Monsters have feelings too

Deep in the darkest pockets of our mind, sit memories.

Some of which are so dark, they continue to elude us. Casting gaps and space, but in those gaps sits a dark distinct sense of fear, terror, shame.

Yet no matter how hard you try, you cannot grasp them tightly enough to extract them to be understood. To process. to release them. Then suddenly, out of the blue something will trigger, and it takes you back in time. Far, far, back in time.

To the place in childhood, from where those dark pockets in time first formed. Sometimes you find slivers of images piercing your brain. Penetrating your memory, and that huge fall of heavy, weighted darkness descends into the pit of your stomach. triggering senses you could not possibly understand in such a young mind.

And as quickly as those feelings trigger, you find yourself back in the skin of your infant body. You begin to experience the devastation of innocence once more. Your fear, or rather absolute terror and despondency, hit like a large fist through your soul.

And in the blink of eye, you find yourself back in that adult body, with its adult mind and adult experiences. You know this is but a fleeting memory in time. One of which you are prevented from seeing.


For a short moment in time, you feel your innocence ripped away from you viciously, all over again. You relieve the rape of purity, and the molestation of Innocence.


Madame X



Drink me

I am your virus… 

“I shall crawl under your skin, you will be the world I live in,

Every word and every thought, every fear, desire sought,

You shall feel me sitting there, you will know and be aware,

I am the virus in your blood, tangled thoughts unclear as mud,

I am the fire in your brain; I share the good and ease the pain,

There I nest and there I sleep, I burrow fast, and bury deep…”


At first, you desire me. Just like any other drug you are drawn to me, and I to your desire. Then comes my favourite part, and we begin to dance. Light steps at first, treading carefully, so as not to press upon each others toes. Each shadow deftly avoiding the other. The smallest touch becomes electrifying, prickling at your skin, so that each hair stands on end in response. Then I would make my leave from you, stealing away into the night, not once looking back at you, until our next dance together.

My being will have left its shadowy imprint upon your brain. It will burn there, slow and steady. The worms of obsession, compulsion, possession. Will begin to bury and weave like fiery darts through your mind, until you are consumed with thought. Thoughts not purely of your own, but mine also. You will feel the tickle inside you as I creep under your skin. You will hear my whisper on the wind. You will feel my presence close to you. Dream of me, sucked down deep, within your unconsciousness.

Then you will begin to burn.

At first it is a pleasure. Like the silky warmth that enters your veins, cushioning you while free falling. The fall itself a great thrill. A full exhilarating tidal wave, one of which opens your senses truly, to all and everything around you.Your eyes will begin to see, all of which is around you. Your ears will hear that which they have not before. Every sensation will become so alert and sensitive, that it will overwhelm you, and you will taste me on your lips.

But. Like with every other drug, the comedown will be a harsh reprise. Your new found feelings will dull, that silken warmth in your veins will begin to itch, and the burn will become furious. Your need for me will spiral obsessively out of control, as you await your next fix. You will crave in ways you never knew possible, but I shall come to you, and abate that desperation. I shall brush soft against your skin. I shall speak of sweet lullabies in your ear. My touch will warm and calm you, relaxing you in measure. And with it, your urgency for me shall grow. In time that desire will evolve. It will become an obsessive compulsion. Drink in my words like wine. Let my very essence consume you. It is easy I assure you. Allow your desire to lead you, your love to cushion you, your lust to absorb you.

I, daughter of Succubus, wife of Hades, Ruler of the sense, am here to take you in. Let me guide your hand, drink in deep my blood. Let me live in your veins, your heart, your mind, your soul, your loins. Allow yourself to drink me in deeply. Feel my fire burn through your soul. I sit here; I live here, within you. No matter your attempts to purge me…

I remain.

Enter my world willingly and you will find the calm. The peace you seek. Fight me and pain will consume you. No drink will quench your thirst, No meat will sate your lust. No drug will heal your soul. Drink me in. exalt yourself and me. Let the fires reign, let the towers fall, let Jerusalem cry and weep within its droves.

I am burden. I am sin. I am heart. I am soul. I am love…absolute.

I see your sadness; I see your sin, your contempt, your distrust, your disgust, your love, your hate, your need, and your desire.

I see you.

Ah, yes. I know you didn’t want me to but I did and I do.


I see you.

The Alchemist

Alchemy.  ” A seemingly magical process of transformation, creation, or combination.”

The strangest thing. I have a staggering memory for detail, but the face of the alchemist eludes me. No matter how many times I picture him, his facial features change, so that I never have a pure memory of his face.

But I always have a sharp and clear memory of the alchemy we have between us. I cannot say I have ever come across sensations I have around him. he was always enveloped in mystery. Known as the stranger who would visit, influence those around him and leave, and in his wake a strange and new perception would remain upon the lives and lips of those he would come into contact with. His figure and story was well-known throughout the French history of the late 1700’s to the present day, and I had not counted on meeting him myself until it happened.

he stood in the room. An isolated figure, clothed from head to toe in black. A large hooded cloak consumed him, and only the glint of gold from the mask he wore, gave away his identity. He stood still, the only thing barring us from each other, were the table and chairs of the meeting room. The air was dank and moist from the leaking underground pipework which nestled above us, and still he did not move.

I am unsure as to exactly how much time passed while we stood there, my eyes sought out his under the carefully moulded gold mask that he wore to cover his face and obscure his identity. (Though a pointless act in my book.) But once found, I locked onto my target and could have sworn I saw the echo of a smile enter them as I did so, albeit fleetingly.

That was the first time I met The Alchemist.

The second time we crossed paths was during my walk back during a cold and snowy winters night. I saw him, standing under a street lamp from across me. He just stood there, silently as before. Simply observing me as I hurriedly made my way across the streets to my home. Then disappearing once more, within the blink of an eye.

“Third times a charm…”

And indeed it was. For the third time our paths crossed, I experienced my own alchemy.

I awoke to find him standing on my doorway, watching me in my fragile state of sleep. My first course of action was to attack. Like a wounded animal I leapt at him, but within a glimmer of a second he had moved. and I landed on my hands and feet in stance.

“Stop. I mean you no harm.” – I was shocked initially by his voice, for no-one recalls ever hearing the Alchemist speak. It was warm and sweet, like liquid honey it washed over me and i felt myself shudder in response. I regained my composure and stood upright to face him. I could see myself in his eyes, I could SEE myself in his eyes. I had not remembered what I looked like for many centuries, …(and yes you do forget.)

What I saw shocked me. Not the retention of youth, nor my skin in its deathly pale hue, but my own eyes, for I saw myself, the true me. The whole me. And just as I lost myself within my own truths, he faltered, just slightly. The average human would not be able to see such slight movement, or fall of breath. But I am not average nor human, and yet I saw my humanity staring right back at me. Locked in this hypnotic tone, I became aware of a tremor that began to grow all through out me, but seemed to resonate with him too.

He seemed momentarily stunned, and then the moment broke.

“Why are you following me!” I demanded. “I do not know, other than you intrigue me.” His answer was simple and to the point. I scoffed at him, “So every person who intrigues you, you follow to bed?”, he lifted his head slightly but not his gaze. “Not always.” He smiled. “Who are you?” I asked, not expecting an answer. “A friend, to be…” He replied simply, and began to remove the thin gold cord that tied the mask around his face.

I suppose like many before me, I had anticipated “something?”…(although what, I do not know), but stood there before me, was an ordinary man. One who would pass for any of the business men who would fill our streets each morning on their way to work.

“Do not be too disappointed…” he said as he placed the mask on my writing bureau with a mischievous smile, that sat in the corner of his mouth. I found myself strangely flurried and replied”I’m not!”, (This of course, was a vacuous lie on my part.) He then removed the heavy hooded cloak he wore and placed it upon my bed, before seating himself in front of the bureau. Who was this man?, who did he think he was?, Why would he think it acceptable to come to my room at night, whilst I sleep. Then decide to make himself at home? His gall both impressed and vexed me in equal measure.

I decided then and there that I may as well jump aboard this merry ride and find out where exactly it led to. I sat myself down on the end of my bed, my night-dress hanging loosely off one shoulder. My hair, plaited messily hung upon the other shoulder. It was a cold night, and i could feel the bud’s upon my breast peak in response. I lifted up a large wool shawl I had laid across my bed, and wrapped it around me like a cocoon.

“Why are you here?” I demanded to know. “Because of alchemy.” I shook my head in disbelief, was I to sit here and listen to riddles for the rest of the night?. He could tell I was becoming agitated, and he adjusted himself in the chair and spoke. “Let me introduce myself to you, you may call me Isiah.” I am sure you have many questions, as do I. But now is not the time for such niceties.” I was not exactly sure what I thought of this strange man who sat opposite me in my own dwelling. Isiah stood back up and looked squarely into my eyes once more before speaking, and I noted how clear and crystal they were, like two amber flecked pools of liquid green (Not un-similar to a cats.)

” There is something coming for you. For us all, but you have a large role to play within it..” I furrowed my brow in confusion and looked down at my lap, before looking up again to speak.

But, he was gone.

Much time passed before I would see Isiah again, but indeed I did. And with each meeting came further riddles, until the day I found my answers. But that my friends, will be explained in time.

Madame X

The Moon and his Majesty

His highness, King Edward, (or Teddy, as I used to call him).

Teddy was most certainly destined to be a good and fair ruler, had he not met an early demise at the hands of a group of protesters.

A man of great and kind character crowned at the age of twenty-two. A fair, just, and good man for all that I was aware. He was forty-eight when we first met. I had many assumptions about him already given his aristocratic background. However I was soon to learn a lesson sharply about the nature of making assumptions on a person’s character.

I had been invited to escort Lord Parial on his latest trip to the Palace. His highness was keen for his contacts and friends to give to his latest mission, an orphanage that cared for children of many ages. Lord Parial had assisted in formulating my opinion on the King, having told me many sordid stories of the inner workings of the royal family, so I was poised with wit and guile, seated upon the tip of tongue. Ready in response to this so-called King’s folly. However, when we met I was shocked to find a very down to earth man, draped in finery’s but a keen and quizzical mind no less.

He struck up a  conversation upon seeing me. Not once did he speak of his status nor wealth. But instead he was keen to ask of me, my own thoughts upon the state of affairs that our homelands lay in. He listened closely and intently to all I had to say, and thanked me for my honesty. I must admit to being quite struck by his humility, ( a rarity within the blue-bloods).

A week to the day of our first meeting, i received an invitation to meet for tea at the palace. I am sure you can imagine my reaction to such an unusual invite, and I did indeed laugh to myself lightly at the preposterous nature of a scarlet woman being invited by the King for tea and conversation. I was nonetheless intrigued as to what and why my presence was requested. I made the effort to find one of my more “demure” dresses, and made my way by carriage that had been sent to collect me. Once I arrived I was met by serving folk who showed me through a labyrinth of rooms and doors until I finally arrived to a beautiful room adorned with bookcases, gold framed paintings and the largest mirrors I had seen.. There was a small table prepared ready with a darling lace tablecloth. The King was standing, gazing out of one of the wall sized windows into the gardens below. His hands clasped behind his back, his back straight. “Your highness” I greeted him with respect and dropped into a curtsy. He turned to look at me and smiled warmly. “I am so pleased you could make time in your day for me.” What on earth was going on? Why on earth would a man of his stature give even the slightest concern of a lady such as myself. “I thank you your highness, it is my honour.”

He kindly beckoned to the chairs and I seated myself comfortably with his assistance, before sitting down himself.

A serving girl appeared with a silver tray, upon it a steaming hot tea-pot, milk, honey and tea cups with matching saucers. She placed the tray upon the table and bobbed a curtsy before leaving as silently as she had arrived. The king smiled at me and began to pour tea into the two cups, offering me some sweet golden, liquid honey; which I gratefully accepted.

“You, are an immensely interesting lady Madame.” (I had to raise an eyebrow in response). “I am?” The King smiles at me. “Yes, you very much are…”, “You are very different to all of us. Aren’t you?”

By this stage I was wary as to where this conversation was taking us.It was then that our conversation took an unexpected turn. The King then spoke to me of his understanding of magics and monsters. He explained how his belief and experience had started when he was a young boy. He was the only child born to live of his parents, but he was left for much of his childhood with nanny’s and servants. When he was five years old, he witnessed a shadow in his room which used to move of its own accord. When he was ten, he saw something that looked like a man devour two of the young hounds, kept for hunting, and that he would take the image to his grave with him.

The discussion we had was quite extraordinary, yet I strangely felt grateful for his honesty.

Our tea meetings developed over the years, Teddy would ask questions and I would answer them. Our friendship grew and would take another turn altogether.

“Take me, please.” – His face was so earnest and filled with longing as he looked at me, clasping my shoulders tightly. My eyes narrowed as I replied to him. “Take you where?”. Teddy looked inexplicably frustrated as he let go of me. He grasped his head in his right hand smoothing back his hair and sighed. “To where you travel at night.” I must admit, I was taken aback by his suggestion. We had developed a great friendship over the years and I had shared many a story with him, to fuel his lust for knowledge. “I..” I found myself faltering for the first time in many years. “Please.., I need to see this.”

I moved away from him, pensively in thought. Finally, after a long pause I answered him. “Very well.” His face lit up and a huge relief came over him. “Thank you, thank you so much…”. “But!”” I replied, “There are rules you must follow, for if you do not I cannot protect you. Do you understand?”. He nodded, and with that I told him I would be in touch soon, and took my leave.

Two nights passed out last meeting, I sent for Teddy to meet me at the edge of the woods that lined the boundary of our township. He was to meet me at midnight, appropriately attired as a simple towns folk, and he was not to take a carriage to meet me. True to his word, he arrived on a steed a few minutes to midnight. He looked a lot younger than normal, and exuded an excitable air as he dismounted the horse. “Madame!” he smiled broadly taking my hand to place a kiss upon it. I diplomatically removed my hand and steeled his eye as I spoke to him. “You must do EXACTLY as I tell you.” “You must not reveal yourself on any count, and if you stray I will not follow you to save you, do you understand Teddy?” “Absolutely.” He nodded zealously. I nodded at him “Then we begin, no sound must you make.”

And we wandered into the woodlands, under the dark velvet skies, which were prickled with stars and a bright shining moon upon us.

We crept stealthily through the undergrowth until I recognised the clearing I had planned to take him to. “You must hide here..” I gestured to a small hut built of twigs and branches that sat a mere few metres from the clearing itself. Teddy nodded in agreement and climbed into it, positioning himself in a way that would give him the best view, whilst being camouflaged. “You may regret this.” I said to him before moving away, without even thinking to glance back at him, as I disappeared into the night.

I removed the velvet robe that covered my fancy lacy dress as soon as I had left Teddy’s sight. I shut my eyes and listened to the tree’s in the wind, drew in a huge breath of the night air and lifted my arms to the skies. Now I felt calm. I was in the one place that I knew inside and out. My own soul mate.

I opened my mouth and screamed as loudly as I could and smiled as I flipped my tongue over my teeth and lips, tasting in anticipation, what was to be my kill.

I know not how long I took, but returned with my chosen victim to my clearing. A rather delicious young man, drunk upon absinthe who stumbled clumsily in his delirium, whilst leaning upon me. The man whose name I had gathered was Christophe, turned me to face him and pulled me towards him for a kiss. I could smell the absinthe upon his hot breath as he leaned into me, but I could easily ignore this. I had work to do here, work I enjoyed.

I pressed my lips to his with fervour, allowing my tongue to gently flick and tease the inside of his mouth and lips. He responded by roughly pulling me closer to him, his hands moving all over my body, heavy handedly. I moved my lips down his neck, having to control myself as I grazed my teeth over his jugular. I ripped open what was left of his messily buttoned shirt, kissing him as I dropped to my knee’s, his hand pressing down on the back of my neck.

How simplistic men are I thought to myself as I unbuttoned his trousers, I could hear him grunting to himself with a smug grin painted on his face, that I did not need to see, to know it existed. As I finally pulled them down, he lost his footing and fell backwards sharply, hitting his back on some rough stones below. He shouted out a few curses before laying back in his stupor, expectant of my favours. He made a rather pathetic attempt at trying to remove my garments, so I removed them myself apart from the lacy stockings that sat high upon my thighs. I settled myself on my hands and knees as he kicked of leg of the bundled trousers around his ankle and grabbed at himself in preparation. Inwardly I rolled my eyes at his blunt and ugly gesture. Outwardly though I played the game.

I crawled on my hands and knee’s across him and sat upon him, denying him entry to me. He fumbled around disorientated, trying to grab at my breasts. Irritated by now I clutched his wrists and guided him to them, while I sat there and looked upon him. His heart was pumping fast, and I could see the blood rushing through his veins. He was nearly ready for me.

I traced my nails down his chest and felt him twitch in excitement beneath me. I smiled to myself and lowered my head back down to his neck, my dark hair falling in front of my face, and falling across his as traced my tongue behind his ear, and then following his veins downwards, downwards, downwards. Until I arrived at my chosen destination. He was eager now, and it certainly showed. But I had other plans. I traced my lips around him so closely but far enough away not to touch, until my lips grazed against his inner thigh. I could feel his heat, and smell his blood. It was then that I took him.

I lowered my teeth deep into his flesh, and he cried out in pain and began to thrash around, his hand fastened on the back of my neck, trying desperately to remove me. But I was the snake who was stuck fast. I dove my teeth in deeper and deeper until those deep red fountains surfaced and filled my mouth. I could feel it slide down my throat, over my tongue, as I sucked deeply, rhythmically in time with his faltering heart beat, until the last beat.

Only then did I stop. I remained there, naked aside from my stockings, covered in dirt and moss, sitting upon my knee’s astride my kill. And I felt wonderful. I smoothed the blood that hung upon my chin, down across my breasts, my head thrown back in call to the moons song, and I stayed there listening.

I am not sure how long I was there, before I remembered Teddy, hiding away. My moment of glory then disappeared into the night air, and I began to collect my clothing once more, included the flask of water I kept to clean myself. “You may come out now.” I ordered Teddy without looking up once as I took the money pouch from the dead corpse below my feet.

I heard the crackling of twigs underfoot and turned to see Teddy.

I am not sure what I expected of him after being exposed to my world so candidly. His face was white and drained, but his eyes sparkled uncannily.

“You are mesmeric Madame.”

This was certainly not what I had expected from him, I thought to myself. “You are so alive, for someone so…..dead.” I caught myself smiling at him. “So you watched it all?”. “Yes! yes I did. It was quite magnificent!” I dropped his eyes as I replaced my shoes. “You must never tell a single soul, as long as you may live.” I countered to his hypnotic excitement. “I know,” He replied solemnly. “You have my word, upon my life.” I nodded respectively, before walking us back to where his steed was tied. And we parted ways.

We would resume our meetings over tea for many years after, up until Teddy’s unfortunate death. We shared a moment that night between us, that no other would ever claim. Where two worlds united in a brief moment, and a silent respect and understanding grew from it. When Teddy died, a small part of me felt that it went with him to his grave. He had asked only once, for me to give him my gift. And I refused him. I needed him to understand that if I did that, I would lose the gift that he gave to me. A small slice of humanity.


Madame X




Looking back in time openly, is a hard thing to do.

It has been a great, great, many years since I was the innocent girl who loved openly, and gave warmly to all. Sometimes she seems like a very distant memory, one that dissolves into the ether of the past.

But, today I find myself reflecting upon life, (A rare occurrence, but one I take time with when it happens.) and what has happened to me, over the course of time. And what I am now. Let me tell you a story. It won’t be a full story, but it may give you some sort of insight into me as much as you are allowed.

Once upon a time, there was a young girl. She was emotionally and intellectually immature for her age, but she had a warm heart and a hundred ideas of which to help people and make them smile. She was incredibly naive and fell in love with a fallen soldier. A man who seemed broken, but who showed her affection, interest and kindness. All of which she felt unworthy of, (For she had been born with a large hole in her soul which ached with desperate sadness.) Her soldier turned out to be something entirely different. By the time she was trapped in marriage, he had managed to break her down slowly. Stripping away her sense of identity and little worth that she had. He iscolated her and terrified her on a daily basis, and would often threaten her life until one day she could take no more and she broke.

However, the break she suffered became her saviour, She learnt his tricks by watching him, and she worked out ways in which she could set herself free. She became a master manipulator. A black mailer, A fierce and terrifying animal. She worked hard enough to build up a large amount of information and background on the soldier, and one day she told him she was leaving him. He exploded in rage, breaking everything in sight of their home together. Inwardly she was terrified, but she had learnt to show strength outside. Enough to waver his control over her. He told her she would die. He would ensure she would. She told him then of what she had done, and what she could use against him and he froze momentarily. “You clever bitch.” came his reply. “But you have no idea of whom you are toying with, or what I can do.”

After a matter of months the time came when the pair separated. She, now on her own was both living in fear and paranoia of what may happen to her. She spent many years perfecting the art of protection and revenge. Nothing she did, did not have a reason behind it. She immersed herself in learning majicks, physics and fighting.

But she was not strong all the time.

She spent many hours, days and nights crying. Sobbing, shaking and in fear of her life. She developed acute anxiety and began to become secluded and she would sleep with a butchers knife under her bed.

That was just the start of her troubles. There was far, far, much more to come. But not for now. For now I require some time alone with my memories.

Madame X

Tightly Strung

Ah yes, … The Cellist.

Luca was a member of a well-known string quartet that played regularly for royalty and the privileged.

And me.

A highly talented musician for one so young. A mere twenty-four years at the time of our encounter. Tall yet athletically built, with a mop of black hair that would hang in front of his face as he passionately played. Luca would often prefer to meet me at randomized locations, along with his passion came a distinctive paranoia of being discovered in any form of “compromising position” that may cost him his job.

When Luca first disclosed his fantasies to me, he did so with the greatest fear written across his face, and hung his head in shame as he sat in bed next to me.

It was so hard for me to listen as I stifled a laugh. The poor boy seemed to think his mind to be one of illicit desire and perverse fantasy. I took his hand, and assured him that nothing he had spoken of was of the devils doing, and instead assured him I would be more than happy to help in alleviating his “problems”.

The following day Luca arranged to meet me, this time somewhere I proposed. A derelict warehouse on the outskirts of the city. I had requested that we meet at midnight, to ensure as much discretion as possible, and upon arriving I tied a silk scarf around Luca’s eyes. I could feel him tremble with a mixture of fear and excitement as I did so.

I took him by the hand and led him inside. The room had been carefully equipped to meet my specifications, and I started by leading him through to the “cart-wheel” an oversized adapted Cart wheel, which held strong leather writs restraints and buckled harnesses. I pressed him back against the cold stone wall, and he inhaled sharply with surprise. I lifted his left arm first into the binding cuff, sharply strapping the leather around it, tightening the buckles just hard enough to smart against his skin. The second one bound as tight as the first. It was only then he opened his mouth to speak. “Quiet!” I snapped, I found myself smiling with amusement, as he quickly shut his mouth and smiled to himself.

I walked a few feet back to admire the image, while removing the confining skirts from around my waist. The layers of petticoat dropped to the floor in a flurry of lace and frills like a creamy puddle. As I stepped out of them, I smoothed the britches I wore underneath and tightened the lace of my corset. “Are you still there Madame?”. he sounded almost pitiable in his hidden panic. I did not answer him, but allowed the sound of my footfalls to reassure him of my presence, before crouching down and removing his shoes so he stood in bare feet upon the cold floor below. I then fastened each ankle into the lower restraints, fastening them as tightly as the ones that bound his wrists. His breathing and pulse quickened at this unexpected surprise.

“Here are the rules…” I stood straight, my hand on my hip admiring my own handiwork. “You will not speak unless asked a question.”, “You will not cry out, unless told to”, and lastly…”you will not address me directly, that is you answer yes or no. Are we quite clear?”

Luca nodded, “Say it!” I demanded, “Yes.”, I smirked at his reply – this was going to be fun.

I placed my trolley of toys to the left hand side of me, and selected a barber’s cut-throat razor as my initial plaything of choice. Luca had broken into a sweat by now, and I could tell that the restraints had begun to hurt. I moved towards him with my open blade, and placed one hand against his cheek as I leant in to whisper in his ear, while at the same time pressing the cool metal blade against his throat. Luca swallowed hard, his whole body trembling, and I could feel him harden against my body as I pressed against him. I very lightly traced his lips with mine, teasing him as his inclined his body towards me. In one sharp and swift movement, i moved the razor and swiftly sliced his shirt open. Luca breathed in sharply and gritted his teeth in anticipation. But instead I walked slowly away once more, so that he could hear the click of my heels on the floor below. Luca grew angry and aroused which is exactly what I wanted from him.

I did not wait that long before I walked back to him. But to Luca, bound and blinded it would have felt an eternity. I traced the razor slowly down his chest, down past his naval, until it sat just an inch into his trouser waist line. I took the material into one hand and sawed until it fell away, and sat just below his hips.There he stood, naked in all his glory, I dropped the razor to the floor and let the sound fill Luca’s ears as it did. Only then did I kneel and take him into my mouth. Ever so slowly at first, to the point of desperation from the young man who stood there unable to move. I allowed my lips to glide along him, until I had the whole of him inside me. Luca moaned as I allowed my teeth to gently graze him as I pulled my head backwards releasing ,my mouth and standing up. Luca started twisting and turning, trying desperately to free himself of his bindings. I had roused him to the point of agony. Now it was time for a new toy…

I selected an Ivory talon ring that the Doctor had acquired for me a few years ago. It was a beautiful piece of art. It had been hand crafted from the Ivory of an elephant tusk in africa, and bejewelled with a selection of emerald and rubies along its shaft. the talon was razor-sharp, and normally used by myself for the swift effect of slicing the jugular of unsuspecting punters who refused to pay. With Luca I had no plans to kill, but to bleed. And bleed him well I did. I sliced across his chest four times in quick succession, in breathed in and out rapidly, doing well to stifle his cries as I had demanded. The result was four beautiful rivers of scarlet blood that sat and glistened across his chest in pretty diagonal lines. I felt myself quickening, desperate to drink, but like my prey I stifled my desires, – instead driving my fingernails deep into the lines. this time Luca could not hold back his cries. He screamed out in pain and writhed, causing my nails to dig deeper into his now scarred flesh. He whitened rapidly and sweat beads began to profusely pour from his brow. I removed my hand and he gulped for air. his chest and belly expanding and contracting with each mouthful, and suddenly he began to sob quietly and as quickly as he began to cry a laugh replaced it.

I had planned on using a great deal many more toys, but I worried that the boy was in shock and did not want him dead at this particular time. I sighed silently to myself and cleaned my hand on a tea cloth that I had on the trolley. I had two options I thought to myself. The first being that I let him go, which would be highly tiresome to do given the effort and preparation I had put into this mutual endeavour, or I play the pleasure/pain game. A 50/50 of each instead of my planned 80/20.

In the end I opted for the latter, instead deciding that I would play this game in stages with Luca, after all he was only human and I do so hate it when I break my toys soon after getting them. Luca proved to be worth the time it took though. I had many fun play days with him during that season. But I will tell you more about them another time.

Madame X


The Artist

“Close your eyes, let your passion guide you…”

My dear Ernst, how I always look back in fondness of him. Ernst was a painter and artist who tried in vain to gain recognition in the world of creatives.

We first met at a soiree hosted by a mutual friend, whereby Ernst had been spotted as an up and coming star of the art world. I was quite taken with his vociferous passion as he spoke about his work. He asked if I would model for him, naturally I accepted this offer, for there is nothing nicer than drinking in the passion of youth, (And this was naturally what I intended to do.)

I arrived at his home on time, and was graciously let in and met with a warm smile. He took me through to his painting quarters. A sparse and small space with a stool, a very large pile of cushions  and various swathes of material. “Thank you Madame, for agreeing to sit for me.” His enthusiasm knew no bounds. “You are quite welcome.” I smiled, knowingly. “How do you wish to pose me?” I fought back the side smirk that I could feel creeping into the corners of my mouth. “Ah well, I was thinking about possibly have you reclining if you would be comfortable with that?”, “Of course” I answered as solemnly as I possibly could.

He coyly passed me a robe and guided me to a screen where I could change. I toyed with the idea of walking out without the robe brazenly to impress upon him, but decided against it. After all there is more fun in lengthening the game.

For the first few sittings I behaved as well as I could, observing the young painter who seemed frustrated, (It was etched through his face and brush strokes). By the third sitting Ernst exploded. “It is pointless!” he erupted, throwing his paint brush and knocking over the easel panting in anger with himself. I sat up and looked at him. “What is wrong?” He slumped down into a nearby chair and clutched at his head. “Everything, no matter what I do I am not capturing your essence Madame.”

At this point I rose to my feet and removed the hair stick that held my hair in place and let it tumble-down my shoulders in raven rivers. Ernst looked up at me as I walked over to him and then knelt in front of him. “You try to hard”, I answered. Ernst looked at me puzzled, “What do you mean exactly?” he asked. “Your not letting your soul guide you..” I picked up one of the paint brushes and handed it to him. “Try again”, I smiled at him. This time let your sense guide you. I placed my hand over his that clutched at the brush and moved his hand to my chest, guiding it downwards between my bare breasts. He looked at me in wonder and confusion, as I moved the hand holding the brush back to the paint. Bewitched and entranced, I let go of his hand and he began to paint me.

Our sessions improved greatly after this, Ernst would have me pose and pick up his brush and start to paint my body. His brushstrokes would sensually glide over each curve of my body. He would contour my breasts, my hips, my thighs with feather like strokes. Spending careful time on the smallest details such as my nipples. Until one day when he made the decision to put the brush down and instead paint with his hands and fingertips.

The slick of his oil paints and the warmth of his hands were quite beautiful. Not once did he act inappropriately (That is, for a man who would touch me as intimately as he did.) But the care he put into his work became exceptional. he would begin each session painting me, but afterwards he would use what he had learnt through touch to transfer onto canvas, and his work after that became almost ethereal in quality. It was only then that I stopped sitting for Ernst, He had learnt his lesson and now was able to walk proudly amongst his peers.

And what did I gain from this encounter?

Why a favour of course. One of which I shall call upon when required.

Madame X

Pensive Passion’s

I have been pre-occupied as of late.

Many things have been happening lately, and I have been stretched with my time. I need to take a sabaticle of some sort.

I spoke with the Doctor a few days ago about my dalliance with the “Doubler”, safe to say I can leave the matter for now in his capable hands, as I have bigger things to worry about. Victor is back. It has now been confirmed by a few “friends”, and this means trouble, not just for me, but for everyone.


My creator, my lover, my nemesis, my enemy.

Time will tell where this will take me and my own. But for now, my eyes are open wide, and ready for whatever this brings.



I could not get him out of my head, and that bothers me greatly.

I shut my eyes and all I could see was him, looking straight back at me, inside me. Had it not been for my meeting with the doubler, I would have been able to keep that door locked. Shut, deep inside of me. But the resemblance was uncanny, not that which faced me, but what I recognised inside those eyes.

He, was one of the few weaknesses I had.

Lord Victor Alexander, the first and only man I gave myself to fully. We met at the party of Lady Eloise Dayton, a formal gathering to celebrate her husband’s recent venture. I remember him in perfect detail, as he stood in the far corner, speaking to a clutch of giggling and cooing women, who shamed our gender with their pathetic swoons and utterances. I made no move, but he looked up, and it was then that our eyes met. His eyes were of sharp pale green, as clear as polished Peridot. his hair brown and foppish in character. And as he looked at me, I felt him creeping inside my mind and my body. Mapping my every action and reaction… Yet I allowed him to.

He made his excuses to the crowd of women, and began to walk towards me.

“Hello, I don’t believe we have met?” He held out his hand to me, his skin was a warm light brown, as if he had been travelling afar in tropical countries.

My eyes narrowed, immediately distrusting of him, and I did not extend my hand, but instead moved it to my purse. “No. I don’t believe we have.” My tone was sharp and laced with an edge of challenge to it. He smiled. His smile was magnificently playful, and instantly piqued my interest. ” I am Lord Victor Alexander the third.. Pleased to meet you Miss?” ” Madame.” He raised an eyebrow at my answer, clearly enjoying the teasing repartee between us. “Very well. How do you do Madame.”

I took a glass from a passing waiter, and ran my fingers around the contours of the glass flute, sipping occasionally from it, and looking away from this Lord as I spoke, i could feel the heat that was flaring off him. “So…” I paused a while before finishing my sentence, just to create a slight air of awkwardness. “What is your vocation sir?” I felt his smile behind my back, and saw his shadow, move as he walked around to face me once more. He fixed me with his eyes once again, and I felt bare. As if stripped of all my guises, allowing him to see my core, my being.

“I am a Doctor of medicine.” I felt my eyebrow arch slightly in interest. “I see, an interesting line of work I presume?” He laughed suddenly, and almost took me off my guard. “Yes, you could say that. It certainly provides…variety.” He cocked his head slightly as if to examine me further. “Would you like to take a walk?… Madame.”, Once more I raised an eyebrow to him, this time in mockery. After all I am no fool, and I knew instantly he believed he had made his catch for the night. “Very well, but where were you thinking of Lord Victor? , He snorted in rebuff at the use of his title. “Please, just call me Victor.” I gave a knowing nod, and allowed him to take my arm as we walked outside into the night air.

It was a beautiful night, the air was clean and had a soft warmth to it. We walked along the river side in silence, until we came to the edge of a dark building, that was at least 3 storeys high. At the front of it were two large bay windows, a table to the front of them, both beset with candles and books of various colours and sizes.

“Your home?” I enquired. “Yes. i wondered if you might like to take a look at one of my recent medical journal entries that I have written.” A smile started to escape the corner of my mouth, but I hid it well. “And why do you think that your journals would be of interest to me.?” He moved past me, not even looking back once as he spoke and inserted his key into the lock of the door. “Call it….intuition” was his reply, and with that I duly followed him into the house.

When I entered his living space, I immediately smelt the scent of Opium. It’s heady rich scent filled me as I made my way over to one of the many walnut bookcases in the room. Books are one of my truest loves. Books hold knowledge, and knowledge is powerful. I ran my hand over the spines of a huge line of anatomical reference books. But in later shelves found Books of charms, recipes for herbal medicines and alchemy. By then I felt I knew far more about this gentleman. “Would you like a brandy, Madame?” ‘Er, yes thank you.”.  I moved away from the collection of beautifully bound books, and slowly paced around the room, until he beckoned me to sit down with him, in front of a large open fire. he placed the decanter and two glasses on the table between us, and poured a drink in each, handing the first one to me.

“Madame..” he smiled, “Do tell me a little about yourself.” I knew instantly the game he had decided to play, but I was intrigued and allowed him to, just for a little while.”What is it that you would like to know?” He gazed at the contents of his glass, as he rolled it in his palm to warm the brandy. ” I am a woman of business.” He nodded slightly, his eyes narrowing in thought.” “I see” he replied. “You have family here?”, “Of a sort” I replied. His interest piqued again.”Hmm, a sort eh?.” There was a pause of silence between us as I sipped my brandy. The air had begun to electrify, and I could feel it through out my body.He stood up and removed his jacket, rolling up his sleeves to just beyond his elbows, before sitting himself down again. I am not sure how much time passed while we sat there, each of us forwarding information between the silences. Eventually I rose to my feet, and made my pardons to leave. It was only then he reacted.

“Stop. You must not leave yet!” He seized my forearm in one of his large weathered. I glared at him, “Remove…your…hand.” He looked at me and saw suddenly the change, but unlike most other men, he did not release me. Instead he tightened his grip and dragged me by my arm to him, so that we were face to face. “Who are you really?” he demanded his brow now furrowed and his face flushed. “You already know” I replied in a steely voice. I saw a flicker in his eye of recognition. A moment passed between us, and then suddenly his lips were upon mine, kissing me fiercely. I pulled away quickly and looked at him, before the animal in me took control and pushed him hard into the wall before pressing my lips on his. The furniture crashed around us as we stumbled and clawed with each other, my hair which had been styled in a tight chignon, now tumbled around my shoulders and back messily. I ripped at his shirt, the pearl buttons exploding in different directions as we made our way through the living room and into the corridors. He lifted me up, my legs tied themselves around his waist as he fumbled with one hand for his trousers. My skirts rolled back to my waist, with layers of petticoat, falling in frothy layers either side of my bare thighs, which were clad simply in cream stockings. His hands grabbed at my thighs and bottom squeezing my flesh between his fingers, as I hungrily searched his neck with tongue, and teeth. Teasing at the flesh gently and then wildly like a hungry beast.

It was then that he pushed himself inside me, hot and hard and wild I welcomed him, moving with speed and lust. He used his free hand to rip open my bodice and my breasts fell free from their straitjacket. I was so aroused that I forgot myself entirely and just took him in as deep as I could. He buried his face in my chest, biting, licking and sucking with a desperate desire that I recognised in myself. I pushed myself away from the wall, causing him to tumble backwards and I sat atop of him, lifting and lowering myself. Undulating wildly as I came closer to my climax. My teeth gritted, I threw my head back and then launched myself upon his neck and bit hard, just as I felt him coming inside me. he emitted what I can only recognise as a loud growling guttural sound, and I lifted my head up, to be faced with the truth that I had already come to know.

He was the same as I.

He yanked my hair back hard in retaliation, and I inhaled at the pain and the strength, enjoying both equally. He sat up and plunged his teeth into my neck and I arced my back in pleasure, but in a matter of seconds I regained myself. Pushing him back with all my force, his head hit the floor hard and he shouted out, I attempted to pin him down, but his strength as a man outdid my own. He grabbed both of my wrists and got to his feet, pulling his trousers back up to his waist, and dragged me through to a second room, which I can only have guessed to be his opium den. The floor was filled with large colourful silk cushions. and there were swathes of fabric pinned to the ceiling and walls. The air was so thick with smoke, you could have sliced it with a knife. And here he had me pinned by my wrists, my bodice ripped and hanging from my waist. I began to throw my body weight around to wrench free, but this man was not just a man, he was clearly kin of sorts, and from his strength I judged that he must be older than even I.

Part of me repulsed from his dominating gesture, the other part of me prickled and tingled in arousal and excitement. He threw me onto a pile of the large cushions on my front, ripping my dress upwards to expose me from behind and cover my face with my skirts at the same time. He parted my legs roughly and shoved himself inside of me, whilst pinning me underneath the materials of my own clothing. I could not in that moment know whether I hated him or wanted him more. I could feel him pushing himself harder and faster inside me, and my body responded in turn. He finally placed the full weight of his body upon me during the last thrusts, which were rough and hard, filling me with himself. And then I felt him come, and I myself instantly climaxed in tandem.

And then he just lay there upon me, and for the first time in my life I found myself warm to someone. To him. But in doing so I had opened myself up to a large array of pain and evils that were yet to come, some of which I may or may not share with you.

Suffice it to say, I am not of myself at present and I must see to this quickly. For if he is involved in any way in this new situation I find myself in, then I must react and act quickly, for the sake of mine and my own.


Madame X


The Ravishing Savage

What is he? I wondered to myself.

Here, in the midst of my own personal feeding frenzy in the forest, I come across a different savage from my own ilk. I can tell from his scent that laces itself on the tree’s and foliage around me. This is no human scent, nor animal… but still male. I dropped the infant child I had been feeding upon, to the ground. His small body fell limply like a rag doll upon the ferns below, and I made it my mission to find the enigma that drew on both my senses and my curiosities.

I could taste the scent as I drew closer, the air chilled around me and my thirst grew in intensity as I heard his heartbeat, raw and wild and fast. The forest dank and dark, surrounded in shadow, apart from the moonlight which darted and hid between the boughs above, and the utterances of the creatures of the night that immersed themselves in it’s protection. I could hear his blood race and hid myself beneath a group of overgrown tree roots that contorted like spiders legs.

There, in a small clearing near to the river, his head stooped to cup handfuls of water to his mouth. His face was hidden, by a mass of matted black hair which fell past his shoulders, twigs and moss entwined themselves in the knotted mess. he wore a dark shirt opened freely and dark brown trousers woven with criss crossed laces down either side of them. He looked human, from what I saw..but his scent was other worldly, like the smell of frost on a new winters morning, while laced with the scent of sex, mud and amber. He was delightfully vulnerable, or so I thought.

Given my bloodlust and the greed of the beast inside me, I made the mistake of presuming he would be an easy kill, I was wrong. He turned almost as soon as I made the decision to pounce. his face was swarthy but beautiful all at once, and his eyes of the clearest green I had seen, but he was far from afraid. He was ready for me. He grinned and poised low to the ground ready to attack like a scorpion dancing before piercing it’s prey, and oddly I found myself smiling back at him, just waiting for my moment to attack. We both lunged at the exact same time, and met mid air in a tangle of limbs and hair, before falling to the ground and rolling with gathering speed until we hit the same tree roots that had been my shelter only minutes before. I had managed to work my way on top of him, but not for long as he he out manoeuvred me and flipped me, and in a beat of his heart had me pinned underneath his weight, I was surprised at his agility, but far from worried. I grabbed a hand full of his hair and yanked it back hard, ripping a large portion from his scalp as I did so, he screamed in anger, and I scratched him along his pretty cheekbones before escaping his hold. But by that point I had already gained my freedom, and found myself a suitable perch up in one of the tree’s, which offered a great vantage point. The stranger moved quickly and eventually looked upwards to where I watched, and it was only once I allowed him to see me, did I make my move.

I dropped in a split second, landing onto his back. My nails digging into his warm flesh and  hooping under like a hawk’s talons embedding in it’s unassuming prey. He threw me back and forth, again and again and again, in his attempts to rid himself of me, but I clung ever the more tighter and sank my teeth into his neck. Imagine my surprise when no blood came, not even a single drop. In momentary confusion, I imagined that I could hear laughing coming from all sides of the forest, as I jumped down from the man of flesh and no blood. Landing stealthily in a side lunge, I scanned the foliage to make sense of the laughter I had believed I heard.

What was this beast? I had met many assailants in my time, some human, some beast, many otherworldly, but none of his kind. I could hear the rustle of the plants and tree’s as he did his best to run away from me, but still I could hear the laughter mocking me in pursuit of him. I ran like the wind, my speed increasing beyond what even I thought possible. This was what I had desired all along, not until it was too late was I aware of the man jumping upon me from the tree’s above. We rolled down the mossy banks until coming to a harsh stop against a large mass of boulders.

What was this? The man was indeed the same one who I had pursued, but not a mark was on his face. His clothes were un-torn and not a single puncture wound could be seen upon him. Both of us glared each other in the eye as his body pressed upon mine, neither of us blinked nor moved. It was then that our core nature took over. I gripped his waist tightly with my thighs and attempted to flip him over. (A useful trick in a brothel, especially with over eager patrons.) But he saw it coming and used his counter weight to keep me pinned. Not one to be humiliated or over powered by any man, I began to bite and tear at him with my free hand, but something was different…

As I tore into his flesh, red lines began to appear, blood began to drip from them. He winced and recoiled in pain and moved to grab my arms in an attempt to pin them behind my back, but he was clumsier and slower than I, and could only grab my left hand, which he proceeded to pin, (how cliched) and moved us to an upright position. My legs were still clamped to his waist, to ensure I could reach his face with my free hand. I felt alive for the first time in many years and in that moment it was clear he did too. But what he didn’t count on, was me suddenly releasing my grip only to fasten my thighs around his neck, which loosened his grip on my wrist as he tried to release my legs which were tightly squeezing his last breath out of him. He contorted and threw the both of us sideways. my head landed on a sharp rock, cutting my brow bone open. I could feel my own blood trickle down my head into my eyes, blurring the vision in my left. Before I could wipe it away from my sight line, he came at me again. This time with a large rock in his hand, and I knew immediately I had the advantage. Being male he had simply slipped backwards into the primate he had originated from. He threw his whole body weight into the blow, but I moved so quickly that all he hit was the floor in a dense thud. I launched myself on top of him, and bit again. this time penetrating his jugular. Blood began to spray in all directions covering my face and breasts in tiny red pearls. He grabbed at the wound site, gasping and gurgling as his life passed through him, in front of his own eyes.

Suddenly the mocking laughter that had once filled the air, turned to wails as the savage in front of me started to shake as his life slipped away.

Contented with my kill, my mind turned to our first meeting. Why had he not bled the first time? I knew that my teeth had sunk their full depth into his flesh, and yet here in front of me the same man, this time emitting a scarlet fountain from his wound. I had heard of tales regarding forest folk before, and seemed to remember a tale about “Doubler’s” A kind of fae, that was able to create replicates of themselves as a means to confuse their prey, while they moved in for the kill. Was this creature here a “doubler?” And if he was, what other fairytale creatures also lay in wait, within the woods?

His body now still and lifeless, lay in a growing pool of blood. I knew not what time it was, but I was certain that the dawn would start beckoning soon, so I turned myself around and started to make my way back to my home. Questions ringing in my ears, and my curiosity peaked. Where there is but one, there are many. And I required knowledge of them and their kind. Knowledge is power, there is no question about that. I want to know everything so I am prepared.

For what, I do not know. But I do know that something in there wants me, and wants me dead.