The Ultimate Vampire Resource and Directory

This isn't a new or recently written blog. I'm uploading content from offline to flesh my VR journals out.

Usual disclaimers, part fact, part bullshit, part something else. It's a disease. A delicious attention seeking disease.






I went to see Red. To bleed. Her, or me. I'm never quite sure which way we will end up. But I aim for either way. Either way is OK, I guess? Depends on my mood. I suppose the clinical term would be something like 'Oh my gosh you are a complete fuckup get some help you sicko!' Accepted. And an accurate diagnosis.

I just don't care.

Red is as bad as me. Worse. So much worse. She is the kind that watches you, just watches, instinctively, like an animal with eons of experience in dealing with anything and everything, and smiling while she does it.

Does she scare me?

It's like being dangled over the biggest, darkest, deepest hole in existence while looking at the expression on her face, often.

Does she scare me?

Like strapping a hand grenade onto my face, pulling the pin, and living through the last few seconds before my head gets blown off.

She is a demon. Older. Deeper. Deadly. They don't make words for what she is. Yet, she is mine. I'm hers. We are together. Joined. Spliced. Where does air stop meeting air? Water stop meeting water? How do you split a flame apart? We are a reflection of each other, yet not for a moment equal. I am an atom, a molecule, I've said it before in other posts, and it's all I've got here. I'm just a molecule, no rhyme, no reason, I just orbit her, helplessly. She could burn me alive, and I'd die happy knowing my last moments were with her — forget my wife — my wife is in another dimension when I'm with Red. Am I a cunt? Yes, I am. Sometimes I won't answer the phone when my wife calls when I'm with Red. You think I can be neck deep in blood and manage to switch into a frame of mind where I can pick up a phone and say hi? Uh, uh!

In vampirisms, you don't get to 'play' at being a monster. You get to 'be' a monster. And when you 'are' a monster, you don't get to 'not be' a monster just because your wife phones up wanting to know if you've got any more socks that need washing.

Anyway, I wanted to fight, for blood. Red was up for it, two vampires on a Wednesday afternoon with nothing better to do than bleed for each other.

We had some incense burning. Real, real, real nice stuff. The kind that makes you feel like your heart is breaking for the girl you are with, while trying not to spontaneously burst into tears. Her scent. Her smell. My heart is bleeding for her. Bleeding. Just bleeding.

Everyone has their favorite tunes and for quite a while Red and I chose to bleed, play and screw to Nightwish. Or more accurately, the music chose us, captivating. Perfect, right? Fits into our minds and our moods perfectly.





The whole discography, always is ready. No other. Call it routine, call it pattern, call it ritual, it has to be that way. Nightwish has become a part of us. Like incense.

Starting with Tarja Turunen and moving onto Annette Olson’s work and beyond. If you understand what's wanted, then you understand. I'm not explaining here. It's simply personal preference.

It's not all about blood, and Red and I love to drink absinthe. And I mean that. Love. Not just drink. Love. Anise. We have a deep emotional connection to it. Yeah, yeah, Dracula drinking absinthe. I've seen the movie. My connection to it? Honestly I don't know? I don't remember. I don't even remember trying it for the first time or even why. But now and for a long time, I've been in love with it. I think it's to do with association. I've shared my deepest, most moving, loving, most emotional times — deep deep tears — while drinking absinthe with my beloved ones. I'll drink anything, but on emotional occasions, there's only absinthe. Without it, I feel like a loved one is missing.

And I have to say, we'd managed to totally fuck ourselves up drinking it before we'd even started playing with each other.

We played in the shower room. Spacious. Everyone needs a play room, a favorite room, and since even vampires don't generally like fucking up their house when they need to get a little fruity, it's best to have a place you can contain yourselves in. Especially when you know your head is about to take a vacation from whatever little bit of sanity was left in it.

Red and I started off nice enough. Taking in the whole package we created. The incense, the music, the sounds and the smells, how it changed the ambience of the afternoon.

Boo!

Let's start dripping some insanity on the blog, like a delicious thick dark gravy. I'm talking demons, I'm talking fangs, and it's all down below!

For me and for the reasons stated below, everything I started to see that afternoon became tainted with a purple hue.

My inner demon - {live demon, not a metaphorical one} - had woken and thrown me into the passenger seat.

My sight changed to a black-purple hue, it's beautiful and inside myself all I can do is try not to lose it and scream, because looking at the world that way is so overwhelming. So beautiful, yet so heart-wrenching.

Next thing to go is my sense of smell. All I can smell is blood. Overpowering blood. From where? From her! And then, bye, bye, me, and hello, demon. Do I care? Do I fuck? I'm still in there, here? It gets confusing even typing this. I'm like an obscure patron sat in the corner of a theater watching a show performed on the stage.

I'm tucked away, unnoticed, yet I'm still a part of the experience. I get to experience the whole thing, live the whole thing, but the big boy is running the show at that point, not me.

I'm a plus one in my own body.

And when I'm tucked away as I have just described? I never wish to be anywhere else. I'd rather be there/ here tucked away than living with my own wife. She knows it, and welcomes it. I bet you find that confusing.

I want to be held by my demon and carried by him. I don't want to come back out. Do I want to stay there/ here? Hidden away, protected, where no one can reach me, he pushes me so far down I'm barely conscious. And nothing has ever felt better to me than that.

And there I stay, as an observer. I have some control, not much, nor want it. I still feel emotion, deeply, yet it's not my show in those times, and that afternoon, it was his.

And there Red and I were. Two demons facing off on each other, half pissed on absinthe on a wet Wednesday afternoon.

Round two.

Not really round two. More like round 5428339 but who is counting? I'd have to go back into the decades. But we can't go there because when you start talking about actual time scales, you get 'Eww you crazy!'

I went at her. I wanted to ground her, fuck her, and she pulled a small chain out of her pocket, and dangled it in front of me. Just a simple chain, a foot or so long, the kind you get in pet stores for dog necks. And it halted me in my tracks. DEAD STOP. Like a train smashing into a buffer. She raised her eyebrows and I felt wave after wave of I don't know what, endorphins? Not really, a beautiful soothing tingling wave that emanated deep inside my groin and spread up through my abdomen and reached into my chest. And I was gone. I was lost. I just stared at her. I'd lost my inner predator utterly. Even the demon inside me had gone belly up. I sat on the floor in front of her like a child expecting a lesson from a school teacher, wide-eyed and pretty empty-minded. Awe, fear, anticipation. Certainly deep and beautiful needful love, but so much more.

She gently pulled my arms behind my back and chained my wrists together. She rolled me onto my side and fed a leather collar around my neck. I'd lost the ability to speak at that point and just rested my head on the floor staring at nothing and murmuring, just totally overcome.

I fell into a trance-like state. Not one of helplessness, but I just wasn't there anymore. I didn't know where I was. I was just lost inside a beautiful little place inside my mind. It wasn't even all that sexual. It was more like feeling so loved that I'd ended up on the verge of tears.

I put my head on her lap, she stroked my hair.

Tears fell from my eyes. I don't know why, not happiness, not exactly sadness, something inside that needed to come out. Just something. Some release, some emotion. I wanted to stay like that forever. I was in my perfect place, my own little version of heaven. I just needed it. I drew my knees in and curled up, I felt utterly wanted, I felt owned.

I buried my face in the fabric of her skirt and breathed it in, wet from my tears. I became mesmerized by the scent, it smelled fresh yet also like something from my childhood and each breath I took seemed to suck in the entire universe. I wasn't even sure what decade I was in then, let alone the year.

Red took the remote for the stereo and changed the song to Forever Yours while my head stayed upon her thigh.

She'd have caused me less damage if she'd taken a sledgehammer to my head.

That song was the song I shared with my now dead girlfriend. My Baby. She died last October. I'm getting a lot better dealing with her not being in my life now, but Forever Yours was one of the songs I played endlessly shortly after her death, for months after.





Red hurt me playing that song, hurt me.

I knew the song was coming up on the CD, although I didn't expect it to be directed towards me as a weapon. She used it to crack my heart open like a walnut while pissing on the contents and laughing while she did it.

How do I explain how I felt? Deep pain. Anguish, so much emotional pain it ends up topping itself out into numbness.

And while my breath was hitching in my chest, Red pushed her fingers through the back of my collar, increasing the pressure around my neck, which moved up into my face and then my head, slowly building until I wondered how long before I'd pass out.

I went to Red's place for a fight and within minutes she had me emotionally broken and all but knocked out. I surrendered to her completely.

I surrendered to her a lifetime ago.

Everything we've done since then is just details.


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I had to remove this section for VR posting —
Sexual nature for context.
Followed by one or two spicy interactions.

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... I had started to feel real fired up. I wanted free from the chain and I wanted that collar off my neck and I wanted to fucking bite.

I snarled at her, growled at her, sneered at her. I bared my teeth, and she matched my violence equally, stocking my fire.

It wasn't anger, not quite lust, it was pure primal fucking rage. She had me chained, like an animal, and I fucking ached to be free.

She's a vicious girl when her buttons are pushed, and I know all of them, and I can make her elevator go up and down all day long. I pushed them, like an organist giving his best performance, and she howled. She should have gagged me. She missed a trick.

She didn't hit me. She beat me. Beat me. Hard. And I mean fists. Hard little fists. Hit some bones too, and started pounding on the top of my skull. And I just wanted to fucking bite her, and the more she hit me the more I just wanted to sink my teeth into her fucking neck.

Now vampire girls are strong. Stronger than men. They're basically demons with boobs. And she took that collar from my neck, and fucking sunk me, right in, full length, and like a frigging dude taking it up the ass for the first time — it made my eyebrows raise to the top of my head.

She bled me, like a person-sized leech. Game over, she won. I lost my instinct, I lost my fight, I became subdued, tired, sleepy, tranced, like I'd been shot with a fucking horse tranquilizer. I was a bag of blood, nothing more, and felt like one. A slightly self-aware bag of blood. She fed, enjoyed it rather than going near my drain tube.

I felt like a kitten, needing its mother's milk. Yet in a perversely revised fashion, instead of me needing the milk, I NEEDED TO BE THE MILK.

I fell back into the state of mind I'd been in when she first chained me. Submissive, vulnerable, edging towards tears and need, helpless, lost.

I had no more fight left in me, I was done. It was over. My demon didn't win, I know he didn't want to. My demon is as submissive as I am, or as perverted depending on the POV.

Fair play though. I'm not saying I'd have won on a fair playing field, been there, done that, lost years upon years of those games.

Yeah, the scores:

I got chained up
I got fucked up mentally
I got beat up physically
I got bitten
And I got strangled.

And nearly knocked out.

And her?

I did manage to wet her thigh with my tears.

Like I said, I am a molecule orbiting her pleasure.

My demon, who has danced with Red's demon, loved her demon, long before mine and Red's mortal bodies were ever conceived. Our fleshy bodies are just along for the ride these days. And when Red and I are dust on the ground, our demons will dance their eternal dance in hell. Or find other people, other bodies, most likely, to live in. I hope they find each other again, and again, and again, through time for eternity.

I have my bruises, a cut lip, some other issues I'm caring for, nothing I don't deal with regularly. My first aid kit could outfit an ER department. Almost. With the things my family get up to, we buy each other med supplies for birthdays.

And now? Well ... find a black space on this page. That's how empty I feel, atm.

The more I play, the more I need to. The more I need to, the less time I can spend before needing to play again. Until all I do, is play. I've been there before a billion times in my life and here we are again.

And the weekend is coming up, and I've got my ticket to hell. Hell. Funny. Nothing there but beauty and love. The deepest kind.

Need it. Can't think about anything else now. I know where I'm heading, I've been there before.