The Ultimate Vampire Resource and Directory

The prince does not exist yet. Safety and a happily-ever-after story ending is not possible. There is no glow, no passionate meet of lips in a moment of blazing emotions. Just the red taste of poison on my lips, so soft and seductive, filling my nostrils with the musk of sweat and desire. And I see it reflected in her smile, knowing, as hungry as mine. I knew it was she, deep down. The look in her eyes is so greedy as she watches my lips open over the crisp flesh of the apple. She can feel my tongue slithering over the blood red tartness, feel the juice snaking down my throat and mingling with my bodily fluids. And I know that she has given me this temptation to bring about my undoing. And I don't care. I can't resist the scent of it, and of her. That smell of anticipation, and the taste of power, triumph, and a terrible love that becomes loathing. I know that as I bite down onto the apple she is ripping my dress from my body and clawing my breasts, greedy and hungering for my flesh. She wants to become me, to have me, to control me, and now she has. Her breath is hot on my aroused flesh as she inches closer and closer to my maidenhood, my youthfulness and virtue. She watches me give it to her freely in one single bite, and in that bite, an explosion. My tastebuds are flooded with a world of taste, an veritable aphrodisia of apple tart and sex.



Then the second explosion. It rips through my body and drains me, melting my bones and bringing me to the ground. The pain and pleasure bring an imvoluntary gasp through parted teeth and lips, and circles around her nostrils, letting her inhale the musk of my defeat. Sensation leaves me in that moment, and does not return, keeping my bones melted to the floor, my long hair cascading over my shoulders and onto the hardwood floor.



And yet...and yet. I cannot rise. That is indeed beyond me. There is no force, save one, on this mortal plane that can bring me back to sensation, and he shall not find me before I am buried below the green grass. My body, eternally young and alive and lost. Mayhap they will speak my name in legends to come, of how evil hath vanquished a fair maid and toppled her from her pinnacle of virtue. I would like to think so, but I know naught shall be. The apple has rolled out of my hand and onto the floor, there as the only evidence that shall ever be of my downfall.



Then I see her cast off the disguise that was not needed to fool me. One long finger comes out to stroke my cheek, and if my heart were still beating, it would have stopped then. The third and final explosion. My stepmother runs a delicate finger between my parted lips. It comes out slick with apple juices and the moistness of my mouth. She brings it slowly to her lips and tastes her triumph. I cannot stop the trembling. A final convulsion of my body, echoing the sensations from before. And as I see her walk out the door, beautiful and cold, I know she will always be the only one to hear me break the spell for one moment and cry out, "Wait."



She doesn't turn back.