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Please critique this bit of erotica

6 Years Ago


Marquises de SadeA Story by Rouillie Wilkerson

 A self-righteous woman and a self-fulfilling prophecy of lust, envy, hate and erotica. 

Tonight dear Pervelle is particularly handsome; simple elegance in his black and whites. Just like all the other happy, aging, penguins in the room. But Pervelles’ southern swagger drips like Sweet Georgia Gallberry honey draped across his barbarousness.  And I want a taste, despite my knowledge of his sickening ways. I am curious. Of course! That is his ply with me. To play upon my curiosity before he snaps a trap that will seal my fate. I bet my pain will be slow and merciless.

As we waltz around each other in the cruelest of ways, the sound of stringed instruments winds through the double ballroom billowing gowns and fluttering tailcoats. Pervelle tips one tart after the next between sips of Bourbon, never taking his eyes off nor laying a hand on me. This is his idea of seduction, not mine. But I smile anyway, like a prim princess in her prime my heart bleeding and gasping for the air he keeps stealing.   
With a gentlemanly bow, he mockingly thanks me for the dance we never had. And I being only one body with a pair of feminine legs and heaving bosom in a crowd of them, must wait her turn. He wants to twirl them all " I’m sure of it " first a little, then a lot, before he crushes them in pain unimaginable. But Pervelle takes his time with me. And not being among the silliest of ganders in his ever-ready flock, I can clearly see why - Clearly. He is saving his best worst pain for me.
I clip my steps like a clever cat, teasing him with a brush of the hand here, a twirl that releases my scent with the hopes of intoxicating him. I despise his wretched kind. He cares nothing but for his own gratification. This is personal - very.Considering how carefully he constructs each predatory fetch, each act of the chase so predictable and well honed. I could have sworn that on more than one occasion, I saw his lips moving in sync with the words coming out of his next lovely victim’s mouth.                            
And victims they are, why I’ve seen the gentlest of creatures enter his bed chambers and have to be carried out! Their eyes dripping with tears, some in elegant gowns garishly spotted with blood in the areas that most men would reserve for pleasure instead of brutality!   
 But with me, he makes no demands. Instead, he parades his latest “conquest” in front of me. But how, I wonder, can he truly believe that these fetching victims of his may be notched as conquests? Not a cunning one in the bunch! Coward isn’t even playing on a fair playing field! He just goes after the weak ones like the oldest wolf in the pack that can’t keep up with the rest!    
I brush by him as he dances with one of his lovelies, a lovely quadroon creature in red silk with delicate orange and yellow Jasmine buds embroidered upon it. The delicate floral arrangement deliberately splayed across her ample chest drawing Pervelles' eyes to parts he will surely hurt the most. Not a man in the room could help but steel hungry glances her way, with her indomitable youth, the thing of fantasies and many a failed marriages. 
But she set her lush-lashed, enormous, almond shaped eyes, only upon Pervelle. Desperately searching his face in cliché, just like all the others. And there have been so very many others. And many nights just like this one. But tonight, he only has eyes for me, as they twirl to the vanity of Cello; energized by Solisti Veneti he circles her, his head cocking left and right. Always, somehow, managing to meet my gaze and hold it with that crooked smirk of his. 
Ah, and how his eyes smirk too!Tonight, I can expect that he will introduce me to his best devices. I can only wonder if he relies upon machinations specially designed to maximize pain, or is he a natural wonder using teeth, cruel eyes, and limbs? As she thought this her body began to warm, her gown begging to be removed by those very cruel teeth and eyes. 
She brushed by him again making his jaw clench this time. Was that desire or hate she detected in his angelic, azure eyes? Was there a difference in a man like Pervelle? 
Then suddenly, without warning, he released his prized lovely swathed in elegant silk. Was that a tear welling in her adorable doll baby eye? What does he do too these poor things? In what way does the promise of a night with a man likened unto a dangerous animal, appeal to the daintiest of ladies at worse and primmest at best?
Do they hold onto stories of gentle damsels calming the wild man? Perhaps it is too many fairy tales of virginal waifs taming unicorns " avoiding the inevitable impaling like all the others that dare touch it - I had to laugh at this one; Trust me, he has every intention of impaling you my dears!
 He is moving towards me now, his arms in full spread, his eyes are gentle and watery with innocence. Innocence indeed! This made my lip curl, devious little devil.  He culled me close, pressing my body into the fancy etched beveled glass of the double doors leading out into the courtyard. If he had dared to sweep me off my feet and into his arms I would have laughed until I snorted most un-lady like! 
Instead, he touched my face, gripped my hand firmly and led me down the stairs and along the pathway until we reached his quarters. Inside I was stunned to find such simplistic beauty. Not too feminine in décor to suggest that his passions were duly distributed among the young gents. Yet not so masculine that a woman would take more than enough time to warm up and would be more inclined to call it a night no matter how inviting her male company. 
No, it was comfortable and robed in a sensuousness of low light, simple patterns and fresh foliage and there "! Did I see it? What I had dreamed of seeing that would take this monster apart before my eyes and drop him into my own collection of notches. 
No, only biting red wine in heavy crystal. Why such heavy crystal? Did he expect a dangerous romp that might tumble the glasses and deprive him of drunkenness? Did this aid in his cruelty?    
He poured, and I did drink, and then of him, half the night, like too newlyweds intoxicated for the first time. It was, dare I say, beautiful. Clever boy, he was saving the best for last " Oh! But the prince of pain has nodded off. So luxurious his halo of cold black curls. His skin so pale and fragrant I could curl up into him for a lifetime. Clever, clever, boy.     
Pulling off one of my silk thigh-highs that he’d preferred I leave on while he kissed, stroked, and pinched me into my own delight " several times- that glorious evening, I pushing one edge under one side of his neck and pulled it out on the other, typing it to the bed-post.
Then with the other end, I looped it around his neck and pushed it out again to be tied to the other post, then anchoring myself, and with both arms holding fast to one side of the stocking, I tickled him awake with my toes until his eyes could see me clearly, then all at once, I pulled with both hands, catching my breath excitedly as my lovely pink stocking began to strangle his handsome alabaster skin into a deep red pitch.    
Then leaping like the wild man I had expected before our night began, he used his legs to grapple me to the bed and with his arms he rapidly removed the stocking from his neck. Realizing that my plan to destroy this monster masked as a man had failed, I expected full hate and equal treatment as I lay prone before him. 
But instead, his eyes grew more lustful and he pulled me close to him again, and pounded into me until I begged him to stop. Then furious at being bested by this animal, I drew blood with my nails that had been sharpened to a point but hours before, just for this very occasion, an answer to his rabid thrusting.    
Then he shuddered and groaned with me beneath him as a man possessed. And following him up, through, and down that passage way, we were both soon spent. I lay panting with my long, silver hair plastered to my skin. But not before shoving him aside with what meager strength I had left. Not to be undone by dear, dear, Pervelle. 
Rolling effortlessly as I pushed him aside, exhausted and sleepy eyed, he smiled most mischievously. But when I went to get up, I could not. Exhaustion had whipped through me. This shamed me, and I glanced at him to see if he’d noticed; if he were still smiling. Indeed he was. He was also on the telephone asking for assistance in removing me from his quarters!    
As I leaned upon his assistant, my embarrassment complete, I wiped the blood on my hands drawn from his back and arms, upon the back and sides of the gown that I had so hastily put back on and that…that monster had so tenderly removed the evening before. How I hated him.  As I hobbled through the doorway, he just laughed, and said something about another tough old horse being broken " “they’re all the same!” was the last I heard as the door clicked behind me, his smirking assistant avoiding my eyes for his trouble.