A Demonic Romance (Deluxe489 & Jezabelle)
<h1 id="title">Elliquiy Role Playing Forums</h1>
		<h2 id="linktree">Play-By-Post: Bondage, D/s, S&amp;M =&gt; Bondage: Exotic Solos =&gt; Topic started by: Deluxe489 on 28-01-2013, 10:15:12</h2>
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				Title: <strong>A Demonic Romance (Deluxe489 &amp; Jezabelle)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Deluxe489</strong> on <strong>28-01-2013, 10:15:12</strong>
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				<div class="spoiler_container"><div onclick="hideSecond (this);" role="button" class="spoiler_header">Amelia</div><div class="spoiler_body">(http://i.imgur.com/KjSHUYS.png)</div></div><br><em>Current name: Amelia Wyght (true name to be revealed)<br><br>Age: 27<br><br>Height: 5'10"<br></em><br><br>Wandering the streets alone at night was never a good idea. Even in modestly-sized cities, light pollution blocked out almost all ambient starlight, making it that much more difficult to navigate darkened streets and alleys. The darkness wreathed familiar roads in indiscernible shade, made every corner deeper, and hid landmarks as well as it hid ditches and broken pavement. To someone not yet intimately familiar with their city's layout, walking around past sundown could feel like wandering an entirely different place.<br><br>Of course, the greatest danger that the black sky hid was not the everyday and familiar turned dark, but rather the predators that left their lairs to prey on their peers when they were most vulnerable. At night, when everyone else was asleep, there was nobody to notice one person's muffled gasp of surprise, see a struggling figure dragged into unfrequented alleys past boarded-up shops and doors, and disappear into the night.<br><br>In the panicked moments that followed, when a prepared attacker pounced on an unsuspecting victim, having rudimentary training or holding a weapon could be nothing more than an ineffective reassurance. All it took was a single split moment to be disarmed or restrained, and suddenly the defender was as helpless as anyone else. If they were lucky, they walked away, shaken and robbed, but alive. If they were unlucky, they would eventually be found, not necessarily the next day or even the next week, deeply traumatized or dead. <br><br>It was deeply unfair. It opened the floodgates to despair and post-traumatic stress and could shatter lives, especially if the victims were later blamed for their own attack for choosing to go where they did. <br><br>Sometimes, however, on rare occasions, it didn't have to turn out that way. Sometimes, the victim could run away. Sometimes, they could even turn the tables on their attackers. And, in one woman's case, the attacker would never even stand a chance. <br><br>Amelia stood up from her kill. Beneath her, her rapist lay unmoving, wide eyes unseeing, mouth open, his face a mixture of shock and panic. His trousers were lowered halfway to his knee, his genitals exposed for the world to see. He had no marks of restraint on him; she had had only to wait for him to get a few thrusts in when he'd attack before his legs had suddenly buckled in weakness. From there, it had been child's play to push him to the ground, almost as if he were a rag doll, to land in an undignified and powerless heap. <br><br>He'd looked up at her, confusion and fear in his eyes, mouth working dumbly to form inarticulate sounds. In the darkened alley, the only illumination came from the waning gibbous moon, but even that minimal light had been enough for him to see the horns beginning to curl out of her head and the wings starting to unfurl from her back. She liked to imagine that when she had delicately stepped forward to claim her prize, the light had hit her face just so for him to see her glowing red eyes, brought out by the sexual contact, but that was only fantasy; she had no way to know for sure. <br><br>She'd lowered herself onto him, her movements deceptively gentle, like two lovers in the sanctity of their bedroom. She had no reason not to take her time; he was powerless, and she would ensure he remained so for the rest of his greatly shortened life. She'd savored the feeling of penetration, let out soft moans as she slid up and down his length, sighed in pleasure as she felt him convulsing underneath her in his last throes. His seed had shot into her, and if he hadn't already been overcome by the sensation, she would have had to cover his mouth as his very essence, his force of life, was painfully sucked out of him and into her via a stream of semen that lasted longer than all the others he'd had in his life combined. When every last drop had finally left him and been absorbed into her hungry body, she was finished and he was dead.<br><br>Amelia calmly pulled up her underwear and then her skirt, feeling reinvigorated from the absorbed energy. This wasn't the first time she'd been raped in these circumstances while walking home -not that she actively looked for such encounters. If anything, it was annoying to have to keep killing off these otherwise worthless degenerates, as it increased the chances of her pursuers taking note and coming to investigate her current city. On the other hand, she was doing a favor to the world, killing them, and it sure felt a whole lot less conflicting using them for nutrition instead of the countless innocents whose lives she'd already cut short. <br><br>Still, no use contemplating the past. What was done was done. She stretched, her wingtips unfurling to their full, considerable length. Amelia started walking away, leaving the corpse behind for someone else to find. Disposing of bodies was not something she was very good at, despite how useful such a skill would be to someone like her, and she saw no convenient options nearby. At least the other times there had been rivers or forests to hide the piece of human trash. Even a trash compactor once, though that had left a bad taste in her mouth. She checked both sides of the streets as she emerged from the alley; it wouldn't do to be seen while it was still difficult to retract her wings and horns.<br><br>If she was lucky, they wouldn't put it in the news; every time they did, they inevitably announced it as a case of a rapist getting a heart attack in the middle of the deed, and it was a dead give-away to her presence in a city. It had gotten to the point where if she saw mention of a case like that in the news, whether it was attributable to her, she packed her bags and left immediately without so much as a notice; she knew for a fact that her demonic hunters would be all over the city within a few days.<br><br>She kept her wings folded close to her body. It would take time before she could retract them completely, but it would at least make her less conspicuous that way. She sorely missed the days when she could spread her wings without a care and fly in the magic-laden currents of her home, but those days were long past. For now, at least, she amended. A bitter look passed across her face. It had been so long, and the time so tedious and unrewarding since then, that it was starting to feel like nothing she could do would ever see her back home.<br><br>Before she could dwell on those thoughts, her ears picked out the faint but unmistakable sounds of a scuffle. Her interest piqued, she changed course, heading towards the sound, keeping close to the protective cover of darkness, hiding her presence.
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				Title: <strong>Re: A Demonic Romance (Deluxe489 &amp; Jezabelle)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Jezabelle</strong> on <strong>01-02-2013, 05:26:06</strong>
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				<div class="spoiler_container"><div onclick="hideSecond (this);" role="button" class="spoiler_header">Jaeden</div><div class="spoiler_body">(http://img.izismile.com/img/img3/20100225/most_beautiful_men_25.jpg)</div></div><br><em><span class="bbc_u">Name</span>, Jaeden Pilch;</em><br><em>in, trouble.</em><br><br>Outnumbered three-to-one, Jaeden wasn't sure he'd have been able to get himself out of this one alone. His assailants didn't seem to have a reason to be attacking him; however, they hardly needed one. He'd simply been the right person around at the wrong time, and he was about to pay for it. Already he'd been struck several times, and his back to a locked metal door next to a dumpster it seemed like the situation was dire. At this point he was beginning to rationalize, <em>they just want my money</em>, he told himself-- but he had offered them money. They weren't interested.<br><br>One, a tall man with long, blonde hair lunged forward. Each wore black leather jackets, and from their posture and tattoos he assumed they were a member of some violent gang if not outright white supremesists. Perhaps he hadn't been quite Aryan enough for them walking down the street. The first would have had his stomach if Jaeden hadn't thrown himself into the side of the dumpster quickly. <br><br>Hitting the dumpster hurt, and he hardly had time to realize before another of the men connected a kick to his ribs. Cornered, he cried out one last time:<br><br>"HELP!"<br><br>Knowing somehow none would come he wrapped himself around the man who'd lead the charge and was just done recovering from his miss-blow. Tightening his arms around the man's throat Jaeden received a swift elbow to the ribs that sent him out onto the ground where the third man took a good kick at his side. Already tired and hit previously, he had no way out of the alley and could hardly fight back. He groped for any kind of an angle, simply because it didn't seem like these men were going to stop until he was utterly broken. In retrospect, his last bout of breath might have been better used to distract his foes: however, it was too late for that now.<br><br>Catching the third man's foot the leader with the blonde mullet dove atop him, and a knee was on his gut as a fist met his face. Pain started to blind introspection as he thrashed to little visible effect against his assailant and subconsciously hoped for salvation.
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				Title: <strong>Re: A Demonic Romance (Deluxe489 &amp; Jezabelle)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Deluxe489</strong> on <strong>02-02-2013, 01:01:52</strong>
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				<div class="quoteheader"><div class="topslice_quote">Quote</div></div><blockquote class="bbc_standard_quote">"HELP!"</blockquote><div class="quotefooter"><div class="botslice_quote"></div></div><br>Hidden beneath her blonde hair, Amelia's sharp ears twitched at the clear shout. The sounds of a scuffle were becoming easier to distinguish as she slunk forward through the shadows, blood-red eyes perceptively assessing her surroundings. She must be getting close. A stray cat jumped with fright and ran away at her approach. Only a few turns later, she found herself at the scene. She lurked in the darkness, hidden behind a wall, as she carefully picked out what was going on.<br><br>Three men were clustered around a dumpster, moving around. No, not three -four men. Her eyes narrowed once she spotted the last man get thrown to the ground. It was hard to make out details amidst the excitement and low light, but she couldn't miss the flash of blond hair atop the head of one of the other three men as he pummeled the one on the floor.<br><br>The cowardly preying on the weak. How typical. It was a behavior that had existed even back in her home, in a different plane of existence, but on this planet it seemed magnified tenfold. It had been disturbing, in her first few weeks and months, to observe such widespread, callous, and brutal behavior. Her nature, however, had not allowed her to stay away from such sights of barbarity, and over time she'd become desensitized to them. Granted, she thought as she slid out of her hiding spot, she could always be mistaken. For all she knew, the man on the ground was a criminal, and his assailants his past victims. Possible, but a doubtful conclusion; the more she watched, the more it became clear that the attackers were gang members, and the victim's common street clothes spoke volumes about his association with them. Her presence still unknown, her wings slowly unfurled, and her eyes began to glow with magic.<br><br>Amelia was hardly a defender of the innocent or defenseless. In fact, although she'd recently started changing, the majority of her victims had been the innocent and defenseless. She'd helped people before, even saved some from death or fates worse than death. And then, of course, she'd consumed their souls. At first, she had tried to justify it as behavior that would have been commonplace on this plane anyway. She was just one more participant. Eventually, though, it had started catching up to her. She would not deny the necessity of her actions, but she didn't want to be any more of a murderer than she needed to be. She was at least that empathetic.<br><br>Amelia stopped a few feet away from the group. The man on the floor received a knee to the gut and a fist to the face, and she felt a twinge of sympathy. At the moment, there was no ulterior motive for her desire to help. She'd already had her fill moments ago; there was no need to preserve the victim or attackers for herself. One of the men finally spotted her. His mouth opened to say something, but the world would never know what. In the next instant, the three men instantly froze up. A deceptively delicate arm came upward, hand cupped and palm out. Like puppets responding to her motions, the three levitated off the ground, floating higher, higher, higher, and then across the building.<br><br>She released her hold, and with terrified screams, the men fell. A few seconds later, three soft <em>whumps</em> told her all she needed to know. Three dead, and with no blood or bodies to disturb the victim. And, it just occurred to her, perhaps with this the media might focus less on the other body she had left behind. She turned to the last man, then smiled, fangs showing.<br><br>"Hello. My name is Amelia." She extended her hand. "What is your name?"
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