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Desire's Cruelty: A True Romance Angelus had found the hairbrush for her in Milan; it had the tarnished patina of a treasured family heirloom, something that belonged to the grande bourgeoisie, a Milanese merchant family, or perhaps diminished gentry. Darla had rewarded her darling boy quite appropriately for the gift, even as the uselessness of the heavy mirror had occasionally quite vexed the blonde vampiress to tears, blows, and harsh words. With Angelus now gone from her forever, Darla could no longer bear the sight of the beautiful accoutrements that marked their lengthy tenure together. However, she could no more give away such expensive gifts than she could accept the emasculated husk of her Angelus into her presence. Some evenings, she would send William to pawn the least of the trinkets; and then, driven into a frenzy, would slaughter the pawnbroker and his family to retrieve her lost treasures. Such behavior was unconscionable! Darla's pedigree was above reproach. She was of the Order of Aurelius, three hundred years to her credit and still well-beloved of the Master. To find herself made low by her own whelp...it was not to be borne! These thoughts would send Darla into a storm of weeping, and William, who retained his petit-bourgeois bearing, would wander off, smirking about womanish ways. As though the vermin should say a word, the little sentimentalist. Still, it was impossible that she relinquish her beautiful things, even though to carry these marks of Angelus' favor was equally odious. How could she do either? "Grandmummy," pierced the high whine of Drusilla's voice. "Might we go out and play tonight? I'm ever so hungry and Spike is weary of being shut up in mourning." Darla regally lifted her visage from her arms. "My dear, you may do as you wish when you wish," she lied. "If you are hungry, eat. If Spike is weary, amuse him. It's no difference to me what trivial antics you and that creature find yourself in while I weep." Drusilla's eyes, already overly large, widened further, and like a sentimental daughter, she fell at her grandsire's knees, clasping them 'round with a low cry. "O! Grandmummy!" "Well it may be for you to cry," Darla said sharply, annoyed by the sudden display. "You've that low creature to pleasure your urges. I have been left utterly bereft, with nothing better than trinkets--" She raised the heavy silver hairbrush, suddenly infuriated by the very sight of the pathetic girl at her feet, and let fly her unlikely weapon. The resounding thud! as the brush met Drusilla's cheek stirred the dormant needs in Darla's breast. "Wicked, ungrateful girl," she hissed, desire rising in her heart as Drusilla cried out. "Rutting when you see me so clearly in need..." Wetness began to gather in Darla's curls as Drusilla lifted her bruised face, eyes wet with tears. "I'm sorry...I didn't think..." she babbled. "Must I be punished?" A flame of need welled up Darla's spine, a lascivious smile curling onto her face as she imagined the uses of her Angelus' discarded toys for her pleasure. The hairbrush would leave lovely marks on Drusilla's thighs and arse....make her think twice before coupling so noisily with William a'nights....and oh, the pretty ways Dru mewled when she was aching with desire and begging for another blow. It would soothe the insult of being left like so much rubbish. If Angelus saw fit to leave her these items, then Darla would treat them as Angelus had treated her -- rawly. And first, of course, was Angelus' bastard child, the madwoman he had inflicted on Darla. Darla could feel her wetness staining her chair, the idea was so delightsome. O, he would wish that he had not abandoned her. "Get on your knees, girl," Darla said, knocking Drusilla on her back with a well-placed blow. "If you please me, I may not be so severe with the punishment." Drusilla got to her knees and crawled to Darla's skirts, eager-eyed. So typical of the child....any bully made her hot with carnality. If Darla would give her cruelty, Drusilla would lap it up like a kitten. "How may I please you?" Drusilla asked, lifting the hems of Darla's voluminous skirts. Darla slapped her hands away, an idea burning in her mind like wildfire. "I said on your knees. Hands and knees. I believe a spanking is in order." Lifting the silver hairbrush, Darla felt her spirits lift slightly. She'd show Angelus; she didn't need him to find her pleasures. Not in one particular. |
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