Post by saint on Dec 2, 2007 6:58:38 GMT -5
Oh.
How he was defiling himself.
A man, blessed by the good Lord, given looks, strength, speed, charisma and intelligence, and he would find himself sitting in an alley, slowly drawing a needle from his arm?
Oh how the mighty had fallen.
It could be said that no man of courage or faith could draw him away from this life of decadence and ecstacy, living his life one hit at a time, unable to function without that constant blinding feeling of bliss that was provided to him by hit-after-hit of the serum of the Gods.
He called it that as the only time he ever felt that same peace within himself as he did when he was posessed by love was when he had a needle sticking out of his arm. Gods serum indeed.
It was true, ladies and gentlemen, Peter Saint had found himself reduced to living a life of blindness, living in shadows and slums, after something had happened that forever drew him from the path of righteous men.
As he lay in that alley, he would muse to himself that this hit wasn't as strong as before, he was building immunity, he would need more, definately more quantity, next time.
He knew that sound like the back of his hand, that ever-so-sensual rhythmic tap of high-heels upon cement, it was beautiful at the worst of times, but with that extra oomph given by the drugs, it was heavenly. That click kept on going and going, Saint's head would move from side to side before he would sit up to look to the source of such heavenly sounds.
Her hair was this dark black, her eyes covered in this heavy haze of eyeshadow and make-up. She was dressed to kill in these dark shades of red and black that would make up her outfit, something that was out of the depths of hell itself, the skirt was short, the boots were leather, everything about her screamed lust, she was the embodiment of evil, dark sin upon this world.
She would move closer to Peter Saint and extend her arm to him, within a second he would move his hand shakily towards her, she would pull him to her feet and immediately bring herself close, allowing him to taste the scent of her powerful perfume, everything about her added to her overall allure and image, one of sin.
She would move her mouth to his ear and slowly blow onto his face, sending shivers and chills down his spine, before whispering slowly:
"I know who you are, Peter, you were God's problem solver upon Earth, weren't you, employed to fight for everything he deemed to be 'unholy', but you've changed haven't you? Oh yes you have."
There was no way he could resist her. She would plant a heavy kiss upon his cheek, before going back to that slow, sensual whisper:
"I have come to find you for a reason, Peter Saint, and that is for you to come with me and help me with a little 'errand', you will be rewarded Peter Saint."
Everytime she said "Saint" it would come out with a hint of bile within her term, like she abhored the word. He couldn't stop himself, his heart was beating, his eyes were glistening, she would place her hand, her warm, beautiful hand, around his and bring it towards her breast.
"I am his servant, the Succubus of Lust and Sin, you may call me whatever it is you want, I have no name upon this Mortal Coil."
She would pause, and stare, looking towards his heart, as if she was piercing through him to read what was inside him, his inner-most dreams and desires, his loves, his lusts, his life. Another quick smile would cross her face, she had found something.
"You had love once, didn't you, but it left you, I know what her name was Peter, and I think I would like to share that name. You may call me 'Sara'."
She would drag his hand down to her side and pull him along with her, he didn't know where he was going, or where she was taking him, and he was powerless to stop him. Peter Saint had come under the spell of a demon, God's highest seraphin had fallen deeper into his own temptation.
How he was defiling himself.
A man, blessed by the good Lord, given looks, strength, speed, charisma and intelligence, and he would find himself sitting in an alley, slowly drawing a needle from his arm?
Oh how the mighty had fallen.
It could be said that no man of courage or faith could draw him away from this life of decadence and ecstacy, living his life one hit at a time, unable to function without that constant blinding feeling of bliss that was provided to him by hit-after-hit of the serum of the Gods.
He called it that as the only time he ever felt that same peace within himself as he did when he was posessed by love was when he had a needle sticking out of his arm. Gods serum indeed.
It was true, ladies and gentlemen, Peter Saint had found himself reduced to living a life of blindness, living in shadows and slums, after something had happened that forever drew him from the path of righteous men.
As he lay in that alley, he would muse to himself that this hit wasn't as strong as before, he was building immunity, he would need more, definately more quantity, next time.
*click* *click* *click*
He knew that sound like the back of his hand, that ever-so-sensual rhythmic tap of high-heels upon cement, it was beautiful at the worst of times, but with that extra oomph given by the drugs, it was heavenly. That click kept on going and going, Saint's head would move from side to side before he would sit up to look to the source of such heavenly sounds.
Her hair was this dark black, her eyes covered in this heavy haze of eyeshadow and make-up. She was dressed to kill in these dark shades of red and black that would make up her outfit, something that was out of the depths of hell itself, the skirt was short, the boots were leather, everything about her screamed lust, she was the embodiment of evil, dark sin upon this world.
She would move closer to Peter Saint and extend her arm to him, within a second he would move his hand shakily towards her, she would pull him to her feet and immediately bring herself close, allowing him to taste the scent of her powerful perfume, everything about her added to her overall allure and image, one of sin.
She would move her mouth to his ear and slowly blow onto his face, sending shivers and chills down his spine, before whispering slowly:
"I know who you are, Peter, you were God's problem solver upon Earth, weren't you, employed to fight for everything he deemed to be 'unholy', but you've changed haven't you? Oh yes you have."
There was no way he could resist her. She would plant a heavy kiss upon his cheek, before going back to that slow, sensual whisper:
"I have come to find you for a reason, Peter Saint, and that is for you to come with me and help me with a little 'errand', you will be rewarded Peter Saint."
Everytime she said "Saint" it would come out with a hint of bile within her term, like she abhored the word. He couldn't stop himself, his heart was beating, his eyes were glistening, she would place her hand, her warm, beautiful hand, around his and bring it towards her breast.
"I am his servant, the Succubus of Lust and Sin, you may call me whatever it is you want, I have no name upon this Mortal Coil."
She would pause, and stare, looking towards his heart, as if she was piercing through him to read what was inside him, his inner-most dreams and desires, his loves, his lusts, his life. Another quick smile would cross her face, she had found something.
"You had love once, didn't you, but it left you, I know what her name was Peter, and I think I would like to share that name. You may call me 'Sara'."
She would drag his hand down to her side and pull him along with her, he didn't know where he was going, or where she was taking him, and he was powerless to stop him. Peter Saint had come under the spell of a demon, God's highest seraphin had fallen deeper into his own temptation.