she kept eye contact with those gorgeous greens she adored so much. A hand sliding down her own side to take the edge of her thong in one hand and twist the fabric till it tears, stepping backwards into the bare bones space with a grin that begged for the worst. Her skin was singing with tingley goodness, strung on anticipation that been built, denied, and built again over and over all night.
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"You are so fucking Camarilla. All hope and optimism. Maybe we can mount a rescue mission, and everyone can have a cupcake party, and fly around on Pegasus unicorns pooping rainbows."
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Church
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Putting the 'fun' in 'dysfunctional'
* * * *
Here I was thinking I might actually make it to the closet and get the duct tape out, but oh no, I was followed hellishly close behind by the tinkering of tiny Mac feet. Sure, I giggled at her comment that I'm overdressed, and now that we're out of sight from the others for certain, I quite concur. I do very little to catch up with her in terms of nudity though, instead I opt to get all goggly eyed over the goddess who sweeps in front of me and bares all that she to bare. I grin in approval, wanting to mimic those few steps she takes further into the room, but wisely I remember that we want to keep things private. Erm, well, at least from the care-bears. The porno idea is still on the cards as far as I'm concerned. Hammy gets a free show by the seems of it, I drop his head to my feet and let the uneven shape wobble a few paces to the wall before settling on its side, same grotesque and mauled features though now looking considerably frostier than when we met. The bowl I settle down on the bedside table, though that might need to be moved. Finally, I turn my back to her entirely to slowly shut the door behind us. Slowly and deliberately, just for her to entertain herself with a few seconds of feeling naughty.

"Alone at last, eh Hammy?" I mutter out the corner of my mouth at the decapitated cadaver.

I unzip the jumper and discard it before I'm fully turned around, and as soon as I am, I'm after her. Why? Cause I can't even deal with retarded shit being spewed out my mouth, even if it does rile her up some. But just having to shut the door was agonizing enough a wait before finally getting my hands on her, this alone is almost my freaking climax in our bedroom antics. Finally touching the fire, with my careless and loving touch. And even though she's a little handicapped at the moment, my actual contact might be leaning more towards the former. I manage to get the clasp on my trousers unhooked, but no further progress before I'm crashing into her, taking her in my hands and willing her to latch onto me with those beautiful stripper legs. Even though that's happening, I'm also trying to grab her good hand and pin it...somewhere. Seriously, just try and send some sort of message that I ain't gonna go easy. That I relish at her disadvantage. But, even so, I'm not sure how successful all this is as I gorge myself in the moment.

Her tongue tastes rich, remnant traces of hammy still lingering to be picked up on by my own. Another man being in her mouth might offend me, were it not for the fact that she killed his ass dead. It doesn't deter me, especially as the taste of her own blood floods in after a careless nick from my canines. All the while I grind my body into hers (noticing that we've hit a wall) which thankfully drops my trousers around my ankles. My dick is hard at the thought, so ready and willing to try and make her explode with good feelings. And even though it's pure of intent, I'm so overwhelmed with finally having her to myself, I can't actually seem to put the fucker to use. Ain't that a bitch? No, not really. Cause we got some time and I can go for all that. And even though I need to run wild, I still know my baby is hurt. Blood, despite topping up with the kill itself, is better spent sticking that hand back on.

So I stop being such an animal and mauling her face with my own. I actually pull my head back to discover her legs in their usual position around my waist, and effortlessly she is suspended in the right way. Even so, I blink a few stupid blinks, biting my lip and eyes getting all wanting. I thought I might be able to get the tape, right? I was wrong. I thought she might be able to shower, but I might've been wrong with that too. Surely it makes more sense to shower later, right? I appreciate not getting the bed full of blood and guts, but...well, we just won't use the bed will we? With that mindset now established, I drop suddenly to my knees, taking her straddling form and laying her flat down on the cool laminate floor. Again, my manhood teases her with penetration, but settles for just sliding up and down her pussy for a few bated breaths. I wanna fuck her. But I wanna do something else just that little bit more...

I 'persuade' her legs to unwrap, the good persuasion with the brute force and stuff. I get off my knees and sit my ass down cross-legged and drag her body up, almost like I want her to get on top, except for the fact that when I get her vertical I force her to her knees and, with the assistance of a handful of her dreads, bend her across my lap. There's something of a lull, a pause in confusion as to the strange way I seem to be angling to fuck her belly button. It seems so anyway, as I firmly wrap an arm around her hips and grab her good arm, bend it up behind her and keep it pressed to her lower back, at least for the moment. Before she can speak, move, whatever, I lay down the fucking hammer. By hammer, I mean my rugged, thick, meaty left hand. By lay down, I mean spank that bitch with such force the crack sounds like a gunshot.

"This! Is for making me wait so long. I snarl aggressively, but if anyone can sense the joy and excitement in my voice, it's her. There's something about laying my hands on her and wreaking havoc with them, but damn if a good old fashion spanking doesn't give me all horrid kinds of tingles. She's a naughty girl, right? I don't pause to savour the sharp pain in my fingers before I swing high and back down again. Another crack, another rush. "For losing your hand. Stupid little bitch." Again, despite my words, despite the obvious message of punishment I'm sending, I know this is the kind of pain my girl likes. And perfect for not wanting her to burn too bright, purely superficial damage to her buns of steel. This time I rub a palm across the red stinging patch where it struck, smoothing over it gently before my fingers dig into the flesh and attempt to pinch some between them. Alas, her ass, like most of her, is solid as a rock. Oh well, I return to the old reliable. Another brutal smack laid down.

"S'for throwing a fucking head at me!" Better get them in while I can keep hold of her, right? Not that she would wanna get out necessarily, but knowing her, she won't take this without some sort of retribution. Just cause. Me though? I can keep wailing away till I can't think of no more reasons. Hell, maybe she'd like to help? "Anything I'm missing, baby, just lemme know."
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Mac
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Goddess of Fuck and War
* * * * *
She couldn't help but giggle at his commentary to Hammy, surprised but in no way horrified by their new bedroom guest. It was only fitting that the head of Archon Hamilton watched Church to do to her, what he himself had intended to do... except -so- much -better-. Just the promising thoughts of it were enough to get her going, eyes fluttering closed a moment at the sound of his hoodie unzipping, knee's doing the same cling as her thighs clenched expectantly.

Before her lashes even fluttered open fully he was on her, sudden and hard. He stole the breath from her body when he collided with her, the force of their bodies clashing causing a sound like a clap as he caught her. The universe was rejoicing with them, applauding the restraint it took to get to this point and the heat of their passion as the struggle between them began. He was trying to take control, take the lead in her slightly hampered condition. It was fucking awesome, his physical force only making the quiet need between her legs grow more demanding. She couldn't think to react, she was left to respond in the furious and primal ways their bodies just seemed to melt together. She left her feet, easily and with long limbed ease as they moved to wrap around his body. Her arms trying to slid over his shoulders, only one able to hang on but the other just aiming for a place to rest. The impact of them crashing into the wall at her back was jarring, sending a hard wave of near Nauseating pain through her arm from newly reattached wrist, echoing in the two bullet holes in her mid section as they washed a moments painful protest across her senses. His tongue was sliding into her mouth before she could protest, before she could do a thing other than cry out briefly before being silenced in the best ways.

The nick at her tongue only caused a whimpered moan, the taste of her own blood shared between them as they battled with tongues and hands. He was trying to pin her wrist, take complete control and she -wouldn't- let him take top dog that easy. She'd fight it, keep her arms up over his shoulders and sink the nails of her good hand into his back, and dig. Dig to find purchase so he couldn't remove them from his flesh without being scratched like a wild animal. When had his pants dropped? She didn't know, she just knew that suddenly he was pressing against all the right places and she was wetter than she'd ever been. She just wanted to slide down and lose herself.

Fuck. It. All.

He could be top dog, he could do whatever the fuck he wanted she just wanted him. Needed him, brain a hazy place of all the god damned goodness he was making her feel. His hard and immediate want were met with her own, and she burned hot with her desire to let go of the night and only exist in those beautifully hard moments. She was sizzling, all tangled up and desperate in her own body when he broke the deep and nearly violent kiss.

His green eyes were a blanket of cool comfort, the way he looked at her with such pleading admiration... It reached inside her, twisted everything up and made her useless. She fucking loved feeling like that, feeling like she was his favorite thing in the world. Then the world slipped downwards as he dropped to his knee's, keeping her clutched in his less than gentle hands as everything shifted and he laid her to the floor.

The hand fisting in her hair as he teased was barely noticed in the state of her anxiety, desperately seeking with her hips to meet his body in more fulfilling ways, ways he was purposefully denying her. What was initially a turn on, this constant teasing of something blissful to come, was now decaying into a state of delirious frustration. She wanted what she wanted, and she wanted it then and there without fucking delay. She was grinding her teeth as his other hand shifted to try and dislodge her from him, fighting back to deny him from leaving the grip of her legs around his waist.

She had a lot of fucked up kinks, including the fact that every glance she stole at Hammy just seemed to make her want to fuck and giggle at the same time. Denial? Denial was not her kink, and while she knew how to appreciate working for it... She had fucking worked for it enough. She just wanted him damnit, wanted to leave London and this entire fucking planet and go to that dreamy place of blissful escape, burn in a hell of pleasure and sinful blood and fucking. He was stealing candy from a baby right now, and she was fucking mad as shit about it.

She was being yanked by her dreads, and she snarled as her entire body shifted and she lost contact with Church. Suddenly yanked to her knee's, she was looking into his face with him sitting cross cross, like he wanted her to slid into his lap and ride him, which is as welcome an idea as any at that moment. Before she can oblige this invitation she's being twisted further, an arm being bent into a hammer as she was forced across his lap. The bullet wounds in her abdomen burned hot, one so low his knee was pressed against it... His icy flesh was soothing, after the initial "oh fuck mother fucking ow!". Her dead hand came out to try and push up off the ground, to get the fuck out of this ass in the air school girl position, to help her do the thing she was so desperate to do, ride him hard with no regard for anything but making herself feel real good. It was useless though, the lack of sensory stimulation when she felt it hit the ground just reminded her that it was a stupid hand now... But it didn't hurt as much, maybe all the hurt was getting twisted up and lost in that overwhelming need to fuck.

Would she frenzy? No, she'd just gorged on ventrue... She wasn't going to lose to that battle, but half of her was tempted to let go. He'd survive it, he was hardy... She would plead, beg for his cock, his fangs? His hands on her... Except his exact intentions were made clear with a sharp and heavy smack across her ass.

All the anger melted away in a hot flash. The giddiness in his voice spurred on by the hard cry that came out of her mouth, If a beast like her could purr, she would. Instead she could only exclaim out loud in sounds akin to orgasm, each strike met with a grateful sound. She still wanted him, but holy shit if the loving sting on her ass wasn't a decent supplement in the mean time, something to ride until she got what she really wanted, which would be so much sweeter after such a tender beating.

The way he stroked the reddened flesh was sublime, cool finger tips against the sweet warmed and primed skin, knee's crossing and locking as her toes curled and flexed. Begging for more with the way her ass raised and swayed as she enjoyed the after glow.

Anything he missed? Well... Yeah. Of course... This would be -her- revenge for being taken across a knee like a child, because she could push his buttons and get more. She was in heaven, he could split the tight flesh of her ass with hand prints, broken around the edges of hard and bruising fingers, and it would only fog her brain up with the perfect kind of pleasure pain stimuli. He's spanked her before yeah, but never a proper pinned across the knee session.

Her ass was stinging joyfully, and she'd make sure his hand felt
The glory.

"Took off on you that first night, after you rescued my ass in Brent.

Kicked your ass in the construction site... Sawyer won the bet, cuz he bet on me.

Then there was the strip club baby...

What didn't I do then?

Leaving you every twihard moms fantasy, a glittery shimmering vampire ...

Vagazzling."


There was so much else, she could go on... She would go on, crying out blissfully with each strike, trying to enrage and push him. Break him... Make him wear himself down and have to fuck her, the tension in her twat like a can of soda, just waiting to be cracked open by Churchy goodness... God, could she come from his hands like this? She felt like it, dizzy, needy, blind to everything but this wanting.

Edited by Mac, Tuesday, 4. March 2014, 03:08.
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"You are so fucking Camarilla. All hope and optimism. Maybe we can mount a rescue mission, and everyone can have a cupcake party, and fly around on Pegasus unicorns pooping rainbows."
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Church
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Putting the 'fun' in 'dysfunctional'
* * * *
I'm grateful, and not at the slightest surprised, that she decided to join in with reeling off the reasons why she's a real piece of shit. Why wouldn't she? Assuming that every whimper of delight that shoots out of her with each impact is as genuine as it sounds, which we will assume, seeing as each lull in the beatings seems to be met with her ass being waved around and seemingly asking for more. It was more the fact that she decided to reach back into our past and pluck out reasons she should be spanked like the naughty bitch she is. Cause sure enough, each memory she pulls up widens the smirk on my face and stirs up enough frustration and animosity in me to give each slap my all.

"Jeez, you're a bigger bitch than I remember." I say gruffly, eyes distracted by Hammy for a dark and twisted moment as my fingers once again begin to trace along the red flare of her skin. "But if you weren't so naughty, I don't think we'd have so much fun." This time it ends in a much firmer squeeze, fingers burrowing into flesh so tight that the nails rend it with ease. But whadda they say about the universe, each action having equal and opposite reactions? Sounds about right, cause suddenly a moan escapes from between reluctant lips, a new sensation reveals itself. Namely, her teeth burying into my gorram thigh. She needs a gag, or at least something to bite down on, and I'm happy to oblige. Happy to let it stoke the fire. Girl knows what she likes.

"Like"
Thwack
"I"
Thwack
"Need"
Thwack
"A"
Thwack
"Fucking"
Thwack
"Reason"
Thwack
"God fuckin'!"

I hiss the sting out between gritted teeth, shaking my hand in some feeble attempt to cool the intense burning of my palm. Put in some work in my dead and fetid longs to blow on it with a deathly chill. Lord knows I love it, and love it more so with her being on the recipient end, but lord it's messy. It sounds like gunshots (hopefully Aguirre and Sawyer won't think to go investigate it), so it's only natural that my hand get torn apart doing it. Bones getting misplaced or cracked, skin tearing open from the force. At least her ass got a little cushion, though the longer I have my hands on it the more tempted I am to bite it.

No more spanking, not across my knee...not right now anyway. I let go of her wrist that I pinned to the small of her back, the hand reaching around to grab a handful of magnificent tit. She went through a lot to get then, so I always figure she appreciates them getting a little attention beyond me just looking and getting all drooly. I don't really know what the fuck to do with her, beyond y'know, what I'd like to do. Don't think she'd be too amused with me taking it too her now she's a little shorthanded, really be the top for once just to see how, IF, she can take it. I mean, she's good, but she's still mortal, right? And not being able to defend herself, or at least give me a smack for trying to make her come to death. Hmmm. Decisions, decisions. For now, my hands loop around her and pull her back to a vertical alignment, pulling her to sit in my lap ala reverse cowgirl. She can gaze all stupidly at Hammy with me as I try to shove her mass of dreads to the side and lay my chin on her shoulder. My hand at her breats shimmies down that immaculate body, resting on her upper thigh, moving closer at a lazy pace to that precarious position.

"Can't believe you ditched me for a fuckin' head. Got all dressed up fancy, never do that for me..." I try to sound disgruntled, even if I genuinely am on some level, but it doesn't come out as such. Like everything else, it's just another tease in our constant game, followed by cold lips massaging the side of her throat. "I can forgive you...but...you gotta do something for me." The hand finally slips all the way down, sampling the dampness between her legs with enthusiastic fingertips. Oh Jebus...I need up in her right fucking now. But I can't stop the mindfucking until the real fucking. I'm so freaking horny and somehow I can delay this shit...it's amazing. I am superman.

"No coming till I say so..." I whisper through my wolf like grin. The dirty fucking dog trying to rile up the bitch. Two hands or not, she still got the spunk and fire I love, right? Between us is something...hard. Cocked and ready. "Wanna give me a hand with this?"

Can these jokes ever be stopped?
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Mac
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Goddess of Fuck and War
* * * * *
A rough, whiskey laugh escaped her as he remarked about her being a bigger bitch than he remembered. She grinned, pushing down into the wrist he was pinning to her back. Some struggle offered, but only finely, as she seemed to be pushing into it rather than out of it. The burn up her arm sung beautifully, tilting her head up and to the side to try and look over a shoulder at his expression as he drew his hands over the tight, red swell of his hand prints on her ass.

"I wasn't so naughty, you'd be bored." And so would she. His grip tightened on her flesh, nails digging I to the red glowing flesh and pinching. Her moan came from the back of her throat, like a low growl as her head dropped forward again, toes curling and ankles crossing in the air behind her. Fuuccccckkkk.... Icy hands cooled the burn, and she couldn't help the way she seemed to writhe in all the best ways for it, trying to stifle the urge to beg by peeling lips back and dropping her teeth against the thick side of his thigh. She bit, hard and deep with a level of even pressure that aimed to hurt and bruise over time rather that clip through the flesh. The feeling of the hard muscles between her teeth just made it worse, made her burn harder and hotter.... Made her want to dig through flesh and bleed him out, drink him. She wouldn't, couldn't, but she could make him hurt as the muscles in her jaw tensed and flexed into the bite.

Then he was spanking her again, hard, blissfully so against the already stinging flesh. She wanted to cry out, body trying to press up from his lap on the elbow of her dead hand, the force of his smacks reverberating through her body and causing the bullet holes to gripe with angry menace. She did cry out when she let go of his outer thigh, with nothing in her mouth to stifle it the noise that fell from parted lips was all blissful scream.. Another section of his leg fastened between a wide biting grip of her teeth as she aimed to break and bruise a whole new part of his leg... Elbow giving up on supporting her and just laying in his lap with a sort of blissfully spent tension.

When the pause came, and Church was looking at the damage in his raw hand, her teeth released and she giggle a noise of grateful contentment. Trying to shift to see, catch him looking at his tender hand with those big green eyes... No time to rest though, or simply enjoy the immense burning of her red and welter ass cheeks. Instead she was being shifted, bent and stiff arm being released from his pinning grip. Her whole body ached from being across his lap, blissful screaming of her muscles from being tense and tight for so long.

God, his lap was absolutely blissful, poised so precariously over that favored part of his body, his fingers playing with the goods she'd paid in other people's lives for. She did enjoy them being worshipped, although few worshipped them to the level she did. She loved to play with them, pinch and twist, flick the nipple randomly when she was out and about, the kind of girl who could be caught cupping on breast in the middle of a conversation not really noticing she was playing with them. Her good hand came up to mimic Church's, playing with a nipple as he burrowed through her hair to try and find the dip of her neck to rest his chin on.

Wait, was he griping about her not dressing up for him? Did he even care about that shit, really? She could rock his world if he did, she had a lot of 'outfits' for different sorts of occasions... Did he really want a silly dress and pin up look like she'd sported earlier? That was intended to rock the socks off Archon, an old timey fucker that wanted his women sweet and simpering... Then again, Church was older than she generally thought of him wasn't he? While she thought of him on her own age level, both of them locked into Eternity looking forever young, he had decades on her. Man could be a Grandpa... Maybe he did like the soft and lady like look? Then again, why the fuck was he fucking her? She'd never presented herself as anything more refined than this muscle laced, bitchy, twat mouthed Hunter.

Those thoughts of dressing up and being girly were promptly lost in a sea of "Oh fuck me" as his fingers found themselves dipping between her legs, finding the hot and slick parting of her thighs as her legs almost seemed to instinctively widen, welcome him. Her hips rolled, trying to tilt herself downwards into the probing fingers. God, why wasn't he not fucking inside her yet? Her twat was going to fucking explode if she didn't get him up inside it, riding the edge of that incredible place of forgetting anything else in the world existed other than them.

Then stupid was falling from his lips, and she found her mouth actually falling open as she stared at Hammy, as of asking the hideous disembodied head if Church had actually just fucking said what she thought he did.

"Oh, a hand Gorgeous..." Her good hand slipped sideways, as if in agreement, as if acquiescing to his request she not come till 'he said so' and that she should lend a hand. She slipped the hand through her own legs, picking up that slick moisture to lubricate her warm touch, and then reaching farther down to take his rather ready cock in her slickened hand. She ran the wet fingertips up and down it, shifting in his lap, wanting to just redirect and slide it home. She pumped the length of it a few times, rolling the head over a wet palm a few times before gripping the shaft and tilting her hips so she could rub him against her rather expectant and waiting cunt. God, she just wanted to fuck him...

He wouldn't expect the elbow the she was lacing up over a shoulder, using the elbow on her off hand... Who would do something that wreck less after just losing a hand right? Her, to guarantee a real hard and good elbow to the temple. She needed to daze him, knock him a good one that left him blinking beautiful but bleary green eyes.

She'd roll and turn over in his moment of confusion, grasp him around the grips with her Python legs and slide that cock she wanted so bad right where it belonged. Her good hand moved to pin his, if she could, if it were possible to capitalize that much on the surprise. True she couldn't pin the other, but her elbow came down hard at the same time she did everything else, to dig into the shoulder of the other to try and immobilize him as best she could.

Her hips moved on their own, legs still tight to try and keep him down, but unable to really stop the natural demand of where their flesh met. God, that felt so ducking good. So good she wanted to close her eyes and just melt away, but she instead kept those brown peepers pinned to his green ones. Her grin was rude, twisted, as of asking if he really thought she'd let him do that? God, she could bust at any moment, body so tense and built up she'd need riding an orgasm since the second stroke of those big meaty hands.

"Fuck you baby... You don't get to tell me when I get to cum... Cuz fuck if I ain't so close it's going to happen any second, and I'm gonna let it baby... Because you know what? Fucking you is to heavenly, and god... I love it. Cumming so many times I'm left weak on the knees, dreaming about the next time I get bruised inside from a fucking so deep and hard I'm left barely able to walk. Fuck waiting, fuck the games... I've had enough of that, I just wanna get lost in you... Or rather, with you in me."

Everytime she slid down, her stinging ass just stung that much more, the throbbing between her legs like the exhilaration of climbing a mountain at full tilt, and knowing that you're almost there, almost at the plateau and going to just dash off the other side and swan dive into the abyssal beyond.
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"You are so fucking Camarilla. All hope and optimism. Maybe we can mount a rescue mission, and everyone can have a cupcake party, and fly around on Pegasus unicorns pooping rainbows."
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Church
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Putting the 'fun' in 'dysfunctional'
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Oh she's good. It shouldn't come as a surprise to once again learn this rather violent lesson, but maybe something in me believed she might actually take it easy. Easier. Nope! Not interested in doing that, and had those words cut deep like I planned. And I commend her for it, still maintaining the belt as 'champion cock teaser' as I feel her slick fingers take a hold of my dick, playing with it in a manner I am somewhat unfamiliar with. Or at least, not accustomed to anymore. It's a strange sensation to get your junk jerked and tossed when it doesn't work in the same ways it used to. It's not exactly pleasurable but, with the right mindset, it is. And that's just what I possess right now, with a grin buried into her shoulder and eyes full of admiration tracing the line of her cheek. Her pussy looms close, enough that I can feel the inferno raging in that furnace, in dire need of a poking. Jeez I'm getting all poetic with this shit, and it's maddening to think she's gonna do what I ask. It's...wrong! That feeling maybe she is broken up, she's actually obeying, that we'r-

Fucking yes!

Even though my body screams no, well, it's more like I do that half-bark, half-yelp cry which seems more fitting to a dog, it's a good kind of no. It's like no means yes. And yes...Yes means harder? Who knows what's what in this dark little corner we find ourselves frequently tussling in. Who knows anything beyond this bone-rattling, barbs-tearing through my brain. I guess I got a little distracted, a combination of disappointment and wonderment that she would get all 'Yes master' with me. Maybe my eyes closed for a second, while I was enjoying her hand play with my dick, knowing full well it was in the hands of a fucking master...literally. Who cares what I was doing? It's irrelevant. What's important to note is that I fell like a sack of shit back to the ground in a scorching flash of exquisite agony, only to have her mount me. Reiterate the fact that she's the top dog. Slide me into her and shoot me a grin that gives me all sorts of shivers as at long fucking last my dick is where it belongs. I lie there and take it, allow her to pin me flat without so much of a struggle as I'm left eyes squinting and skin flushed red. In fact, the arm that's pinned only by her elbow loops around and cups the back of my head as I relax and watch her all dreamy. As she begins to open her mouth and spew some hot shit about how good I feel, how she dreams about it...How she's done with games, it just makes me crack a grin to rival hers.

"I's kiddin' baby...Y'know how much I love making them toes curl. Bend that fuckin' perfect body of yours in ways...ways that make ya scream." I plant my feet on the ground somewhere behind her, despite her keeping me restrained so well, in an effort to somehow match her motion with my own and bury deeper into that tasty pussy. It's almost a god damn paradox the way she keeps me so still yet wants to fuck so ferociously. And, don't get me wrong, she does the job well. Taking every inch I can give with a motion that puts any and all porn stars to shame with their trade. But still, she needs total control when she's feeling like this with Doc Fanger, body all rigid, that amazing physique all tense and shown in their full glory, cept those tits of course, which are always glorious, but doubly so when they're bouncing. I might not biologically be able to enjoy fucking like I used to, or at least 'finish', but this right here is fucking awesome. So much so that a long exasperated sigh/groan leaves my lips as I see the tension bubbling up inside her; "God you're good."

Weren't we gonna do something with duct tape? Something about a sponge bath? Beats me. Sure she smells a little sweaty, what with having an insane surgeon put her back together, and has got a little blood matted here and there. Though in all honesty? That would happen post-bang anyway. Post-bangings. Post-this whole fucking week, cause I figure she ain't gonna be getting up to a whole lot else. Probably needs someone with two hands to fucking roll her joints and cook her bacon. To be her little bitch. Which I am not ashamed to say I will be. Fuck, I wanna be. And if she's around for a nibble, not to be fed on full time, no, she ain't no fucking doll, but a nibble now and again of my favourite meal, and her favourite and most hated thing about me being what I am. I can't believe I haven't bitten her already, but the position makes it compromising. My fangs glimmer beneath the bare light bulb, but as I try to lean in, the pressure on my wrist builds in her defiance. I can see it in her eyes, that twisted look that, while completely unthreatening, is simply maddening. Lil fucking bitch. She's giving me a big 'fuck you' with her eyes, even if her body begins to arch and quiver as that final few rungs of the ladder are climbed, all the way to fucking heaven. I'm....just a fuck toy right now, she could've made a mould of my dick and had just as good a time. Though as far as spankings go, I guess I had no idea how much she really dug those. I'll keep that in mind for the future, along with a plethora of terrible things due to this sudden "I use and abuse you how I want" mentality that she's currently undertaking. And even though she breaths and she moans and her eyes give away how much she'd like to, she refuses the kiss.

And as if by magic, she screams. Not the loudest or most intense that has ever come from her, granted, but it's as beautiful a sound as any. It's now I realise what the fuck she's doing and what the fuck I'm gonna do. Normally I'd delight in just watching her body buckle and shake, have good vibes shooting up and down it and fuck with the tuning of her moans. But this ain't so ordinary, seeing as she thinks she's still the one in charge here. She is, but I don't want her knowing that, not just yet. Cause two hands or not, she's a goddess, and I'm willing to put it all on that alter just to receive the blessing of her sadistic touch. Everything seems to tighten, and it's my cue to fight this fucking cunt. She may be in the position of power, and pushing harder than ever, but her mind is clouded by endorphins. Her reactions may not be so knife edge as per usual. And even if she's expecting it, I'ma make fucking sure she can't stop it.

My feet raise and slam behind her, hard on the ground like someone dropped a fucking anvil. I don't dislike my neighbours or my floor, but it gives me that needed momentum to power my core and get things moving. All the while my free hand grabs at the bicep pinning my shoulder and shoves it to the side, giving me a second to sit up and look her square in the face, fangs still protruding in my gritted teeth. The grasp on my wrist stays there, and while that hand remains stuck to the floor behind me, I straighten the arm out so it's in a position to support me as I try and bypass her positioning and get her coming again. I wanted to get to my feet, but I don't think I can. The free hand grabs a handful of her ass, just so she can't force me back down without making her mind all muddled again or at least bringing her with me. I grunt, I push, I don't know what I do really as my movement becomes frantic against the imprisoned sensation. And while this is a damn nicer prison than the one I spent a decade in, I figure she'll want a change of pace and not be stuck in the same god damn loop over and over. I dunno how it happens, or when, but my stomach becomes rock hard as I refuse to go to my back again, locking eyes with the she bitch's only an inch or so away, oblivious to the world around as it tumbles in my vision. It's almost all reflex...or instinct...or the horny, dirty beast that lives inside that has found itself atop her for a change.

As much as I'd like to shake off this fucking grip at my hips, take those legs, spread them wide, make that cunt as vulnerable as possible and completely wreck it...pump into her deep with supernatural speed and force. Make her into that pool of trembling feel good. Have her try to fight against my unrelenting hips - cause frankly fucking a Brujah going full pelt is just as dangerous as fighting one. As much as I'd like to make her scream like it's death by ravaging, I don't.

Why?

"You're fuckin' crazy,,,if you think you're gonna,,,'barely' walk after tonight." I growl at her the challenge, though I'm not pinning her in the way she pinned me. In fact, my one hand remains firm on the curve of her ass and the other seems to be tied up with her own, but not pinning it. I hover close enough for a headbutt, but for some reason, I feel invincible when my dick is in her, like she can't really hurt me too bad for fear of snapping it off and having to use her fingers for the night - which she just lost the use of half of. Then I'm lifting her, on my knees and hiking her form up like it's nothing, even against her usual violent struggling. "I promised a sponge bath, didn't I?" I wrap my hand around her waist now, again resisting an urge to just bury her into the wall and fuck away till there's just a limp body with a stupid grin on her face. But no! No god fucking dammit. I lead us to the bathroom, although I'm not exactly sure how long it's gonna get to the sponge bath. Instead my eye is immediately caught by the mirror behind the sink counter, which I plop her burning ass on the cold granite.

"Who am I kiddin? Course you're fuckin' crazy." That's why I love you, baby. Or that's why I fucked you in the first place and lord I loved it. I manage to pry her legs wide for a moment, slipping out of her entirely so I can cross the small room and turn on the shower that hangs above the bath tub. As soon as that nozzle is turned, I'm back tracking immediately to her like my dick is gonna get bitten off if it ain't being hidden away and protected. Though I stop in the crack of the door. I stop and I look back out, to the same old empty room with one new addition. Hammy. It's like his eyes, or the masses of gelatine, blood and meat that gather where his eyes should be, are watching me. Watching the fun he missed out on. I raise a hand up and give that macabre mother fucker the finger, just cause. He was a prince, yet I get to fuck the Princess? A lot?

I slowly get rid of the sight of that mother fucker with a very light touch on the door. I look back to her, all needy and ready, aspirations to bend her over that counter.

"Where were we girl?"
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Mac
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Goddess of Fuck and War
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((I declare this debaucheroust fest closed to the public! No more perving, sorry!))
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"You are so fucking Camarilla. All hope and optimism. Maybe we can mount a rescue mission, and everyone can have a cupcake party, and fly around on Pegasus unicorns pooping rainbows."
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