Lady Stardust
folder
-Buffy the Vampire Slayer › FemmeSlash - Female/Female › Buffy/Faith
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
1
Views:
1,881
Reviews:
0
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
1
Category:
-Buffy the Vampire Slayer › FemmeSlash - Female/Female › Buffy/Faith
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
1
Views:
1,881
Reviews:
0
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
1
Disclaimer:
I do not own Buffy the Vampire Slayer (BtVS), nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.
Lady Stardust
title: Lady Stardust
author: cheebs!
email: chbkamen@optonline.net
site: http://bite.to/bloodandfire
rating: R
chara: Faith, implied F/B
summary: It's all fun and games being a gorgeous girl...isn't it?
disclaimer: Chara aren't mine. Beyond that...
note(s): Title from Bowie's song about one of the prettiest glam boys ever to walk the planet: Marc Bolan (T-Rex). Inspired by (in no particular order) Te, kate and Prophecy Girl.
warning(s): TG, implied f/f, self mutilation
archive(s): Lists, W&D, others please ask.
date: 12/25/02
------------------
She just stands and stares at her naked self in the mirror, sometimes.
She knows she's beautiful. All the pretty boys and prettier girls tell her so. Tell her she shimmers like a star, all glitter and pleather; a true creature of the night, like those she hunts. Hunted, rather.
Oh, she still hunts, prowling the dark clubs for a fix, be it drugs or sex or dance. She finds it isn't the same as being out in the night air, by her side, listening to her heart beat a smooth rhythm as they seek their preferred prey. Nothing satisfies like a good staking, followed by an even better unnnnnh, and there's nothing she'd like better than to hear her moaning low and long (though she would lay odds she's one of those girls that makes silly little squeals) as she drives herself deeper...deeper....
Such thoughts are immediately followed by others; chief among them, 'She's straighter than her stake.'
She whips out her cock from the sidetable drawer. Slides into the shiny black vinyl pants, so tight as they stick to the fine sheen of sweat and dust that coats her body after another successful night of Slayage. Watches her masochistically waxed-baby-smooth cunt that she has come to hate with a passion disappear without a trace as her magnificent prick springs forth, all 7" of virgin ebon rubber jumping to life at the thought of her... as much life as anything inanimate can have, anyway.
She stands before the mirror, admiring and loathing, wondering how something so insignificant to her can mean so much to her.
Her gaze travels upward, to the heavy fleshy lumps on her chest. She recalls the night she couldn't take any more teasing, any more sly looks and slight touches that left her quivering with need, and had gone home and tried to hack them off. Relives the blood and pain and stopping partway through one and the healing not hurting half as much as her heart. Traces the jagged ivory scar where it never quite healed.
She wonders if things would be diffferent if she had money and could pay to have it done properly. Ponders the Council's reaction. One girl in all the world? Silly men in their tweed suits with their expensive brandy and cigars, don't they know that the outside doesn't always make the in?
Then she comes to her senses. Reminds herself of how much power her femininity has given her. How much of a threat she is because of it, not in spite of it.
And, as her hand longingly strokes the latex jutting from her groin, she thinks she'd give it all up if only she could have her.
~end~
author: cheebs!
email: chbkamen@optonline.net
site: http://bite.to/bloodandfire
rating: R
chara: Faith, implied F/B
summary: It's all fun and games being a gorgeous girl...isn't it?
disclaimer: Chara aren't mine. Beyond that...
note(s): Title from Bowie's song about one of the prettiest glam boys ever to walk the planet: Marc Bolan (T-Rex). Inspired by (in no particular order) Te, kate and Prophecy Girl.
warning(s): TG, implied f/f, self mutilation
archive(s): Lists, W&D, others please ask.
date: 12/25/02
------------------
She just stands and stares at her naked self in the mirror, sometimes.
She knows she's beautiful. All the pretty boys and prettier girls tell her so. Tell her she shimmers like a star, all glitter and pleather; a true creature of the night, like those she hunts. Hunted, rather.
Oh, she still hunts, prowling the dark clubs for a fix, be it drugs or sex or dance. She finds it isn't the same as being out in the night air, by her side, listening to her heart beat a smooth rhythm as they seek their preferred prey. Nothing satisfies like a good staking, followed by an even better unnnnnh, and there's nothing she'd like better than to hear her moaning low and long (though she would lay odds she's one of those girls that makes silly little squeals) as she drives herself deeper...deeper....
Such thoughts are immediately followed by others; chief among them, 'She's straighter than her stake.'
She whips out her cock from the sidetable drawer. Slides into the shiny black vinyl pants, so tight as they stick to the fine sheen of sweat and dust that coats her body after another successful night of Slayage. Watches her masochistically waxed-baby-smooth cunt that she has come to hate with a passion disappear without a trace as her magnificent prick springs forth, all 7" of virgin ebon rubber jumping to life at the thought of her... as much life as anything inanimate can have, anyway.
She stands before the mirror, admiring and loathing, wondering how something so insignificant to her can mean so much to her.
Her gaze travels upward, to the heavy fleshy lumps on her chest. She recalls the night she couldn't take any more teasing, any more sly looks and slight touches that left her quivering with need, and had gone home and tried to hack them off. Relives the blood and pain and stopping partway through one and the healing not hurting half as much as her heart. Traces the jagged ivory scar where it never quite healed.
She wonders if things would be diffferent if she had money and could pay to have it done properly. Ponders the Council's reaction. One girl in all the world? Silly men in their tweed suits with their expensive brandy and cigars, don't they know that the outside doesn't always make the in?
Then she comes to her senses. Reminds herself of how much power her femininity has given her. How much of a threat she is because of it, not in spite of it.
And, as her hand longingly strokes the latex jutting from her groin, she thinks she'd give it all up if only she could have her.
~end~