Reflections

Poetry

Here’s to a Happy Valentine’s Day for everyone and remembering that love means many things to many people; far more than candy and flowers can convey.

Death on a Different Level

Friends of Dinlas

In the Multi-Verse, Lillith tries to make sense of who Dinlas is and how he came to be sitting in her bar; a living god in a room of dead mortal souls. Read along below as she reaches out for the one person in her travels who she thinks can help her unravel this mystery.


Ancient Greek Mythology meets an alternate after-life

re-blogged from Graves Publications

courtesy of Christine Graves & Graves Publications

Forest Image by Free-Photos from Pixabay

Eye of Charon

My Stories

A new Dinlas story. It’s the dark Middle Ages and Dinlas has been tracking a group of thieves that stole a valuable ruby pendant, The Star of Charon, from the Nekromanteion. The Nekromanteion is a temple dedicated to Hades and Persephone and Hades tasked Dinlas with tracking the thieves and recovering the valuable gem. After locating their lair, Dinlas corners one of the thieves who chooses to fight rather than talk.

That’s when the story takes a bizarre turn…

https://multiverse.gravespublications.com/the-eye-of-charon/

Thanks to Graves Publications for an opportunity to be part of the Multiverse.

Image by Peter Lomas from Pixabay

Primordial’s Tradition VI (Yule 2019 Revisited)

Friends of Dinlas

Nyx is wrapping up her traditional Yule celebration, not expecting the most unexpected of endings.

By Ashley Gallaher-Pollard

https://thenightstales.wordpress.com/2020/10/20/a-primordials-tradition-vi-rewrite/

Image by Rachel Burkum from Pixabay

Mr. Franklin’s Fiery Finish

My Stories


Everyone pictures Zeus, or even Ares, as the deities with short tempers. But the truth is Hera could be just as impulsive as anyone. When his Aunt Demeter calls him in the middle of the night frantic, because Hera smited a mortal that displeased her, Dinlas knew better than to ask questions. Instead he high-tails it to the offices to find Demeter frantic, and Hera long gone. Leaving the others to clean up her mess.

Knowing her nephew was looking for new fugitives to track down, Demeter slips him information on an international fugitive with a large bounty on his head as her way of thanking him for helping to avert an incident with the dead body spread all over Hera’s office.

By Wayne Davids/originallyAugust 6, 2019

I left Aunt Demeter’s office, my head swimming. The girls stood beside me, still growling about being scolded by her. I scratched them both behind the ears and hushed them as I thought what in the world Hera was thinking when she smote a man in her office.

“Both of you stop being bitchy. We have a job to do.” They both yipped and half-ran to the elevator, then turned and looked back at me.

“I’m coming, I’m coming. Just settle down,”

We took the elevator up to Nana Hera’s office. The doors opened and Hermaphroditus stood staring at me. The girls growled low, then whined as I patted each on the side of the head.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” I said. One of my siblings, another child of my mother, whom I despised.

He answered, grinning, “We. What the fuck are we doing here.”

“Excuse me?”

“We, I am we. When my old self joined with Salmacis, I no longer thought of myself in the singular, but as they. We are Hera’s personal assistant now. It’s been a long time, Dinlas.”

“You, I mean they… well look, I’m here to get the body.”

“Right this way then.” They led me to Nana Hera’s office and the body lying on the floor. Well, the remains of the body.

Hermaphroditus stood quietly while I pulled out a cigarette, lit it, and inhaled deeply. “So kid, did Nana Hera hit this guy with fire or lightning?”

Hermaphroditus responded, “Lightning, I believe. Does it matter?”

I took another drag on the cigarette, “Not really, just curious.”

I finished my smoke, then set to the business at hand. First, I found his left hand in the room’s corner, practically under her desk. Then I rolled it along with the rest of the body, up in a small rug. Hermaphroditus stood watching impassively.

“Okay,” I said as I wiped sweat off my face, “I need to call Aunt Demeter real quick, then I’m gonna teleport out of here. You wouldn’t have any iced coffee, would you?”

“We do,” replied Hermaphroditus. “We will be glad to get you some while you make your call.”

I was already dialing the phone. “Thank you, Hermaphroditus.”

Wait, thank them? I sighed. I’m gonna screw this all up.

Aunt Demeter’s voice on the phone brought me out of my thoughts.

“Yeah. Have you got him? Is it done?” she blurted.

“We’re getting ready to teleport out of here now. Did you dig up anything on him?”

“Oh yeah,” Aunt Demeter replied. “He’s up to his neck in debt. He gambles in the mortal game of chance called Wall Street. Apparently, he owes a significant amount of money.”

“Good,” I say, “he sounds like someone who might be ready to end it all.”

“No, not suicide. I want it to be an accident,” was her curt reply before she hung up.

Hermaphroditus returned and stood patiently with my iced coffee until I finished my call. When I put the phone away, they handed it to me.

“Here you are, Dinlas. May we ask what we are to do with the dogs after you leave?”

Both girls growled and my sibling took a half-step back.

“Oh hush, both of you,” I reprimanded them, “both of you need to meet me back at the warehouse.” They stood looking at me like they wanted to go with me, not back to the warehouse.

“Go,” I said, “take a stroll and hunt something.”

When they heard hunt, Jealousy yipped excitedly, causing Hate to lick her on the side of her face. Both flickered for a moment and the wolves morphed into two Mediterranean beauties wearing little black dresses. Hate gave me a coy wave. Then they locked arms and disappeared out of the office.

Hermaphroditus chuckled, “My, that was something we haven’t seen before.”

I shook my head and looked at them. “Wolves, promise them a kill or two, and they are putty in your hands.” I drained my iced coffee, and Hermaphroditus immediately reached out and took the empty cup.

“Go,” they said, smiling. “We will take care of cleaning up here.”

Aunt Demeter gave me the car keys from Mr. Franklin’s car earlier, and the parking space number they assigned him. I grabbed him and teleported down into the bowels of the parking garage under the building where I then shoved him into the driver’s seat, went to the other side, and got in the passenger seat.

Once in the car, I slid to the center and started it. With my left hand and foot, I drove the car out of the garage. We headed east out of the city until we hit a set of train tracks that ran along the edge of Olympus National Park.

I parked the car near the tracks, then turned off the engine to wait.

I dozed lightly when I heard the train horn. I sat up and saw the train, still several hundred yards away and coming fast. I reached out and grabbed Mr. Franklin and the car door.

“Waiting… waiting… waiting…”

The train was right on top of us

Okay, Mr. Franklin, I thought as I looked over at him for the last time. I’m sorry to do this, but I’ll be more sorry if I screw this up for Aunt Demeter and Nana Hera.

With all my will, I teleport the car, Mr. Franklin, and myself the last few feet onto the tracks. To the train engineer, it would look like the car just lurched forward.

An instant later, I teleported out, about fifty yards away. The train slammed into, then flattened, the car. Wedging it under the nose where moments later it exploded in a spectacular fireball. There wouldn’t be enough left of Mr. Franklin to scoop up and put in a small bucket.

I teleported back to the building in front of Nana Hera’s office. Aunt Demeter and Hermaphroditus were overseeing the cleanup in the office.

“Crap, I forgot the rug in the car…”

“Is it done now?” asked Aunt Demeter.

“Yeah, he fell asleep at the wheel after all that working late to make extra money, and had an unfortunate accident.”

Aunt Demeter held up her hand. “We don’t need to hear anymore. We can read about it in the paper tomorrow.”

I nodded and said, “Well, I’m out.” I patted the manila envelope under my coat she gave me earlier and added. “Thanks for this as well. I will take care of this problem. I will eliminate Anthony Santiago and his network of traffickers.”

She looked serious. “Don’t you take over trafficking his women. I won’t stand for it, nor will your Aunt Athena, Nana Hera, Artemis, well the list goes on and on.”

I hugged her and whispered in her ear, “I promise, no trafficking or slavery.”

She hugged me back. “Good. For all our sakes, try to be good.”

I laughed. “I always try to be good, Aunt Dem. It’s just that sometimes it doesn’t work out.” With that, I popped out and teleported back to the warehouse.

The girls weren’t back yet. Still on the hunt. Good for them.

I put my clothes in the closet and fell into bed. After spending all night disposing of a dead body for Aunt Dem and Nana, I was beat.

Time for sleep. “Hypnos take me, Morpheus leave me be.”

Image by Peter Mayer from Pixabay

A Primordial’s Tradtion, IV (Rewrite)

Friends of Dinlas

Nyx continues her gracious Yule tradition with the deities. (originally published December 2019)

Image by S. Hermann & F. Richter from Pixabay

The Night's Tales

I left the table and slipped another glass of champagne from a waiter’s tray as it glided by.

I better slow up on these or I’ll be all over Dinlas later, I thought as I took a sip. Then I shrugged.

There’s worse things to do tonight.

I could feel Hekate before I ever saw her, and I followed her magic to the center of the hall where she was surrounded by enraptured staff and a fascinated Viridios. A beautiful dagger rested in her hand, the handle fashioned in the shape of an ornate key. She twirled it around her finger, making some of the staff flinch horribly, until she tossed it in the air, high above their heads. A collective gasp came from the spectators, and it landed with a satisfying hiss into its sheath on her hip. Enthusiastic applause followed as Hekate took a swig of something dark…

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A Primordial’s Tradition, II (Rewrite)

Friends of Dinlas

Nyx’s 2019 Gift Giving Yule Event

The Night's Tales

Dolos’ easy laugh fell on my ears as I approached him, his sister standing beside him with a grin on her face and a dark twinkle in her eyes. They turned to me simultaneously as I came within earshot, and I couldn’t help but smile. Though they are far grown and mature by now, it was hard for me to not still see Dolos’ chubby cheeks or Apate’s sweet smile from when they were younger. I pulled them into a quick hug, kissing both their foreheads, avoiding jostling their drinks, and beamed at them.

“Are you two enjoying yourselves? Staying out of trouble, or mostly, I hope?”

Dolos started to answer, but Apate snorted and cut him off with a wicked smile. “As much as we can, miteras. It has been a chore trying to keep Dolos from causing mischief among the staff and guests.”

I raised an eyebrow…

View original post 2,602 more words

The Interview

My Stories

Dinlas settles in with his new legitimate and illegitimate business ventures. The money rolls in and he decides to hire an assistant. He falls for a candidate who, clearly, is interested in more than just a business relationship. What he ends up with may very well be far more than he can handle.

This post contains sexual situations.

By Wayne Davids/ originally published July 21, 2019

I retreated into my library and dropped a few ice cubes in a glass. Next, I poured two fingers of bourbon and went straight to the bedroom. There, stretched face down across the bed, was an ivory-skinned ginger with gorgeous, waist-length hair. She stripped naked for me earlier, and I securely tied each wrist to the bedposts. I then labored to tie the knots around her wrists, making sure each one sat square and uniform around her wrists. From there, I told her to wait for my return. I purposely left the air conditioning running on full so the room remained frigid. As she raised up on one side, she bared her breasts to me and I could see she was quite chilled.

“Sir, why did you leave me waiting for so long?” she purred.

I didn’t respond but took a sip of my bourbon and ice, then set it down on the nightstand. At the foot of the bed sat a wooden trunk with reinforced metal bands, like a strongbox. It was old, heavy, and covered in nicks and scars from its many years of service. I opened it and savored for a moment the soft, sweet scent of cedar and leather, before removing a ball gag and a bamboo switch. I closed my beloved trunk, letting my fingertips run across the top of it for a moment as I returned to the side of the bed and sat down next to my new friend. She watched quietly as I checked and tugged at the intricate knots on each rope that bound her. I felt compelled to make sure they were snug, but not excruciating. But if she tried to pull, they would only get tighter. Once content, I turned and addressed her.

“Estrella, are you still comfortable with my interview process? We discussed it before, but I need to be sure.”

“Yes, I’m ready for my interview and training.”

Her voice sounded husky and her tone subservient as she twisted her head to look at me while speaking.  I tugged gently once more on the ropes that bound her delicate arms above her head, to the heavy wooden posts on the headboard. She smiled, then twisted her wrists several times. We both knew she wasn’t getting free.

“And you remember the word?”

“Jealousy,” she whispered, “but I won’t say it.”

“Very good, but we shall see. The first part of your session will be about manners. You addressed me when I entered the room a few minutes ago. You do not address me during session unless first given permission.”

I leaned forward and squeezed her mouth open with one hand. Then, with my other hand, shoved the ball gag into place to reinforce my directive. She gagged for an instant, then pushed it forward with her tongue to a more comfortable position. A moment later, I tightened the straps behind her head. I pulled her hair back, and to the side, careful not to tangle her beautiful red locks in the clasps as I cinched them tight.

I sat on the edge of the bed and admired the intricate tattoo that ran her entire length on one side. It started behind her ear as a delicate line of art, then meandered down her neck until it parted at her shoulder. One line swirled down the side of her breast in the front, while the other fanned out across her back in a beautifully complex pattern. The pattern extended almost to her rear before it then joined again with the front line at her hip. As it moved onward, it continued as a single airy design that curved inside her thigh and spiralled her leg all the way to the ankle. It traced a breezy pattern that her milky skin tone only enhanced. It looked as if it were a beautiful vine growing up her side.  A vine that rooted in the heel of her dainty foot, complete with perfectly painted toes.

Or perhaps it was a spider’s thread that swirled and dangled from her hairline, that thick mane of strawberry hair. From there, it fluttered down and around her breathtaking form. A form perfect from head to heel. I stuck my finger in my drink and held an ice cube between my thumb and index finger as I looked at her multi-colored body art. It seemed to shimmer with her every move or undulation.

She squirmed when I touched the tattoo behind her ear with my frozen finger and lightly dusted its multiple paths down her body from start to finish. I paused only once to lean forward and brush a kiss where the ink lines joined at the cup-shaped hollow on her hip. She moaned, low and muffled, when my razor stubble dragged across the delicate spot.

I stood and commanded, “Roll on your stomach.”

She did so, crossing her arms over her head as she turned. With no warning, I dropped an ice cube onto the small of her back, right where her waist curved in to meet the rise of her exquisite tush. She twisted and gasped at the frozen gift. The ice cube fell onto the silk sheet below.

“Oh no, that won’t do,” I said as I retrieved it and placed it back in my drink.

With the bamboo cane, I gave her three smart lashes on the bottom of her feet. She pulled her knees up to escape the sting. Doing so caused her pelvis to rise quickly, then grind slowly down again as she stretched her legs back out across the bed. A whimper caught in her throat, but nothing escaped the gag in her mouth.

I reached, again, into the glass for an ice cube. “There is only one rule here. If the ice touches the sheet, then we re-start your lesson from the very beginning.” 

I dropped another cube onto the small of her back and this time; she held perfectly still. I swirled and savored another taste of bourbon and waited several minutes. As I waited, I watched and paced my breathing, feeling the heat of my ardor rise. A pool of cold water formed in the small of her back and still I sipped my bourbon. She kept her head down, but I knew she enjoyed me watching her lie there helpless. The cube continued its excruciatingly slow melt. Finally, like a lover’s release, it melted enough for a trickle of water to escape the hollow and run down her side. Estrella shivered again in the cold room. Then she remained still. Nothing said. No sounds made. She averted direct eye contact. She wanted to impress me with her gift of submission and her role in our blossoming relationship.

“Now, may I call you Stella?”

Estrella lifted her head, careful not to jar the half-melted ice cube, and nodded yes as drool formed around the ball gag: shiny, slippery, and sticky. I watched as it gradually fell in several long strings, puddling onto the sheet in front of her.

“Excellent, Stella.”

I flexed the switch between my hands several times, then flicked it back and forth in the air next to the bed. It cut through the air with a swishing sound that was most satisfying.

I looked down at her, bound securely, and said, “Let’s start the interview process, shall we?”

Image by Rondell Melling from Pixabay