Clarissa – Part 6 The Coming Storm

By | July 8, 2007

red by !yoursweetsix-six-six on deviantART

You can either read the earlier parts of this story using the links below, or imagine them for yourself. The choice, as they say, is yours: Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4 and Part 5

Clarissa – Part 6 The Coming Storm

She walked to the top of grassy hill and turned to face the city as the first glimmers of the rising sun caught the high clouds. A billion microscopic ice prisms created arcs of rainbow light in the brightening firmament. The public park rolled down towards the buildings, its green sward stopping abruptly at the foot of grey concrete boxes, edifices to the ascent of mankind from cave dweller to resident of an information world where we all build our own little caves in cyberspace.

They’re all children of Gibson and Berners Lee thought Clarissa. All safe and sound in their little boxes, and if that’s not safety enough they can slide into their newly created electronic worlds. Safe from who? Themselves mainly. There were few vampires in the world, The Others ensured that numbers were kept low so the herds of food animals, or humans as they themselves preferred to be known, didn’t notice, get restless and get wary. For the most part humans still died at the hands of humans. For the most part.

An hour before she had sought a meal, male, her preferred gender. It was probably the hormones in their blood, it gave her a rush over and above that inherent in feeding. The window had been open in the ground floor flat, the unmistakeable sound of a lone male snoring inviting her in. She was at his bedside before he’d woken, looking down at his toned, athletic form. She considered fucking him, beguiling him into a waking dream and feeling his rather beautiful cock inside her before she drank of him.

It wasn’t really an option. Although her lustful nature desired it her mind was preoccupied by the choice that had been laid before her by The Others. She leant forward as his eyes blinked open, grabbed his hair and pulled it backwards to expose his neck and in doing so felt his first and second cervical vertebrae crack.

“Damn” she though as his body went limp, his heart was still pumping but her lips pressed against his carotid artery could feel it beginning to fibrillate. She could still feed, but it lacked the excitement and satisfaction of having the blood course into her mouth as the prey’s heart beat its last. There was no thrashing of arms, no attempts to push her away, none of the excitement that normally accompanied a meal. After a few moments, nourished, but disappointed she let his limp body fall to the mattress and left his grey corpse to its final repose.

Minutes later, warmed and cheered by the ascending sun she was taken by surprise. It was a thought that took hold of her and held her in its unyielding grip. It at first disturbed, then terrified her. It was not her thought but the thought of another. It belonged to the man who, moments before she had left lifeless on his bed.

His name was, had been, Neil. She knew this as she knew her own name, as if it were her own name. Worse he had a girlfriend, Christine, he called her Chrissy, she hated to be called Christine, reminded her of her mother telling her off …

“Oh Fuck!” Clarissa stopped dead, horror painted across her face. Was this what Tim had meant that first night in the woods after the party? He’d said she was “different”, “special”, did he know how different? No he didn’t she decided, he had told her to stay close to him, so he “could help you discover yourself”. He had no more idea what she was becoming than Clarissa did herself and that meant she was on her own.

Being on her own had not concerned her so far, as a vampire or in her mortal existence, but that was before this had happened, before she was able to see her prey as anything other than a food source.

“You alright luv?”, asked the postman. Clarissa realised she had been standing, motionless and open-mouthed for several minutes contemplating this new twist to her evolving abilities.

“I think so …” her voice trailed off, mind still grappling with the concept of regaining a conscience and developing an empathy for the humans far deeper than anything a mortal could attain. The thoughts sped across her mind, each searing her consciousness … she would know every thought they had ever had … every feeling they had ever felt … know everything they knew.

Her sanity was balanced on the tip of a metaphorical pin, the overwhelming implications of her new found empathic abilities sweeping her into a black abyss. In she plunged, into a swirling, bottomless pool of oily black thoughts. It almost consumed her, dragging her down until only a tiny pinpoint of hope, like a star being obscured by storm clouds remained. Suddenly, like a diver shedding her weights she rushed upward breaking the surface of the pool of despair. She was reborn.

No regrets. No remorse. Answerable to no one. After all, if she could know the thoughts of every meal she took, every detail of their lives, every emotion … there was only one conclusion. Given that conclusion she was answerable to nobody.

After all who would question the actions of a goddess?


The day passed quickly. Clarissa slept for a few hours on bench in the park, not wanting to return to her flat. She wanted to move on now anyway, the landlord’s son had been so sweet, but he had started to smell a little and she regretted hiding his body in the back of her wardrobe …

She was disturbed around noon when a spotty youth wearing a baseball cap tried to snatch her handbag from her while she slept. She hand tried to explain that he ought to give it back but eventually had to resort to taking it from him. He ran off screaming, blood pouring from the stump where his right thumb used to be.

Around four she walked into the Pink Kitty, most famous, or perhaps infamous of the city’s lap dancing clubs.


Guido Henrnandez (or as his mother knew him Gary Hargreaves) trimmed up a fat, foul smelling Havana with his gold plated cigar clipper. He flipped the top of his Zippo “bling” and spun the wheel, puffing on the tobacco phallus until he was sure it was lit. The air around him became a toxic cloud while he poured over the previous night’s takings on his PC.

He knew at least one of the bar staff was skimming, he just had to find out who … then he’d have one of the doormen perform an “exit interview”. Guido retrieved a bottle of whisky and a glass from the bottom drawer of the filing cabinet.

“Do you have another glass?” Asked Clarissa.

“How the fuck did you get in here!” Guido was angry, his door staff were getting careless.

“They we’re a little distracted.” Replied Clarissa. In fact they simply hadn’t seen her, because she hadn’t wanted them to.

Guido looked her up and down. Her red hair was braided, hanging across her milky-white shoulders like silken ropes. She wore a white strapless top which displayed her firm breasts and hard nipples in a way that held his attention. Her skirt was white and short, hugging her hips, a gold rope belt accentuating her waist. To finish, white stilettos.

“I’m guessing you want a job?” He ventured. “Any experience?”


“Then you’re pissing in the wind, I don’t take amateurs. Go away and get some experience, then come and see me in a few months.”

Clarissa shimmied to Guido’s side of the desk and turned his chair to face her. Guido had seen it all before, he just waited for the inevitable. Clarissa didn’t disappoint him, pulling down her top to expose her perfect breasts. She straddled him and pressed her chest into his face. Guido let himself go. After all, when he’d fucked her he could tell her he still wasn’t interested. And the security tape would make interesting viewing.

She could feel him becoming hard as she rubbed her exposed mons on his crotch. She thought he looked like a BJ kind of guy so slid off his lap and with his help slid his trousers to his knees. His penis required only a few strokes from her hand to reach full erection. Clarissa engulfed it, ignoring the stench of cigar smoke and expensive aftershave that made her feel like retching.

Guido lay back in his chair and enjoyed her performance. She was enthusiastic this one he thought to himself. Her tongue danced over his entire shaft, only stopping to allow her to take him completely into her throat, even then he could feel it rubbing the underside of his cock. She had his balls in her hand and gently twisted them in a way that he found unexpectedly arousing.

God she was good. As her head bobbed up and down in his lap he felt himself drifting and grasped the leather arms of the chair. The room began to blur around him, like a watercolour painting under a shower head, shapes running into one another. He could feel her nibbling him from his scrotum to frenulum. The fingers of her hand rubbed his moist glans sending shivers through his groin and across his skin.

His hips bucked involuntarily. Clarissa took this as her cue to complete the “interview”. She let him slide into her throat then grabbed his hands and placed them on either side of her head.

He got the message and forced her down onto his cock. He fucked her mouth, using her for his own gratification. He was impressed, most of the girls he interviewed would have been retching by now. Clarissa wasn’t most girls. She waited patient, groaning and gurgling in a manner calculated to encourage a speedy conclusion and was rewarded by the muscular contractions that signalled his climax.

“Aaaaah Fuck” moaned Guido, cumming deep in Clarissa’s throat. She waited for his paroxysm to subside and raised her head, smiling sweetly. Taking care to ensure a string of saliva and semen trailed from her mouth to the tip of his wet cock.

“So, am I hired?”

“Oh yes.” Leered Guido. “Pour yourself a drink.”