Just who is she really? Or the better question: what is she?
So I wrote this one a long time ago, but never got around to posting it. Oops.
This cap was inspired by the character Lorelei from an episode of Marvel's Agents of SHIELD I watched recently. Basically, she has the power to control men with just a touch. I thought it would make an interesting story. Also, since I decided to make Simone into a supernatural being, I thought giving her other powers, such as shapeshifting would be fun as well, since I quite enjoy the power but rarely have a chance to use it in any caption. As usual, I was once again unable to resist including myself in there at the end. How could I not? Simone's just such a seductive siren!
Transcript: Mysterious, bewitching, stunning—these were only a few of the flattering terms her previous lovers had used to describe Simone. Even those who had never seen her had heard of the legendary good looks and reputed sexual finesse of the historic Van Morgan mansion’s mysterious occupant, if not much else.
Some speculated that Mistress Simone, as she was more commonly known, was the eccentric daughter of some wealthy family, while others had postulated that she was the direct descendent of the original mistress of the mansion herself. Still there were others who believed that she might be an ice-cold covert government operative or even a witch! The rumors were all false, though the truth was no less fantastic.
In actuality, Simone was no mortal woman. Secretively, she belonged to a long line of fempires: a vampiric subset who fed not upon blood, but the male essence. All those infected became gorgeous, irresistible women, regardless of their previous sex, if they survived the initial transformation. Ancient and powerful, Simone was among the eldest of her kind. Turned by an old lover long ago to save her from what modern historians now called the Plague, her life as Mark was but a faded memory. And though her rebirth had snatched her from the jaws of death and granted her unnatural longevity, qualities, and youth, her salvation had not come without its price: her need to feed, which involved seducing unsuspecting men, for which she quickly found her new form was not ill equipped.
Among the many new attributes Simone had acquired was the ability to control a man with just a single spellbinding touch. Nowadays, it was a power she rarely used, if ever. She had no need. Simone possessed far more amusing ways of wrapping even the strongest alpha males around her little finger, tighter than the fishnets around her long luscious legs, than simple magic. Unlike some of her fellow fempires though, Simone took care not to permanently damage her boy toys, taking only what she needed from and nothing more. She saw no reason to cut down the whole tree for a piece of fruit.
Simone’s ability to shapeshift however had proven invaluable. It’d started as the ability to slightly lighten or darken her hair, change the color of her eyes, or make slight adjustments to her physique, but with a couple hundred years of practice, Simone had learned how to alter her form and identity at will—an essential skill, given the fact that one could only be young for so long without arousing suspicion. Several years as a lady in waiting to Marie Antoinette in the French royal court, twenty as a demure Southern belle in antebellum Virginia, ten as a temptatious free spirit in the decade of love—it was difficult to keep track of how many lives she’d led; there was always room for sensuous elegance at the epicenter of the times.
A string of loud, unladylike curses interrupted her reminiscing. Simone looked up, mildly amused, to see Kendall, a relatively recent convert she’d taken under her wing, stumbling into the room on skyscraper heels and fumbling obnoxiously with a black satin corset. Simone watched for a few seconds, then gestured silently for Kendall to come over. Within a couple minutes, Simone’s dexterous hands had had the classic piece of shapewear, one she herself had often worn in the past, completely laced up around Kendall’s lithe frame. Simone ordered Kendall to give her a turnaround and nodded her approval as Kendall finished with a curtsey. A flirtatious fresh-faced redhead, Kendall was certain to attract plenty of attention in the salacious yet stylish outfit Simone had picked out for her for the evening, which was precisely what they both wanted.
Tonight, the two of them were hitting the clubs and they weren’t coming back until they each had a handsome, well muscled, and hopefully well hung stud in tow—two if they were feeling particularly famished. It wouldn’t be hard. Men practically climbed over each other usually just to buy them drinks. There would be little sleep in the Van Morgan mansion tonight. Though their male lovers would be too drained to continue after a few bouts, Simone knew that Kendall’s deft darting tongue, which was arguably even better—Simone had instructed her personally after all—would lap away far into the night. Only after Kendall had proved her worth as a student would the goddess and her consort drift away together into gentle slumbers, until the night called once again.