Friday, March 31, 2006

Transformation scene

**Sariah is getting bitchy, she hasn't been let out in a while. She's been barking and scratching at the door in the back of my mind. So, instead of sex, or violence, I thought I would allow another side of her out...**

Four city blocks from the corner where she abandoned her recent kills, the bones of her feet, which bore the most weight, began to ache. Then the need to return to human became strong and hurtful. Even after hundreds of years, she could not get accustomed to that particular pain. She began to hurry, and in her haste she sacrificed caution for speed. Discretion was not an option. Thankfully, she was at the seedy end of town, and Sariah was certain that she had terrorized the residents enough that if they saw her, none would call the authorities.

Her entire body hurt now, ribs burning with each heaved breath. Joints began to crack as they collapsed toward human. All four paws struck pavement as she ran and then skidded around a corner at the end of Hudson Street.

Beneath a battered TV repair shop sign was an entrance into an unlit back alley. Ragged edges abraded Sariah's sensitive muzzle as she eased the tip of her snout between the jamb and the unlocked, battered metal door. Blood dripped from uprooted whiskers as she drew in large snoutfuls of air, testing for unwanted interlopers. She did not wish for any witnesses to her transformation. Exhaled snorts sprayed sanguine drops to the rolled dust ridge which rode before the advancing edge of the door.

Stale urine, soured milk in a container in a trash bin, nasty diapers, but other than that she smelled nothing. She was alone.

Sariah drug the rest of her body through the easement and turned to slam the door shut behind her. Fur boiled off from her clawed hands, leaving raw singed skin behind. Her hands screamed in silent pain, the knuckles cracking as the bones of her fingers shrank back to the same delicate digits before transformation.

Yet this was only the beginning.

Transformation flowed in a savage flood from the extremities inward. Tears bled from Sariah's eyes, both from pain and from the restructured leaking of the eye socket as the bones regained her refined woman's features. Hair fell from her hide as the skin grew tender and ligature-tight, strangling her muscles, her ribcage. Her wrists and ankles twisted with vicious torque beneath her body where she crouched. Suffering ran thick through her blood, echoed in hollow refrain through her bones as arm and leg bones shortened and turned, grinding the joints.

By the time her torso began to change, Sariah had been reduced to kneeling, her rib cage cinching tight, her stomach regurgitating the jumbled bones and fibrous ligaments of fingertips; the flesh came out in a clear, jellied mass. Her throat erupted in keening as her pelvic bones snapped loose from her spine – twisted, contorted, pumped agony throughout her body. Shoulder blades, floated free, wrenching as they rode the back of her ribcage into their normal position.

Finally, the pain was over. Sariah's chest heaved, the air no longer tainted with her own blood. Relief trickled in where the pain had begun to ebb. Yet, with each change and return, her pained mind was forced to remember how she became the creature that she was; the animal that had first bitten her and poisoned her blood, her body – and broken her heart.

She was forced to remember Xander Nicolas Waithorn.

Thursday, March 30, 2006

Friday comes early..

**I know I promised the ladies their erotica fix on Friday. Well, I guess this week Friday COMES early...**

Flannel-clad in pajamas, she headed for the bedroom door like every other night. The door eased open; and light flickered in the room. Something was amiss. She wasn't a criminal, but she was alone and in trouble.

And she liked it.

A rustle of pant, a clink of metal – the Officer appeared from behind the door. He was in hot pursuit of her criminal copulatory compunctions. His eyes took her in. He smiled as his heavy hand pushed the door closed behind them. With a wicked smile, he locked it.

"You are under arrest." His voice was husky and low. She liked that, too.

He grabbed her by the shoulders, a tight, insistent grip, and then forced her to turn. Palms met paint as he pushed her to the plaster. "Up against the wall and spread 'em," he ordered.

This was a new game, and she adopted her role of Bad Girl with consummate ease.

Next, her night clothes were stripped from her. He tossed them to the floor. They were useless in his form of interrogation. He had better tool to make her talk. To her surprise, and excitement, he then produced handcuffs. And used them.

Naked, wrists shackled before her, she was at his mercy. His hands were firm, she noticed his personal club to be, as well. The reinforced zipper of his BDU's was strained.

She smiled. He liked that.

He patted her down. Then he felt her up, one hand smacked her ass as the other hand turned gentle on her breast, and teased her nipple. Warm pleasure spilled within to mix with her excitement. She sighed. He then spun her about to face him.

"Do you have any weapons," he asked.

"Only my sharp whit," she quipped.

He roughed her around then. Punishment maybe, but she liked it anyway. He walked her back against the bed and then pushed. She tumbled onto the covers, coquettish and eager.

His pants were coarse against her delicate skin as he pressed his way between her thighs. She reached for him then, yet he caught her by the cuffs, slapped her hands and forced her body back and up the bed. He came in close, stole a kiss from her ready lips as he clicked her cuffs through the headboard. Desire flooded her. He was strict – rigid – she was naughty and about to be disciplined.

He stepped back from the bed, ran one hand the length of her body, while the other worked the BDU's down and off. He returned to his dominant position between her knees, his hands on her flesh and his nightstick at the ready.

Bent on elicitation, he came forward, tip of his intent teasing her mischievous lips. He would make her talk. She was, however, determined to force him to use all his tools.

"Do you have anything to say for yourself?" He asked as he pressed his point of passionate punishment into her.

She moaned. He withdrew. She whimpered, but he smacked her thigh and repeated his penetrative query. She groaned, her hips rose up to meet his. He smacked her other thigh. Once more the question, "Do you have anything to say for yourself?"

"I plead the Fifth," she moaned. He liked that.

"If you will not talk…" he hinted, and produced a blindfold.

She smiled, only, and then closed her eyes. The blindfold slipped over her head in an inappropriate rush. She heard an unfamiliar noise, a grinding ended with a snap. Then, his lips were upon hers, his tongue pressed sweet nectar in her mouth. His hands once more searched her body. No weapons, but tight nipples and ready flesh.

She sucked the intoxicating liquid from his tongue. He ran his mouth down to her breast, pulling on her taut nipple with his warm tongue as his fingers searched farther, lower, searched her hidden cache of hedonism.

"More…" she whimpered.

"So you will talk," he said. He liked that.

Persecutor became perpetrator, guilty of invasion of her most private property. Her knees held up at his sides, he entered her, making a hasty retreat before plunging deeper in. He pressed her for information, walked the line of good cop/bad cop as he drove his insistence into her.

She writhed and moaned. So, did he.

Hands clutched tight around her thighs, he negotiated her surrender, her passionate release. But then, he withdrew again, to kneel and whisper his own confessions to her ravaged flesh. Tongue in-between her lips, fingers teasing flesh, he gave a full, and lurid confession. Her hips rose, her body shuddered in deliberation of climatic freedom.

Yet, he climbed her body once, more, reinstating her former sentence of climax by copulation. Finally, he beat her into submission and she broke her silence. She pleaded for clemency, he denied, driving her to spill the truth.

"Guilty as charged," she moaned, body imprisoned in orgasmic agony.


Can you see the Chesire Cat grin on my face? Can you hear me purr??



Had the kids' conferences yesterday. Other than Kat talks too much (my daughter????), and KG's always in a hurry, well... the teachers might as well have told me I had geniuses. Only one grade less than average, and that is in that particular kid's hardest subject. Otherwise, ALL grades for both children were B or better. For both, words like 'brilliant,' 'excellent,' and 'way above the rest of the class' were used. *grin*

Both received highest marks in, Yup, you guessed it, English. Kat's teacher says, 'your daughter has a very strong author voice and great control of her vocabulary.' {side note: Kat's 10! Teacher said it must be genetic} WOOT, That's my girl!! *purr* KG has some of the highest marks in his class, 'very organized, 'brilliant work.' His teacher said, however, get this!... That he could do better if he applied himself more. Better than an 'A'?? HA Sorry, smart people get bored if you cannot keep their attention... I know from experience. LOL

So, yup, I'm a damn proud Mum right now!

Wednesday, March 29, 2006

Bad, Blogger! Bad!!


My gorram blog is showing nothing but a big black f*cking screen. SO damn frustrating! I can't even get to the comments from yesterday.


At least, this way, I get more writing done... :) I am working on the rewrites in Nuermar's Last Witch, as well as my short In Pursuit of Prey about Sekhmet, Egyptian Goddess of sexual heat and vengeance. (LOVE that combo!) Plus, she's lionen animorphic, perfect practice for the Were novel that is stewing in my brain, too. Because, as you all know, I have a fetish for the whole fur, claws, fangs thing...

Oh, and I am chewing on another vignette for you all, too. "Under Arrest" Handcuffs, blindfolds, forceful... WOOT!

Tuesday, March 28, 2006

The Playlist...

Welcome to the rhythmic background of my mind, otherwise know as 'my playlist.'

The Something Like Human album, my favorites being:

Last time, "This is the last time, now, I'll bleed for you"
Hemorrhage, OMG the entire song!
Prove, "prove to me you're something like human"
Easy, "…bring the pleasure, bring the pain…"
Innocent, "Satan, you know where I lie…"

Headstrong (as if THAT was ever a question…)
Made of Glass "I don't need to hear your answer, I just need to you to see"

From the All the Right Reasons album:

Follow You Home (great to growl in someone's ear)
Fight for all the Wrong Reason "…you got off every time you got onto me…"
Next Contestant (what girl doesn't want her guy to feel this way??)
Savin' Me "…I'm on the ledge of the 18th story…"
Far Away (I just plain BAWL)

And also from The Long Road:

Do This Anymore
Figured You Out (it's just plain naughty!)


Erotica (prerequisite, is it not? LOL)
Human Nature (naughty version)


The Undertaker (HOT, omg, wrote Sensual Bedlam to this one)
Rev 22:20 (Rev 4:20 mix) seductive as slow poison


Living Dead Girl
More Human


I Am, "I'll tell you when I come, but you'll come before me" (means exactly that)


Just Like You


Chris Daughtry, Walk the Line; LIVE, Forever May Not Be Long Enough; Gerard McMann, Cry Little Sister; Pussy Cat Dolls, Dontcha and Buttons; Van Halen(Hagar), Humans Being; Slip Knot, Vermillion Pt.2; Stained, Outside and Pressure; Stone Temple Pilots, Sex Type Thing; Golgotha Tenement Blues from The Crow soundtrack; HIM, Rip Out the Wings of a Butterfly; Queesryche, most tunes, although I am compulsive about Gonna Get Close to You (dark, stalkerish…); Garbage, No.1 Crush, from Hex soundtrack; NIN, Closer (oh yeah!); Dawn, from Escape From L.A. soundtrack; I Can't Live if Living is Without You, Harry Nilsson (wanna see me cry?? this one will do it)… there's more, but I my eyes are crossing…

Monday, March 27, 2006

A tase of something different...

**Well, I've given you snippets of traditional M/F in various situations and positions, given you F/F/M on a dance floor and in vampire voyeurism. I think by now y'all know I won't touch M/M with any kind of pole, so... how about some F/F action, heavy with vampiric overtones??

This scene comes from my novel Forever Dark; and it is the point at which my heroine Licia sacrifices her mortality to the vampire Canaan...**

“Please,” I said.

She turned to me then, her shadowed eyes radiated a wicked desire; not just for my blood, but for me. Canaan transformed before my eyes, and as she changed, my body responded in kind. She was a succubus, beautiful and enticing. Her body began to shimmer, a cloud of dark hair floated about her face, prominent, pointed teeth glinted in the moonlight, and her clothes melted away. Her figure was glorious. Supple thighs, narrow waist, and high, pointed breasts. I longed to touch her, to place my lips on her flesh.

“Come,” she beckoned. “Become…”

My body pulsated. I could contain my desire no longer – I reached for her, and a delicate hand grasped mine to pull me from the sand. Canaan enveloped me in a torrid embrace. Her lips pressed against mine, the tip of her tongue tickling mine and her bare breasts rubbing against the front of my gauze shift. Her nipples were hard and as they rubbed against mine, they tightened too. Tingles crawled across my flesh; waves of desire’s heat flooded my frame as the sensitive parts of my body burned for her touch.

Canaan heard my unspoken desire and loosened my belt, letting it fall to the sand. She slipped her hand beneath my shift, her fingernails grazing the skin of my thigh as she reached farther up. She cupped my breast in her hand, her thumb gently rubbing in circles over the tightened, sensitive flesh of my nipple. I moaned my pleasure into her open mouth, and Canaan drank it in. She nipped the inner flesh of my lip, and then licked the blood onto both of our tongues. She let her mouth slip from mine, and began to nip and nuzzle my neck, as her hands pulled my shift up over my hips and then off of my body.

She pressed against me urgently, directing me to lie back against the bank of the Nile. The sand against my skin was cool, but Canaan’s lips and hands were hot – the two temperatures fueled the sensations surging through me. I put my hands on the sides of her head, lifting it from where she suckled and licked the skin of my neck. Her lips were brilliant red with my blood, but I didn’t care; I desired her touch, her bite, her blood. I directed her mouth to my breast, and as she sucked my nipple, I took her wrist to my mouth. I licked her flesh, and nipped the sensitive skin, yet did not break the surface.

In her untamed passion, she pressed her body against mine, grinding her hips and occasionally purring like Bastet, or groaning in pleasure. Her groans turned to cries of delight as my hand found the warm, red flesh between her thighs and I bit down into her wrist. Canaan’s body twitched with the sudden sensation, then she pulled away from my breast, her eyes wild with passion and her face painted with my blood. She smiled, licked her lips, and then put her hands between my thighs. I trembled only a moment, and then she pressed my thighs apart.

With a fluid motion, Canaan turned her body so that her face was between my thighs; as I arched my back her wrist, which I had pierced with my own teeth, was against my mouth. As I licked the bitter blood that dripped from her wrist, she began to lick my hot, throbbing flesh. Each contact of her tongue pushed my body closer to the ultimate pleasure I desired, and the ultimate change of my existence. As climatic waves flooded my body with pleasure, Canaan replaced her tongue with her free fingers as she buried her face in the soft flesh at the top of my thigh.

The motion of her fingers continued the waves of pleasure flooding my body, even as the succubus drained me. Her teeth, like physician’s blades, sunk into my leg, slicing the major vessel, allowing my life force to flow into her body, and to spill down the bank to run in red ribbons down the Nile.

When I knew that death was coming for me, I bit as deeply into her wrist as I could, and sucked her potent poison in. She tried to pull away, yet my teeth sank in farther, taking some of her flesh and blood vessels into my own gullet as she finally wrenched free.
Canaan stood. She looked at her injured wrist, and watched as the gaping hole slowly healed. Vessels first, then meat, and then finally skin. She touched the regenerated flesh and then smiled at me. It was the most wicked grin I had ever witnessed.

I tried to rise, but was unable. Instead, I lay motionless on the sandy riverbank. She reached down, caressing my cheek before she took up my shift and clothed herself, wrapping my gold belt around her waist. As my field of vision faded, she leaned closer to me and spoke.

“You will die – yet you will live forever. I will always remember your passion.”

Sunday, March 26, 2006

Music is back!

Ever been through rhythm withdrawal?? Ain't pretty -- trust me on this. Worse than going cold turkey off caffeine... Headaches and the whole nine yards. I have been so damn ugly since my MP3 player died that I think there were acutally times that I scared myself - walked around the house turning mirrors to face the wall because I didn't want to see the ornery bitch looking back at me.

Well, I am pleased to announce, thanks to a combined anniversary/Easter gift from DH, the music is back! I can allow my rhythmic obsession free reign again! Oh, thank gawd for music. I want to wallow in it, revel in it, naughty in it... Is naughty a verb?? Maybe not. Maybe so. Maybe it's just my mind in it's euphoric utopia.

But, I digress.

Thank you, Muff.

Friday, March 24, 2006

Words given voice...

Perhaps this is a generalization, but to me, we all have something that piques our interests, fuels our imagination, feeds the flames of the bale fires of our muses... For me, if my words were given voice, especially The Venue (see Band Night) then this would be it:

Chris Daughtry sings Walk the Line

Many thanks to HS Kinn for the linkage!!

Towel Time

**You want a warning, then this is it. Lady M talks of her towel. Alexandra speaks of shower tokens. Bernita says steamy... Even newcomer Karl (don't know the link) mentioned needing a shower... So for all of you needing of a cleansing...**

This is a scene from the sequel to Forever Dark, and has my vampire H/H in a 'heated, steamy' moment...

I reached up to kiss him and then bit his lip.

"Don't bleed on my rug," I warned him, and then winked.

Josiah couldn't help but smile again – his eyes sparkled, even. He enjoyed my brand of punishment. The full curve of his lip had been split by my fang and a ruby droplet beaded up and threatened to plummet to the absorbent wool beneath his feet. I raised an eyebrow, reached out a finger to stop the sanguinary globule from staining my rug, but Josiah licked his split lip and then stepped quickly into the cavernous shower.

I dropped my own sheet to the floor and then kicked the discarded linens into the laundry shoot and out of sight. The towel warmer hummed to life as I dropped two plush bath sheets over the rod and then joined my lover.

Water soon coursed through the artificial falls and cascaded in a fine, heavy spray. Josiah stepped back so that I could immerse myself in the surging mists. The hot water streamed between my breasts and down my abdomen; instinctively I reached for my shelf of oils and hand-crafted soaps. Josiah stopped me, guiding my hand off to the side, to the bright brass bar that lined the shower walls.

He took up a natural sea sponge, and then smelled soap after soap, searching for just the right scent. Then, I watched his eyes close as he inhaled deeply of a soaponified oil of lotus blossom. Scent is the strongest sense tied to memory, and I could tell by Josiah's body posture, and obvious arousal, that the scent reminded him of our many intense sexual encounters. When his eyes opened again, they simply smoldered, his hunger for me flaring behind his dark irises. The new smile that graced his face was slow and wicked, tantalizing. My heart fluttered and refused to pick up a steady rhythm.

Josiah squeezed the sponge until it produced rich, aromatic foam. Then, he caressed the lather over my body as an artist used gesso to prepare a canvas before painting a masterpiece upon its surface.

He dropped the sponge into a mesh basket in the corner, and then pressed my back against the cool, stone wall. Chills crept across my flesh, and were only intensified by Josiah's heated embrace as he pressed his lips against mine. Our tongues met, tangled then parted as Josiah moved to nuzzle my earlobe with a bit of fang. A warm, delicious tingle blossomed from my ear and flowed down my neck and shoulders. My lover intensified the pleasure as he then kissed my neck, biting enough to break the skin surface, and redouble the stinging bliss that rode through my body.

I trembled. I fell weak and nearly collapsed in tremored bliss, so Josiah took my hands above my head, directed me to grasp the brass piping above to steady myself.

Driven by desire, Josiah pressed in closer, his breath my breath, his consummate skill my sweet agony. His hands worked the lather into textured patterns of ancient hieroglyphs before he wiped it away from my breasts. He bent down and suckled my nipple in a vampire's kiss, teeth exposed, until blood trickled from the corner of his mouth to mingle among the lotus bubbles fading from my flesh. I moaned; my body lax, my arms the only things that kept me upright.

Josiah pinched the tender tip of my nipple between his tongue and his top row of fangs as his hands moved down my stomach until they reached my thighs. There, his knees bent down and my eyes rose to Heaven.

My body still trembled, ached with anticipation. My mouth still watered. A victim of my wanton hunger, I was scarcely aware that Josiah lifted my knee and placed my foot upon his raised thigh. I wanted him within me. Yet, my lover did not give ecstasy so easily away; he liked to make me wait, he liked to prolong my desires before he satiated my flesh. A moan escaped my lips and I shuddered at his touch – even after so many years, he still thrilled me.

His hands worked in hedonic tones, teased my tingling flesh and colored me in sensual bliss. Then, Josiah released his nettled grip on my nipple and moved his mouth down my body. He slipped beneath my raised thigh and his lips, which I loved, loved my hidden ones in return. I twitched as rapture ran wild within me, and nearly convulsed as his tongue danced on my decadent soul.

I was so close to climax that I could taste it heavy on my tongue. Then, Josiah rose up, rode along the curves of my body as he kissed and nipped and left a bloody trail to my neck. He reared back, his mouth open, fangs exposed, as he entered my eager opening and sank his fangs into my throat as well.

Passion flowed within, pain without. The two sensations rose and swirled with in me – a dangerous and heady concoction. In a throe of ecstasy, I collapsed against my lover and Josiah supported my weight as I moaned and writhed against him. My only thought was him; my only awareness was erotic bliss as I reveled in his every tumescent inch. Then, somehow, even as he held me, he managed to slip a hand beneath me to further tantalize the already throbbing flesh, and he rocked his hips in that stilted rhythm that he knew would take me to orgasm.

My breath came and went in a heavy pant, my voice nothing more than a moaning groan. I clung to Josiah, eyes rolling as I clawed his back until red welts rose to smart under the hot water. His beautiful face twinged as he winced, yet he enjoyed the pain. He pressed me hard against the wall for leverage and then, in blinding bliss, Josiah brought me to an orgasm the likes of which I had never experienced.

Josiah slumped against the wall, and slid down onto his rear with me still straddled over his pelvis. I rested against his chest as latent pleasure pulsed through me. The water continued to fall, warm and comforting, as my lover took up the forgotten soaped sponge, and gently swept the away the bloodied bubbles which still coated me. Then, Josiah squeezed the remainder of the natural cleanser into my hair and massaged my scalp as he washed my hair, as well.

Josiah lifted me as he rose, my head against his shoulder, my body limp as a kitten in his arms. I reached out and turned off the water, and then he carried me to the plush rug beside the towel warmer.

Wednesday, March 22, 2006


**this is an OLD one; not sure why I'm posting it, other than it insisted...**

A blade on my wrist-
The smile was in your eyes.
Pressing down- steel on skin.
The corners of your grin
Twisted evilly.
Your grip was too tight-
I lost mine…

Sinew and steel

Want to get away,
want to get you out
Of my life.
Blade in my wrist.
You won’t leave,
So I’ll end it, and
Be free of your grasp.

Steel in veins

The water in the sink is bloody,
And I’m shaking- but I
Won’t stop. I’m going
To teach you a lesson.
You’ll never hold me again.

Life in the sink

Weak, I’m so weak.
Can barely stand up,
But, watching my hate-colored
Blood flowing slowly
Gave me courage.

Me on the floor

You kneel by me,
Afraid to touch the sodden,
Bloodless form that was
Your clutching post.

Tuesday, March 21, 2006

Catty continuation: Sariah's true mate

**this is a continuation from yesterday's post... And perhaps a better expension of their energies...**

She reached up and wrapped her arms around his bloodied neck. He emitted that peculiar pained purr as the pressure cinched his injured flesh. Yet, he did not recoil. He allowed her to embrace him, to touch him, to kiss his face. Her hands ran the length of his sleek, lean muscled body, slipping quickly over the wounds which she had caused. She rubbed her face, her chest against him in a most feline manner. His tender grin exposed sharp white canines to the moonlight. She curled her fingers in his hide as she rubbed against him.

He pressed her back unto the ground, big cat paws upon her shoulders as his hind legs straddled her hips. He crouched over her, purring constantly. "Stuart," she whispered one last time, and then Sariah closed her eyes. He bent down, his face close enough that the short whiskers of his muzzle brushed her eye lashes. He inhaled deeply, expelling warm breath; then his lips parted, and he bathed the blood from her face with his wide, wet tongue.

She sighed, and reached from him. He refused, and instead pushed her back down. He took hold of her arm, nipped the skin of her wrist, and then ran his tongue the length of her forearm. She shuddered at the tingling mix of his rough tongue and the suppressed passion which it ignited within her.

He came close to her again; he rubbed his thick muzzle against her neck, her collarbone, her breasts. He sniffed in her sanguinary scent, his jaws open to allow sensitive scent glands the full experience as his eyes rolled and desire took him. The tip of his tongue slipped between that slit in his muzzle, between his sharp eye teeth. Stuart took this tip, and cleaned Sariah's body of the evidence of their confrontation. His flared nostrils bathed her in his steamy breath, his tongue painted her in tones of feline hunger. His mouth hovered over one breast, the nipple pinched between his teeth, while one paw took to the other breast, her nipple between the velvet toe pads as he teased her tight flesh. An involuntary groan escaped her.

His purr intensified into a rumble within. He pressed his body down upon her, and that rumble penetrated to flood her. Stuart placed one back foot between Sariah's legs, and then the other as he slowly spread her thighs. Front paws to either side of her upper body, Stuart moved his mouth down her abdomen, licking the valleys, nipping the curves. Sariah twitched and moaned. Then, he reached folds of her hidden flesh. Her knees came up, and spread as he eased his shoulders down.

Both paws ran the length of her quaking thighs, claws lightly scratching and exciting her skin before they turned and parted the tingling folds of her sensual flesh. Stuart once more pressed his curled tongue within her, conversing with the core of her desires. As he licked deep within, the heat from his muzzle sensitized the outer flesh, and a toe pad danced upon her passionate point.

Sariah writhed and moaned. Her hips rose and fell of their own volition. Her fingers clutched at his shaggy mane. She curled those digits, and pulled his face from between her thighs. She looked deep into his eyes, hers burning with heathen desire. A wicked grin curled his short muzzle, his tail twitching, as he lowered his body between her legs and slid forward.

The tip of his shaft teased the lips of her eager opening. With a rock of the hips, he entered her. She moaned, her fingernails clawing at him, trying to pull him deeper in. He refused her once more, tipping his hips so that his rigid member rode nearly all the way out. There, the tip throbbing within, the length of the staff without, she reached down, wrapped the fingers of one had around the slick base of his shaft, the fingers of the other opened herself farther as she guided him back into her, and then out, and then yet deeper in.

Her head rocked back. Her chest heaved as pleasure pulsed through her, driven by his feline grace and her hands. He purred, a heavy, panting sound as he allowed her dominance over his most masculine motion.

She guided them toward orgasm. Sensing that sweet release within her, Stuart curled his body so that his mouth was once more upon her breast, teeth around the tip, tongue dancing on the nipple. She groaned; her hands fell away. He took control, driving in that stilted rhythm he remembered and Sariah began to pant, to whimper, to beg. "Please," she beseeched. He obliged, riding that shaft deep within, with a quick slide back out, even as his tongue pulled and his toes slipped back between her folds to tease farther. He even curled his tail so that it tickled her ass as his hips rocked between her legs.

Her hands clenched over his shoulders as her body convulsed in a long and nearly painful orgasm. At first she couldn't breathe for the moans escaping her, but then she panted and cried his name again and again.

The multiple-orgasm pulsed within her, tightening the muscles around his tumescent shaft, and rubbing at him until he came as well, toes curled, tail erect as he growl-groaned in feline fantasy.

Sunday, March 19, 2006

Cat fight!

Hackles bristled. A ridge of tawny hair stood from the back of her head down the length of her spine to spread over her ass and down her tail. Claws dug into the ground as she clenched her paws into were-fists. Drool dripped from her muzzle. Nostrils flared and her sinuses were afire with that predator's scent – his scent. A low, savage growl rolled like thunder through her body. Her eyes narrowed to slits, yet her pupils dilated.

Sariah was set to kill.

Yards away, in a wide beam of milky moonlight, she saw him. Not a human, not running upon two feet, but sleek and golden, round ears pinned to his skull and long tail held out for balance as he ran.

A Were-Cat! Sariah's mind reeled, yet her predator instincts flared and she launched from her crouched position.

Kill! Haunches pumped. Kill! Paws pounded the ground. Kill! Claws dug turf.

Foamy spittle flew from her jaws. Huge snorts of air filled her lungs. Short grunts escaped her throat with each pulse of her hind legs as she hurtled toward the one whom had irritated her for so long. Kill! Her bloodlust called. She closed the distance between her and her hunter; now her hunted. His rudder-like feline tail tickled her nose. She snapped her teeth, but missed. One last thrust of body weight, one last lunge and she sank her canine fangs deep into the werecat's tail.

He yowled in pain. She braced her hind legs, snapped her head back and to the side as she made her heavy werewolf body an anchor. She dragged the cat to a halt.

He rolled, and turned in the midst of the curl to rocket from the ground and slam into Sariah's body. His sickle-like claws extended, they pierced into her hide. She returned his yowl. But then turned her head, her muzzle curled in a heinous howl of rage. She struck out with a heavy paw and cuffed him upside the head. He spat and snarled, he roared in rage as she followed the paw strike with a lunge of jaws. Once more she bit into him, this time sinking her jagged teeth into the thick skin beneath his mane, above the lower vertebrae of his neck. She shook her head viciously even as she pushed back and to the side with her legs.

The cat came down. Sariah kicked at him, managing to snag his underbelly with her dew claw before she pinned his body between her muscled hind legs. She smacked at his head, again, her right fore leg slipping in the blood on his neck and then over his shoulder blade. The werecat turned under her cage of canine legs, gathered his limbs beneath himself as he tried to buck and dislodge her. Dark laughter burbled in the blood in her mouth as she took the scruff of his neck in her teeth and rode the big cat's body like a canid harpy from hell.

"Here, Kitty Kitty," she growled over his bloodied flesh in her maw.

The cat ceased to struggle. He collapsed beneath her.

"Sariah?" He mewed.

That voice hit Sariah with a physical forced. She released the fold of his neck, his blood mingled with the foam on her muzzle. Her eyes were wide in shock.


The tears which bled from his eyes were answer enough. The love of her life, the werecat whose blood tainted Xander's dominance over her, and the one she thought long slain, lay beneath her. Her heart ached with such a sudden and severe pain that she could not longer hold her canid form. The werewolf body trickled from her. Her ears shrank, her muzzle shortened as the fur fell away to reveal echoed tears upon her own face. One last howl of pain tore at the night, and then Sariah was human and naked beside him once more.

She reached a bloodied hand out to touch his short muzzled snout. "Oh, Stuart… How could this be? Xander killed you…"

"Nay," he grunted in pain. "He tried. My body was dead, it's true; but my heart would not die, not with our love burning there." A muddied paw tapped his chest, above his heart, and then reached for her. Pink hands came up, and caught that paw, turning it so that she might stroke her cheek against it.

Tears fell unchecked from Sariah's amber eyes; they washed the blood from his foot. Her lip trembled. "Stuart…" She whimpered again and again.

"Shhh," he tried to calm her, but the sound was little more than a feline hiss. "Sariah, stop; tears are not necessary. I am here…"

Saturday, March 18, 2006


My girlfriend Abby and I went to a TNA wrestling event last night. Longass car ride, and traffic on this side of the state is just damn scary. Even though we had great road tunes (thanks to my LJ firend codequeen), I was a bundle of nerves until we hit the arena parking lot.

That's when the fun began. We traipsed passed a line of people, and OMFG my first thought was, "Damn they sure grow 'em pretty around here!" Now, I'm not vain, by any means, but DAMN Patchy dyed hair, guys with chin pubes down to the their chest, unkempt hair all around and chicks who look like they got beat with an ugly stick and then dropped out a fucking tree to land on their faces, kids with clothes that looked weekes worth of unclean. That would explain the looks my girlfriend and I kept getting from the waiter at the sports bar. Colin, the waiter was particularly friendly, even served us beers without carding us. I hhaaaadd to drink it then, even though I don't usually consume beer in public, especially with mails of road to go to get home. *"ever dance with the devil in the pale moonlight?" I due, after beer*

But, I digress…

The show fuckin rocked! Never mind the acute lack of intelligence that surrounded us… There is SO much more action, so many more high risk maneuvers. WOW Flying outside the ring, rocketing from the ropes, slamming against the barricades, tables and chairs.

Matches watched were: SharkBoy and Simon Diamond, Sabin versus somebody somewhat local; Rhyno and A1 from Team Canada; Team Canada vs. Insane Clown Posse; AJ Styles and Samoa Joe (in the arena known as Sloppy Joe); Abyss and Sabu (Sabu smashed Abyss' head between a table and a chair and his ass); Christian and JJ, and tag team match up between The Naturals and America's Most Wanted. SharkBoy won, Sabin won, Rhyno won (GORE GORE GORE), ICP won, Samoa won (SUCKED), AMW won, Christian won.

Now, on to the fun stuff… First, the chanting in the arnea. LMFAO They were chanting BROKE BACK MOUN-TAIN during the tagteam match. Somehow, peoples was tossed and flipped and crotch-faced against each other. I laughed so hard I could've cried. Also chants of "This is awesome," and "Holy shit." The guys behind us were most proficient with "holy shit" and anything that had 'f*ck' in it. I really began to wonder about local in-breeding then. Esecially after I turned around. SCARY

Also… WE MET WRESTLERS! After the show, Abby and I went to Bennigan's for something substantial to eat, never mind the fact it was 11 f*ckin 30pm While we were consuming our entrees, in wallks Christian Cage and DumbAss Canadian somebody D'Amore. Well, I couldn't stand it. Someone I've watched for years, right there in the same restaurant?? HELLO I got up and walked over, tapped him and told him, "Great show tonight." He got all smiles and said, "Thank you, thank you very much." I left it at that.

I walked back to my soup and tea. Not much later, AJ Styles walks in, too. He's Abby's favorite. She's all like "OMG..." I told her, "if I can go talk to Christian, the least you can do is go get a closer look." She got up, walked over close and came back with that OMFG look on her face. I threatened to bite her if she didn't go get his autograph. She got a pen from our waiter and went back over. I figured, 'if Abby can get one, so can I.' I walked over, and Abby and I talked to AJ and his dining buddy for a good 5 to 10 minutes. AJ was AWESOME, a real down to earth guy, nice and friendly and very happy to give his autograph.

Abby and I went back to our table when our waiter embarrassed us by bringing our dessert over to us where we were talking with AJ. *I could have died when he brought this big ass bowl of ice cream* I sat there, AJ's auto in my writing journal, and thought, 'dammit I am gonna get Christian's, too.' I sauntered back that way, asked politely, and he gave me his, too. Two autographs in one night!! while, AJ was cool to talk to, Christian was rather meek, and seemed a little hurt that AJ was there, and not with him. That and, the fact that I had AJ's autograph first. Oh well... Not like I have a snowballs chance in hell of seeing him again anyway.

By the time we got back to the room, it was damn near 2am. I don't think I slept more than three hours total between the general excitment and Abby's snoring. I love ya, Abby, but DAMN...

Friday, March 17, 2006

For Lady M...


The air was thin where she climbed. But she didn't care. He was her goal and she would sacrifice breath for his fiery passion. Beneath her foot, the precipice crumbled, and she plummeted from the cliff's face toward the sharp rocks below.

Bitter wind bit her flesh. Her eyes teared. A scream ripped from her throat.

But then, there he was, dragon wings spread wide and he rode the air current beneath her, claws outstretched, talons glinting in the sun. He reached for her. The tips of his claws cut through the fabric of her cloak, yet his hot leathered foot grasped her tight. The cloak fluttered impotently to the ground. Yet, where he took her, there was no need for clothing.

There was a need for nothing more than the forbidden desire which blazed between them.

He curled his foot up tight to his underbelly, shielding her from the wind, exposing her to his reptilian body in its mythic glory. She pressed a cheek to his sleek scaled hide. His heart thundered within his hurtling body, drumming an echo within her own. She could smell his heat, smell his ardor; taste it heavy on the musky air between them.

She inhaled deep the dizzied in the mix of flight, fear and fascination.

His lair lay beneath a shale escarpment. He tucked his large wings tight as he landed, and then deposited her gently to the floor. She lay where he placed her, not wanting to move from his magnificent presence.

He pierced her with his searing gaze. She sighed, arms open in an unspoken beckon.

He came forward, angular head above her body, his jaws snapping away clothing to leave her naked beneath him. His torrid heat radiated, pulsed along her flesh, penetrated to warm her eager body. Her nipples tightened pleasurably. His tongue was upon her, licking, teasing, tempting over her breasts and between her thighs.

He nearly purred. She liked that.

He wrapped his tail around her leg, and pulled gently, opening the path for his decent into decadence. With his body curled above her, he wrapped a breast in his long, forked tongue, bathing her body in his sultry breath. One claw titillated the other nipple. Her eyes rolled closed, her lips parted in a moan.

"Please," she panted. That was all.

In response to her petition, he slid his turgid shaft up her thighs to press against her pursed, begging lips. He shuddered, emitted another purring rumbling as his claw clutched at her body. Her hips rose to meet him, engulfing him in her damp desires. He shuddered once more, and flared his wings open in draconic ecstasy.

Such a passioned pace he rode within her. Her thighs trembled, her breath caught in her throat. Once more, dragon tongue across her nipples. She groaned as her body succumbed to his bestial pleasures, reveled in his sharp teeth and blazing breath. He arched his back, driving deep into her, one claw braced against the floor as his wings flapped the scent of their passion to the hillsides.

A backdraft of blazoned bliss washed through her. Breath came and went in musked moans, as she slid a hand down her own body, to tease that point which his claw did not. He responded by crouching there, claws beneath her knees, he lifted her ass, pressed their pleasure closer to him and deeper in her. Her hand fell. His dexterous tail took its place.

She groaned. So, did he.

His claws clenched atop a boulder, showering her in sparks which bounced from his dragon hide. She was so close to orgasm -- one more touch of his tail, one more sliding ride within her. He heard her unspoken need, and responded, giving them both to heathen heaven. His ultimate pleasure erupted in a roar of scorching flame even as she loosed an orgasmic wail.

"Virgin sacrifice no more," he mocked.

Friday, March 10, 2006


Well, some of you may know that I had my pub date moved back with Samhain. It's now in December. Maybe not the best tactical move, as far as release date for this year, but I sure the hell didn't want anything getting put out that was less than my best. My editor and publisher jumped at the chance to get their claws into a piece of work with my current voice, so they gave me the time. (Forces one to wonder, am I really that good now, or was it that bad?? But, it wasn't that bad, or they wouldn't have bought it...)

However, this puts me in damn good standing to get an early print release next year, as SP is currently working with Lightning Source to get the books to print. And Since BORDERS just bought up 700 copies of SP's newest releases looks like my novel will actually, OMFG, be on bookstore shelves next spring!!!!

I know you cannot see it, but I am happy dancing here.

But, of course, y'all know by know that I like dancing... :)

Tuesday, March 07, 2006


**WARNING: if you don't like dark, ick, gore, blood, or viciousness, you might want to walk away now. This is not my normal erotica.**

The street was dark. But, it didn't matter, Sariah's night vision was exemplary. He hadn't a chance in hell, and that was exactly what she brought him. He deserved it after such treatment. Snout to the ground she tracked him into that alley; dank, dirty, yet his scent fouled everything.

Her claws scraped the ground as she stalked toward where he cowered. Her muscles tensed beneath her tawny hide, her muzzle curled in a silent snarl as she drew in snoutfuls of his fear. She growled, low and long, and then tipped her nose to the moon and loosed a raged howl.

He trembled so that his shoulders rattled the boxes beneath which he hid. She crouched, a yard away, and then lunged. He fled, running toward the blocked dead end with Sariah snapping at his scurrying flesh.

"Here, Boy," she mocked between pointed predator fangs.

He jumped up, trying to climb the short wall between him and an unanswered prayer for freedom. She circled in agitation beneath his kicking feet, paced with vengeance in each set and swipe of paw. The wall gave no purchase beneath his scrabbling fingers; flesh left behind in the pitted brick surface. She laughed, a sick barking sound in the lonesome dark.

"Oh, now," she teased, "don't hurt yourself – that's my job..."

He crashed down onto his ass. Her hind legs bunched, Sariah launched herself at her prey. She slammed into his chest with a crash of bone and brick. Claws pierced between ribs, punctured a lung, as his skull rocked back to leave a bloody smear, bits of scalp showing through on the wall behind his head. His hands flew up to protect his face, yet they were scant defense against her Were frenzy. She smacked his forearm hard enough to break the ulna and his nose with the secondary contact. Blood gushed from his flattened face as he yowled in pain.

His flimsy human legs flopped and kicked beneath, and between, her heavily muscled hind legs. A knee even came up and crashed her rib cage. Sariah let out a short yelp. The fury she felt before was nothing in comparison to the blind rage she succumbed to. She sank her long fangs into his throat, encompassing the greater part of his neck with her jagged jaws. Paws braced on the ground and the wall behind him, she shook him savagely, growling as she did until the fight left him to the chorus of cracking, crunching vertebrae. He slumped against the wall, a sloppy sack of skin and tissue.

Sariah ripped out his throat and spat the meat into his face. She buried her muzzle in his guts, eviscerated him even as her flaying claws sliced flesh from his still limbs. Then, as final insult Sariah bit into his foot, dragged the carcass down flat on the ground, and desecrated the corpse. She squatted over his gaping abdomen, and pissed strong musky urine.

She kicked dirt into his raw wounds.

"Fuck you," she growled.

Saturday, March 04, 2006

Occular Cacophony

The circus with my 10-year old daughter. Should be fun, right? HELL NO! Don't get me wrong. Spending time with Kat is cool, she's a unique individual... But OMG Kids, parents, smells, sounds, jostling, lights, sounds, wires, sounds... Funny, because I LOVE a rock concert live, but I hate the noises at a circus.

Slow death of consciousness.

Half way through the first part, my teeth are on edge. Lobes are throbbing. Eyes accosted by four strobe lights on the floor, two disco balls on the ceiling, myriad lite-up wand souve-f*ckin-neirs waving every where. Loud, cheeztastic music and acrobatics. Shoot me now. There are only so many sinous supple bodies one wants to see in choreographed contortions. Even for an erotic writer! I mean -- Okay, so you can put your ass on your head, that's talent. But, do we need to see three women side-by-side-by-side with their asses on their heads?? NO While we're at it, add a ring of skinny bitches squiggling in hoola hoops whilst more skinny bitches swing from their necks two stories up. At each end! Oy. Bullet in the brainpan. Squish.

Then we can traipse the smelly, trained equines, camels and pachyderms through the rings. Let's all watch them dance beneath a whip, jump through rings aflame. A kid behind us squeals, "Ew, he's pooping!" Wonderful aroma after that! Add singed sinuses to the headache and eye trauma.

But, we're not done! Flipping, flopping, tights wearing foreigners. Yay.

Oo! How about dudes on dirt bikers expelling noxious fumes into a closed environment?! Yippee-f*cking-skippe.

Best part, aside from learning Kat was as bored as me?? I got to see skinny bitches swing from their necks two stories up. They didn't fall. Dammit.