Omnibus in foro S.P.D.

Sometimes you think you meet “The One” and you find out they are simply not part of the dream. As always feedback appreciated.


Spooky Regards,


Sleepless 10/11/2017

Get thee to sleep,
Close thine eyes in the knowing,
You have lost something,
That others have fought to grab,
There for the taking,
Yet you squandered,
Foolish beyond measure,
No tears to be shed,
There is still solace to be found,
Places elsewhere hold comfort,
Yet the brightest treasure shines,
Even in the darkest depths,
There it will remain locked in place,
Only opened to whoever holds the rightful key,
Get thee to sleep,
Close thine eyes and dream,
In knowing you will still have to seek,
For the treasure will only open to those that wear the crown,
and you are not the King.

©2017 T.B. Morte aka Neylinn Foa-Vulpes




Omnibus in foro S.P.D.

Sometimes inspiration comes from the most unexpected places.  And sometimes subject matter can be  in the past form it doesn’t always have to be in the “present”.  It can sometimes just be a situation you simply thought “What If?” and decided to write about it.  Today we hear from Tragedienne’s alter ego “Bobbie Jane” she doesn’t come out too often. She’s usually okay letting Trag running the show, but it doesn’t make what dear sweet Bobbie’s words less profound.


Confessions or Declarations 09/27/2017

I have a confession to make,

or is it a Declaration?

I haven’t made a decision,

It’s beguiling deviltry at its finest,

Seduction so refined,

I do it without blinking,

Can you forgive my fragile mind?

If this confession is so scattered,

I’ve had a variety of lovers,

Each left their mark,

Where shall we start?

And as you know all good stories,

They start off in the dark,

I met a little dragon,

he thought to be mighty,

Although he claimed,

I was his favorite maiden,

In the end he proved flighty,

Wishy washy isn’t my flavor,

So we needed something more,

Something more to savor,

I rendezvous with a Vampire,

his fangs enjoyed this nectar,

Although he had a undead bride,

his taste showed he enjoyed the living

flesh far more greater,

A demon kidnapped me to his lair,

and showed me whats underneath

his nether hair,

I found the power of the holy trinity between

my glistened thighs,

I saw god,

Praised Lucifer,

and now I’m here,

confessing these sexual crimes,

Forgive me Father for I have sinned,

Bless me Father for this declaration,

Expect soon most likely another confession.

©2017 T. B. Morte writing as “Bobbie Jane Claibourne”



The Entreating Chronicles#1 “THE QUIBBLE QUASMS OF BELLE MORTE”

Omnibus in foro S.P.D.

Greetings fellow spooks & ghouls.  Some random short pieces I decided to put together as possible ongoing compilation of “shorties” its a new year.  Time for a new outlook.  Enjoy the following tidbits.  As always feedback appreciated.


Bone Mother Belleen ❤



“Forgiveness. The scale you measure of the hurtful act that was done to be measured against the something that you love. There was a moment of falter, a cut so deep the impenetrable became the penetrated. The emotion of true sorrow felt so fluid embedded into entire psyche. If you love something you must love its evil as well as it’s innocence. To love only one part, one cannot love truly. You must accept the wiles,observe the hurt and measure the scale consciously. Forgiveness and love you must embrace to the bitterest of ends” ~T. B. Morte  © 2017~



“What is black? A color so deep and engulfing it swallows light whole. Born from the shadows, nothing can be seen inside it. So black are the hearts of the fallen the weak are unable to fathom loving them. So dark were the souls of the broken the brave could not help but love them against all odds.”~ T.B. Morte © 2017 ~



“Love your Hero, and love them well. For they have the spirit of giants and the bravery of fools. They will love what they endear so brutally, they will avenge any slight against them at all costs. They will carry you upon a broken back, they will be your shield, they will be your iron cladded will and word. But if you were to mock the love the Hero gives, you have foolisheartedly committed a most heinous act. You have broken their spirit. The hero then can no longer sing with shine, the song is now tainted, darkness slowly encrypted. The fool must now think of the catastrophe they have unleashed. They have morphed the Hero into a Villain.” ~T.B. Morte © 2017~

Darkness Loves Monster

Darkness Loves Monster  02/14/2016

“I shall give you a name.”  Darkness said as he looked at his most adored.

“But I already have one.”

She looked at her beloved liege wondering why suddenly he wanted to give her a “name”.   When she already had a name that was barely used, surely there was intention behind such a command.


“The mortal women who dwell above have names.”


“And we live in the shadows not within the mortal realm my beloved.”


“A name can give one power.”  Darkness replied firmly.


“My name is Monster.  That is my name.  I have the powers of darkness and of the storms. Mortal women quake and run in my presence. ” She spoke with sudden fierceness not wanting to be bothered with such trivial things such as a new name.

“A monster is to be considered a thing of ugliness and to be feared.  But you are neither to me.  Your beauty shines brighter than stars themselves and I do not fear you.  Never will the Darkness fear what he loves the most.”


“The Darkness loves his Monster.”

“Always.” As Darkness looked at her his icy expression changing to a sign of rare warmth.

“I will give you what the Lord of Light could never give you.”

At the mentioning of the Light who had never loved Monster a pang struck to her very core. She left Monster to go be with the Light, she believed the King of Illusion had loved her.  Tricked her into thinking she belonged in the mortal world.  When in truth she never did and never will.  She had hurt Darkness so deeply when she had fled.  Yet Darkness took her back but never did he forget.

“And whats that my beloved?”

“A name. Because unlike the Light.  I love thee Eternally.”

And so Darkness called his monster by the name of love.


©2016 T.B. Morte  “From the Book of Monster” 
















The Story of Darkness: (Vol. III of “The Seven”) “Why Darkness Wept”

Omnibus in foro S.P.D.

Another bone for the garden.



The  Story of Darkness: (Vol. III of “The Seven”) “Why Darkness Wept”

The crowd of mourners sang the lines to the song “Amazing Grace” as if they were in true mourning.  Almost and just almost as if they knew the true meaning of grief.  These poor unfortunate souls knew nothing about grieving.  They knew nothing what its like to face loss over and over again.  Over a lifetime, over centuries, over a entire millennia.

She watched as the coffin was being lowered to the dark hole of the ground.  Six feet below to be exact.  This was not the first time she attended a funeral nor would it be her last most likely.  As the tears streamed down her face.  She could not help but weep. No one within the crowd of people bothered to comfort her- not even ask if she was okay.  It was as if she was not there.  While the Priest gave the final sacraments  giving safe passage for the body in the coffin.  To make its final voyage into the next world.

“Ashes to Ashes, Dust to dust.”  The Priest chanted.

She squeezed her eyes tightly as the tears kept going. She knew this would be over very very soon.  For funerals are never prolonged.  Its a short service, body gets buried, and people are supposed to move on with their lives.  You are not supposed to be remember the dead.

Today she buried her very last human descendant.  Her very last great-grandchild  so many times removed she did not bother to count.  It did not matter to her. They were a part of her bloodline. The blood of her blood, sprung forth from her set of children. As time stretched over the span of years, she watched over them, loved and protected even from afar.  She did the best that she could and yet it was not enough for she could not stop the inevitable.  No matter how in the early years she would beg.  She could not stop death even if she were a daughter of “Immortality”.  Death the cruel hearted thing it was stopped for no one.

And so now she grieved openly with no remorse.  She was the only one of seven sisters to gain the blessing to bear children.  Only to lose them to the hands of death.  It was a blessing and a curse.  Her wish was granted at a high price.  No sacrifice to small she had foolishly thought in her misspent youth.  If only she could turn back the passages of time and chose to remain childless.

The circumstances surrounding the death of her descendant were circumspect. He had been murdered most viciously.  Which to her dug the wound even more deep.  His life had not been claimed by old age with a life truly fulfilled. He was still young just barely a grown man.  He never got the chance to start a family or strive for a career.  He would never get the opportunity to fall in love or suffer heartache.  Everything had been taken away from her grandson too early by someone else. That someone was going to truly pay they would never know misery until now that is all that individual will ever know.

The crowd had finally dwindled to where only one had remained at the grave site.  He was tall, dark, smokey eyed, would have been handsome in normal circumstances. He carried the demeanor of one who spent time in the shadows.  She knew all about the shadows.  Its rumored she created them after all.  He stared at her with a look of fascination.

“You look just like him.” Said the man in the shadows.

“We were related.”

“His sister perhaps?”  As he edged closer.

“If you would like to think so.”

“You must be.  You look too much alike.  Do you have a name dear woman?”

“I am Darkness.” She said silently.

“Elakhet.  My name is Elakhet.”

“An usual name for unusual beauty.”

Darkness did not like where this was heading.  She decided to do something she very rarely did.  She used just a vein of power.  Just a small tap to reach into the psyche of the stranger.  His memories flooded into her like a tidal wave almost causing her to lose balance.  Through the images she saw what she dreaded.  The stranger killing her grandchild. This set a wave of anger through her which could not unquelled.  She would have her vengeance and she would have it now.

“It is also unusual for the killer to attend the funeral of his victim.”

If looks could kill then Darkness would truly be struck dead. The stranger turned angrily towards her.  Darkness boldly gave him a playful smirk. She was not afraid of him, for she had seen bigger and badder enemies.

“Had to make sure he was laid to rest.  You know what they say Dead men tell no tales.  And like your brother you know too much. Pity because you’re such a pretty little thing.” The stranger growled as he approached closer.

“Pity because I would hate to see you die. Actually scratch that. I am rather looking forward to it.” Darkness purred back.

What the stranger did not realize that there was three women standing behind him. The sisters of darkness all clad in black.The twins Vanity & Envy who blew Darkness kisses. The oldest sister who Darkness most adored.  Her oldest sibling looked at Darkness solemnly.  Envy in a playful gesture blew in the ear of the stranger causing him to turn around his eyes grew wide in curiousity.

“Peekaboo.” Envy squealed.

Vanity, Envy, and along with the oldest formed a circle around the man who had no name. Circling him like a pack of hungry wolves.  Darkness knew what was to come.  She held no regrets save the fact that she could not dish out justice herself.  For her oldest sister would never allow her to interfere most unfortunately.

“My beloved Torment.” Darkness said in a husky tone.

“My sweet Darkness.”  Torment responded in a softer voice as she continued talking to Darkness directly.

“Forever the grieving Mother my sister.”

“Am I any other way my sister?” Bitterly Darkness asked.

“No you are not. Yet I will still ask how can I salve your heart?”

“I have no heart.”

“Sister let us make it better.” Vanity cooed.

Torment reached with a gloved hand to caress the strangers face. As she cocked her head towards Darkness “His life then?”

“Aye.  His life.”

“You have never asked me of this before.”

Darkness looked at Torment and a smile passed between the two sisters.  They had always been close as children and even over the eons of time their bond had never severed.

“Sister will you avenge me?” Darkness pleaded.

The stranger who had unusually taken a nonchalant stance regarding his soon to be fate. Looked at the four women quite bemused.  “As if you have what it takes to kill me.”  He mocked.

Vanity, Envy, and Torment removed matching Desert Eagles equipped with silencers from their trench coats. The death sisters carried guns that assassins used which in truth was no surprise.  The stranger now very wide eyed tried to take a step back waving his hands frantically.

“I’m not fond of guns on principle.  But they get the job done when it is necessary.” Spoke  Torment as she lifted her gun to meet her target. She motioned the Twins to ready themselves as well.

The stranger decided to foolishly try and outrun the wave of bullets.

“Rest.” Torment began.

“In.” Vanity followed.

“Peace.” Envy finished.

In matching symmetry their guns fired. Bullets hit the back of the strangers head, his heart, and also his stomach. The stranger fell to the ground oddly enough landing on the grave of the grandchild of Darkness.  When it was done Darkness herself approached the body of the stranger to close his now very dead eyes.

“Requiscat in pace.” Darkness spat.

While she turned to join her sisters so they could flee the now crime scene.  Darkness gave a farewell to her last descendant.  She carefully wiped away a crop of fresh tears, while the blood of the stranger flowed into the loams of the earth.

©2015  From “The Seven Interlogues”  by T.B. Morte

The Story of Regret- ( Vol. I of “The Seven” )–“Rock-A-Bye-Sweetie”

Omnibus in foro S.P.D.

I present to you a follow-up to “The Seven”..   Feel free to leave feedback.

Bone Mama,


The Story of Regret: (Vol. I “The Seven”) — “Rock-A-Bye-Sweetie”

There she sat while she watched him wipe his hands.   “Sweetie” did it methodically as if the rivulets of blood was non-trivial.  In the end  it was her blood and she did not matter.  After “Sweetie” was done he turned to look her as if she was dirt.  This was nothing out of the usual nothing she did made him happy. In the corner there she huddled, she cringed, hoping that his work was done and that he would leave her alone for the time being.   It wasn’t as if he didn’t have other girls to go abuse.

“Sweetie” looked down to her on the floor and gave an exasperated sigh.  “Really Beda what am I going to do with you?”  He stared as if she was supposed to respond.  Yet she did not she had learned from her little sister that sometimes silence was the best answer.  He did not remove that snake like stare from his face which made her cringe even more.  Sweetie did not like it when she put up a struggle.

“Beda I am asking you a question.  Or are you too stupid to realize that?  Your client is not paying enough for the privilege of having you as his mistress.  Tell him if he wants to continue to have access to that sweet body of yours.  He needs to pay up. I don’t allow my Molls to give freebies.”

She never liked that word “Mistress” especially over the last five years it was a role she became more and more. Ever since Sweetie found her that’s what she did.  A chattel for the whims of men, to satisfy their lust, to be mounted, adored, and then discarded. When they were done she would return to Sweetie and he would find her someone but only if they paid well.

It wasn’t always like this- she wasn’t always with a abusive brute.  She was loved and cherished by the husband she had known since a youth.  It was a storybook life girl met boy they were childhood best friends and when they grew up they fell in love and got married. She had the best of everything but you know what they say “First comes love, then comes marriage, then there should be babies in the carriage” the lack of children shattered her husband’s world apart.  So divorce came and while she walked along the streets lost and alone there came Sweetie and found her.  Introduced her to the world of being a “Moll” where men would pay for her exquisite looks.

In the beginning Sweetie loved her ferociously their passion was nothing like what she had with her husband.  It was addicting and much to her dismay no matter how  much he beat her, how violent it got, she did not leave.  The other girls spoke of Pimps who treated their “Molls” like gold.  She was pretty enough maybe she could find one and leave “Sweetie”.  One who was bigger and meaner than “Sweetie” but would love her like she needed to be love.

He walked in short strides to where she was in the corner and he quickly grabbed her. His scent of cinnamon filled her nostrils with sudden desire.  “My beautiful nymph.” He whispered as he kissed her forehead and walked away to do whatever it is pimps do.  “Raising your rates with your boytoy you tell him or if I have to…”  The rest he did not finish nor did “Sweetie” have to she knew the implications all too well.

“My name is not Beda- its Regret”  she said only in her mind.  Being years since she had thought about her childhood nickname.   She never liked that name before and always found it annoying that her Mother had chosen unpleasant nicknames for all of her children.  But she embraced it now for carefree Beda had become the epitome of Regret.  It was as if her Mother had the foresight to know what her children would become.

She remembered a rhyme that her oldest sister often said.  “I will come when you most need me. I will avenge every wrong you have ever been wronged. But do not try to stop me.” It was in that exact moment there was a knock upon her chamber rooms door.

Pausing for a moment Regret got up and carefully opened the door.  There they were garbed head-to-toe in black. Regret shrieked at the sight of her three sisters in pure fright. It had been several years since she had seen any relative.  Why were they here?  The oldest sister was present, which turned Regret’s blood dead cold.  It could mean only one thing–that one had been summoned. Which made Regret gasp even more in horror.

“So glad you realize why I am here sister.” The oldest said coldly.

“Torment.” Regret answered in a whisper.

“And we’re here too.” Envy added.

“Envy and Vanity.” Regret sighed heavily.

Torment looked over at the Twins with an annoyed expression. “You two know what to do.”  The Twins saluted Torment and skipped away giggling.  Regret could only stand there for she knew it would be useless to even protest this. She did not want any part of the bloodbath that is about to take place.

“Why have you come sister?”

“You know why I am here.  I said I would come when you needed me. I made this promise centuries ago. Or have you forgotten?” Torment answered.

“I forget nothing.”

“Ah, but you have my sister.”  Torment hugged Regret and wiped the tear-stained face.  “You have forgotten what you are.  I am here to remind you.  You are not a whim to cater to men.  Its time to come home.”

“All these years I have not heard from you.  You left me alone all this time.” Regret said with accusation.

“That I did in hopes you would get a clue or two and get it together.  Obviously you needed some help in that direction.  Hence why I am here and well with some help from the self-absorbed duo.”

“Did you have to corrupt the Twins into being your henchmen?”

“Was there a better job for them?”

There was a moment of silence between the siblings for a moment. Regret flinched as she could hear “Sweetie” screaming. As his voice grew closer in distance she knew they were bringing him so she could bear witness to the horror. Regret would never forgive her sisters for doing this-never she swore.

Envy and Vanity dragged “Sweetie” in as if he were a doll to be tossed around.  He carried the look of fear and fascination. “Sweetie” met Regret’s eyes for a moment even in his last breaths he looked at her in contempt.  If she had not loved him so much it would not be hard to feel sorry for him.

“Beda!!! What is the meaning of this!!  You fucking whore tell your people to let me go.  I have not done anything!”  Sweetie shouted.

“Shut your face!” Envy shouted as she back-handed “Sweetie” to the ground and proceeded to kick him in the place where it counted.

Vanity joined in and for several minutes proceeded to physically assault their sister’s lover in ways that could not be described.  Regret turned away because she could not bear to watch.  She brought this all upon her and Sweetie both.

“Enough.” Torment said in a smooth tone. “Get him up” with more of a command.

And just like that the violence stopped.  Beaten beyond repair there “Sweetie” feebly stood.  Knowing how Torment worked, Regret knew that this was not over by a long shot.  There would be more blood and more violence.

“You say did “nothing” wrong.  But you have done everything wrong.  You have used my sister’s beauty for your own gain. You have abused, raped, and tortured her and countless of other women.  Other women I can dismiss.  But you mistreated my sister and with that you shall pay.  You shall pay dearly and from this point on you’ll not be able to harm another woman for the rest of your miserable existence.”

“You’re Beda’s sisters?” Sweetie asked in surprise.  “You are all hot just like her.”

Torment smirked as she removed her gloves letting them fall to the ground, revealing feral like claws for fingers.

“Even in death he is still a pig. Its because of the love you bear for him sister that I will do this quickly.” She laughed as she approached her new victim.

“Torment! Don’t do this!” Regret protested.

“You know my promise sister do not interfere.”

“What does she mean….” Sweetie started..

“Requiescat in pace.” The Twins said in unison.

“Rock-A-Bye-Sweetie.”  Torment cackled as she struck her claws against Sweetie’s bare neck.

Sweetie fell to the ground in a pool of blood. Lifeless.  His eyes wide open with the expression he had seen the most beautiful thing in the world.

©2015 From “The Seven Interlogues”- T.B. Morte

Æquoris – A new story

Omnibus in foro S.P.D.

Sometimes you get inspiration from out of nowhere.  Then there are other times where a friend comes to save the day when you’re stuck in a writing rut.  This piece is exactly that,  a friend suggested the story idea to me and this was formed in the cauldron.  I am not promising a full novel with this story idea.  I am literally taking the approach of “Steady as she goes”.   Its a flash fiction piece and intended to be a one-shot story (the intent I repeat).  I would like to thank my wonderful friend the Red Egret for her editing assistance.  I hope you all enjoy the piece and please give feedback.



Bone Mama Belle


Æquoris 09/20/2014

For two centuries the curse had plagued the land. The land was dying and not just of famine and plague. Two generations if not more had struggled to contain it. The people of Aleris were teetering on the edge of losing hope. There were too few magicians being born fast enough to help fight the ongoing battle. For every one hundred people born, just one Magian was born amongst them.


The Magian were the sorcerers, the spell casters, the soothsayers, and those that were considered magically adept. They were in most places respected and revered. However, in some cases they were mocked and scorned. The title of Magian brought along with it a great power and also a responsibility. Yet a Magian could choose to walk on the path of the light or that of the shadows.


Those that walked on the rays of light were called “Lucio”, often fair haired and beauty so angelic it was considered to be ethereal. They often had their Magian pendants made with either diamonds or the purest platinum. The Magian that were not the followers of the light were called “Moros”. Usually dark or red haired, and they too were considered beautiful. An otherworldly beauty, that was described often as cold, calculating, and deadly. The pendants of the Moros were made of onyx and darker toned gemstones, so that one knew to avoid them.


Every adult in Aleris wore a pendant, as part of the caste system that was developed so long ago. Hardly anyone alive these days remembers the history that far back. Just as the historians have been struggling to find records on how the plague how was started. It is said that it was a very powerful Moros witch who cursed the land’s water supply. The curse was revenge on her equally powerful Lucio lover who had scorned her.


Since the curse has struck the land Lucio Magian’s used all their magical talents to purify the water. Yet there are still casualties due to the fact that a Lucio was also an elementii: one whose magic associated with a particular element: earth, air, fire, and water. Most Lucio’s were elementii of earth, air, and fire, not so many were born with the powers of water. With the lack of water elementii being born among the Lucio. The land was dying, where grass gleamed the most green now decaying. Animals, which were once fat and plentiful, were now scarce and bony.



When all efforts to removed the curse had been tried, the people of Aleris looked to their Monarch for guidance. The King, new to throne, decided to go along an unorthodox path. So dangerous was it that he was advised he could lose the crown if his plan were to fail. The new King felt that since it was a Moros witch who cast the blight then it would take Moros witch to undo the curse; a Moros witch who happened to be born with the powers of water.

©2014 T.B. Morte

New Story (By the stars and the moon)

Omnibus in foro S.P.D.

So recently I have rediscovered the greater joys of writing short stories.  We are still determining whether this is a good thing or a bad thing.  This newly scribed piece is a side story that takes place in the universe of my novel “Human Skin”.  This story involves a  side character one Briony Kiersakova.  Who happens to be the concubine of the main Protagonists’ Father.  In the main novel you’ll find Briony a catty and most overbearing individual.  In this piece you will come to find that there is more than meets the eye.

Feedback and comments welcome.


Bone Mama Belle

By the Stars and the Moon 03/28/2014

She had wondered what a star felt like it when finally died. Not that she could fathom the notion, or possibility, that a star could actually die. All that power–just gone in a simple flash, instantly; the eternal brightness being replaced by an empty void. Briony didn’t want to think what it would be like to be without a position of power ever again. She knew what it felt like to be in that void. Nowadays, she and her sister shined like the brightest of stars.

Tonight was the first night of the Noumenalia, festival of the Moon goddess Selene. It was celebration of the story of the Moon goddess Selene, waking up from the world of night to guard the earth, giving her brother the sun god Helios a chance to sleep. Briony had always enjoyed the night-time; she remembered her mother saying that the night was “The time of ladies”. Instead of being out in public and attending the parade, Briony chose to spend time in solitude in the Gardens of Valdryn. The gardens were known for their dark beauty, which not everyone had access to. They belonged to Lord Caesarion Starflower and certain members of his family.

Briony had the privilege of gaining access because of her position as a chief concubine to Lord Starflower, which position she shared with her darling sibling, Zinna–just as they shared nearly everything. They had the same parents, same man, and even the same looks. Taking a break from her normal “shared” routine, Briony was enjoying solitude with just the company of the moon.

Tonight her thoughts traveled outward like a vast web. She thought of her mother who was long dead buried in a grave in the city of Poroven, from whence she and Zinna hailed. Poroven was a city located in the far north of the Northern Realm; a city where there were fewer rich people and more of the poor. Briony also thought of her sister Zinna, whom she had already spent a lifetime taking care of. Sometimes it was an overwhelming task, but at this point Briony could not picture herself doing anything else; for she loved Zinna more than anyone in the world, and her younger sister knew it.

It was the reason why Briony tolerated people mumbling under their breath, calling her “whore”; the reason why she never sought revenge for being sneered at by her fellow Feydred. She wasn’t just a run-of-the-mill concubine who sold her wares to anyone with a piece of shiny coin; she was Mistress to the Keeper of the Realm, the most powerful man in the Northern Realm. So, in turn, she had some power, as did Zinna.

The current job situation was far less messy than her previous job, and less morally compromising. Plus, she was able to protect and provide for the sister she promised to look after.

“I love you too much, my sister,” Briony said out loud to no one but the Moon.

She remembered the night of her Mother’s passing, the city of Poroven having been struck by plague ten years previous. They were too poor and too young to get their Mother proper medicine. Briony remembered how she was beckoned to the deathbed of her parent–cold, hungry, and scared, but dutifully obeying her Mater’s last wish.

“Promise you’ll watch over Zinna always. She’s not as strong as you,” Briony’s mother whispered.

“I promise, Mama,” Briony said as she wept.

“Promise me by what? Promise me by something you love.”

“I promise by the stars and the moon,” Briony promised.

As if snapping out of a dream, Briony felt the tears that were rolling down her face. She carefully wiped them away and looked up at the sky, realizing that she strode too far down memory lane; but Briony was glad that only the moon was able to see her moment of weakness.


©2014 T. B. Morte

“Lovefool” New Short Story

Omnibus in foro S.P.D.

Keeping at my word and continuing this “skin-shedding” metamorphoses we find Tragedienne travelling down a foreign lane writing wise.  I normally do not write anything of the “erotic” nature,  if I do it’s every 3-4 years quite literally.  Normally I prefer to  keep such kinky and delectable thoughts and actions off the writing tablet if you know what I mean.   Acknowledging that  most of my writing is  of the “dark” nature,  but you have dark then there is the “Oh snap” dark where you’re blushing 50 shades of red kind of dark.  But this story was just screaming at me practically begging me to write it.   For those that do not know (well you do now)  I am huge fan of Comics and especially that of Harley Quinn.  This story scenario is about Harley Quinn being released from a recent stint in the Arkham Insane Asylum, our favorite clown-doll has decided this time around she is going to lead a “cleaner” life.  However the Joker has a completely different opinion on that matter, this story is given a tad bit of sugar and a lot of spice 😉  Although I tried to keep to the spirit of Harley Quinn’s character and to the fact she was exposed to certain medical treatments in Arkham her mental state is quite shattered one would say.  * **Hoists Disclaimer*** Definitely not one for the kiddies or those with delicate mindsets however  feedback is most certainly appreciated.

P.S.  Yes folks I believe I have just written Fan Fiction officially for the very first time.  *ducks*


Tragedienne (Bone Mamma Belle)

Disclaimer: I own nothing and no one. All characters, places, etc, in here are not mine and I don’t profit. All that’s mine is the plot of the story.

Lovefool 10/13/2013

She felt helpless. She felt confused. She felt scared. She was feeling the whole triple threat of helplessness, confusion, and fear. Not scared for her life, although in her current predicament, she should be. Right now, she was bound and gagged in a chair. Earlier she had been flogged. The pain had been so great that she passed out. Yet strangely she felt safe, as if no real harm would truly come to her. A mere flogging was nothing. She had lived with him all this time. She was used to a little pain.


Besides, she also had her babies, Bud and Lou, although she did not hear their cries. Actually, she couldn’t hear anything. She slowly opened her eyes. As they adjusted, she could see that she was in a dim room. Pictures and newspaper clippings of the pair’s most famous crimes draped the walls. Also, she saw a picture of that pointy-eared dweeb and his brat on the wall, marked fittingly with a Big Red X over their faces.


Their correct names were Batman and Robin. She had to address them properly now. She had been released from Arkham Insane Asylum just two days previously because she had been declared sane once more. Sane people did not want to hurt other people. Only insane people wanted to kill people, or at least that’s what she remembered Dr. Leland saying in one of their many sessions.


She didn’t want to hurt anybody; she just wanted to be normal. Not that she knew what normal was anymore. Hell, she owned two pet hyenas, for crying out loud. But the babies wouldn’t hurt anyone, at least not intentionally. Fresh tears spilled down her clown make-up at the very thought of going back to Arkham.


Never again,” she swore. She was sick of that place. She hated it with every fiber of her being. That place is where she had met him. Upon that meeting, he changed her life with a seduction so dark it was painfully sweet and delicious. Just thinking about it caused her to feel certain sensations between her legs.


She was disappointed to have such feelings. Dr. Leland had said those electro-shock treatments would take away such urges. They were supposed to make her normal, and normal girls didn’t think of kinky sex. Again, fresh tears spilled upon the white of her make-up. Due to the binding of the ropes, she couldn’t even wipe them away. Damn this helplessness.


As if someone responded to her most inner thoughts, she felt a warm hand clasp her shoulder from behind. Just by the sound of the breathing, she knew it was him. She instinctively tried to nuzzle his hand with the side of her face. He shoved her face away with a cruel laugh. He stood before her in a crisp pin-stripe suit, his green hair done in perfection, as was the rest of his make-up. Seeing him brought back a flood of memories, and all she wanted to do was beg forgiveness for whatever transgression she may have done or caused while she was away.



My sweet Harley. My sweet Harley Quinn.”



He said her name so huskily it brought more warmth between her legs. This was a trial for her to prove her sanity. She had to fight him and not succumb to the lust he always brought to her.



You’ve got to fight him, Harley,” she said to herself.



Tell me, Harley, have I done something wrong? You haven’t been yourself since being released from Arkham. I mean, you didn’t report back as instructed. You told one of the Henchmen that you want to live a ‘clean’ life. I had to kidnap you, Harley Quinn. Do you know how much trouble you have caused me?” The Joker asked his former number one henchman.



It had been a very long time since he had spoken to her like this, in such a soft tone. Normally, he was always yelling at her. This soft tone caught her off guard completely. He stepped even closer to her to remove the ball gag he had had one of the henchmen put on her.






I’m sorry.”


“I’m sorry what?”


I’m sorry Mista J,” Harley said with familiarity.


He grabbed her by the platinum blonde pigtails she so loved to wear. His look was fierce and commanding.


That’s much better. You want to live a “clean” life you say? Do you remember the ever-so-squeaky-clean life you were living before I saved you? You were in Arkham, slaving away as a supposed doctor. Remember the pain you were feeling? I saved you from that. I set you free, you ungrateful bitch!”


She looked at him and said nothing, because that’s all she could do. She did not want him to point out her old life when she was “Harleen.” Those were too many memories that carried too much pain. The electro-shock treatments couldn’t even take those away, only bury them far, far deep.


I will not let you go back to that ‘clean’ life you so hope for. You belong here, don’t you understand? Wake up and smell the napalm, girl! It’s time you remember who you really are.”

He pulled out a knife and instead of quickly cutting the ropes, he did so slowly that the knife touched her clothing. Mumbling and cursing the whole time he did it. Even so, he teased her with the knife intermittently, shooting shivers up her spine. After the ropes were finally cut away, he commanded that Harley to stand up. With swift and sudden movements. The Joker kissed her deeply and savagely, biting her lip and smearing her clown make-up. It left her breathless.

Come. I have a surprise for you,” he said. “A reminder, as it were.”

She followed the Joker because in the end, she had no choice and she knew it.  In the next room, there was a red-haired woman tied up and ball-gagged as well. The woman was decked in her signature green. Instantly, Harley knew who it was.  Poison Ivy, her sometimes accomplice and partner-in-crime. It was she who messed up their last job together. Because of her screw-up, it had been Harley who was sent to Arkham. It was Harley who had got sent away to the Asylum, that very scary place, that place of terrifying nightmares. It was all Ivy’s fault in the end, she had gotten away with everything scott-free until now. How clever of the Boss to put two and two together.

The Joker circled his arms around her waist. His hands began to wander, making her gasp in deep pleasure. He placed a whip in her hand. The battle of defeating him was lost before it really began. She said a last goodbye to “normalcy” as she cackled in malicious delight. Poision Ivy’s green eyes stared at Harley in pure fear. She knew what was coming.


As she strutted forward, Harley’s expression changed from her own fear to impish delight as she found herself saying a familiar phrase.


Miss me, Puddin’?”



©2013 T.B. Morte