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I need no familiars to channel this for me. Such primitive devices are very easy to manipulate. I 'think' and it becomes manifest.
Do you know I can taste you through the ether? I can observe your very body. And do not take me for a paragon. A Tomas, I am not. This one has taken no vows. This one does not kneel. A true Boyar of Old Muscovy commands. He savors life....and even death.
I sat in the shadows watching Ivan the Terrible fry naked, shrieking victims in giant skillets. Some parts tend to stick you know. And the Czar so liked a clean pan. Do you know what he did? .....Well, I'll tell you. Starving prisoners from the deepest, rat-hole dungeons would be brought forth to crawl about on the still hot surface, peeling off the crisp, charred bits with their teeth. A few were reluctant . But a liberal application of iron-tipped 'cats' to scrawny, quivering fundaments can be very persuasive, although such measures did tend to soil the skillets even more.
I have two of those skillets and I use them, deep beneath the vast assembly hall of my palace/fortress in the Urals. K.G.B. used to send 'clients.' And I played with them til they broke.... Then, they'd send me new toys.
Oh, do you know how we got victims to lay still upon the searing bed?..... Muscle relaxers. We would inject them with chemicals. A type of passive paralysis would ensue making all movement impossible. How the tears would sizzle.
Sometimes I'd order the kitchen serfs to make sausages from the soft, cooked meat. Then I'd stuff the sizzling delicacies down into the fat, greasy mouths of my most sensual 'love dolls.'...... No, they really weren't dolls. They were females, live ones. We'd strip them down and truss them up like giant marionettes. The shows were quite famous. Magnates came from far and wide to see such rarified beauty. I'd vault to the stage and frolic with them. A Russian noble is proud of his body. A Russian vampire, doubly so.
Some legendary performances culminated in huge, drunken sacrificial orgies. I say 'sacrificial' because deaths did occur. Not among the aristocrats. No, never the aristocrats. But some girls did die, either from my kiss, or due to the indiscriminate rough handling.
God bless the serfs and their large families...always plenty to go around.
Pity we can't enslave them anymore....... at least not in the overt sense of the word.
You will leave now... It's time for my English lesson...
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please hit the SHARE BAR. please leave a comment. thank you.
Do you know I can taste you through the ether? I can observe your very body. And do not take me for a paragon. A Tomas, I am not. This one has taken no vows. This one does not kneel. A true Boyar of Old Muscovy commands. He savors life....and even death.
I sat in the shadows watching Ivan the Terrible fry naked, shrieking victims in giant skillets. Some parts tend to stick you know. And the Czar so liked a clean pan. Do you know what he did? .....Well, I'll tell you. Starving prisoners from the deepest, rat-hole dungeons would be brought forth to crawl about on the still hot surface, peeling off the crisp, charred bits with their teeth. A few were reluctant . But a liberal application of iron-tipped 'cats' to scrawny, quivering fundaments can be very persuasive, although such measures did tend to soil the skillets even more.
I have two of those skillets and I use them, deep beneath the vast assembly hall of my palace/fortress in the Urals. K.G.B. used to send 'clients.' And I played with them til they broke.... Then, they'd send me new toys.
Oh, do you know how we got victims to lay still upon the searing bed?..... Muscle relaxers. We would inject them with chemicals. A type of passive paralysis would ensue making all movement impossible. How the tears would sizzle.
Sometimes I'd order the kitchen serfs to make sausages from the soft, cooked meat. Then I'd stuff the sizzling delicacies down into the fat, greasy mouths of my most sensual 'love dolls.'...... No, they really weren't dolls. They were females, live ones. We'd strip them down and truss them up like giant marionettes. The shows were quite famous. Magnates came from far and wide to see such rarified beauty. I'd vault to the stage and frolic with them. A Russian noble is proud of his body. A Russian vampire, doubly so.
Some legendary performances culminated in huge, drunken sacrificial orgies. I say 'sacrificial' because deaths did occur. Not among the aristocrats. No, never the aristocrats. But some girls did die, either from my kiss, or due to the indiscriminate rough handling.
God bless the serfs and their large families...always plenty to go around.
Pity we can't enslave them anymore....... at least not in the overt sense of the word.
You will leave now... It's time for my English lesson...
+*++*+*+*+*+*+*+*****+*+*+*+*+*++*+*+*+***+*+*+*+++**+
please hit the SHARE BAR. please leave a comment. thank you.
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