Re: Promenade; Elevator [Adult]
Goosebumps erupted along downy arms as rhapsodic waves lapped at skin in lustration, shoring up pleasure dutifully, lingering on sand. A cardinal sin, carnal, wrapped in the sinner’s heraldic snap of red, blushing on parted lips that had so recently promised an eternity to dulia, whose teeth were sharpened almost to points. The bride was not immune to touch, however impervious her mind. She was an animal at her root, from the black underbrush, and though man’s ugly imprint had left her in her feet discalced and her knees bloody, the wilderness kept squirreled in the hollows of bones remained intact.
She gripped the bars of the lift with slipping palms as her nerves caught the match at her foot and flared bright. The bride opened under the expert ply of fingers as she never had for the battalion of tinkering bridegrooms before, the ones who bruised her skin mauve and yellow clumsily, needlessly in their selfish gratification. She knew the Lilith was made for the shameless, revolting acts of the flesh, for the atrocity of decadence. It mattered little. The hellish martyrolatry was a strange prayer.
She made her own ductile, breathy sounds of luxuria that quickened as blood deafened the world around her. Unfocused, with lashes netting, she looked down at the demonic woman and her cauterized perfection, at the contrast of her skin with her dress. The Lucifer was revolting, the men would have thought as they coveted her, with her lips plump as Psychotria alata, the white eyes not at all demure. She was need and men needed need.
The bride knew that. Fascinated, she stared at the undulation of serpents, the true deceiver.
“Fuck me,” she breathed. She might have smiled, but the bride must never reveal all. Her cheeks hearkened parousia, the second Coming, colored high with the syncopation of desire. “With your snakes.”