I am The Black Orchid, and I am three thousand years old. My soul is dark and beauteous in suffering and joy. I would never want to vanquish pain and frequently pain and pleasure are intertwined. My soul is like an ancient orb, the shade of night. It is spring and the wondrous, yellow daffodils curtsey in the wind and the mad puffs of clouds are careening across a cerulean sky. I pick up the earth and smell life for the earth is our life. We have raped her for so long and now she reaps havoc on us. Yahveh is the God of this Era and he shall go on punishing us for as long as we do not treat the earth kindly.

Ye revelers, do not poison our host. I remember the fall of Rome and I remember the arrogance of the rulers who thought they could go on forever. There is a poem by Percy Byshe Shelley called Ozymandias.
“My name is Ozymandias, King of Kings,
Look on my works, Ye Mighty and despair.”
Nothing beside remains round the decay,
Of that colossal wreck, boundless and bare!
The lone and level sands stretch far and away.

I allow no sloth nor pollution in my domain. All the food eaten comes from our vineyards and gardens and we keep livestock. I go out on the grounds bare breasted my arrows strapped to my bare back. And I kill wild game on occasion, My mother, the village Shaman, mated with a male lion to beget me and I am part beast and have the desire for freshly killed prey on occasion. I do not expect my acolytes to eat as I do for they are human and I am part human. I Love the color of blood, its smell and taste on my tongue and I love to see the life fly from my prey’s eyes, and I feel a sensual feeling when I kill. Yes, I have killed humans. I killed Caligula. He beat me once too often and I straddled him at the moment of death with his member inside me. It would seem Vengeance is mine, and poison exists for a reason. To dispatch the unmerciful and evil. If I were not part cat I could have never withstood both my good and bad fortune. I lived as a Jew in WWII and planned to kill Hitler and would have if he didn’t have a taster. Maria Braun stuck so close to him that I could not get close enough to dispatch him but he had eyes for me I will say. What do I look like. As I see my reflection in a puddle I’ll tell you I see a very tall, lithe, small breasted woman, with the aspect of an athlete, My Black hair grows down to my ass and my skin is like alabaster, and my eyes are chartreuse like a big cat. My lips are perfect for “the” sexual act. I am fashion pretty not high school cheerleader pretty. I am not cute. What I lack in the bust line I make-up for in ass. Place two Martinis on my derriere and spill not a drop.

The beautiful sky has turned angry purple and now I know “he” will come, My equal and fellow immortal, The Minotaur. He is standing in the gloaming looking for me. He can smell my woman’s scent down there. I let out a snarl, and he comes and envelopes me in his powerful arms. His turgid cock presses into my slender abdomen and I dread it and want it all at once. He loves the violence of Thunder and the cold, cold rain on my bare skin. He laughs and says I am as cold as the dead. He is silent mostly as he knows too many words cheapen love.

He throws me down on the ground and rips open my leather pants, peeling them off me. I hand him my panties and he smells them and snorts like a bull, the bull that he is, I open to him like a tender blossom. He says I smell a bit like fresh nectarines and sweat. He pushes my kegs up for a deeper penetration and I wince as he ruts in me like he were an enemy. Delicious pain like a dead rose. I tumble from consciousness and my hips still move spasmodically and my shudder beckons him on to come.
When I come to he is tenderly holding me on his massive, hirsute chest and he gazes into my eyes, and they say, “I love you Black Orchid.” And the forest becomes a miasma of green as my eyes fill with tears. Endless rain and raging thunder.

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