joannebest











{July 16, 2013}   Manipulating Muse~ Series

she devilred
I am undone.
She has me scattered in pieces all over my kitchen floor and it feels as if she’s testing me.
At least she’s unbound me, yet I sit, still, in the straight backed chair she’d tied me to earlier. I am almost afraid to move, afraid to draw any attention to myself.
It doesn’t work.
“I like you better in lace, and less of it by the way…you’re not half bad to look at but you need to rethink your wardrobe choices.”
She’s teasing me now, she knows where my muse is, she knows what happened to her but still she torments me.
Her behavior is starting to drive me just a little bit insane.
“You already are bat-shit crazy,” the words fall out of her mouth tangible and shatter on the floor like glass. “What’s a little more insanity at this point?”
This thing, this muse, she who belongs to someone else that’s not me, struts back and forth in front of me, a twisted version of my very own muse yet not mine.
She seems to think I’m hers though.
“Please,” I beg, “just give me back my muse.” I shout as loud as I can but it only comes out in a hoarse whisper.
“Hush child, didn’t anyone ever teach you respect?”
She yanks me up by my hair and kicks the chair out from beneath me. I’m hanging in the air, the white lacy gown now replaced by red skin-tight leather pants and a black leather bustier dotted with a red splotchy pattern. On closer inspection I realize it’s blood. My blood.
Before I can form a thought she drops me, pushing me forward. She sticks her own leather clad leg in my path and sends me sprawling across the floor. Face down and ass up, she once again yanks my hair as she peers into my eyes. Her eyes pull me in against my will.
At this point in time she owns me and for a moment I agree.
Moment over.
“Where. Is. My. Muse.” Each word is painful and I don’t care.
I continue to stare back at her bottomless eyes threatening to suck me in.
“If you’d ask me nice I might tell you. Though why you’re wasting your time with that one I’ll never know.”
She walks away, sinking into my favorite comfy chair suddenly sipping some fruity concoction with umbrellas and straws sticking out while I lie on the floor wishing I’d wake up already because this has to be a dream.
“Muses are a dime a dozen. Why are you wasting your time, and more importantly, my time I might add, whining about your loser muse?”
“Because I need her,” I whisper.
“Poor little lost lamb, all alone with no muse to come to your rescue, all alone and not even one word to call your own,” she brings her face so close to mine I could see the pores on her face if she had any.
But no, her skin is smooth and perfectly beautiful.
I think I hate her.
“Shut up,” I whimper. I feel done, worthless and shattered.
“I believe the word you’re looking for is splattered, not shattered, as in blood splattered all over your lacy white Communion dress.”
Her words fall out of her mouth and I do indeed shatter and splatter, blood colors fly about covering my now white lacy dress. I missed the part where she took away my garters and stockings, unsure how long we’ve been at this game.
I am her hostage for as long as she wishes.
Or until she gives me back my muse, whichever comes first.
“Back in your chair,” she says. She waves her hand and the chair slides fast against my knees, forcing me to sit.
“Think of yourself as a sacrificial lamb, a virgin sacrifice, blood of the innocent and all that, although you,” she leans in so close I can see down her throat. “Are a whore.”
She grins at me, her eyes maniacal as her mouth stretches wide across her face. I notice she has an extra set of teeth behind her pearly whites. Razor sharp canines click into place like she’s preparing to sink them deep into my neck.
“You’d like that wouldn’t you missy?” She snaps at me, stopping short just as one drop of blood begins to roll down my neck like a drop of summer sweat.
“I don’t-”
“Don’t interrupt me when I’m thinking. And I’m always thinking so keep it down, it’s already noisy enough in here.”
As she speaks, five sharp fingernails, now the color of an old rusty pitchfork scrape across my cheeks leaving nasty trails dripping blood down my face.
She finger-walks slowly up, up, up, until she reaches my left temple and sinks her fingers through my flesh into my brain.
“It’s pink and squishy in here,” she sounds disappointed. “And rather empty too, haven’t you learned anything?”
Her voice slides up my spine, all moans and groans as if someone turned up the volume of a bad porn movie, something salacious and seedy.
I begin to shiver as X-rated images flash through my mind, vivid and sensory.
I know she put them there.
There’s a movie playing in my head now, clip after clip of every sexual encounter I ever had.
“Well look at you,” her voice sounds surprised. “You aren’t as much of a prude as I thought you were, you’ve been quite the naughty girl!”
The images speed up and I feel my body begin to react underneath the starched white lace dress she has me wearing.
Her smooth arms snake around me as she slinks closer. Another costume change leaves me in a red lace thong and nothing else but matching heels.
Why am I just sitting here letting her control me?
“Because I can. And you are most definitely in need of control, you certainly have none of your own.”
She sniffs my hair as she says this then pulls back a bit, looking slightly puzzled.
“Hmmm, you smell of djinn…” her voice trails away, her attention caught by something I can’t see or hear.
“Maybe I’ll keep you around for a little while longer, I can think of a few things we can do to pass the time, and judging from your stroll down memory lane, so can you.”
“Please I-”
“Shhhhhhh,” her hand covers my mouth.
It smells of deceit and manipulation.
“Lets start from the beginning,” she whispers in my ear.
biting cherry

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really enjoying this series, and im intrigued where it’s all headed. More great lines as usual, like “five sharp fingernails, now the color of an old rusty pitchfork scrape across my cheeks” and “It’s pink and squishy in here,” she sounds disappointed. “And rather empty too, haven’t you learned anything?”
great stuff



[…] Manipulating Muse~ Series (joannebest.wordpress.com) […]



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