“There is no sincerer love than the love of food”

– George Bernard Shaw



A masquerade ball,

what a fabulous event for some

sensual skulduggery! Such a gaudy occasion attracts

the curdled cream of the corrupted crop.


All manner of villains lurk

in these extravagant halls – hidden behind

glittering masks.

There goes a politician – a bullshit artiste

Here comes an occultist – a student of esoterica.


In the centre of it all – a spider on a crystal web –

Lady Bellamy. A captivating cannibal. A glamorous glutton.

Always thirsty for a glass of wine.

Always hungry for a prime cut

of aristocrat.


So many guests dancing

and twirling,

laughing and conversing.

Such a wide range – Lady Bellamy is spoiled for choice.

Then she spies her main course for the evening.


As soon as their eyes meet, the young man

is bewitched and beguiled by malignant magic.

He approaches as the music plays – as Lady Bellamy’s smile


Taking him by the hand she spirits him away – a blur of masked faces.


In a locked bedchamber, alone at last,

The Stranger tentatively advances towards Lady Bellamy

and delicately liberates her form from the

constricting confines of her corset and dress.


Her powerful hands make short work of disrobing him,

simply tearing the shirt away from his lean frame.

A push of shocking strength sends The Stranger staggering,

landing on his back.

On the bed.


Lady Bellamy climbs atop The Stranger – pinning him

in place as she runs her tongue from

his naval

all the way to

his neck.


He sighs with pleasure and Lady Bellamy smiles.


An explosion of blood – of viscera,

a maelstrom of gore,

clouds of red mist filling the air as

Lady Bellamy unleashed her hunger –

Unshackled her appetite and dined

heartily upon The Stranger’s firm figure.


Lady Bellamy lay on the floor, panting heavily,

utterly soaked with rich young blood.

Then a waif-like wraith-like woman appeared.

A voyeuristic creature emerging from the wardrobe,

where she had observed the entire bloody spectacle.


With a single beckoning finger and her enchanting eyes

Lady Bellamy lured The Waif over and watched as she

lay down in the blood and pulled herself close to her.

The Lady moaned softly and tenderly kissed The Waif.


Lady Bellamy had always thought

that the best part of finishing a meal was the

imminent arrival of dessert.

She pulled The Waif closer – what a fine dessert she’d be…