was powerful, and overruling everything I wanted for us.
Be free and explore the nature of the beast inside was always what I thought we should be doing, but the more we unleashed the more dangerous and threatening for us the world became.
Cereus was sloppy and detached from her psyche when she let the beast free so she wouldn’t remember ever doing it. Taking away guilt and consequence for herself, she would create imaginary friends who helped her cope and deal with what she is, but they were fading now and the more lucid she became, the more she craved the beast’s persona, and the more a danger to herself, to us she became.
This was a problem and soon we were having to move on, from place to place at a faster rate and change our identities again.
My sweet, precious Cereus was getting out of control, and control was never something I ever wanted to constrict her with. Giving her a rein was as bad as putting a noose around her pretty, delicate neck - or my own come to think of it.
I needed another outlet for her, a way for her to express the need and fill it without the mess to clean up afterwards, so a few months ago I introduced her to a fetish club, one for the truly depraved, the darker clubs only the elite sick fucks know about and gain access to. It was also for the wealthy, it held a hefty fine if you went too far in a scene but cleaned up any mess or accidents that happened and that’s where she met Georgina … the woman laying next to me.
FOUR MONTHS AGO
Three years and I was still in awe of my sweet Cereus. She was the epitome of beauty, and lurking under all that exquisiteness was a dark monster consuming her at every opportunity. One connected with my own, craving blood, sin and debauchery.
A real smile touches my lips as I watch her sketch frantically on the pad. She was still addicted to drawing my image. What she gained from them I don’t know. She had me now, had for three years and nothing would ever change that, not even death.
I’d learned a lot in my eighteen years at Blue Water Institution. Patience was one, and how to quell those impulse urges, unlike my Cereus. Damn if someone looked at her wrong I would be reading about them in the news or finding them myself and yet she still wouldn’t own the kill. Her brain struggled to contain the knowledge she wouldn’t face, it taunted her in her sleeping hours, and even some of her waking hours. I was losing her to daydreams more and more often.
“It’s too hot,” a child complains to her mother as they pass us.
She was right, it was ridiculous.
We’d been sitting outside this restaurant for an age and still hadn’t been served our drinks. I was beginning to debate slitting the throat of the old hag on the table closest to us just so I could get my lips around the glass of water she’s drinking.
I didn’t like the heat; it made everyone clumsy, tired and sweaty and me a little reckless. My eyes draw to a fat fuck scoffing down his steak like it’s a McDonald’s hamburger. No one savored anything these days; I would savor gutting him like a fish, a big overweight fish. Urgh, I was irritable.
I hated being around people, it brought out the killer in me and when we were surrounded by people, also known as witnesses, that was never a good combo. I only brought Cereus places to eat because she didn’t like to cook and I hated cooking when it was so fucking hot, we could fry our food on the hood of the car - it would cook quicker than they take here.
My eyes dart from place to place, a woman in a bikini she had no business being in was running, letting it all hang out for the world to see. Why should my eyes be subjected to this?
Everyone wore hardly anything whenever the sun would shine, like it was acceptable to put our eyes through the painful visual of saggy ass flaps hanging from bikini bottoms and those fake round balls people called tits these days on nearly every woman, even the old decrepit ones. Why did women think that was
Be free and explore the nature of the beast inside was always what I thought we should be doing, but the more we unleashed the more dangerous and threatening for us the world became.
Cereus was sloppy and detached from her psyche when she let the beast free so she wouldn’t remember ever doing it. Taking away guilt and consequence for herself, she would create imaginary friends who helped her cope and deal with what she is, but they were fading now and the more lucid she became, the more she craved the beast’s persona, and the more a danger to herself, to us she became.
This was a problem and soon we were having to move on, from place to place at a faster rate and change our identities again.
My sweet, precious Cereus was getting out of control, and control was never something I ever wanted to constrict her with. Giving her a rein was as bad as putting a noose around her pretty, delicate neck - or my own come to think of it.
I needed another outlet for her, a way for her to express the need and fill it without the mess to clean up afterwards, so a few months ago I introduced her to a fetish club, one for the truly depraved, the darker clubs only the elite sick fucks know about and gain access to. It was also for the wealthy, it held a hefty fine if you went too far in a scene but cleaned up any mess or accidents that happened and that’s where she met Georgina … the woman laying next to me.
FOUR MONTHS AGO
Three years and I was still in awe of my sweet Cereus. She was the epitome of beauty, and lurking under all that exquisiteness was a dark monster consuming her at every opportunity. One connected with my own, craving blood, sin and debauchery.
A real smile touches my lips as I watch her sketch frantically on the pad. She was still addicted to drawing my image. What she gained from them I don’t know. She had me now, had for three years and nothing would ever change that, not even death.
I’d learned a lot in my eighteen years at Blue Water Institution. Patience was one, and how to quell those impulse urges, unlike my Cereus. Damn if someone looked at her wrong I would be reading about them in the news or finding them myself and yet she still wouldn’t own the kill. Her brain struggled to contain the knowledge she wouldn’t face, it taunted her in her sleeping hours, and even some of her waking hours. I was losing her to daydreams more and more often.
“It’s too hot,” a child complains to her mother as they pass us.
She was right, it was ridiculous.
We’d been sitting outside this restaurant for an age and still hadn’t been served our drinks. I was beginning to debate slitting the throat of the old hag on the table closest to us just so I could get my lips around the glass of water she’s drinking.
I didn’t like the heat; it made everyone clumsy, tired and sweaty and me a little reckless. My eyes draw to a fat fuck scoffing down his steak like it’s a McDonald’s hamburger. No one savored anything these days; I would savor gutting him like a fish, a big overweight fish. Urgh, I was irritable.
I hated being around people, it brought out the killer in me and when we were surrounded by people, also known as witnesses, that was never a good combo. I only brought Cereus places to eat because she didn’t like to cook and I hated cooking when it was so fucking hot, we could fry our food on the hood of the car - it would cook quicker than they take here.
My eyes dart from place to place, a woman in a bikini she had no business being in was running, letting it all hang out for the world to see. Why should my eyes be subjected to this?
Everyone wore hardly anything whenever the sun would shine, like it was acceptable to put our eyes through the painful visual of saggy ass flaps hanging from bikini bottoms and those fake round balls people called tits these days on nearly every woman, even the old decrepit ones. Why did women think that was
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