Interview with the LVCs 04

Story Info
Farah the Predator.
3.9k words
2.67
4.6k
1

Part 5 of the 5 part series

Updated 06/08/2023
Created 04/16/2018
Share this Story

Font Size

Default Font Size

Font Spacing

Default Font Spacing

Font Face

Default Font Face

Reading Theme

Default Theme (White)
You need to Log In or Sign Up to have your customization saved in your Literotica profile.
PUBLIC BETA

Note: You can change font size, font face, and turn on dark mode by clicking the "A" icon tab in the Story Info Box.

You can temporarily switch back to a Classic Literotica® experience during our ongoing public Beta testing. Please consider leaving feedback on issues you experience or suggest improvements.

Click here
Player0
Player0
97 Followers

Interview 4: Farah the Predator

Don't fuck with me; it's a simple set of instructions necessary to have a happy, healthy life. But honestly that may not be enough, I'm a fickle mistress and a predator, if the mood takes me I will take you.

I'm asked sometimes why I do cut my hair so short, why do I make an effort to appear so androgynous. In my youth my hair was long, beautiful, spun gold that fell to my hips; I often get complaints from dear Contessa for not growing it back, maybe I will one day, but for now I enjoy it. The reason is because it causes confusion in my prey, people are such superficial creatures that a head of hair that superficially may make me look vaguely like a boy causes a noticeable discomfort in the weaker and more narrow minded people I prey upon, whether I'm cutting them open or making love to them, it's just one slight thing that throws people off, just another game to play with them.

That's one of the things I enjoy about being what I am, the ability to change my appearance and my shape to fuck with people while I actually fuck them. Something as small as eye colour, scent, skin tone, and a whole host of wholly superficial aspects is enough to scare and titillate people. That's before I actually show them what I'm capable of; being faster, strong and able to change shape at will makes you incredibly good in bed and saves up a great deal on supplies, why bother with a French tickler when you are a living French tickler, both in the sense that I am a French dominatrix who enjoys tickling my victims and that I can grow a penis with tentacles that is in effect a living French tickler.

What I did to Emily is pretty run of the mill, even as a mortal I was naturally beautiful and predatory, today people would politely call me a gold digger, a more accurate title would be narcissistic sociopath. Of all the girls I don't mind saying I'm the bread winner, after all this place doesn't just play for itself; all of us do our part to some extent, Devana sometimes works as a hit woman, Veronica does some part time management of local brothels as well as her own escort work, Regina negotiates and makes deals and networks and my dear Contessa as always teaches piano, what she actually does with the students when they're alone is anyone's guess.

As for me, I hunt as always; this city has no end of the wealthy, and the wealthy have no end of prey. Rich families produce two kinds of people, predators and prey, and I am the tigress stalking them from the reeds, I enjoy the flesh of the young and helpless most of all. There's a very famous joke called the Aristocrats, the setup is that a family comes into a talent agent's office and tell him they've got a great act, at which point you start spouting off the vilest, disgusting, reprehensible and titillating things your imagination can possibly fathom; after that's done the talent agent says 'that's one hell of an act, what do you call it?' The family responds 'the Aristocrats.' Nothing is more terrifying, reprehensible, dangerous and vile in this world than people born into wealth and luxury with too much time and money on their hands, I should know after I am one.

What Devana mentioned as a one off experiment I have perfected to a fine art, I've even worked up a procedure, I may one day write a manual not to help people but to expose other predators like myself just to thin out the herd and make it easier to deal with life without the competition. I can afford the patience required to groom my prey, I am after all immortal, thus I can afford to invest my time in the long con; just as I and my Contessa were so willing to fall into the grasp of Venus and Tristan, so too are there more than enough lambs ready for the slaughter, whether predator or prey one thing is for certain is that the quest for power and wealth leaves one empty, seeking real companionship and love and fulfilment, and it is in that emptiness that a snake such as myself can sneak in, all the armour and money and weapons in the world can't hide the fact that the greatest and more easily exploited weakness all humans have is the heart.

That's why I am so thankful to be undead, playing defensive is a self-defeating strategy, only offense can guarantee success because even if it is only through attrition everyone tires, everyone falls prey to entropy, and in that moment of weakness lives are ruined, monsters thrive, canyons are carved through drops of rain. That'll never happen to me though, I will never tire, never get old, never fall victim again, I am and always will be the predator, I will always be the Domina of this world; in the Jewish Talmud Satan isn't God's enemy, he is God's servant, playing the role of the monster down below to punish those God sees fit to punish. The delicious thing here is that God set it all up in advance, he gave people free will, thoughts and feelings and sets up the world and their own minds and bodies in a way where they have no choice but to fall prey to the devil, a world of endless playthings, now that's my kind of religion, the kind that Regina will bring about.

Now that your appetite has been wetted and your imaginations properly titillated, let me tell you the story of one such lonely little boy I preyed upon. Once upon a time there was a rich family, two repressible parents, three miniature sociopaths and one kind hearted little lamb, I find hearts are the tastiest parts. It wasn't hard to make friends with the family, Regina didn't advertise her presence to the public but she was seen in public, to the world of the living she was seen in the circles of high society, no one knew her name they just knew her a person who knows people, and that makes her an extremely valuable commodity as a networker. What is more valuable to social ladder climbers than the ladder itself?

The role of governess is like a second skin, a well-practiced skill so ingrained in muscle memory that I could pass for the role more so than an actual governess. Piano lessons are always a good way to get close to a child, long term interaction and lessons required to learn in depth skills is a good way to isolate a child, learn about them, gain their trust and then use that as a means to seduce and dominate them.

The little lamb was as I expected, small and soft, weak and naïve, and starved for love and attention, he wanted someone to mother him and while I wasn't Vanessa or Regina who were actually willing and able to provide such nurturing, but I am good enough at faking such things. A kind word here, a soft sweet whisper there, a little rubbing, a little tickling, it takes very little effort to seduce a lonely child, like giving scraps to hungry dog he saw the tiniest trickle of affection and to him it was the whole world.

The family in question was shit show to put it plainly, self-destructive narcissism, endless drama, a whole group of disgusting and reprehensible people attacking and back biting each other, like the only way they could ever interact with other people was to make themselves the centre of a drama of their own creation. No morals, no conscious, the most rotten of the rotten, to be honest I liked preying on people like that, the rotten and the innocent alike appeal to me, the innocent because there is nothing that tickles the sadist in me quite like preying upon the pure, and the rotten because there's nothing more fun than pulling the rug from under someone who thinks they're playing the puppet master of their own little fiefdom.

Am I projecting or perhaps playing out some kind of little psychodrama where I am recreating my own fall at the hands of Venus? Yes but so what of it?

The little lamb was last in line for an inheritance, I've had worse odds before, oh you don't want to know the things I did in Italy to earn my bread, I wasn't there for the glory days of Bacchus but honestly the apple doesn't fall too far from the tree. It's not that I'm against that, I just despise being the submissive, trust me no wants to be the sub in a festival of Bacchus, or the goat for that matter.

The trick to a long con is to make it a side project, don't let it become the only thing you've got going, you'll lose patience and get frustrated easily. You need other things to distract you and take your mind off it, the wonderful thing about my life is that I have a lot to do at any given time not to mention a lot of people to do; nothing really beats coming back home to people you love, people who I admit I would even feel comfortable putting me into a dungeon. I am a domina, but even I sometimes require the role of the slave in my life.

Learning the family, their habits and their psychology, their schedules, their vices, their aspirations, setting up their demise or otherwise removing them from the picture wasn't too difficult. Disappearances, poisonings, wild animal attacks, car accidents, kidnappings and white slavers, putting them in the sights of serial killers or alerting people they owed debts to. There's so many ways to kill people without ever laying your hand on them.

By the time the lamb came of age and there were no other competitors, his parents left the inheritance to him, I maintained the relationship as long as I could, as it turns out they weren't at all upset or perturbed that their son's childhood piano teacher was interested in him romantically. If anything they were happy to believe they would have connections to LA's upper crust; there really are no depths people won't sink to for money.

It was lovely wedding, I had a small ceremony in a small town in Mexico, I told the family it was for tax reasons and they of course accepted it without question. The real reason is that I wanted as much distance between my mark and his parents as possible, while I and the lamb were away the parents died of an unforeseen poisoning, after with their deaths their fortunes fall to my lamb, who in turn fell off the roof of our hotel and then it fell to me as his only living relative. Oh don't worry, I fucked him before I fucked him, I'm not a complete monster after all; you really should've seen the look on his face when he saw me naked, all his childhood fantasies came to life, the games we played together when he was little took an erotic twist, the things he had spent his whole life masturbating to came to life. Then I decided to spice things up and introduce him to my little French tickler trick, surprisingly enough he was into it, I don't think he was afraid when I tickled both on the inside and out, I think he was into it, even when the teeth started to get involved he was still into it, he really enjoyed the idea of me kill and eating him.

The fall covered up most of the damage I did to his body, and a little bribe to the local coroner helped.

A few tears, a token funeral, a little paper work, finding buyers for the house and everything they owned; pretty standard job honestly, it helps when you're the biggest fish in the pond, no one really cares or dares to when you choose to eat.

Mind you, I didn't have anything against the little lamb, honestly he was a nice kid, really he was, I probably would've shared him with Vanessa and the rest of my family under different circumstance. It wasn't anything personal, it was just business, that's just how it goes.

Now you're probably wondering what it would be like if it were personal?

I'm a predator and a sadist; I'm cruel often for the sake of being cruel, something people do enjoy when you're a beautiful woman. But it's easy to piss me off, hurting my family is one of them and showing me disrespect is another, if little Emily did run away all those threats I made I would've gladly made good on, now I have eternity to do it. But that's really a story for another time, I really don't want to talk about her right now; a good story about when it became personal was when a debtor tried to skip out on me, it shouldn't surprise you that torture, interrogations and general punishment are something I specialize in, I'm quite well known in the underworld, though few actually know my real name or face, they know my reputation, they know what I like to do with my teeth and fingernails, they know that I have a very intimate knowledge of how exactly to inflict maximum pain and pleasure simultaneously.

If there's one thing I enjoy more than anything else its non-consensual play, willing subs and partners are well and good but nothing brings more pleasure to me than forcing it on someone who is either unwilling, repulsed or just plain ignorant about what I intend to do to them; after all torture is only unpleasant if the victim doesn't enjoy it.

I'm technically not the leader or member of any organized crime syndicate, the strength of Regina's family is that we straddle the grey area between being respectable members of the upper crust and the criminal underworld. It's always good to have friends, and we're very friendly people for the most part.

But still, business is business and bills need to be paid, and when people can't make good on their debts well let's just say it often falls to Devana and I to resolve those issues. Devana and I make a good pair, after Vanessa she would've been a great partner, Devana has a deep well rage, resentment and sadism fostered through a lifetime of persecution and I have the refined sense of cruelty only a noblewoman could possess. Together we're the family's enforcers and guardians; we play off each other's strengths very well: she's the bloodhound and muscle, she tracks down our prey and beats them until they submit, I'm the sadist who ties them up, tortures them, extracts what we need whether that's information or money, and then I make examples of them.

We were both predators, we were both sadists, we enjoyed each other's company because even Veronica has a sense of mercy and pity for the weak. We have no such feelings, if you piss us or make us your enemy, we won't hold back, oh hell if we think you're cute we won't hold back either. There's something satisfying and primal about being a predator without restriction, and better yet is having partners to hunt with, there's really nothing I enjoy more than discussing and refining ways to hurt people. Humans are social animals, and everything is better with like-minded company, including cruelty.

So a certain someone pissed us off, borrowed money with no intention to pay us back, we didn't like that, she thought she could skip town on us; if there's something that never changes its arrogance of youth to think they're special or smart enough to swindle everyone around them. We didn't really need to bother picking her up personally; we simply outsourced it to some local tuffs, we gave them her photo and ID, even managed to hack her phone and track her GPS. We decided to borrow a location used by a friend who owed us a favour, lots of desert in California, lots of places to build a secret underground bunker.

By the time she regained consciousness she was naked, bound and tied to a chair in an underground basement with soundproof walls.

Humans are fragile things, for this reason Regina frowns when we go all out with our powers, she has such a soft heart she thinks soft little mortals need to be handled gently, less they fall to pieces too quickly. Devana and I tend not to agree with such things, we are the stronger, we are predators, we have an inherent right to use our strength and abilities as we wish just as others would to us. It's not as if we really broke Regina's tenant, she did die happy, after she learned to like it.

It's like tickling, the normal reaction to being tickled is to avoid it, to escape, that's why extended tickling is considered torture, you're not supposed to like it; the human brain trains itself to sexualize and enjoy trauma and abuse, it's how BDSM started, people just trying to cope with the horrible situation they're in, sexual Stockholm Syndrome essentially, its why so many abused girls end up calling their husbands Daddy.

We engaged in conditioning her to many forms of torture, including but not limited to tickling. We didn't need tools; our bodies changed their shapes to suit our needs, our teeth and nails became like knives, our fingers and toes grew to unnatural lengths and dexterity, our could grow the muscles of a body building or become long and rubbery like the bodies of snakes. The girl screamed and cried for her mommy, we told her we were her mommies now, in a short while she began to say it out of fear and hope for mercy, in a few hours she was saying it sincerely.

We chose to oscillate between extremes, pain and pleasure bombarded her at random intervals; hard and soft, hot and cold, smothering her and letting her breath, isolation and being pawed and groped and bitten, tenderness and cruelty.

It didn't take too much to break her mind; she was already weak when we started, and since we didn't have much time we decided to drug her with a cocktail of our saliva and a few bits and pieces, a witch's brew that makes molly look like throat lozenges. Even as good as we are it takes time to break someone, we'd need at least a few days and sadly we only rented this place for the night, it was short but sweet, we made the girl love us so dearly that even the slightest touch of our skin or smell of our perfume made her wild with lust and triggered the pleasure centres of her brain, everything felt wonderful to her no matter what we did to her. She couldn't tell the difference between tickling, sex, mutilation and literally being eaten alive, she just wanted more and more and more, she never wanted it to stop, just as long as she could be near us, as long as we were the ones doing it she was in a constant state of ecstasy right up until her brain stopped functioning, she was maybe half a torso and her head by that point.

It's a little known secret we rarely show others, we after all don't want to show all our hands, but each and every one of us in Regina's family is a shapeshifter, all vampires are natural shapeshifters able to take animal forms, usually bats or wolves, sometimes a black cat, Devana has a preference towards being a black panther; she's actually quite lovely like that, she can even strike a middle ground and become a kind of wer-panther, she's quite an excellent lover when she gets that way. I myself have mastered a form of a spider, not a normal spider mind, but a human-spider; eight arms all to myself, four pairs of hands to make love with, eighty fingers to torture my prey. Love making never gets old with a shapeshifter, believe you me.

I haven't actually shown any of this Emily though, I'm wondering if I should, she seems like the type to fetishize that kind of thing, I bet you when she was a teenager she was big into monster girls. I wonder when I should, I don't imagine it'd be very nice for her, she can barely handle me as I am, I wonder how she'd react to all the extra arms and mouths. The wonderful thing about her is that she is not only durable but fair game, I could actually really let loose on her for as long as I want and not only could she take it but Regina would be cool with it.

Why do you care about her anyway? She's our property not yours, I don't seem to ever recall you ever asking about the other meat that's passed through this house. What's your game here exactly? Not that I really care, she's entertainment not family, we'd gladly throw her out on the street if we could but then you'd have a chance to get her, you didn't think we thought about that? Trust me, if we do decide to get rid of her we'll do it in a way so complete that you have a single drop of blood to work with.

If you'd like to more about her personally or what she's been going through you can ask her yourself.

If you're curious what I intend to do with her, well let's just say it'll be a group activity.

When will it end? Is forgiveness possible? You do know who I am right, you know what we are, you know what world this is? What do you think? Why do you ask these questions? Someone would think you're her real mother, though from I've heard about her I tend to think she'd be on our side.

Player0
Player0
97 Followers
12