Path of the Vampire forum

Dominique had a few firsts in the last year. More than a few in fact. It had been a wild and adventurous twelve months and that in itself was an understatement. She had been to hell and back as well as a few other places including most recently the Congo. Fall found it’s way over Vita Bella while this took place and the month of October finally rolled in. It reminded her of many things that had came and went. Yet there she was stronger than ever and ready for more. Changes in the color of the leaves were not the only to be seen. The shadow knew she was no different than the long standing oaks and maples that towered over her property.

Surprises. Who didn’t like them on occasion? Wasn’t Halloween considered such? Dominique thought so. Halloween had been predictably the night she would cape up to represent her inner Batgirl. Even that was about to change. She locked the doors of her garage and went to work on what would be in the very least memorable for one in particular. All the supplies had been easy enough to gather and the time was there to make it happen. She took advantage of both and grabbed her welders mask that just so happened to be custom detailed with Hello Kitty giving two middle fingers up in the midst of flames.

With the shop playlist set to recycle she sectioned out the polished up iron. The plan was simple. The former devout catholic was for the first time venturing into what had proven to be a invitation to pain in her past experiences. Her devotion to the faith was always a bit questionable at bes given some of the **** she pulled. It was proving to be a dose of Karma and eventually came back to bite her in the *** on many levels. She couldn’t put her hands on so much as a crucifix without being left with a blister or worse. The nuns gave her the creeps. Bibles were a no go and she had no use for one anyhow. Yet there she was welding, cutting and shaping away an iron form of what had been a symbol that her grandmother had held sacred and tried to instill in Jane Doe as well. HOPE and LESS tackled the labor intensive project with focus and once the spine of her idea was complete and cooling over the steel workbench beneath she stepped back and removed the mask to appreciate it.The cross had a purpose and so far she was wound free. Maybe this was a sign of change too?

Next item up was a less tideous prospect and rather relaxing. A circle was distinguishable within an hour of HOPE and LESS heating, twisting, bending and forcing the bits of steel into the right size. Adorning the developing crown was a pattern of sharp thorns that shimmered beneath the shop lighting when she raised the final product towards her head. Once it was on her head she could feel the poking into her scalp and winced. She tapped firmly on the top then nodded in satisfaction. It would holdonce it was set into flesh with her handy mallet. Final touches involved the shackles that would hold in place what would be nailed down. Just in case the one she hadin mind had any last minute ideas.

Two hours later Dominique stood with a sheer layering of white fabric draped over her and pulled over that a blue covering that hid the bits and pieces that if seen in public could be grounds for twenty-one or more with the annoying badges and uniforms. It was time to send a text to the one who was about to become her own personal Jesus to her first performance of Mary Magdalene. Mary 2.0 with a serious twist or at least a rather dark and creative one.

-Party starts soon. I got us covered. All you have to do is drop what you are doing. This isyour boarding pass. Take off is in five minutes and counting.-

Once that was sent she tied the rope around her waist and pulled the hood over her head. A single piece of white cloth was lifted from the pile ofscrap metal she no longer needed. Once it was unfolded she eyed it to be sure. It was proving to be enough to cover what was needed. Two minutes left and then he would arrive. And no doubt be surprised.

Dominique was not going to be squeezing her body into the skin tight latex Batgirl costume this year. It would be a first. Since she could remember she had always been dressing up as her inner superhero for Halloween. It had evolved over the years from the typical last minute homemade cape to a little more detail with a hood. Gradually she incorporated the yellow utility batbelt and ultimately went to the body casing of latex.

A grin formed on her unpainted lips. Of course they were really going to do this. How could he question her intentions with a Cubby size iron cross in the room and her dressed as Jesus’ hot pocket. While he shrugged out of his leather coat he was asking the right question. She tilted her head a little to the left while HOPE and LESS moved the heavy iron prop allowing it to slide off the table and rest against the nearby wall. Stepping back left her meager attire flowing in the wake of her movements. The cross stayed where it was placed and proved to be as sturdy as she had in mind when designing it.

“Good questions and it is your lucky night because I got the answers right here.”

HOPE waved the portion of white cloth in one hand like a flag of truce or surrender. Someone certainly had to say something at some point about if the flag fits. And she was familiar enough with the one she was eyeing to know how much flag it would take to conceal what he had to cover. Tossing the fabric to rest over her right shoulder freed-up her hands to step in and help relieve him of his clothes one button and zipper at a time.

Of course it was a tempting process as the layers of material he was wearing ended up keeping his jacket company. All of it had her thinking more than she should given she was putting her hands on the son of god. It was reassuring to remember once he was bare as the day he was born that she was admittedly a world class sinner and she was going to own it hard on her way to hell. If Ric played his cards right he just may end up being what she would be riding on her way there.

“So, now comes the costume.” She reached over her shoulder and held up the white cloth that would wrap his waist. “This is the part that will be the most pleasant in its application.” Her eyes danced from his own to the table where LESS gave the metal spiked crown of thorns fashioned for him specifically a casual spin. Every detail of the props had him in mind. “All of your measurements were taken into consideration and I feel confident that you will find your temporary throne of sorts rather accommodating given the fact you will be hanging around on it for several hours.” She leaned over and moved the three iron spikes closer to her as well as the mallet. “No worries. I got you while you are hanging out trying to be holy. However, just so you know, I won’t be washing your feet. Feet is not my thing even if it was Mary Mag’s.”

“Not when he was supposedly nailed down for the final stretch of his world tour.” She commented on Ric’s claim that the images he had seen of JC were of the dude walking around covered neck to ankle in robes and sandals. “You missed a few, Cubby. Speedos weren’t quite on the sporting store shelves yet so they did the southern toga. Pretty sure there was a name for this little number…” She gave the garment some thought while wrapping his bare hips. HOPE and LESS did a dance back and forth as the white cloth finally went between up and down and bagging him up. “Loincloth? Hell if I know. Pretty lame if you ask me that I have to keep my tits covered but you don’t.” She tugged at the cloth in her hands to get it to give a little more where it was needing to. “Just give it time. Pretty sure that will eventually change.” When she was finally done she stepped back and eyed her handiwork. A slow nod began while her warm chocolate hues looked him over. “Trick or Treat. Your JC is going to be the hit of the party and this little Mary is gonna hit it so damn hard.”

Dominique at one time would have been waiting for the proverbial lightning bolt to toast her healthy appearing *** for saying such a thing. Truth be told after everything she had been through she knew it wouldn’t be happening. It never happened when her grandmother swore up and down it would and it didn’t when she truly felt like she deserved it so enough believing in what didn’t exist. Ric is asking about a spear being shoved through to support his weight. She was pretty sure he wasn’t going to be falling off when she got him on the cross. But if he was still that into having something drilled into him to keep him fixed nice and tight then she was all for it. He certainly wouldn’t have to ask twice.

“I took all of that into account when I whipped this up just for you. No details were spared.” Dominique nods to the cross as she guides him to the shop stool that she taps into place at the base. Another quick dip of her head to the right of her was the signal she was waiting for him to step up. “C’mon don’t be shy.” HOPE gripped the cold iron and gave it a few pats of appreciation. “Trust me. You will be in great hands.” A slow smirk formed on her lips. “But you already know that.”

The clinking of what was all too easy to tell echoed as she moved around. The chains were in her hands as she pulled them over her shoulder and left them to dangle for the time being. While the weight of them seemed to anchor her that much more to the shop floor beneath her the palms of her hands found Ric’s wrists one at a time. With the click of iron shackles each was adorned with the immobilizing lock down that just so happened to have half inch inner spikes sinking into his flesh as the final click and crank of the lock expressed small clouds of shadow’s blood into the air around his hands. Her brows bounced up and down briefly in apparent enjoyment of what she was witnessing. She leaned in to his right hand and blew a cool stream of air at the black beads sending them towards his shoulder for proof he was locked in that tight.

“See, nothing to worry about.”

Dom winked and without warning her right foot kicked the shop stool out from under his feet sending it rolling out of reach. Two iron spikes in her hands made their presence known as she tucked each in the meager belt around her waist. Once the head of each stopped their weight from sliding through HOPE and LESS pulled the iron masterpiece Ric was hanging from across the floor. A little maneuvering with a shift to the right then a little more to the left had a sandwiching effect at the base of the cross between two adjustable shop tables. Like a gunslinger stepping out into the main street just after sundown each hand gripped the head of each spike and pulled them out while he watched.

“If those shackles aren’t enough to make you feel the part I figured you would feel something was missing if I didn’t add these too.”

With a stretch to grab the mallet on the table to the left she hopped up on the hard surface and lined the first of the two spikes in the center of his wrist. A single glance to the back side of the same area of the cross confirmed that the spike size hole was exactly where she was aiming for. Facing him once again the mallet went back while LESS held the spike in place. A few loud clinking sound of the mallet whacking it in place left the air clouded with more darkness that was soon waved around as she moved to the other table with a ballet worthy leap. A couple more cracks of the tool in her right hand sent the second spike in it’s designated place.

“Now we know what is next.” She announced as she hopped down and looked up at him then down to his feet. “If you still feel something is lacking after your feet are in place then I can hook you up in the middle.” Her gaze danced around the options of where it would work. “I see so many possibilities. But first it is time to fasten the rest of your fine self down.” A third spike came out of nowhere and the placing of his feet took little time. The sounds of the mallet at work against its iron head said the job was nearly done.

Dominique barely registers the correction Ric makes on his pectorals. They are his so he can call them whatever he wants. She gets to eye him while he dangles like a slab of some seriously restricted meat. Usually this wouldn’t exactly be her thing. Fact was that it didn’t get her all hot bothered looking art or statues of JC doing his time out when she was growing up. But Ric is getting some extra focus from her and she is finding it increasingly difficult not to admire him. Something tells her she isn’t alone.

Dom ponders the parts of this he could be getting into. The element of surprise is always a winner. He likes them, doesn’t avoid them. A little pain to be had while crossing over those lines some wouldn’t dream could be a hidden bonus. The bleeding under extreme and unconventional restriction is proving to be stimulating. At least it was to her. Even if it could be like moving a mountain to shake his world the fact she actually pulled it off and put him there had to earn her at the very least a small rise. Right? And as with all really inappropriate and twisted scenarios it had to start somewhere. Both had been at it enough to know which of the above to apply and when.

“Where?”

She found his smirk contagious for many reasons. All of them she was giving serious thought to while she asked. Sandaled steps had her back in front of him and eyeing the shape of his toes. They were attached to feet which would never be her thing. Not even his. At least he clipped his toenails. She would give him that much. Anyone who didn't needed the bony centered balls of flesh chopped off altogether. Her dark naturally shaped brow arched as her eyes made their way upward ever so slowly. So much to enjoy along the way so she took her time.

“Looking great but we forgot something. Can’t forget that whipping.” As if she somehow mastered the art of sleight of hand she suddenly produced a rather impressive yet concerning metal barbed whip. As it uncoiled and lifted into the air with the roll then sharp snap of her wrist she grinned a little more than he was. “Where do you want that first kiss to land? Hmmm?” The clink and hiss of air being sliced filled the space between them.

Dominique figured there were still a few things that Ric had to learn about her. If she had an idea, especially one with such detail, certainly she had planned for how she was going to get him and the work of iron art on his back to where they were supposed to be heading. After all that was the purpose of the whole get up they both were wearing. At least it was when she came up with it weeks prior. Summoning would cover the risk of detection on the streets. However things were sort of changing gears as she eyed him skin and bone close to what her hands created for him. It was rather moving in ways she had not quite expected. She watches his eyebrows pop up and something similar to a lightbulb goes off as well as a few fireworks in the area’s where she never felt so strongly for the visual of JC. She licked her lips to cool off and perhaps buy some spare seconds to admire what she whipped up.

The weight of the barbed whip in her hand seemed lighter the more she considered her options for the evening ahead. He wanted her worst. Another thing they had in common. Ric and her were always asking for it. Most, if given the choice ahead of time, wanted the best out of someone. No surprises, no rough spots or sharp edges. Where was the challenge and adventure in that? That was like choosing to watch a documentary on Disneyworld instead of hitting it ride by ride. It was safe and it was ******* boring. One thing she never experienced with Cubby. Boring, or safe or the very best. Despite how it could sound to some it was the highest compliment to the one who could take what she had to give and return it in spades. All of it was confirmation things between them were as good as it could ever get for her with anyone at all.

“I have one hell of an imagination.” She was imagining they never made it out the door and said **** all to the party they were invited to.

Ask and ye shall receive came to mind. That was the motivation as her petite healthy appearing and heavily inked hand felt the sharp spikes drag through her nearly closed fingers. The pricks of the points compromised the flesh beneath and soon small drops of shadow floated between them. Ric was going to get it and so much more. And with that the dance of silver began with the sound of air being divided with a sudden crack. What came next was not fit for general viewing. Gradually the seconds bled into minutes as they were all but absorbed into the obsidian cloud that formed and predictably disolved around them with each additional strike. The scent she truly knew and savored of him found its way to her skin, clinging briefly in cool wet beads on her lips. The energy of her continuous swing had her nearly lost in the momentum it provided. In thought she was less on her feet and more the whip, the barbed points that bit his flesh and tore it open. Under his skin she was getting and closer to the part of him that took such extremes to reach. She wanted in there more and more every time she got that close.

“Trick or treat, Ric?”

It was a rather simple question that required no answer from him. She had plans and the opportunity to make them happen blossomed tenfold. The whip struck the side of the cross next to his neck and curled around. With the agility and skill she possessed she pounced forward and took hold with her free hand of where the barbed whip set around his neck and mass of iron beam behind him supporting him. The cloth between them shifted in a colorful contrast from the black that stained it briefly before once more returning to it’s original hue.