The Decay of Beauty

The Decay of Beauty The Decay of Beauty

Status: Finished

Genre: Erotica

Details

Status: Finished

Genre: Erotica

Summary

Beauty lives up to her name but her beauty is a faux. She is cursed. When she is visited by her incubus lover she leaves with him to a dark isolted places where she learns there are no long lasting relantionships with an inbcubus

Summary

Beauty lives up to her name but her beauty is a faux. She is cursed. When she is visited by her incubus lover she leaves with him to a dark isolted places where she learns there are no long lasting relantionships with an inbcubus

Chapter1 (v.1) - The Decay of Beauty

Author Chapter Note

Beauty lives up to her name but her beauty is a faux. She is cursed. When she is visited by her incubus lover she leaves with him to a dark isolted places where she learns there are no long lasting relantionships with an inbcubus

Chapter Content - ver.1

Submitted: June 05, 2012

Reads: 865

Comments: 7

A A A | A A A

Chapter Content - ver.1

Submitted: June 05, 2012

A A A

A A A

The Decay of Beauty

Having a name like Beauty means one has to live up to the name. Good for me I do. I wouldn’t meet the laughing faces of coarseness. People smile and with sweet voices say I am appropriately named. Means nothing of course. Never has, never will. I don’t see what others do in the faux of my face. I see behind the ersatz and to my actual face. I see the ugly behind the beauty. I don’t mean the ugliness of what I was inside. I mean behind the glamour I wore and show people every day. Perhaps I was truly beautiful once I don’t have pictures to confirm or to decline. I was cursed at the young age of six. Why yet I am to discover. The Stitch Curse. I know the name I don’t know the cause nor the cure. I know the effects it has on my skin. Tainting my skin are thin long black stitch marks. There everywhere and completely irremovable. I touched a white rose. I had always liked the look of roses they had pure beautiful look of them. I run my fingertip over the thorn’s. I saw my red blood trail down my finger. I felt the warmness of it against my cold skin. I looked at the Victorian castle. So dark and gothic. I don’t like to wore the faux I felt more like me. Beauty or whatever I was called. Maybe it wasn’t my name till the blanket of fake covered my body. I don’t know a lot of things. I woke one day with a blotched mind. I knew it was more magic unknowingly put on me. I ran away from a place I called home. I didn’t know anything of it. I didn’t recognise a man he said I was his daughter nor a woman who said it. Two other woman older than me said I was their sister. Nothing supported it so I doubted it. I smiled licking the blood off my finger as I saw the light of my life. My lover who will only make love while I sleep if I claim too tired or unfeeling while I am wake. When I am awake I feel his scratches, bits and nips. He pulls my hair and sometimes if I cry out he slaps me. Choking is another pleasure that makes a stir in his loins. I take it because I enjoy it. I caress his lips staining them with my blood. He caresses a stitch mark. The one from my ear curving slightly to my mouth. I make clear water turn magic with my blood, spit, hair and flesh. Hurts to be striking and it bleeds to be beautiful. “Today is the day of my decay”. I tell my incubus lover. His love makes me die. One month and my organs are slowly dying. This is the price of showing an act of love with my incubus. He smiles and licks his lips. We are in love yet our love is dangerous and ends only in death. He will devour my body when I die out of an act of adore and not to put it in ground. Or to burn it. My lover puts me down on my back on the soft snow. He stares at my naked body. Our garden of roses and thorn’s. He is the thorn that wil harm me, I am the rose of beauty. I adore it.

I ran away when I met my incubus lover in my room. I knew he came to me. I was left when I woke in the early hours of the morning. When the sky is grey and the air is bitter. In my attic room i patiently wait. He creep’s silently though my window. I met him I waited most of night in a void. My body left with traces of him. The deep scratch marks, the bite marks of his passion. In-between my legs are clean of blood which I find on my white sheets. I am no virgin no longer but the familiar crimson pool of his want greets me. I don’t tell my sisters I see no glow in their faces as I do. I wash myself feeling the trace of him. My body shakes with the allure of him, dancing in my veins like the soft gentle fluttering of fairies wings. There are missing persons posters of me but they do not exist in our world. The lake at the end with Narcissus flowers. Perhaps a different ending I could of stared at my faux face and toppled into the water letting it wrap around my body and make its way down to my throat and into my lungs. Isolated together we are my incubcus lover and I. I feel his slender hands over my body and I closed my eyes feeing my legs opened and the feel of his stubble ticking. I feel his long experienced tongue within me. I moved my body closer yearning for more. His hands gripping me and the prick of his fingernails piercing my skin. My heat body no longer cooled in the snow. I opened my legs and let my incubus inside of me. I arch to him as he advances into me. The rush of my arousal I feel on my thighs. I moaned as he advances faster. His groans as he lifts my legs higher. I moan softly as I snugy fit to him. This is the last time as he drains me as a vampire drained the life with blood. He pulls at my long golden hair and stares with his intense grey eyes into my blue ones. His face full of hungry for me. His pale hand on my slender neck. He moves his body to mine and I feel a release I have only have done with him. I lay on the ground the snow freezing my body, my body aching and I could feel death creeping up inside of me. My incubus lover sat quietly waiting. I hold my hand and he takes it. I closed my eyes and I feel death upon me. He moves to my side and before I take my last breath he steals it with a single kiss.


© Copyright 2018 Amanda Siddall. All rights reserved.

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