Baby with Damien
The days and weeks did not seem to pass fast enough, as Black Widow was anxious for Damien to rescue her. Not that she was in danger, per say, but she had been lonely for the comfort of his touch, his long, dark hair, curls that she could tangle her fingers into. Just the smell of him was intoxicating.
When he finally arrived, it was like a reunion of souls. The first sex was mind-blowing, other worldly as the colliding of two souls. The act literally moved their two souls together, and the baby came shortly after.
Through the pregnancy, they were the talk of the town. They surfaced to the top of the bondage scene, having no fear of false pregnancy. One big circus came to be.
Taking it gentle on Black Widow, not wanting to put the baby in danger, they took their jealousy out on Damien, who became known as a bitch to some of the richest of the rich. Thousands were thrown into the wind, just to get a piece of the action. Black Widow could not deny the monetary assistance.
Old men would pay Damien $5000 just to tie them up, beating them with a leather strap, a wire cord or a silky tie. Covering them in latex or tying them up with yards and yards of string, the money flowed in even more when the cameras got involved. Money, and the simplistic work, became a vicious cycle.
When the daughter was born, work still was work for Damien, accepting donations and doing extra things on the side. What room did Black Widow have to say anything, for the money was indeed needed? The baby girl was sheltered from the world of whips and chains and flowing blood as much as possible, Black Widow taking her away on trips to promote her art as much as possible, but confusion must have taken its toll.
Whether Damien was so desired or the rest of the community knew of his condition, money flowed in just the same. Even when he started to decline, he tried to do the best he could. Some days, it became hard for him just to get out of bed, but men would still pay, just for his company.
Three years passed, and one of Damien’s best clients passed on, leaving Damien as sole heir of his estate. The money helped, but it was not enough to cure Damien’s worsening condition. A few months later, the situation was declared inevitable, as they knew from the start.
Their daughter was inexplicably like Damien, petite with dark baby doll-like curls in her long hair. Though tiny, her viciousness was growing more and more evident, something that Damien wished to feed. She was pure blood, and she could always use early energy, so a sacrifice was declared.
“It will be the hardest kill for her to do, but it will give her the most power, and at such an early age,” Damien declared. “How could you deny your own daughter the strength that I am willing to offer her. Let her kill me.”
“I just don’t want to see you go,” Black Widow sobbed. “I know it’d be the best for her, but I just can’t stand to lose you, not after all this. I don’t want to see you go.”
“I won’t be gone,” Damien cooed. “I’ll live through her. You know this, as well as I know this; it’s the only way I can live on.”
There was little more discussion to be had before it was decided. The event was to be like a black baptism, daughter killing her father. As Damien had become such a well-known bondage figure, and Black Widow’s art had risen from the underground, the event became a fund-raising spectacle.
A tiny black paten leather and lace dress was sewn up for Damien’s offspring, her first true bondage dress. Black Widow wore one to match, having a huge buffet of bloody food available for the spectators. There was also a buffet table mounded with drugs, from pre-rolled cannabis cigarettes, to chunky block of dried blood, werewolf to vampire and everything in between.
An alter was erected, decorated in black and purple velvet, a paten leather floor to make for easy cleaning of the blood that could possibly be spilt. On the floor was also a purple pentagram that would glow red upon the specified moment. Sage leafs burned throughout the black and white marbled ballroom.
A crystal and candle chandelier made the only light of the event, and as the people poured in, they paid their last respects to Damien, offering gifts to his wife and child. Each of Damien’s vices were met with finality, a parting gift before he left the world. There was even a short line of last performances, ones that Damien could both watch and participate in.
Cameras rolled for the last time, recording the last stages of his body, which had begun to decay with disease. The daughter played in glee, petting black cats, chasing black chickens and being handed a doll that looked exactly like her.
Black feather masks were worn by some, black leather masks worn by others, as the identities were concealed by most, the typical understanding of the bondage underground. Chains lifted victims, hanging their from the ceiling so that their skin pulled away from their bodies. Crosses held couples, naked, wearing gas masks to conceal their identities, contorting in a sexual manner.
Black Widow’s daughter would be one of the first, the youngest to join this society. There was no choice in the matter, as this was her birthright. She looked around with glee at the phenomenon.
When the time came, Damien gathered his wife and his child up into his arms in the center of the diagram. The wife would have to show the child how the act was supposed to be done. Black Widow kissed Damien on this lips, then gingerly bit his neck, sucking for a moment.
Pulling away, she lead her daughter’s mouth to the source of blood that dripped. Upon the first taste, the daughter felt her fangs extend for the first time, falling in love with her father. It was the last they would physically see of each other.
The purple pentagram grew red as Black Widow and her daughter sucked Damien dry. As his body grew limp, a bright light hovered above his body. With a crack of lightning, energy zapped into Black Widow and her baby.
Screeches, both of cries and cheers, were heard from the audience. A black chicken’s head and foot was cut off, while the body wriggled around the room. A black cat chased the dying animal.
The daughter beamed with satisfaction, and Black Widow put a finger on her fangs. “Now you know what these are used for, don’t you?” Her daughter nodded with a smile.
Opening her mouth, Damien’s voice escaped his daughter, “I love you. Always remember, I am right here with you. I love you.”
Black Widow swept her daughter up into her arms, rocked her back and forth and began to sob. She could not escape her fate. She truly was a Black Widow.
THE END
or
What would have been the other option?
Marisa's Web sites
Black Widow home
Marisa's home page
books by Marisa
Marisa's myspace page
Email: thorisaz@hotmail.com
