Post by Samantha Tolson on May 17, 2016 4:19:45 GMT
On-Camera
"So....I have this fatal four-way match with someone who is obsessed with cookies, and two others who can't be bothered to even introduce themselves to the company with which they are now employed. This....could get interesting."
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4:18pm
Monday
Monday
Well, now if this hasn't been an interesting little excursion. I know that my benefactor had said that getting into their apartment would be fairly easy, given the lack of a sophisticated locking mechanism on the sliding door to the patio, but this is almost like taking candy from a baby.
Or, in my case, taking back a girlfriend from the bitch that doesn't deserve her. God, I want to shove a small sharp knife in that woman's back so bad, feel her blood rush over my hand and down my forearm as she convulses in abject agony before I finally flick my wrist and sever her spinal cord.
But my benefactor says it's not time yet. Not time to play our cards just yet. But she had enjoyed all the photos, along with my....editing...so she allowed me this treat. A chance to once again enter her bedchamber, to be oh-so-close to the place where the most carnal and intimate moments of their relationship took place.
A chance to remind myself of why I'm doing this.
I can feel her here, sense her presence in this room, their inner chamber. If I close my eyes, and draw my breath in slowly through my nose, I can smell her in this room in all her various forms of glory. Clothed and perfumed. Showered and fresh as the morning dew.
Sweaty, the scent of lovemaking scorching the night air as it must do, filtering in through the open windows.
If I close my eyes, I can smell it all, and remember....
....OK....get it back together. We're not doing a remake of a DiVinyls video here, we're here on business.
I walk to the dresser, sliding open a door on the left, I see some of her finer things. The thoughts of her are still fresh in my head, her scent still lingering in my nostrils, and I can't help myself.
I pick up some of them and take them in, remembering the nights when it was me peeling them off her, instead of that rich slut she's fucking now.
And it makes me angry, but I take a second to regain my control. Anger leads to sloppiness, according to my driver, and as much as I dislike him, he is right on that one. I put them back down in the drawer, exactly as I'd seen them. I reach over to the other half of the dresser, pulling open the drawer and finding...
....Oh. My. GAWD! Look at the size of that thing! Surely they don't....
...no, they can't be....
...it's so big....
..surely she doesn't...with this thing?
I had to do it. I pulled out my cell and snapped a picture of it. I had to postulate, later, on just exactly how this was used within the scope of their relationship. Then, I slide the drawer closed and move to the second one.
A fluffy looking cat-o-nine-tails? Handcuffs? Blindfolds?
I had wish I'd have known. I could have been that for her. I could have been on either end of any of these things and been perfectly happy doing whatever she wanted me to do.
Voices? Shit!
I close the drawer as quietly as I can, then back out the patio door off their bedroom. Just as I slide it closed and flatten myself against the wall, I can hear her.
Her voice sings to me like the siren call of a mermaid, luring the captains of so many ships to dash their boats against the rocks in a vain search to find her.
I want to turn around and look her in the eyes, tell her how I feel, tell her that it should be me, not her.
But I can't. Not yet. My benefactor says it's not yet time.
It hurts....and a tear rolls down my left cheek as I slink my way back toward the white van.
A moment or two later, I slide into the passenger seat, and I rip the binoculars from the driver's hands, training them on the patio door.
They've left the blinds open.
The wench has her face buried deep between her thighs, and her head is lolling around, that wistful look I remember so well on her face as she loses herself in what that bitch is doing to her.
I'm going to kill her for that.
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Or, in my case, taking back a girlfriend from the bitch that doesn't deserve her. God, I want to shove a small sharp knife in that woman's back so bad, feel her blood rush over my hand and down my forearm as she convulses in abject agony before I finally flick my wrist and sever her spinal cord.
But my benefactor says it's not time yet. Not time to play our cards just yet. But she had enjoyed all the photos, along with my....editing...so she allowed me this treat. A chance to once again enter her bedchamber, to be oh-so-close to the place where the most carnal and intimate moments of their relationship took place.
A chance to remind myself of why I'm doing this.
I can feel her here, sense her presence in this room, their inner chamber. If I close my eyes, and draw my breath in slowly through my nose, I can smell her in this room in all her various forms of glory. Clothed and perfumed. Showered and fresh as the morning dew.
Sweaty, the scent of lovemaking scorching the night air as it must do, filtering in through the open windows.
If I close my eyes, I can smell it all, and remember....
....OK....get it back together. We're not doing a remake of a DiVinyls video here, we're here on business.
I walk to the dresser, sliding open a door on the left, I see some of her finer things. The thoughts of her are still fresh in my head, her scent still lingering in my nostrils, and I can't help myself.
I pick up some of them and take them in, remembering the nights when it was me peeling them off her, instead of that rich slut she's fucking now.
And it makes me angry, but I take a second to regain my control. Anger leads to sloppiness, according to my driver, and as much as I dislike him, he is right on that one. I put them back down in the drawer, exactly as I'd seen them. I reach over to the other half of the dresser, pulling open the drawer and finding...
....Oh. My. GAWD! Look at the size of that thing! Surely they don't....
...no, they can't be....
...it's so big....
..surely she doesn't...with this thing?
I had to do it. I pulled out my cell and snapped a picture of it. I had to postulate, later, on just exactly how this was used within the scope of their relationship. Then, I slide the drawer closed and move to the second one.
A fluffy looking cat-o-nine-tails? Handcuffs? Blindfolds?
I had wish I'd have known. I could have been that for her. I could have been on either end of any of these things and been perfectly happy doing whatever she wanted me to do.
Voices? Shit!
I close the drawer as quietly as I can, then back out the patio door off their bedroom. Just as I slide it closed and flatten myself against the wall, I can hear her.
Her voice sings to me like the siren call of a mermaid, luring the captains of so many ships to dash their boats against the rocks in a vain search to find her.
I want to turn around and look her in the eyes, tell her how I feel, tell her that it should be me, not her.
But I can't. Not yet. My benefactor says it's not yet time.
It hurts....and a tear rolls down my left cheek as I slink my way back toward the white van.
A moment or two later, I slide into the passenger seat, and I rip the binoculars from the driver's hands, training them on the patio door.
They've left the blinds open.
The wench has her face buried deep between her thighs, and her head is lolling around, that wistful look I remember so well on her face as she loses herself in what that bitch is doing to her.
I'm going to kill her for that.
----------------------
On-Camera
"They tell me you're mentally unbalanced, Lillith. That you're someone to be feared, someone to be afraid of."
"Pardon me, my dear, if I am not afraid. I don't fear anyone in this sport, Lillith. Now, I'll give you your just due, of course. You're double-tough, and one heck of a player inside the ring. I like the challenge that you're going to give me. At least, the challenge that your previous matches say I should have. See, I like that. I get off on that."
"Why? Because deep down in my core, I'm a fighter. I like to get knocked around a little bit while I'm beating people up. It makes me feel alive, makes my blood pump and makes me kick just a little harder, hit just a little stronger, and fly just a little higher."
"And I want you to bring all the fight I've seen on the videos, I really do. Because when I suplex you a dozen or more times, when I crack your ribs with kicks, when I've turned your chest beet-red with chops, I want no excuses. I don't want you to sit back and say that you didn't give me your best, I don't want you to pretend that you were just along for the ride."
"I want you to know that you just got your ass kicked by a professional."
"Now, Kim Heart....Heather."
"Who the blue fuck are you two?"
"No, really. Tell us."
Are those crickets in the background?
"That's what I thought. See ladies, your silence is golden. Now, granted, Lillith hasn't said two syllables about our match, but that doesn't mean much to me because at least since she joined the company she's said something. You two?"
"Deader than an old west ghost town, complete with the rolling tumbleweeds."
"Not a good way to start your time in VWS, I'm afraid."
"Because all that means is that I already have an advantage. I already am in your heads."
"So don't feel bad when I steamroll over the both of you out in that ring."
"It's not personal."
"It's just the business, girls."
"No hard feelings."
"Pardon me, my dear, if I am not afraid. I don't fear anyone in this sport, Lillith. Now, I'll give you your just due, of course. You're double-tough, and one heck of a player inside the ring. I like the challenge that you're going to give me. At least, the challenge that your previous matches say I should have. See, I like that. I get off on that."
"Why? Because deep down in my core, I'm a fighter. I like to get knocked around a little bit while I'm beating people up. It makes me feel alive, makes my blood pump and makes me kick just a little harder, hit just a little stronger, and fly just a little higher."
"And I want you to bring all the fight I've seen on the videos, I really do. Because when I suplex you a dozen or more times, when I crack your ribs with kicks, when I've turned your chest beet-red with chops, I want no excuses. I don't want you to sit back and say that you didn't give me your best, I don't want you to pretend that you were just along for the ride."
"I want you to know that you just got your ass kicked by a professional."
"Now, Kim Heart....Heather."
"Who the blue fuck are you two?"
"No, really. Tell us."
Are those crickets in the background?
"That's what I thought. See ladies, your silence is golden. Now, granted, Lillith hasn't said two syllables about our match, but that doesn't mean much to me because at least since she joined the company she's said something. You two?"
"Deader than an old west ghost town, complete with the rolling tumbleweeds."
"Not a good way to start your time in VWS, I'm afraid."
"Because all that means is that I already have an advantage. I already am in your heads."
"So don't feel bad when I steamroll over the both of you out in that ring."
"It's not personal."
"It's just the business, girls."
"No hard feelings."