by Tiana Laveen
“Why were you looking for me?”
“Because you’re special.” She took a dainty sip from her own glass. “The original plan was to get you to New York so that you could be free and experience the life you so wished to have. However, due to our visitors the other night, it wasn’t meant to be… That’s my fault, however, and I take full accountability for it. In my excitement, I’d gotten slack. I am sorry.”
“I don’t know what to say… Nothin’ you’re sayin’ makes sense. You must be crazy and now you’re makin’ me crazy, too. Are you a witch?”
Geneviève laughed. Her long, pale neck tilted back as she giggled. It was a frightening laugh, a loud, booming sound with high and low pitches.
“I’m not crazy and I’m not a witch, Venus, but your small human brain believes me to be. Why? Well, it’s obvious. You need this strange new world you’ve entered to make sense. I will try my best to explain it to you, regardless. You see, when you cut your hand on the cup, your scent filled the room like a strong, delicious banquet. I had no idea you’d smell so sweet. After I put you to sleep, I returned here to clean up the broken cup but your blood was there, on a piece of it… I tried to ignore it, but I couldn’t resist curling my tongue against that rough shard and sampling you. Divine!” She drummed her fingers against the table and her eyes rolled back. “In that moment, I let my guard down and hadn’t realized the mask I’d put around the cabin had slipped. You see, that takes concentration. It’s my psychic gift, one of a few. I’d put a veil of sorts around it… a bit hard to explain but in time you will get it. As I savored your blood, that tiny drop so intoxicating, I heard the dogs.”
“I remember now… That’s what woke me. The dogs.”
“All of my plans and dreams for you had to be revamped. I couldn’t go from plantation to plantation trying to find you. That would’ve caused undue harm to your family and unlike some others of my line, I do have a sense of responsibility that I honor. I was told years ago that you would surface on your own, that you were built that way. You’d already tried to escape once to no avail. I was pleased that you tried again, this time successfully. Anyway, in order to save you, my Love, I had to turn you right then and there or risk you being killed by their gunfire. I also would have had to kill all of those men, as well as their horses and the like.
“That would only launch a time-consuming investigation due to the scores of dead humans and beasts. Lynchings would have ensued in order to teach you all a lesson and I would have had to burn the entire place down in retribution. They would have stolen what was rightfully mine… YOU. I had to do that 238 years ago. Do you know what it’s like to have to take out an entire village? It’s tiresome, dreadful, and boring. Besides, I really don’t like messes,” she stated nonchalantly as she rolled her eyes.
“Messes… broken cups…” Venus slicked her tongue against her lower lip. Her skin no longer felt like her own. It was as if she were in someone else’s body, simply going through the motions. She felt strong and weak at the same time… dying, while breathing and living. Yeah, none of this made sense.
“I am meticulous about how I conduct myself and my business and I never wish to bring undue attention to my brethren. We’ve survived amongst you for all of this time for a reason. Most don’t even believe we exist and that works in our favor. We work with you, move about the world, smile in your faces, and you are none the wiser. We have high standards, clean our muddles, and avoid big scandals at all costs, unless the opposite is completely necessary. This African slave trade you humans have succumbed to is disgusting.” She wrinkled her nose as if smelling a horrid stench. “All humans are sickening organisms… Naturally stupid and lazy, as if one of you is better than the other. You’re all mice.”
“The white-skinned humans have convinced you all that you are lesser than by removing you from your land, claiming your blood, and force-feeding you lies to keep you submissive. Blood is key! Blood is ancestry. It links you, binds you. You do not realize it now, my Love, but they will erase your history and the good bits of it, claim it for themselves. They will have you turn on one another by instilling divisiveness, using skin tone and color as a weapon. This idiotic notion of house and field slave – when you are all dying slaves! They will have you argue amongst yourselves about hair texture, too. They will infiltrate your music, your dances, your inventions, your artistic expressions, and stupefy your culture and vilify it, too, then make money off your art and have you say and do things that weaken your blood bond.
“There will be broken, bitter families. The parents will be mentally weak, the children emotionally crippled. They will tamper with your education and no one will care until it is too late. They will introduce strange, mind-altering substances into your destroyed neighborhoods that will control you once they see you trying to govern yourselves successfully. You will have no self-worth, no sense of self, nothing at all. The very people that promised to protect you will rob you blind. You will be broken and beaten, but not with whips and chains; it will happen through your own brainwashing and infighting. Your communities will be unsafe warzones. They only need two things to accomplish this and more… the brain and the blood. The disease of self-loathing gets in the brain and eats away at it like a ravenous worm and then it infects the blood, the family line becomes diseased…generational curses.
“They will use religion, false promises, and terror to gain control over you. You will always be on the plantation, even when you are off! They break apart your families, removing the lineage, the blood. They take away the mother and the father, so the original blood line is severed. FOREVER. If you remove the King and the Queen, the village is lost, running around with no direction. It’s about blood! They were smart enough to figure that out. They came from you!” she screamed. “Truth they’ve hidden… but they know! They always knew.
“Remove a man’s language, you’ve cut out his tongue! He bleeds to death unless he speaks the foreign words. You can barely read… that’s brain control. Blood flow makes the brain work. Reading and writing exercises the brain, my Love! One day, they will no longer have to lift a finger against you – they will have trained you well to do it against yourselves. You’ll be a perpetual victim, the mirror forever broken. You, my love, see clearly. They must find you not because another nigger escaped! But because you’re a smart, defiant, strong nigger woman with a hot slit between her long legs, perfect for raping so they can spill their rancid seed and force you to bear children for breeding with a man you may never see again!”
Venus gasped, her heart beating nearly out of her chest.
“It has always been about blood, Venus! My kind is just willing to admit who we are… We are proud! It’s they who are the true vampires. Sucking off of the labor of others, exercising mind control for no other reason than to feel self-important. The jealousy… sickening. How low they’ve fallen… Descendants of the cast out ones. It amazes me that the God you praise can stand it! Revenge is mine, thus said the Lord. WELL, HOW MANY MORE DROWNED NEGRO BABIES WILL HAPPEN BEFORE THE WRATH OF GOD COMES DOWN LIKE A MIGHTY SLEDGEHAMMER?! Why doesn’t He just destroy them if He is so wonderful and mighty?! BLOOD OF MY BLOOD, FLESH OF MY FLESH!”
She abruptly stood from her seat, toppling it over with a loud thud, and as the woman stood there like some shadowy tower, breathing hard, two incisors emerged from behind her upper lip, bearing down on the bottom one. Her teeth glistened, the ends sharp like knives.
“God!” Venus clutched the edges of the table. Seeing was believing. All the words in the world could never describe how she felt at that moment. How could she understand this? A woman morphing into a ravenous beast, right before her. The woman’s eyes shone black for a spell once again, making her look like a snake out in the wild. “God, hear my prayer! Our Father, who art in heaven, hallowed be Thy name…”
“Yes, call Him, Venus!”
Venus lowered her head, clasped her hands together, and kept praying, louder and stronger as hot tears streamed down he
r cheeks.
“Pray like your mother before she was beaten to death when you were so young! Pray like your father who died from working in the hot sun for twenty hours straight, with not a drop of water to sustain him, no breaks, and then they cast his dead body aside like garbage and made everyone continue working the field. Pray like the first time you were raped, beaten, and whipped. Pray, Venus! Call on God, but not for protection… pray for thanks! God finally did something about your plight. He sent me to save you… Amen. But I tell you something, my dear.”
“In Jesus name!” Venus voice trembled as she pressed her eyes shut, trying to drown out Geneviève’s words.
“I am incapable of love, but I will come close as possible to treating you as my own, if you allow it, Venus. I will take you around the world, teach you to read and write, educate you, instill in you class and sophistication. And then, my sweet, sweet, Venus, Master Miller and his ilk had better pray, too! They better pray to the God they don’t believe in, that you never return. For if you do, it will be for one reason, and one reason only… to burn that entire place down to the ground. And when you do, I will smile and say, ‘Well done, my good and faithful servant!’”
CHAPTER ONE
~Modern Day~
Welcome to New York City…
Head of the Throne
Jay Z’s, ‘Empire State of Mind’ blasted through the gold and black Yamaha speakers of the massive, fifty-million-dollar penthouse on Fifth Avenue in Manhattan, New York. Sitting on his black and red throne with a glass of Kendall Jackson Merlot that he pretended to drink in one hand and the back of a blond bitch’s head in the other, he figured he’d be flowing soon, just like the libations. The woman’s slippery, wet tongue glided up and down the underside of his rock-hard dick and she occasionally looked up at him, no doubt fishing for clues of his approval and pleasure. He offered few.
Alexandre Marseille sat there studying his surroundings, his home. It was a celebratory party, after all. He’d won yet another case; his client walked away with a $2.4 million dollar settlement. People milled about, eating up the disgusting food they’d surely expected to be served, fucking one another against walls, snorting premium cocaine up their reddened, raw nostrils, flipping playing cards and tossing dice, shoving balls across pool tables and gambling their money away. To his left knelt an Indian woman who sucked his balls in a slow and easy, methodical manner, her expertise with such things quite apparent in the special attention she showed.
The blond lady licking the base of his dick moved to the throbbing head of his nature, lavishing it with needy sucks and slurps, while a short-haired brunette with dragon tattoos up and down the length of her pale, perfect body ate her own pussy before him as she twisted and contorted her seemingly spineless form in the strangest of ways. He took a leisurely sip of his drink, winced, then tossed it down on the floor and snapped his fingers for one of his servants to come pick the shit up.
“Sorry about that, Mason.” Alexandre Marseille chortled as his eyes turned to black slits. He forced his true nature to show for a spell, removing the veil of the ice blue pupils he typically donned, which made others feel so much more comfortable. “Someone moved my table.” He pointed to the bench that usually rested alongside his throne, now being used by two gorgeous lesbians with leather dog chokers around their necks. One had the other bent over and was fucking her ruthlessly with a long, plastic strap on. Her cries of ecstasy made him lick his lips. He opened his black button down shirt a little more as sticky heat resonated within his slender frame, pouring out to his pale flesh, consuming him from his black hair to his toes. He hated these moments… a reminder that he was a slave to his need to feed, and fast food was becoming more and more commonplace.
Typically, feast time was something he rather enjoyed but as of late, it had become an inconvenience for several reasons. Most notably, his preferred taste of meal was running low on supply, becoming harder to come by. He preferred pure blood, untainted by pollutants such as alcohol and marijuana… When blood wasn’t pure, it offered an offputting after taste, and he’d always had a sensitive palate. He could pick up the subtlest of notes in the blood of his prey, able to tell with almost 100% accuracy what nourishment had been consumed that day.
Processed foods and purely vegan diets were disgusting as well… the worst of the worst. He needed the tangy taste of the animals they’d consumed, the subtle bloody flavors of those meats. Those who ate from all the major food groups were the most ideal, but living in a low-carb, Keto diet, drug infested, diseased, cancerous, fast food on every corner, Atkins world made the current blood stock strange and unpleasant, to say the least.
Twisting his fingers tight in the length of the long blond strands of the whore giving him head, he forced her down hard onto the shaft until her nose was pressed against his black pubic hair. He rejoiced in her gagging as he pumped his hips hard and rough, screwing her, driving himself into the roof of her mouth until he flooded her gateway with copious cum. He groaned when the last of him spilled against her tongue.
When she fell back, tears were in her green eyes and a sly smirk on her face as she spit out some of his seed, allowing it to drizzle down her chin like melted vanilla ice-cream along a sugar cone. Swinging his arm, he abruptly knocked the other woman off his nut sack and got to his feet, then stepped over the limber lady who was now squirting and cumming so hard from her self-given cunnilingus, her eyes rolling back as she lapped up her own juices. Tucking his cock back in his pants and pulling his trousers up, he yawned. It was time for a break. He double tracked, bent low between the freak’s wide-open legs, and slid his tongue against her pink, sloppy wet slit, then marched away.
His heavy gait echoed over the music, and he didn’t miss how people turned and watched him as his dark open shirt swayed from side to side and the necklace around his throat bounced up and down against his chest. Black strands of his hair shifted, covering one eye. He quickly raked his fingers through his mane, forcing the stray locks back in place. Alexandre walked past a series of pure 100% silver wall mirrors, smiling at an invisible reflection, then took the elevator to the second level of his estate.
Once in his private study, he removed his shirt and tossed it on the floor. His shoes and socks followed. Standing in only his pants, he got some much-desired cool air.
Yes, that feels better…
Opening the thick, black curtains, he stood at the large window, arms outstretched, admiring the view of the city.
So much like Paris, but not quite the same. Oh, how I miss you… J’aime la France…
He went to the sideboard to pour himself a glass of blood, then made his way to the old record player that rested on a black and gray marble entertainment center he’d had handcrafted and brought from Italy. Flipping through his old records, many of the covers faded over time, he smiled as he met eyes with Otis Redding. In a matter of seconds, ‘I’ve Been Loving You Too Long’ was playing. He moved through the room, dancing, snapping his fingers and singing the lyrics.
I remember where I was when I first heard this song… I was fucking that Spanish woman behind the bodega. Someone was playing it from the apartment above. Then I ate her pussy… made her cum so hard, she thought she was in love. Yes, her pussy was amazingly good. Fat, pink lips that cushioned the blows just right from my thrusts in and out of her tight little wet cunt… It was covered with so much fucking hair, soft, sweet little peach she was… I ate her up… crushed her bones with my teeth even, didn’t want to miss one bit of her. She tasted delicious and when she screamed, I covered her mouth and fucked the shit out of her, giving her immeasurable pleasure and pain all at once… The dumpster I tossed her in afterward wasn’t deserving of such a prize, but I had no time to place her elsewhere. Besides, the night was still young… There were more bitches to fuck and suck. I was new to the city and out sowing my wild oats.
Raising his arm, he wiggled his ringed fingers about, as if trying to make an object float in the air with a bit of silly Ho
llywood hocus pocus. He loved American melodies, so rich and soulful… The rhythm of the music pulsed through him. He imagined, if he had a soul, it would feel much like music, drums vibrating through one’s spirit, making him dance…
Soon, the double black doors of his office, Chinese designs carved in them, opened, and two of his men entered, gripping tight to a fellow with dark brown hair, his face full of stubble, his appearance disheveled. The man was covered in sweat, and sheer panic swam in his blue eyes.
“Miiiickey!” Alexandre Marseille smiled as he turned the music down. “So nice to see ya again. Please, have a seat.”
His two handlers, Bruce and Whiskey, dragged the fucker over. The bastard’s legs seemed to have turned to overcooked noodles. Pathetic. He’d lost his will to walk like a man. They tossed him in the chair on the other side of his desk and stood guard.
“Alexandre, please!” the guy babbled, his eyes welling up with the worst thing of all… tears. “I just need two more days, man! I’ll have ya money! I was this close!”
“Ahhh, close isn’t good enough, Mickey.” Alexandre circled him like a ravenous shark and tapped his shoulder with a gentle pat. Well, it appeared gentle, sincere, not matching his apathetic nature in the least. “You see, Mickey, it was never about the money. I can make money in my sleep.” He shrugged. “My law firm clears millions of dollars a year. I have a waiting list of clients, that’s how fuckin’ good I am. This is about principle.”
He stood behind the man and sniffed the air. The scent of distress was becoming so strong and overpowering, as though the feeling itself had been lifting weights.
“Alexandre, I know… I know! You’re the best! You practice law. Please be fair!” The victim struggled, desperate for a little saving grace. “I’ve been trying to get it, ya gotta believe me! Just one more day, one more!”
