Title: Knorg’s Vampire Tarot
Category: Paranormal
Author Pen name:
Knorg
Email: paxgronk@hotmail.com
Description: These card stories use a variety of well-known and
popular as well as more obscure characters, from Marge Simpson to Elvis, from
Bloodrayne to Jon Arbuckle, as well as my own characters. Each story is around
1000 words.
Stories: Death/Rebirth by
Vampire, catfight, sex, girl-on-girl, and similar.
Song lyrics used without
permission.
Characters/places/trademarks
that aren’t mine are used for this parody without permission.
This story concept is a
parody of Fifteen Painted Cards from a Vampire Tarot by Neil Gaiman.
In the hours before the
cold November night John Connor lay on his side in the dank, dark Condemned
Cell and reflected upon his life. Blood trickled down his scabbing back;
flogged raw the previous day in punishment for most of the lesser crimes of
which he’d been accused. The pain was intense but, in a strange way, deserved.
There was no denying he’d received a fair trial before the high court, that he
was as guilty as hell of just about every crime against the Empress’s laws that
he possibly could be.
“Last meal.” The warder
pushed the tray under the bars of the cage and, as John caught his eye, winked.
Moving painfully from his bunk, John ate his last meal; a simple soup and glass
of water. The Empress was a traditionalist; she liked the concept of a last
meal.
***
The Empress’ personal
executioner led him naked onto the platform. She too was naked but for the
leather hood over her head and even that was cut to show her mouth. The Empress
loved a show, almost as much as the shouting and clapping crowd, eager to see
his blood spilled. Behind the mob, sat on a wooden thrown inlaid with fine
jewels, gold, and the bones of humans, sat the empress. There was a red carpet
path laid through the crowd; nobody would dare stand on it.
John had heard tell that
the executioner, Mary-Kate, resented the empress almost as much as the rebels.
It was said she despised the blood-change wrought in herself and her sister.
Looking into her eyes through the holes in the mask, John could see no evidence
of sympathy or compassion. The executioner read the charge sheet to the baying
of the crowd; she told them all what they knew: This was John Connor,
lieutenant to the rebel leader, one of the most wanted men in the empire. He
stood proudly before the crowd and glared over their heads at the Empress. She
looked… satisfied. That John’s actions had hurt enough for his death to satisfy
the blood empress was another source of pride; he smiled through his gag.
The executioner’s
similarly masked assistant, her twin sister Ashley, came on to push John to the
ground. Together they lifted his feet up to the gibbet and tied him up. His
breath steamed in the cold night air as rope was lashed around his ankles.
John’s head hung inches off the ground as Ashley roughly forced the bung into
his ass; there would be no contamination of blood with faeces. He felt cold
lips on the head of his penis; he responded as Mary-Kate gently tongued his
shaft, bringing him to hardness. The first precum was leaking into her undead
mouth as she pulled off and slipped a too-tight strap-ring down to the base of
the swollen meat, tightened it further.
The hollers of the crowd
increased as Mary-Kate looked to the Empress for assent. She received a single
nod. The pale-skinned blonde dropped to her knees so that John’s upturned head
hung between her thighs. They called it the ‘Executioners Portion’. The vampire
shivered as hot breath ruffled her fair pubic hair. He felt cold hands grasp
his shaven skull as he ran his eyes over her. Clearly already excited, her
large and swollen labia were glistening with juice. Yanking the gag from his
mouth, Mary-Kate pulled John’s face into her crotch.
The crowd and empress
watched appreciatively as Mary-Kate humped against his face. She rested her
head against his belly so that his rampant penis rubbed in her hair. Gasping
with pleasure, she felt John’s tongue working on her labia. He wanted to get
her off quickly; to speed the execution. Working his tongue inside the
alabaster pale flesh he tasted the vampires arousal.
Ashley ran her hands down
John’s bloodied back, causing him to shake with the pain; to whimper into
Mary-Kate’s wet vampire pussy. She didn’t taste the blood; none may drink the
blood of the high-court-condemned before the Empress. Clutching him tightly to
her cold body, so that her own fingers dug into the shuddering man’s bloody
back, Mary-Kate rubbed herself off against John’s face, cumming explosively as
he sucked her clit into his mouth and flicked it with an experienced tongue.
Sticky vampire juices splashed across his face as Mary-Kate howled, almost
fracturing his skull betwixt her thighs.
Panting for air she didn’t
need as old habits died hard, the masked Mary-Kate stood.
“Get the bowl. Get the
knife.”
Ashley walked to the edge
of the wooden platform and lifted a large, deep bowl fashioned from gold.
Inside were a knife, and a cloth. The sticky-thighed Mary-Kate took the cloth
from the bowl and mopped the juices from John’s face, cleaned his skull of
drips. Often, the condemned would be using this time to shout, to harangue the
crowd. John was silent. Tossing the Cloth aside, the twins lifted John’s head
and pushed the bowl until he hung dead centre over it.
Ashley knelt behind him
and held his head steady as Mary-Kate took up the knife.
“Last words?”
The crowd fell silent.
John’s eyes found the empress. Hung upside down, dizzy from all the blood
rushed to his had, he still spoke clearly,
“There is no fate but what
we make.”
The roaring began anew as
Mary-Kate took up the knife and slit John’s throat. Together, the sisters
directed the arterial spray into the bowl; when it was filled the entire crowd
would be permitted to drink of the condemned man; to share in the Empress’
victory. John seemed to feel no pain, as everything grew harder to see around
him. He locked eyes with the Empress as everything faded to white.
The Empress’ lady in
waiting walked down the red carpet with a goblet and scooped up a cupful of
John’s blood from the bowl. Walking sedately back through the crowd she knelt
before the Empress. Standing, taking the goblet, the empress drained John’s
blood.
“My People! I… I…”
Groaning suddenly, she grasped at her suddenly bloating stomach, dropped to her
knees ”What is this? oh no…”
The explosion levelled the
imperial palace, causing the fleeing warder to turn and watch appreciatively.