Posted by Cruella on April 19, 2000 at 17:19:24:
Lying on her bed at home, totally relaxed and feeling satisfied, Cruella glanced around her bedroom idly. Although the room was large and imposing, far larger than the average bedroom, the oversized bed she was lying on stood squarely in the center of it, dominating it--as she felt was proper. Black satin sheets and piles of pillows of various sizes and shapes covered the mattress. In contrast to the sheets, the walls were painted solid blood-red, and they were decorated at intervals by modern, colorful exotic paintings--along with various tools hanging on mounts, some of which even she wasn't altogther sure of their intended function. Above her was a large mirror, mounted on the ceiling directly above the bed. That mirror, which she'd acquired on one of her nightly trips, had become one of her most beloved possessions. It was a dark mirror, almost black under certain lighting, and the shape was unusual; it might have been intended to represent a violin or a guitar, but that wasn't what she saw in it. She grinned; the mirror was at its most useful, though, when she was not alone. Looking up at it now, looking into the reflection of her own eyes, she could see Orio's final expression as clearly as if she were watching it on videotape.
"I do have to tell Sam about it," she thought. "In the end Orio got exactly what he deserved, and Sam's map was such a big help. He's such a great friend. I must invite him over some night." Thinking about it, she chuckled softly.
She turned her head from side to side. Next to her, one on each side, was Linda and Angel--both of them looking far better than they had the night she'd taken them from Orio's home. As Cruella watched them, a satisfied smile appeared on her face; they slept on peacefully, like two oversized kittens. Seeing the play of muscles under their skin, Cruella wondered if they were dreaming.
"Poor babies," Cruella murmured as her hand caressed Angel's arm lightly. "She looks so fragile." With a sigh, she looked up at the mirror again. She was restless, unable to sleep; not a rare thing for her. Carefully extracting herself from between the two sleeping girls without waking them, she slipped out of the bed and walked into the next room.
This one was very different from the bedroom; it was much smaller, and the blue-painted walls were covered with small stars that glowed in the dark. She felt at home here, comfortable; she was, after all, a creature of the night.
Moving silently, she crossed the room to an antique table which stood in one corner. On it, looking totally out of place in this Gothic world, was a little computer, a laptop. As she drew close she glanced down at the keyboard; it always seemed to her that it was wearing an apologetic expression, as if it understood how anachronistic such a hypermodern device was in this house that seemed transplanted whole from the Sixteenth Century. Nevertheless, Cruella liked having it here, she liked the possibilities the computer provided: the Internet, email, mIRC...
At first, when she'd first been told about computers and the Internet, she'd dismissed it; such things, she'd felt, were not for her. In time, though--a remarkably little time, she realized as she thought about it--she'd come to appreciate the possibilities here. As she did with most thing, she'd learned the technical aspects of the machine quickly. A little later, Sam had shown her his on-line bar and the message board there, and she'd started visiting in cyberspace when she could not easily get there in the flesh.
At first, she'd just read the messages and enjoyed reading the stories, but nowadays she was a full participant, and she enjoyed it immensely. Wondering if there were new messages for her, she sat down before the machine and turned it on. It made a soft whirring rattle, and a few minutes later her screen sprang to life. From it, blue lifeless eyes stared out at her. She smiled; it was a picture of Orio during his last moments on earth--and now, she used it as wallpaper.
After making her connection to the Net, she made her way to Sam's Place in cyberspace. Not only did she enjoy going to Sam's bar in real life, she also enjoyed visiting his virtual world. There were, she noticed, some new things; she shook her head. He's always working on that site, she told herself. She admired him for that; she was, as she readily admitted to herself, too lazy to put a site like that up herself.
Her eyes scrolled the list of messages, looking for something of interest. There...a message from Alan. She clicked on the link, watched the message appear. One knuckle against her lip, she read the message, the rambling about a puppy that might interest her, and, surprisingly, the direct invitation for her to come visit him.
Staring at the screen, she laughed aloud. "Is he serious?" she asked, as if the computer could hear and answer. Naturally, there was no response. "I guess," she continued, tapping her fingertips on the edge of the keyboard as she continued to study the message, "that he just doesn't realize who and what I am." Her eyes flashed from dark to light green, she continued to drum, ever harder, on the edge of the keyboard. "Maybe I will," she mused aloud. "Maybe I will, maybe I'll pay him a visit. He says, right here, that he's dying to meet me." She paused and laughed. "Well, so be it! Shall I bring the girls? They might enjoy playing with him." She glanced back toward the bedroom where the girls were still sleeping peacefully. No, she told herself silently. Not this time. They're still too innocent, they're not ready for this.
Dismissing the idea of taking the girls and already planning her trip in her mind, she typed a quick reply to the message, read a few more messages on the board, then checked her e-mail. There was a note there from Sam; she smiled as she read that one. "I'll have to pay him a visit soon," she thought as she dashed off a quick reply. Finished, she logged out, disconnected, and shut off the computer. Before she went to bed she took a long, leisurely, very hot, shower. The heat--and the plans she was already making--soothed her mind. This time she slept as peacefully as the two girls.
Trying to keep his mind occupied, Alan knelt before the range in his kitchen and scrubbed vigorously at the oven handle. It wasn't working; he'd already cleaned two-thirds of his house in an explosion of activity, and right now he couldn't even remember what he'd cleaned and what he hadn't. He wasn't thinking about the cleaning at all; his thoughts kept wandering back to Cruella's last message on the board. This is fantasy, he kept telling himself, fantasy. It can't happen for real. With a slight shiver he recalled the many evenings he'd spent at Sam's Bar; that place, he reminded himself, was certainly real enough.
But... Cruella coming here, to his home, to visit? To get a puppy he did not actually have? He looked back at the range and almost savagely attacked the already-shining handles again. "No," he said aloud, talking to the stove just as, unknown to him, Cruella had spoken to her computer. "No. Can't happen. You're being silly, Alan." Not surprisingly, the range did not respond either.
Days passed; Cruella was well aware that by then, Alan would have dismissed the whole idea of her actually coming to visit him. But now, she stood in front of his door, a slight smile playing around her lips. The night wind blew through her hair, and it made her coat embrace her body. It had been easy, she reflected, to find out where he lived; she was sure he didn't remember but, in telling her about the puppy and where she could pick it up, he'd effectively told her the address.
She was, she had to admit, thrilled by the idea of finally meeting him. Most of the time he seemed dominant, but to her he was submissive; more, he seemed to be eager enough to face the unknown--and, beyond that, he was also a bit naughty. "Nice combination," she told herself, a grin appearing on her face. She reached out to ring the doorbell.
Sitting in front of his own computer, dressed in pajamas and a robe as he often was when he was home alone, Alan looked up idly as the doorbell rang. Laughing as he read the latest episode in Ripper-X's ongoing serial, he was a trifle annoyed at the interruption. As he rose from his desk, the idea that it might be Cruella fleeting crossed his mind. Now, he laughed at himself. Not likely, he said as he walked to the door. There wasn't a way, he was sure, that she'd come all this way just to... to... he fumbled for words mentally. "Just to squish a little bug like me!" he thought finally. He laughed mentally again. "Why Cruella," he said, rehearsing his lines as he crossed to the door. "I'm flattered and touched! My last date!" Still smiling, he opened the door, fully expecting to see the UPS man or a neighbor standing there.
With the door only three-quarters of the way open, he stopped and froze in place. His jaw dropped; not only could he not speak, but his mind seemed to have stopped working momentarily as well.
But there was no doubt; it was, indeed, Cruella, Cruella in all her glory. Gradually, reluctantly, like an old truck engine that hadn't been started in years, his thoughts began to turn over again. She must be at least six feet tall! he told himself. Or no, maybe it was more like five-four? It was hard to tell; she was, he could see, wearing very high-heeled boots, boots with very sharp spike heels. He blinked. She was clad in a tight, low-cut velvet black dress which was covered with a black cape; her breasts rose and fell with every breath she took, rippling the cloth. It was impossible not to stare, but he still could not find his voice.
Still standing on his doorstep, Cruella looked him up and down. Her almond eyes changed colors, from sable-brown to emerald-green, like a cat's. She smiled. "Hello, Alan," she said, her voice low, sultry, and yet somehow soothing at the same time. "Finally we meet!"
His lips worked a little but he still could not speak; the sound of her voice had deepened the trance he was in. With an effort, he managed a sort of a grin. He felt like he was made of silly putty, he couldn't seem to function normally, he couldn't move. His mind spun crazily, as if the starter of that old truck had slipped free from the flywheel: "I'm hers. She's awesome. I'm dreaming. A dream I know I will never have to wake from. No more wondering, no more doubt. This is what I've always wanted. She'll be the last person to see me alive, she'll set me free! I'll relinquish my heart, my soul, my puppy, my rental deposit, my last can of beer, the ten of diamonds, a clove of garlic... Oh.. the pending agony, the exquisite ecstasy."
Finally, she frowned. "What are you staring at? You've never seen a woman before?" she sneered at him. In a snap he was back from dreamland. Cruella, without waiting for an invitation, swept past him and into the house, leaving a trace of an almost intoxicating musky scent in her wake. "Men," she sniffed. "Always blinded by beauty. Always looking through their penis, instead of through their eyes. Their brains must be so different then women's. Maybe I will have a look some day." Idea flashed through her mind; visions of Alan helpless, naked, trembling. She shivered and grinned, but that wasn't visible to Alan.
Left standing alone at the door, Alan turned his head. At the moment she didn't seem human to him, she was more like a panther, a cold and efficient predator.
Inside, Cruella took her time looked around. The place was, she noticed, very clean, as if he'd just done a major cleaning. Touching her lip with a long bladelike--and already blood-red--fingernail, she smiled. "Hmmmm," she purred. She turned to look at him, "Where is the puppy, Alan?" she demanded, sounding severe.
"Puppy?" he asked. "What puppy?" He started to say something else, but then, apparently, remembered what he'd posted on the board--as a joke.
It didn't seem like a joke now, not looking into those almost-glowing green eyes. Never had he seen a look like that; probably, he told himself wildly, no one has--no one who's lived to tell about it. A wave of panic surged through him; for a moment he seriously considered simply bolting out the door. But, even if he were to make such decision, he was aware that his body would betray him; it's too late now, he can't change his mind. He'd asked for it, begged for it, and now he was going to get it. He felt cold, cold and somehow exposed. Feeling a draft and wondering if he'd forgotten to close the door, he glanced back at it, but it was secure.
It was secure, and, somehow, his robe and pajamas were lying on the floor in front of it! He looked down at himself in shock. He was standing there naked, his cock fully erect, and worse, dripping slightly on the carpet! How, he screamed at himself, had this happened? Was she some sort of sorceress, had she magically divested him of his clothes?
While he wrestled with this quandry, Cruella sniffed the air. "No scent of puppies," she said idly. Her tongue circled around her ruby lips, as if to try to smell better. Her eyebrows raised somewhat. She smelled something; it was not a puppy, but the scent was familiar. Could it be? She turned around and saw Alan, standing naked, looking bewildered, dripping on the carpet.
"What the fuck?" she demanded, putting her hands on her hips. "Can't you behave yourself when a lady is near? My devil! Come over here. Now!" Carefully, Alan took a step toward her. "Come on, faster!" she commanded. She caressed her own hair, pulling it a bit, as she waited impatiently for him.. Finally he stood in front of her, trembling like a weed in the wind. "You're so pathetic! Pretending you have a puppy for me. Why, I oughta smack you! But first, let me put a stop to your dripping sausage!" Reaching into her pocket, she drew out a piece of cord, and, with a swift movement, tied it tightly around Alan's balls and penis. "There now," she said with a satisfied smile. "Let me pull it a bit more; we do want to make sure you won't go dripping all over the place."
As she snugged it up even tighter, Alan's eyes almost popped out of their sockets. "Please, you're hurting me!" he cried.
"Well, yes, dear, that's the intention," she said calmly, giving the ligature another solid yank. "Didn't anybody ever tell you, you have to feel pain first before you can appreciate pleasure?" She gave him a look of false innocence, but she coulnd't maintain it long; after a moment her wild laughter filled the air. "Maybe we should tie you up more, huh?" she asked. "I think you're much too mobile, my dear. I don't want you to be. Kneel down and be still!"
Alan's genitals were turning color; they'd changed to a delicate bluish-purple tint. It was hard for him to kneel down, but he knew he'd better comply; that, or he'd risk upsetting the beautiful creature standing next to him even more. Again, he caught a whiff of that musky scent he'd smelled before. It was almost like a drug; he expanded his nostrils, sucking in as much of it as possible. As it filled his lungs, he found himself relaxing a bit. It would be so nice, he thought dreamily, to actually be able to taste that... I'd give a number-two lead pencil for just a tiny taste...
While Alan drifted through the Land of the Lotus-Eaters, Cruella quickly and expertly tied him up. She started with his feet, forcing him to bend so she could wrap the cord around his belly and up his back. There she grabbed his arms and tied them across his chest; in the end he was lying on his back, almost completely unable to move. Helpless on the floor now, a faraway look in his eyes, he gazed up at her and vaguely wondered what was going to happens next. He's afraid yet thrilled that he was here with her, with the woman who piqued his curiosity. With an absurdly wide smile on his face in spite of the cool cube of fear he could feel down inside himself, he watched her adjusting her high heels boots. Apparently ignoring him now, she caressed her boots softly reaching toward the tops of them; there was a certain odd tenderness in her eyes. Alan cocked his head; it was strange, a weird contrast to her manner a few moment ago.
It was also, undeniably, exciting to watch. Her hand followed the line of her leg, on up inside her thigh, where it stopped for a moment. Her eyes fell closed, and a soft moan escaped her lips. He stared up at those full lips, lips as red as her nails. She rubbed her sex gently and then opened her eyes again.
She glared down at him. "Who told you you could watch, Alan?" she demanded harshly.
"Uh.. uhm... I.. I.. uh, nobody Cruella," he protested, blushing and looking away. He clenched his own eyes closed. Hell, she was teasing him! he told himself. She had to know he was watching.
"Open your eyes, look to the ground, and bottoms up!" she ordered with a laugh. She walked in a circle around him, her hand softly stroking his back and ass, and finally knelt beside him. Nice firm, well-shaped butt, she told herself. She stroked him softly, her hand gliding between his legs, feeling his balls. "You're uptight, my dear," she said with a grin "I think you need to loosen up a bit!" Getting excited, now, her nails traced a path from his testicles up over his butt and finally onto his back again; automatically they penetrated his skin, but just a little bit, juts enough to draw a little cry of pain and fear.
Moving in behind him again, Cruella placed her hands on his butt and roughly spread his cheeks. "Hm," she said, bringing her face close. "You're still a virgin, I see." Her head suddenly snapped forward and her teeth clicked as she nipped off a tiny fragment of skin.
Alan screamed, much louder now. Bloods dripped on her lips; her tongue snaked out and licked it away. "You taste nice, my dear," she told him. Her eyes flickered as she watched blood oozing out of the tiny wound she'd just made. Dipping one finger in it, she pressed it up against his tight virgin ass.
Feeling the pressure but unable to see what she was doing, Alan groaned. "What next?" he asked himself. Cruella did not make him wait long to find out. After making a slow circle with her finger, she pushed it up inside him a little ways. She was enjoying herself by then; her mouth was open and she was breathing heavily.
She felt his muscles tightening up a bit, resisting her. "Relax!" she hissed. "I want to penetrate that girlish ass of yours!" He merely groaned, and she slapped him hard on the butt with her other hand. "I said, relax!" He groaned again, more loudly this time; it only making him tighter and more tense than he already was. Out of patience, she forced her way in roughly.
"Yes, my dove. I have to prepare you for something bigger then my finger now," she crooned. Inside, she pushed her finger up toward the perineum, rubbing it back and forth. Alan moaned, afraid to move. Without warning, Cruella pulled her finger back and out, then stood up and placed one of her boots on his butt and pushed. The sharp heel penetrated his skin once more. She pushed again, so hard that he lost his balance and rolled over onto his back. Unable to gain his balance because of the ropes holding him, he ended up flat on his back with his legs drawn up, his feet in the air, and his bound hands held pawlike under his chin.
Cruella erupted in laughter. "You didn't lie to me after all, Alan!" she yelled. "Here he is, here's my puppy!"