Lilith Chronicles: The Burgundy Incident

It was an old brickwork apartment building. At the front door their was a buzzer and a video camera. As I extended a finger toward the button, the door clicked and opened. In front of me was a long, doorless hallway; at the end of it, a dimly lit staircase. "Does she own this building?" I wondered. It seemed almost vacant. I walked up one flight of stairs and then another. The wall lamps looked as though they'd been converted from old gaslights. At the top of the staircase was yet another solid hallway. "Who would build something like this?" I said to myself, under breath. At the end of the poorly lit hallway was a heavy wooden door. I knocked and it seemed to drift open. There she stood in an emroidered black silken robe. "Please come in," she said without emotion. As I entered I turned back to shut the door but, as I touched it, it seemed to anticipate my intent and swung closed with impossible ease. I turned to face her again and the robe was at her feet. She was wearing only a pair of panties that looked as though they were made to match the dress she wore earlier at the club. Her skin was a smooth and flawless golden cream. Her breasts were small and perfect. Despite my arousal, I couldn't help but notice that there was now something strong and dark about her. She looked deep into my eyes through her shining, narrow pools of blackness. "I'm very specific about my wants and the prerequisites for satisfying them," she said to me, and cocked her head to the side with a reptile's smile flickering over her lips. Her silken black hair shifted over her left shoulder. Her skin tone came alive as it mingled with the candlelight. The incence she burned was musky yet flowery--like burning fruit candy. It was unmistakable...this was the intoxicating sweetness of opium. A very convincing imitation. In the candlelight my eyes played tricks on me: at times she herself seemed to flicker like the flame of a candle--some undulating spirit swathed in gentle shadows. I felt a lightness in the center of my being and began to feel as if the atmosphere were moving through me. The aroma of smouldering poppies hung heavy in the air and, as I tasted the bittersweetness accumulating in my mouth through shallow breaths, I realized that this was not merely a clever blend of perfumed oils. "How are you feeling?" she asked, drifting toward me silently; her lips moist and ever so slightly parted. She looked to my midsecton and extended her hand toward my zipper. Her hand was small and soft, like everything else about her body. Her fingers were slender and tapered--the sharpness of their tips exaggerated by pointed, burgundy-coated fingernails. Her presence seemed to suggest that her human form had been molded around the essence of a cat. She sank down and brought herself to eye level with the zipper as she slowly coaxed it open in a singular fluid motion. You could hear each fastened pair of teeth popping free, one after another, in deliberate succession. She grinned with a sinister tension at the cheeks and fixed her eyes on mine from below. They were somehow full with emptiness: capsules of concentrated space. They drew me in and I felt as though I were falling...my knees weakened and my legs quivered. I instinctively reached to my side to brace myself against something, but nothing was there. My head felt heavy and, for a moment, I left myself...only to fall abruptly back into equilibrium. It was not unlike waking from one dream into another. "Let's see...what...you've got," she whispered breathily, with a subtle raise of her eyebrow. She reached into my pants with cold hands that felt as though they were normally used for disemboweling something. Her claws searched gently around in my shorts like rigid tentacles. In one hand she held my scrotum and it's contents...in the other my erecting penis. She pulled them out over the band of my boxers and my unfastned pants fell to mid thigh, exposing me completely. I could feel the heat of throbbing blood flow contrasted against cool exposure. Those eyes of hers fixed on my manhood: it felt insignificant against her infinite gaze. She paused in mid motion, her shoulders tensed and still. Her face went plain and she flashed her eyes into mine again. Her delicate upper lip twitched into a vague curl and then broadened into a sneer. She pulled her head back and released an audible hiss from between her teeth. Her eyes narrowed: projecting bitter disgust while at the same time smiling with something distant and sadistic. "Ha! You thought *what* bringing *this* into *my* home?" She rolled her eyes and lowered her head, shaking it side to side dismissively while forcing out a broken, mocking laugh. "Maybe you just don't get it. Do you think women like me settle for mediocre little *pricks*?" She grabbed it around the base, as if she were wringing the neck of a chicken. "Oh! That's really something!" she said in the most sarcastic tone imaginable while exaggerating facial expressions of false amazement. Her face went tense and her eyes pierced my flesh like the talons of a predatory bird. Behind the mask of the china doll was something primal and frightening. Her face relaxed and she raised her eyebrows and batted her eyelids in saccharine cuteness. She jerked twice on my cock and opened her mouth. I felt uneasy and confused, but completely aroused. Immediately, she ran it into her mouth and down her throat, her teeth edging into the flesh of my pelvis. She looked up at me with counterfeit sweetness, then widened her eyes even further, batting them like Shirley Temple while shaking her head and sounding out a sing-songy "ho-hum" from deep in her chest; I was hidden down her throat. She pulled away and let it flop out into the chill of the air that surrounded her. "Did you see? All gone, without so much as a gag. Nothing. You are nothing, your cock is nothing." She peered condecsendingly downward at my quivering rod, looked up at me again and spit on it. She then dragged her wrist and the back of her hand over her mouth and spit once again...this time into my face. She stood up, smiled warmly, pulled back her adorable little foot, and let rage wash over her face just long enough to kick me in the balls as hard as she could. As I doubled over in total agony, she fastened something around my wrist with a click, yanked my hand away from my tortured nuts and fastened it to a chair bolted into the floor. "Just wait right here while I get some things, Mr. Wee-Wee." The room resonted with a shallow, breathy roar--as if I were trapped in a giant seashell. Only a minute or two passed before she returned with a leopard skin doctor's bag. She was now completely nude, and her long hair had apparently been a wig. Her real hair was short and spikey. "Most everything we'll need is right here," she said, patting the clasp almost erotically. The tip of her tounge was pressed against the inside of her teeth. She let loose with her saccharine giggle again. She stalked toward me shifting the soft edges of her hip bones from side to side. Through the gap between her thighs I could see her small shaven pussy undulate with every step. Her clit was stiff and darkened. She sauntered over to me and let the bag drop onto the chair. She tilted her head and furrowed her brow: "Is everything all right?" I knew there wouldn't be any sense in answering that. She wasn't really even asking a question. Beyond this, my head was in a narcotic fog and trying to speak didn't seem particularly appealing at the time. "First of all, let's give you a little idea of where you're at," she said, opening the clasp and reaching into the bag. She withdrew something long and narrow wrapped in black velvet. As she unwrapped it, I could see it was a ruler. An unusual ruler. The section below the 7 inch mark was pink plastic, but the rest of the 12 inches was dark wood with engraved numbers. At the end of the ruler, a 1 inch silver plate had been added with a calligraphic "13" stamped into it. She held it in her right hand and rested the opposite end in her left palm. "You see," she said, "if your dick terminates in the pink area, it's useless to me. I'm sure you've measured it before, haven't you?" She raised her left foot forward with feline grace and spread her toes as she rested them against my testicles. She pointed her perfect burgundy toenails forward and ran her small toe slowly up the underside of my cock until she came to the hole at the tip of my glans. She wielded pure sexual power. At her whim, I was throbbing: almost painfully erect. "Let's measure, then, shall we?" She pushed my shoulder back, gesturing for me to stand up straight. With her right she ran the ruler up the top side of my cock until it just barely touched my pubic area. With her left, she ran along the underside: pressing firm and straightening it against the pink plastic. "You are just barely 6 inches long. Barely even that. 1 full inch short of being worth anything whatsoever. I'll bet you've thought of it as 'big' before, though, haven't you...haven't you? Let me tell you something. By no one's standards is 6 inches 'big.' For even desperate little mousey bitches without options, it's 'adequate' at best. However, no one, and I mean NO ONE, would ever prefer your pathetic, boring cock over something bigger and better." She paused, glaring at me with her full lips pursed into a slit. "Or maybe you don't like my measuring technique. It isn't fair right? Because when you fuck, you're up against something that pushes the flesh back: so you *really* have more available than it looks like, huh? Trust me...I've heard it all from you pinkie dicks. Like there's another six inches covered by the layer of fat on your pelvis." Her eyes smiled their sinister smile as she shook her head and sneered. "Let's try it your way, then. To the root." She jammed the end of the ruler deep into my pelvis. It felt for a moment like she tore the suspensory ligament. I wanted to double over in pain, but she blocked my chest with her shoulders as she leaned over my cock, measuring. "Oh! Six-and-three-quarters now! Almost, huh? Too bad it's only 'pretend' length." She tilted her head back and to the side--peering at me through half-closed lids. "Oh, I know what you're thinking. I'm a little Asian girl: how much can I possibly take? I *must* be small inside. I *must* have a tight little 'China-girl' pussy. Well, I do, Wee-Wee. If I want to, I can snap baby carrots with a twist of my hips. But baby carrots don't *fill me up*, now do they? Here. Allow me to illustrate the issue, mister baby carrot..." With deliberate swiftness she wrenched my balls in her left hand while jutting her right knee into my left side. I fell to my right, breathless and half-draped over the seat of the chair. "Sit down correctly, please," she said in a little girl's tone. I was breathless and cramped, but I managed to situate myself squarely on the chair. If not just to catch my breath. "You're about to understand quite clearly that my pretty little pussy is not the problem here." She stood to my right side and brought her right leg up over me. The candlelight cast shadows between tendons; just beneath her soft exterior was a fair amount of muscle. She lowered her foot to the floor and positioned her perfect anatomy over my throbbing disappointment. Slowly she lowered, staring through my eyes and into my mind. I watched her descending carnivorous flower, but her gaze was fixed and omnipresent. I could not ignore that I was just a visiting mouse in the housecat's domain. Her moist labia paused at first contact with my throbbing tip. With each beat of my heart, my glans touched and retouched the warm slickness. She settled her hips slowly, taking me in inch by inch. Inside she felt like stacked rings of hot, wet, contracting flesh. She would pause and tighten slightly every other moment, and it would feel like the head of my cock was being passed through a small and swollen wound. She had absolute control of every single muscle inside her. She nestled her pussy onto my pelvis. "Oh. Here we are already. You've never felt *tight* before, have you little man? This is the kind of pussy girls like me never waste on dicks like yours. I'm not even going to ask you how you like it, because the answer to that is written all over your face." She tightened every muscle inside her like a noose, and shifted her hips slightly to the side. She was tugging at the ligament. you know I could fuck you up, don't you Mr. Baby Carrot? I could break every blood vessel in your pretend three-quarters." She sat and looked at me, blinking. She was letting her position in the situation sink in for me. "You know, clits and G-spots are wonderful things, granted, but those aren't my sweetest spots at all. My preferred zone is deep--I'm a cervix kinda girl. I want a big...thick...*cock* that will stretch my muscles for me and push that sweetest button. Do you feel like you're stretching my muscles, Mr. Baby Carrot?" She tightened. "Well, maybe you can fuck deep enough to fill me, then, huh? Fill up my little Asian cleft? Here, show me you can do it." She threw her right leg back over while scissoring her left leg across from the other side to face away from me. She relaxed her pussy and slipped off to stand in front of the chair. In my haze, the chain of movement was barely comprehensible. She straightened her legs and crossed her ankles. Her ass was almost unnaturally perfect in form. She bent forward and raised her arms as if she were a ballerina taking a bow. "Stand up. Put your free hand on my hip and fuck me. Deep." I stood up and my head buzzed. I fumbled forward to put my hand on her hip. She spread her legs apart, rested her hands on her thighs, and arched her back. "Deep," she repeated. I penetrated her and realized from this vantage point that I'd never felt something so good in all my life. It was just me and her body--her eyes of smouldering black coal were pointed elsewhere. I started to pump her. "No. Deep, I said." I thrust my hips forward and tried to angle up into her. "Come on. Fuck me *deep*." I pulled her hip toward me and slammed into her jiggling buttocks as hard as I could. She tensed her outer vaginal muscles and relaxed her deeper ones. The head of my cock touched nothing. "It's right up there. Fuck it!" I couldn't hit anything. She sighed roughly through her teeth. "Get your worthless little pinkie dick out of me, Mr. Baby Carrot," she said in a cool, sobering voice. I felt useless. I stepped back and let it slide out into the cold, dim atmosphere. I could puke or cry or both. She bent down further and picked up the ruler. She turned toward me with her arm obscuring her face below the eyes and her elbow angled toward me. The ruler was gripped tightly in her raised hand, hovering over her shoulder. Everything was in slow-motion. In one fell swoop she brought the ruler down and whacked my tip with the cold number 13. My entire cock vibrated with searing pain. "It can't bring me pleasure and it just brings you pain," she said matter-of-factly. "An inferior man with an inferior dick. Have you ever wondered what it would be like to have a real cock, Whittle Weenie?" She stepped over toward a small round table half-shrouded in darkness. I could barely make out a glint of light. She bent at the knees and raised the object up like she was holding the handle of a teacup. It was a tiny silver bell.

(Continued)