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 Belief for the Bleeding

Discussion in 'Roleplay Execution' started by reverse, Sep 4, 2018.

  1. reverse

    reverse crusher rusher Member

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    Jarek Ovrem liked his things to be a little finer. Early on, he'd had the taste for the brightest toys, and his parents spoiled him rotten with anything he'd point at. He was taught that he deserved it, that it was a reward for the man he was going to be. That kind of love does something to a child, and it affects the rest of his life. Jarek became infatuated by the image of himself, then. He played hard with the other children, blood through their noses, sand in the teeth, because if they didn't have better toys than him, then they were not destined to be better, either, and that decided their value in his dark eyes.

    He chose to become a mender when his tastes for superiority developed for more than material things. He wanted to be revered, to hang leadership on his shoulders, so he decided to help, and be seen as the one who helped those in need. Their minds, their most valuable and prettiest parts - he decided to govern, nurse them. And inside this line of work, a doctor at a rehabilitating clinic for those who were deemed broken, he found his true destiny. He saw it them, their need for a path. It was only fitting that, since he was going to be their savoir, that he be inspire by the god they knew.

    Love for him multiplied with their reliance on him, even if he wanted the commune to stay self-sufficient. What better role of a leader than the kind that was chosen. He declined their cries for his guidance three times before he stepped up as their representative in prayer. He told them any words, and they would make them holy and absolute. He promised them a great new age, and they were content with whatever work he put on them, after that. When Jarek had a son by one of the most pious girls, he folded the child into the commune too, and they spoiled the boy worse than Jarek's parents did him.

    It was around that time that he found her. Beautiful Charlotte, come to his clinic for unspeakable missteps. She was just supposed to be another kid raised under his shadow, clamoring for his hand. But he saw something in the shards of her, and thought he could assemble them into a perfectly useable constellation. It was perfect that she was beautiful, too. All religions need fodder for their altars, and Charlotte especially was wondrous in that way.

    He raised her, and believed in his own lie. Her fractured mind, mending wrong, was gorgeous to him, and he nurtured it with hope and promise, so that he could prepare her for her coming of age. In the end, he couldn't help but love her, more than he loved his boy, because she was lovely in all her designs, because she was part of his own glory. Any good, selfless man can be betrayed by pride, and Jarek was so susceptible already. Bright toys.

    It was their group, in a way. He'd built it and seen it grow, and they listened to his words on god the way he'd understood the good book. It was ready for her. She'd come to trust him like the group, their commune. And he had spoken of her maturity into her role as their guide through the future. He was eager to see the voices do good for her. To think the hospital had thought they were figments in her head. No. She'd been pregnant, and the sounds that tried to seduce her were angel embryos. The voices of the world converging in her cortex.

    He wanted the trust of his people, so he spoke to them about blood, his blood, so they wouldn't doubt him. Concepts can be bent, but blood is forever. That way, they had to listen when he told them Charlotte was right. The future on her tongue, when she found herself in her fits - the flesh god had said so. They were coming to her better now, as he was teaching her to receive them steadily.

    At the edge of the forest, paid for by the money that pious labor earns, was their small town, ready to receive her. Today was her first acquaintance with them. She'd only met a handful of the people, and his son before. Her second birth, into a place that she would always call home. The car with the precious, gossamer-tressed would-be oracle came up the road and through the gate in the fence. It stopped by the big hose where Jarek lived.

    Kell didn't have his father's self-imposed delusions, even if he liked to play along in the theatre. But even the truth-seeing dark eyes of the son of the flesh god were often fixated on the pretty Charlotte. At first they'd been siblings, and then, when he'd became strong enough to hurt her, his father got between them. The children had grown up alongside each other, and she had sprouted to become excruciatingly stunning. Blood, his father had said, which was Kell's birthright. His thoughts were dark, but he would wear a light mood around her.

    It was only right Kell come and get her. He'd held her hand in the backseat.

    "This can be a bit overwhelming." he said, leaning in closer, locking his other hand over hers, as well. She smelled like she should belong to him. "But I'll take care of you, Lotte. You come to me if there is anything you need."

    And then the door opened, and he stepped out to pull her along. The half circle of the commune's people cheered, frantic to see their dreams gleam off the pretty girl. Kell still held on to her, and waved with his other hand. In this place of agriculture and geographic privacy, he was bringing the keep of their heaven, and they already loved her.

    Raker thought she should revel in the light. He was usually out-shouted by her other barnacles, her gray-mass flowers. But he knew when to put in his advise. Hadn't he celebrated with her when she tried the feel of herself at such a young age? He'd guided her fingers and talked sweetly but darkly to her about what images she should have. Listen to the doctor, he means us well, do what he says. Kill the insects that wander into your room. Put them between your lip and your gums. Out of all the flowers and clams on her beautiful mind, he loved Charlotte the most.

    Hold his hand tighter. Open your arms for the people. Let the light hit your chest.

    He'd been there with her, holding her hands and lifting her feet when they'd tested her mother's skin, too. Raker was her friend. He lived in the veins clawing at her heart and in the tunnel of her spine.
     
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  2. Teneo Lupum

    Teneo Lupum damned if you do, damned if you don’t Member

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    Someone believed her. Someone did not try to tell her it was all in her head. Of course it was all in her head. How else would she be able to hear her Raker? Raker, the sweet voice dripping words of poisoned honey right into her ear. Raker, the one who convinced her to do those things to her mother. Raker, the one who shouted the loudest and loved her the best.

    Until the doctor came. Then it was he who loved her the best and told her wonderful things to put her back together and make her whole in the best way possible. She, who had never known pure love, was now awash in it. He told them to love her. And they did. Because he did. When the love and adoration became too frightening, Raker was there to tell her to be strong and brave and trust the doctor wholeheartedly. So she did.

    Her words grew stronger and the people came to her, desperate for her prophecies until the time came for her to take the position for which she had so long been groomed.

    Leaving the sanctity of the hospital scared her, tremors of fear running down the length of her spine no matter what Raker whispered. It was the touch of the dark-eyed one that calmed her, her pale-skinned hand gripping his. His words commanded her attention, his voice drowning out the chaos in her head. Charlotte nodded slowly; she could trust Kell, he meant her no harm. She would come to him for whatever she needed. He would take care of her. Despite his reassurances, the non-captive fingers began to tap a rhythm on the outside of her thigh. One finger, then the next, and the next, followed by the last. Over and over tapping the pattern on her leg until her fingertips tingled and her thigh felt bruised from the repetition.

    Green eyes widened at the sight of the large house, her home now, before moving to the assembled crowd. They would be her people now. She would speak and they would believe. They would always want to hear what she had to say. For what she had to say was the truth. The good doctor had told her so and Raker had agreed.

    Her companion pulled her out of the car, her natural inclination to shrink and hide behind him. Until the Doctor had found her and fixed her broken mind, she had learned that drawing attention to herself resulted in pain. Not the good pain that her special voice friend promised but the pain from the needles or the restraints or even the pain from being denied sustenance. Wretched horrible things to do to the sweet golden-haired one.

    Hold his hand tighter. Open your arms for the people. Let the light hit your chest.

    Yes, she would do those things. She would tighten her grip. She would step out from his shadow and spread her arms in a crude imitation of angel wings. She would open herself up to the light, eyes closed and head falling back. As their oracle opened herself physically and mentally to them, the crowd roared their approval. She was the one who would help lead them all to salvation.

    Emboldened by their approval, Lotte dropped Kell‘s hand, her fingers slipping through his hand as she took one step forward then another. “They call to me. Do you hear them?” she questioned as she glanced briefly over her shoulder to see if he minded. Her voice was sweet and clear, angelic even. Even in the worst of her fits, she spoke with pure intentions and a pure voice. “Do you?” Her question asked in earnest, green eyes searching his face.

    His response was unimportant; the people wanted her. They wanted to bask in her golden glow and she wanted to fulfill the role the man had promised her for so many years was hers. Arms spread wide, she went to them, letting the crowd swallow her with their bodies and their love. The petite doll disappeared into the press of bodies, no longer scared of what her future might hold. They loved her and they would not hurt her.

    The group began to dissipate after some time, each person content with a small touch and smile from the young woman until finally, she was standing alone where a throng of people had once been. Widespread arms fell to her side as she walked towards the one who had brought her here safely. “They love me,” her voice strong with conviction as she took his hand once more.

    Charlotte glanced over his shoulder at the mansion looming behind him. The doctor’s home. His home. And now, her home. After so long, she had so many people to listen to her and a home she could call her own.
     
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  3. reverse

    reverse crusher rusher Member

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    Kell thrived by her side. And watched her come into the light. She was a careful girl, with her emotions. She trusted her voices and Jarek, her doctor, but she didn't always trust herself. It was beautiful to see her embrace her new home, wandering out on the asphalt paved by the people themselves. Kell was tall, but didn't use his reach to protect her when the mass came for her. He ushered her into the love they offered. Staying here, it was important you could take in the love of many.

    He smiled when she looked back at him, and nodded when she asked him to watch as she was devoured by adoration. "Of course I see, Lotte." he assured her and sighed softly as she disappeared into the wall of people he knew. Love can be a weapon. Love can be nails on your skin, shredding you to your bones and cartilage. But they needed her. Her lips and lungs and inner eyes. And she didn't spark the kind of obsession that made you want to kill. Not yet, at least. They'd not learned her true beauty, like Kell.

    In the worming crowd that had her, John appeared. She'd seen the face before, almost a head shorter than her usual guardian Kell but still height over hers, John had kind features, softer, and blue eyes befitting of his innocence. He'd write her letters when he wasn't with her, and doted on her when he could. He'd petitioned for the place of assistant under Kell, who carried the final verdict on how she be handled, by authority of Jarek himself, but the stricken boy had never been granted an official title like he wanted. Still, people relied on him for information about her, so he felt like a link in the chain that bound her to this place.

    In the crowd he dared kiss her cheek, like many others, and grinned with the familiarity they'd built. He loved her of course, because she was their key to heaven, their map of virtues that might be read aloud, but John also loved her in a conventional, simpler way, which was much stronger. He was connected to her always, when he worked for the commune, and when her worked for the father and son that owned it. He couldn't help but embrace her tightly. But John knew his place, and ebbed with the others, leaving her where she was.

    Kell stood by her side once she'd been assured that there wasn't a soul here that didn't adore her. Traditionally stunning, Kell was a deer of a man, commanding eyes in angel's face, if, perhaps, the artist of the statue had been too zealous with their chisel. His features were sharp, and despite his soft skin, it was impossible to find an angle where he wasn't drawn taut and well posed. Cheeks that rolled inward, lips red - Jarked had picked a beautiful woman so that his offspring would be lovely, too. His hair was a dark swell and kept back mostly. She'd seen it out of place when they played as children.

    "They love you endlessly." he agreed and held her head to his chest, indulging in his own greeting for her before gesturing for the stairs.

    Kell would not love presenting her to his father, but Jarek Ovrem was ecstatic seeing her in his study, finally. He stood up from his chair and hurried over, holding some lesser shadows of his son's features, though decidedly less pronounced, like the mother's blood had cleaned out the filth for her son. He hugged her too and it made Kell's stomach churn. "We will have a celebration, Lotte! Now that you're here, so timely, we have some breathing room before the event." Before their set calendar would run out, at the end of this age, as father had predicted. Kell had believed, so he'd learned all the lore. He'd stopped believing when she became so beautiful, and Jarek had announced she was not for anyone but him. "Did you have a good trip? I sent our best car." Jarek asked.

    Kell hovered close, but knew to stay quiet. He brushed her back. It hurt him to see father so friendly with her, but he supposed he could take it for now.
     
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  4. Teneo Lupum

    Teneo Lupum damned if you do, damned if you don’t Member

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    Her porcelain cheek still bore the warm stamp of John’s lips and her body the feel of his arms when Kell pulled her close to his chest in the way he always did. The gentle thump of his heart under her ear washed away any mark John left on her body. So many people appreciated the small doll-like beauty for the shell she was but now there were so many who loved her for what was inside the shell.

    His gesture towards the stairs set her feet in motion, head tipped slightly to the side as she entered the grand building. Jarek’s arms opened wide for her and she hurried into his embrace, forgetting her escort for the moment. Her eyes were just for the doctor for it was he who had been with her for so many years, fixing the things that had been broken and mending her shattered mind.

    It was Jarek Ovrem who had stopped the sharp pinches of pain from the needles and the tidal waves of chemicals that kept her subdued and imprisoned. It was Jarek Ovrem who protected the little girl from those who would do her harm. It was Jarek Ovrem who promised her a future. And what a future it would be. The blonde oracle was the future.

    Far too soon father’s arms were replaced by son’s hand. Charlotte glanced back and offered the tall beautiful man behind her a half-smile before Jarek’s words pulled her eyes back to him. She nodded as she spoke. “Kell took good care of me and said I should always come to him if I need something. He held my hand the whole way here.” A faint flush colored her cheeks pink as her gaze moved to the floor before lifting her eyes back to her savior.

    “A celebration?” Small hands clasped in front of her as she whirled to first look at the son behind her then the father before her. “Will John be there?” Delicate fingers fluttered up to touch the spot on her cheek where the warm stamp had been placed a short while ago. John was steady, his presence in her life simple and easy. He loved her simply and easily and she loved him for that. Yet the thought of so many people in one place scared her, the simple thought making her shrink back against the young man behind her.

    No, Charlotte. They love you. Let the light hit your chest.

    The urge to curl against the chest of the one she had grown up with was resisted as she stepped away from Kell, out of the orbit of both men as she took careful steps towards one of the bookcases in the rooms. So many words in this room, wonderful words that would tell her things. One hand rose, fingers extending to brush against the spine of a leather-bound book. From top to bottom, the touch light as a feather. Words had power. Spoken words whispered in her mind had encouraged her to do the things that tore her away from the world at large. Spoken words whispered in her ear had fixed her and brought her back to the world. What could written words tell her?

    Those dainty fingers ran down the book once more, the caress like that of a lover. As she turned back towards the men, a smile formed as her eyes landed on Kell’s briefly. They slid to Jarek as she took one step back towards her doctor.

    Let the light hit your chest.

    “Now that I’m here, here where I have always belonged, will you tell me about the event? What will I do? Will they still love me?” Charlotte moved past Kell on her way to his father, her eyes only for the older man now.

    Hold his hand tighter.

    The girl’s hands slipped into the doctor’s as she stood there facing him, captivated by the idea of the event she had heard about for so long, excited now that it was upon her, the moment when she would help the people step into the light of the future.
     
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  5. reverse

    reverse crusher rusher Member

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    Kell was composed, as his station implored. He watched her excitement for his father, and knew that it was natural. It was he that was doing saint's work, he thought, martyr in their room, biting his tongue. Father had such naive beliefs. How could some wine and the songs of the people turn Charlotte into what she needed to be? He'd read about the human body, which Jarek should be familiar with, and the mind's propensity for change in the face of great new contrasts. Ritual. Event. The words were right but they would be acted out poorly, if things continued as now. Strong beginnings need strong happenings.

    He wasn't opposed to basking in his good work of bringing her. It couldn't have been anyone else. Not for their becoming Oracle. Like he'd trust that soft hearted John to protect her. He was even less for action than father. Kell wasn't blind to how that appealed to Lotte. How she might like something so tender. It was exactly this kind of environment that would hinder her growth into what they wanted. More so, it would keep her available to all the others here. She belonged to the commune, sure, but Kell needed to govern the distribution of her beauty.

    Both men reacted to her question about the light-haired absentee, but none of them wanted it to show. Jarek was much more forgiving than Kell, and therefor not as concentrated on dispelling suspicion. "Of course he'll be there." he said. "Everyone will! It's the single most important moment for us, Charlotte." Even the father, who'd not been there, knew what it meant when she touched a very specific part of her cheek. He was well-meaning, but he'd not stood as the leader of so many people if he didn't have ambition for her heart, too. After all, he who controls the voice of the Oracle decides over all her listeners.

    They watched her walk to the books, and Kell's fingers curled before they relaxed by his side. He'd never willingly let her go, but he couldn't very well chain her to himself yet. Jarek was happy to see her move freely. To him this kind of independence was proof of continued healing. His head tilted to the side as he admired her while she found the jacket of a book. It was like a performance, showcasing how lovely she was. The physical form of their salvation. It was hard to believe she wasn't full of herself, with such porcelain build and pretty tresses.

    Jarek took her hand when it came for his, and held it firmly, nodding securely at what she asked. "Of course they'll love you! They'll love you more!" he promised and pulled her along, always doting. He put her down in a chair by his desk, one of the visitor's, and sat on the desk himself, looking down at her. "You see, we'll have the greeting room decorated. The'll be a stone table in the middle." he said. It was all according to rituals he'd read about. He had all the old parchments. "Your voices, we'll finally present them to the world through you." he was so elated.

    Kell hid his fists behind his back when he came closer to the two. He'd seen the design of the ordeal. Even if he hated it, it was beautiful. Gentle, and perhaps dramatic as far as those things went, but not nearly enough to usher in a miracle in the sense that they promised. It was a guaranteed failure, though a festive one. He put a hand with tell-tale white knuckles on her shoulder, to try and take her attention away from father. "Doesn't it seem like too little, father? It's basically what you've been doing so far, and while she's come a long well, we'll need something special on the day of the event, don't we?" he pressed. It was an old argument, and the mention of it made Jarek sigh and let go of her hand. The older man stood from his lean on the desk.

    "Pleas excuse my son, Charlotte. You know how he is about this." Jarek shook his head and circled his desk. "And you should know that you're under me, son." he said with some stern. "I thought we agreed on this."

    Kell kneeled by her chair, and stroked her cheek softly. "You know it's right, don't you? You want to be what we need. It can't happen if there is just signing and candles. You need something more." he said, ignoring his father and staring into her lovely face.

    We like that his eyes are black. He looks like he's strong.

    Raker had always been on Kell's side. Lately, his voice was changing. The soft darkness that used to lull her into decisions she was sometimes punished for was morphing to become somewhat similar to the Ovrem son's. It was subtle, but she would have noticed the development.

    Jarked hammered his fist into the desk to break the spell between them.

    "That's enough for now." he declared. "You're to see to the teachers in the far school. They asked about you." Women all of them. He'd been trying to get his son's focus away from Charlotte for years, but Kell had clamored on to her since the start. He'd even nudged the girls in the commune about it, and many of them were eager for it - and by the stories it wasn't like Kell wasn't hot blooded about those things - but no one could hold his interest like the becoming Oracle.

    "Father, I..." Kell protested, standing up, but was eventually sent out, anyway. He looked at her with some condolences about the fight in front of her, and was soon gone.

    "Excuse him. He's headstrong, which is my fault, but he can't go on like that in such important matters." Jarek said.
     
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  6. Teneo Lupum

    Teneo Lupum damned if you do, damned if you don’t Member

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    She was an obedient Oracle as her beloved doctor placed her in the chair set before his grandiose desk, his blonde-haired bright toy. Her hand was captive in his, her eyes wide and rapt with attention as he explained what would happen. A stone table. Yes, that would be the perfect contrast. Hard and unyielding stone to contrast with the softness of her beauty. It would be perfect.

    Just as her eyes began to close to envision the ritual, a hand landed on her shoulder, drawing her from her thoughts. Her brow furrowed as Kell voiced his concerns with the ritual, his words causing Jarek to release her hand and move to put the desk between them.

    Unsure of what to do or say, Charlotte began to shrink into herself, the one thing that had served her well for so many years.

    Shrink away, little violet. Don’t let them notice you. If they notice you, they will hurt you. Or will you hurt them? Yes, you will hurt them.

    Downcast eyes lifted at the gentle caress of her cheek, his fingers wiping away the last vestiges of John’s lips. With a soft sigh, she tipped her face into the son’s hand, her eyes meeting his.

    We like that his eyes are black. He looks like he's strong.

    She did like that his eyes were black. He was strong; she could feel it in the simplest touches. Kell was the one who would always keep her safe, he was the one who would treat her best. He was the one who knew how to make the ritual superior to anything else. Charlotte was lost in his eyes, lost in him.

    The bang of the fist on the desk caused the magic between the young couple to dissipate into thin air. Blood rushed to color her pale cheeks most becomingly as she pulled away from the son. Blood suited her; it always had.

    It was blood that had painted her skin in pretty designs the night they’d discovered what she’d done to her mother. It was blood that had driven her to attack the doctors that hurt her. It was blood that had driven her to hurt herself so she could see the pretty red trickle along her pale skin. It was the blood that made her beautiful.

    It was the blood that made Raker’s whispers so alluring.

    It was Raker that told her to trust the father.

    It was Raker who was telling her to trust the son.

    It was the son who was pushing for the ritual to be more.

    She liked the look on his face as he was forced to leave the office. She did not like the look on the father’s face as he made excuses for the son. Strengthened by the feel of the gentle stroke of Kell’s hand against her soft skin, she questioned the doctor. “Why can’t it be something more? What if he’s right? What if it isn’t enough?”

    Emboldened by the argument between father and son, Charlotte rose from the chair and moved away from Jarek towards the bookcase. Once more she ran her fingers along the books. Words gave her strength; Kell’s words gave her strength. Soon enough she would share her words with the people and they would love her so much more.

    Fingers trailed along leather spines as she stepped towards the window. Fresh air and sunshine had been forbidden to her until the doctor found her. Those delicate fingers splayed against the glass as she stared out over the group’s land. It was wonderful here just like he had promised her.

    Let the light hit your chest.

    Jarek was the one who had pulled her into the light. Jarek was the one who loved her best. He was the one who had mended the broken doll and turned her into a bright toy.

    A flash of pain danced across the pretty face as she turned away from the beauty outside the window. Green eyes widened and blinked back a tear. She had hurt him; she should not have disagreed with him. Charlotte rushed across the room and placed herself in the chair he had deemed was hers, the chair for the broken-now-bright doll.

    “I should not have disagreed with you,” she spoke quietly with eyes aimed at her lap. “Perhaps I just need to rest.” Her eyes lifted slowly, fingers twisting around each other as they rested in her lap. She wanted so badly to ask if John could come see her but something kept her tongue still. It would not do to anger the father again.
     
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  7. reverse

    reverse crusher rusher Member

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    Jarek knew Lotte's disposition, he'd treated it. They wouldn't be here, at the cusp of a new paradigm, if he didn't know. She had always been prone to suggestion, if not by others, then definitely from her own voices. Still, it grated the older man to see his son carry her allegiances away like that. A touch, some well placed words. The beautiful girl followed suit, turning on the good doctor, echoing what Kell had said. She should know the Ovrem father was never wrong. Their commune believed it, and she should too. It was even more of an insult when she stayed with Kell's course even after his physical influence had gone away from the room.

    He was about to teach her, as he always did, his mouth even opened to spill the lesson onto the receptive blonde head. But she stood and it was lovely again, all the way to his bookshelves. She liked those books. Charlotte had been raised on words. They were holy to her. Jarek didn't realize that it might be he who was easily swayed, as long as it was Charlotte that turned him. Unthinkable, that the man who ruled this little world would be someone else's soldier, puppet. At the very least, in this paradox that played out for no one real but the blind actors, Charlotte wouldn't know what to do with this power.

    Raker saw from its chamber in her heart. It thought it was beautiful too, the roots she'd set in the father. It was tied to everything the man was. His legend, his pride. The story he'd like to write. Charlotte, naïve and small, was the very key to his immortality. Raker coiled like oil in her blood, apart from the flow but twisting around it, trying to fit. Black slick into blood soak. It wanted to tell her, but it thought it should wait. Raker also loved Lotte.

    Jarek sighed to himself when she put her shapes to the light from the glass. He'd picked her before she was this sprung bloom, but he was very happy that she'd grown from the hunched, knifing girl into this beam of a person. How can you lead the way if you're not of the light. He felt the tinges of a man, youth in his flesh, but he had no rush. It was an eventuality that he'd have that too. All the women in this place were available to him, after all. And he'd stay especially close to Charlotte. He desired it, but had enough sense to know that couldn't be important, not now. If he'd not visited her when she was made to wear the splitting hospital gown, he could resist now.

    There was no need to explain, after all. Little doll and her small mind eventually saw what she'd done, the insult of it. He came to her, starved for her apology, but pretending he was allergic to it. Look, what a great man I am, free of ego. "Not at all, Lotte." he assured her and touched her cheek in a much less impressive way than handsome Kell. "Oh, you're tired?" worried forehead, engaged eyes. He had dark hair too, but only on his temples, the rest was silvered or alabaster. Split on one side.

    He nodded and helped her up, as though she'd not been spry enough to move her feet like his office was her ballroom. Raspberry blushing girl with summer in her hair, skating across the mats and polish. He held her hand, held her shoulder, walking. "How about some food? I'll have them cook something special for you. And desert. I've had a room prepared." he went on as they came through the doors. It just so happened that a boy with similar hair as her was waiting there. "Ah, John! Please. Charlotte has had a day, and she wants rest. Show her her room, and fetch her something delicious." Jarek did not feel threatened by the shorter male as he did his son.

    John, of course, was ecstatic to help, and reached for her hand when Ovrem let it go. Like a child with an unbidden treat, he moved her a little faster, so the God of their belief wouldn't change his orders. He smiled brightly when they turned a corner. "Oh, I'm so glad I walked by!" he said. Raker told her John was lying, and that it was a forgivable thing, since he cared about her. "And I'm glad you're here." John put his other hand on top of hers, too. "I missed you, and now I won't have to drive out to the hospital to see you. I'll be here for you anytime." It sounded like he was taking an oath, fingers over hers.
     
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  8. Teneo Lupum

    Teneo Lupum damned if you do, damned if you don’t Member

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    Another Ovrem hand caressed her smooth cheek, her face turning instinctively into the touch. There was a time when the girl would literally bite the hand that fed her, the touches painful and mean. Mother had learned the hard way not to touch the child. Father was too scared to touch after what happened to Mother. But not these touches. The doctor and his son had good touches, wonderful touches, touches that showed how much they loved her. And they did love her; she knew it to be a good sort of love. Not the way Mother had loved her, in the way that she’d been punished for.

    Up to her feet she went, guided and molded into place by her doctor, his partner to whisk and whirl out of the study. Some food would be nice so she told him so but what food she did not know. Years of her life had been spent eating gray glop slopped onto a partitioned tray with no choice in the matter. Jarek could choose for her; he was wonderful at that. Kell, too. But he had been sent away.

    That thought darkened her pretty features but only briefly. The sight of the flaxen-haired man brought a smile to her face. John’s love was simple and pure. The doll passed from hand to hand, a precious plaything to be shared amongst the three men. Each one with their own kind of love for her, each one wanting to claim her for their very own. And yet she was none the wiser. They loved her and she loved them.

    Small feet were forced to scurry along the polished floors as John pulled her away from Jarek. “I’m so glad to be here too. I’ve been waiting for this day for so many years and now it’s finally here.”

    Their journey through the halls and up the stairs and down another hall soon led them to a closed door. She hesitated briefly, glancing up at her companion for reassurance as she reached for the golden knob. Her fingers wrapped around it and turned. The wooden door painted white opened silently on well-oiled hinges. The room hidden behind the door was wondrous, so vastly different from the small cell she had called home for who knows how many years.

    Her hand slipped from John’s, her fingers trailing like angel kisses across his palm as they escaped from his grasp. Into the new cell she went, her steps silent on the plush carpet. Before her lay a room designed for a pretty little doll. Giant four-poster bed made of dark wood with a canopy of white lace. Yards and yards of white lace to be clouds in her dreams. Snow white bedding to accentuate her beauty as she slept. A small table and two chairs in the far corner, an armchair set beneath the large window, and books. Shelves and shelves of books just for her. Words just for her.

    The words were the most important thing; words had power. Her minder was promptly ignored as Lotte headed for the books. This time the simple lover’s caresses became much more. Her fingers were greedy as they pulled one from the shelf, flipping through the pages of the Lord’s book.

    ‘Behold, I have come to you now. Am I able to speak anything at all? The word that God puts into my mouth, that I shall speak.’ ” She read to him from Numbers, her fingers tracing along the lines of text on the paper thin pages. “I shall speak it, John. And they will love me. We offer them the truth.” The book was closed gently and placed reverently back on the shelf. This book god knew she spoke the words and the good doctor loved her words.

    A soft rap of knuckles on the wooden door drew her attention to the middle-aged woman bearing a tray of food. The mouth-watering smells drew her to the tray like a moth to a flame as the plump woman carried the delectables to the small table and set them down. “You let me know if you need anything. John’ll know how to reach the kitchen.” With that and a small bow, she swept from the room, her long skirt swirling around her ankles.

    The doll settled on one of the chairs, perched on the edge as she lifted the metal cover from one of the plates. Delicious scents tickled her nose and brought a delighted smile to her face. Food to feed her body, words to feed her mind, love to feed her soul; there was nothing else she could ask for.

    “Do you know when the ritual will take place? They haven’t told me that part yet.” Asking as she lifted a bite of chocolate cake to her lips. There was no one to tell the pretty girl she couldn’t have her cake and eat it too. A bit of chocolate frosting stained her fingertip so she brought it to her mouth to remove the offending sweetness, her eyes searching his face as she cleaned her finger. “You will be there, won’t you? Close to me? To help me stay strong?”
     
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  9. reverse

    reverse crusher rusher Member

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    John was more stricken, perhaps, than any of the Ovrem. He idealized her, but to him she'd already reached her full potential. There wasn't no new growth that he needed from her, not some other stage that she needed to reach. This soft fingered, light being, coming along when he guided her, and flitting into the room like a bright lantern, flying across the floor. He'd been smitten long ago, when he saw her the first time, colored by the legend of her that Jarek had started to spread. And John had never recovered. Such childhood crushes have a way of upholstering the heart if they are granted too long access.

    He was also treated to her dance toward the books. She was muses apparition, then, seeking out the work she'd inspired, benevolent ghost seeing about her haunts. Open-eyed innocent, drinking in the room like she wasn't worth so much more. But she would not have had better lodgings in the infernal hospital that held her. Jarek had been infinitely right in his decision to move her. Their little becoming goddess should have beautiful sheets to sleep in, and plenty of space. It wasn't bad for their object of worship to have some of the earthly luxuries. They owed her that much, at least.

    He didn't feel worthy of her private reading, but still stood there, close as he had followed when she moved, and gasped in disbelief at the honor. He was taller than her, but always in reverent position, insisting on his lack of worth with his gait, every time she was near, even if, exactly like the Ovrems, he felt a bit entitled to her by merit of his superior love. He smiled softly as she chose a very fitting passage. It felt like a miracle to him, that it was written, and that he'd lived in an age where she'd echo it to him from the millennia.

    "You will!" he agreed and felt that swimming light run through his chest-cavity, fill it up and make it beautifully hollow. It seemed too much that she'd carry them, him, to glory with her revelations, when he would have followed her no matter the content of her words. The ritual could have been a failure and he'd still believe in Charlotte. He hurried to open the door when the knock announced the arrival of her meal, and he smiled at Irma when she moved in, tray and skirts.

    He was also hungry, he discovered, and was drawn to the food while the angel sat there, sampling the steaming treasures. She was adorable, taking sustenance. Although he could have objected to her choice of first course. How quaint, her childishness, it wasn't like she needed to hold back in this place that worshipped her. John was stricter about his own habits. When he sat down on his knees by her, he felt tempted by the way she took the treat. Not because he was hungry for the sugary piece, but because he was starving for her. How many times had he defiled her image in his head, when he was alone in his own, simpler quarters. Those romantic imaginings of skin-ship held nothing to when she suckled her nails and carried on innocently, as though she wasn't the best lure for men in that state. It was too much that she'd lock eyes with him, her tongue and lips active. He didn't deserve any of this.

    "Y-yes, of course I'll be there. I think Mr. Ovrem will let me be close. I have helped taken care of you, and he trusts me. It is the Doctor who will lead the ceremony, and the entire commune will come to see and sing. Kell will..." John didn't really care for Kell, because everyone else did. He was a charismatic darkness, and often prove to be like honey to the women here. Handsome prince of the leader, it seemed to call on parts of their womanhood that Jarek didn't appeal to. And even naïve, blinded John could see the way innocent Charlotte was in Kell's company. John hated his own envy, but it was still real. "be there at a supervising capacity. You know how he commands people." He sighed and continued to watch his eating nymph.

    "And I believe it'll be the day after tomorrow." he said with a longing expression. even if he was fully satisfied with her here, his heart belonged to the cult too, and they were all looking forward to their time in the light, serving it through her words. It was the greatest meaning a human life could have, said the doctor, and John believed it. Everyone did. He sighed softly and stroked the upside of his thighs, soaking in her nearness.

    "I... I know this is out of place, Charlotte." he said. "But it feels right that I ask you. It's been on my mind a lot, for a long time." his light eyes were a bit worried then. "How do you feel about me? Do you feel safe? How do you feel in your heart?" It was a clumsy interaction, he'd not been with anyone in that way, since it would have been a stain on his devotion. It was hard for him, putting himself on a stone table also, to see what he might be worth. "You know I feel fondly of you." he said, to try and explain the nature of his question.

    Raker came alive inside her, and coiled behind her eyes. It had also weighed John through the years.

    Tell him something that'll make him happy! Tell him you like him, but don't let him have too much.

    John, unaware of the conversation inside her hear, took courage and lifted a cherry that had fallen off the cake she was enjoying, and held it out for her, like it was a gift that might make her feelings about him better.
     
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  10. Teneo Lupum

    Teneo Lupum damned if you do, damned if you don’t Member

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    Tell him something that’ll make him happy! Tell him you like him, but don’t let him have too much.

    The golden-crowned head tipped slightly to the right as Raker’s words filled her head. Such an oily voice whispering things right into the middle of her broken-and-mended brain but she liked the words, she liked the way he encouraged her to do things, to say things. Soft lips curled into a gentle smile as she took another bite of her delectable delight and then another. His questions hung in the air around them. She liked making him wait for her answers. She liked that he was so attentive on his knees before her. “You do make me feel safe, John. I know you’ll always take care of me, that you’ll always love me.” Such wide angelic eyes making her the epitome of innocence.

    Do something more. Your words are not enough.

    A seductive whisper slithered through her mind, a voice normally hidden behind Raker’s louder one. A voice she rarely was able to hear, let alone devote attention to. This voice liked the sight of the devoted man kneeling before the small angel doll. This voice sensed that John desired the girl.

    The fork was set down, resting on the edge of the snowy white plate. That hand reached out to wrap around his wrist, pulling that cherry-holding hand closer to her as she leaned forward. Sweet lips parted to admit the small red tidbit into her mouth, just barely brushing his fingers as they closed around the fruit before pulling back. Back straight as she enjoyed the small sweetness he offered her, her eyes not so angelic now as they shone with something different. Something darkly seductive. Something devilish.

    Something that whispered that she was a good girl before it faded back to where it came from, behind Raker, content once more to remain in the background of the chaotic mindscape.

    Yet with a simple blink, the angel was back.

    “Will you continue to take care of me after?” she questioned him earnestly. “You and Kell and the doctor have known and loved me the longest. I have always thought fondly of our times together.”

    As they visited, the doll continued to eat, small bites and tastes of all the goodie Irma had provided. A small angel who ate like a bird. Soon enough, she was full and pushed the plates away. Even her yawn was beautiful, one hand covering her mouth before she laughed, a delicate peal of bells that was just for this man. She laughed most for him, their interactions simple and reverent.

    “I would like to rest now.” The implication in her words was quite clear; it was time for her companion to take his leave. Up to her feet to escort him to the door but this time it was her turn to leave her mark on him. Rising to her toes, she awarded him with the best of marks, the stamp of her lips on his upturned cheek. Temporary farewells now given, she closed the door quietly on his departing back.

    Free now from the watchful eyes of her male guardians, the bright toy clasped her hands to her chest and smiled. For so long she had been waiting for this day, waiting for Jarek to free her from her rusted cage and place her in this gilded one. His Oracle, his special one, the one who would bring all the people into the light.

    But for now, it was imperative that she rest. Tomorrow would be a day preparing for the ritual. Clothes were shed to reveal more porcelain skin only to be replaced by a diaphanous gown of white in which to sleep. Angel wings that floated delicately around her slender body as she slipped between luxurious sheets and under warm blankets. Golden tresses spilled onto the pillows as she arranged herself amongst the pile of plush pillows. Even in sleep, she was a vision of beauty.

    It was the return of Irma the next morning that brought her back to awareness as the woman delivered food to break her fast. “Good morning, Charlotte. The doctor says you must eat quickly so you can be bathed and cleansed for tomorrow. He says you must be sure your mind, body, and soul are as clean and pure as they can be. It’s the only way we can be sure you’re prepared to bring us into the light with you.” Irma smiled and gestured to the tray of food that was filling the room with such wonderful smells.

    Obedience to others was how Charlotte had lived for so long that she slipped from under the sheets and padded her way to the table. Seating herself, she waited until Irma had removed the covers from the dishes and tucked into the meal provided. As before, she did not eat much, only taking one or two bites of each option before once more pushing the tray away.

    Irma did not press the matter as she removed the tray from the table. “You’re to spend the rest of the day in quiet contemplation. Read books, meditate. No one will be permitted to see you until much later. When the doctor comes to you, you must be clean and ready to accept him.” Instructions given, the older woman exited, the door closing behind her.

    She needed to have words to share with the people. Written words that she could turn into spoken words. Words to add to what Raker told her, to what Kell whispered in her ear, his breath warm on the soft pink shell. Words that Jarek wanted her to say to bring his people into the light.

    She would open her arms to the people and they, in turn, would open their arms to her.

    She would let the light hit her chest and they, in turn, would let the light hit theirs.

    Folding her tiny body into the corner nearest to the window, legs hugged to chest, she rested her cheek on her knee and let the words in her head begin to wash over her.

    Hours passed, hours of which she was unaware, hours marked only by the movement of the sun across the sky. Hours marked by the rhythmic tapping of fingers on thigh, over and over until the tips were numb.

    Reds and oranges and golds painted the sky when the little doll unfolded, her limbs stiff. It was time to cleanse her body.

    Water so hot it almost scalded the pale skin cleansed it and absolved her soul of all past sins. No longer was she porcelain as she stood before the mirror. A most becoming flush had colored her skin and accentuated her delicate beauty. They would love her.

    Such a pretty doll. They will love you. Let the light hit your chest.

    Leaving the steam-filled room behind, the angel doll went to find the special gown that had been chosen for her. It was in the closet, where she knew it would be. Simple. White. Pure. Thin straps that perched on delicate shoulders. Thin fabric that showed the outline of her body when lit by the sun. Tresses of molten gold falling in loose ringlets down her back.

    An angel awaiting her Ovrem men and their followers.
     
    Last edited: Sep 16, 2018
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  11. reverse

    reverse crusher rusher Member

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    John sat there, and basked in the confirmation she gave him for all his good work in her service. It brought along fond memories when she promised to rely on him more in the future. But it was a little less than he'd hoped for - romantic minds are usually the first to despair, too. He recognized soon that it might have been too much to hope for, that their hearts would meet here, on her first day in her third life. He was ready to be brave about it, and perhaps hide his disappointment until he could be alone and nurse it, but then she moved forward with all the innocent allure that she held.

    It burnt away from her in an instance, like paper does on a bed of red coals. The cool beauty that she'd been known for was something else then, when she tried the little fruit he'd held up. He was completely silent, hand trembling when her mouth came to claim the red orb. He swallowed back a deep breath when he felt her lips transfer their heat to his fingertips. It was the single most undoing instance John had felt. He'd not thought he would live to see it, the day there was a demon in Charlotte. It was beautiful, and it turned his blood into an inferno.

    He sat there on his knees, worshiping her while harboring thoughts of defiling her, too. Wouldn't it be better if she was his wife? Perhaps someone else had the voices they needed? He wanted that life desperately, but more than that he wanted this moment. An immature picture of their bodies on that bed. She was seducing him, after all, wasn't she, with the way she'd engaged with her lips? He needed to believe that, naive man with increasingly cleaver dreams.

    It was painfully abrupt when his Lotte returned, and the soft mouthed demon had flitted somewhere to the back. He coughed and took his hand back, nodding quickly to appease her. "I-I'll always take care of you." he promised, a little louder than their privacy called for, given his distress and confusion. He wanted to stay and look at her, but he was also relieved when she sent him away to his own thoughts. It would have to be enough to revel in her new nearness, to know that she wasn't as far as the hospital anymore, that she'd sleep under a roof not far from his.

    John reported back to Father after that, and Jarek was understanding. The good doctor was left alone to all his planning while John quickly excused himself to his own quarters. He took to the showers, and used the hand she'd kissed to please himself until he was exhausted. After that he dressed again to look for other excuses to see her, but the Ovrems had nothing for him, and even Irma said something about how tired the girl must be. John accepted that, and buried himself in other work, instead.

    Kell kept distracted, too. The pious hearts of the young women kept them strong for his needs. And the parts of them that weren't so pious were even more enamored by the dark, second patriarch of their fenced-in world. He'd taken sisters today, Ellen and Reve, who were inseparable. Their dark hair was deeper than their mother's, who'd been his yesterday, and their tongues were a faded pink, almost sickly out their swollen, eager mouths.

    In honesty, Kell and Reve liked to bully Ellen, who was the youngest, only good for this kind of thing since three months back. The little sister had no choice but to be served up by her older sibling and then have her insides shaped after Kell's monstrous exterior. They'd been with him a handful of times since Ellen's birthday, and she was, just like Reve, loosing her love as well as her body to him. The sisters worked the fields and kept their tables at the shop busy for the commune at day, but they lived for their encounters with the commune prince. Those pale tongues were his, and they tried to remind him of that when they saw him in the halls.

    Kell was amused by it all, seeing them go from unknowing to mischievous. Reve had grown almost cruel to her sister, and Ellen loved it. And she loved when he decided to remind the slightly taller sister that despite her possible perch in hierarchy above Ellen, she was still leagues bellow himself. Reve was always so gorgeously surprised to be bent and flipped, and blushed especially when Ellen watched, vengeful and delighted. As he'd taught them, by the end, they were gratefully on their praying knees with indecipherable, gargled psalms on their voices and reward strewn and dripping off their faces.

    They were sore, bleeding today, when they left. It was all to distract him from the flower in the next room, that he wouldn't get to pluck until the ritual. If father wasn't such a gargoyle about it. Kell didn't get much reprieve from his seething from the pleasure he'd spent on the sisters, and went through quite a number of the waiting women his father had thrown at him to keep him occupied. By the morning, he was more invigorated by frustration than ever.

    It was not his father, but Kell himself that found her when she'd bathed. He wore his black clothes as always, tailored by the commune seamstress, who knew his body well. Despite his nightly activities, putting great stress on the women, he himself was pristine. He opened her door without knocking and smiled when he saw her in the new garbs.

    There he is. We've missed him.

    It was Raker who wanted to remind her of that. Her voices were usually more inclined in Kell's favor, and they rushed to her cheekbones to be closer when he came and touched her face. Kell thought it was distracting to see so much of her through the dress, but he wasn't one to complain. "Look at you." he said and started examining her, holding on to her head and turning it different ways. He even rolled her lip down to see her teeth. An object. His object.

    "You have bathed?" he asked, knowing the schedule well. There had been an unspoken line between the men, but Kell felt the urgency of the coming event, and wanted to see her. "Did you do it right?" he asked and stepped back, sterner than he usually was. A gesture with perfect fingers. "Lift it up for me." he said, and waited to see if there'd be modesty or obedience in her.

    Outside, also a man to keep his time, the doctor strode through the corridor. He needed to speak with his Oracle, and start preparing her. Not many hours now, and people were already preparing fervently around the stone table.
     
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  12. Teneo Lupum

    Teneo Lupum damned if you do, damned if you don’t Member

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    The divine being grew bored with waiting in her gilded cage and returned to the window, staring out onto the commune. Fingers spread wide, cheek and body pressed to the cool glass. People who longed for salvation going about their daily business had no idea that they were being observed from this heavenly creature on high.

    Raker’s voice pulled her back and encouraged her to turn and take in the sight of her dark prince, his darkness accentuating her light. They had missed him. Even the quiet one who whispered and persuaded her to entice John into impure thoughts had missed the Ovrem son.

    The smile that formed on soft pink lips belonged to the seductive one. Momentarily, briefly, the desirous look in the oracle’s eyes was less than innocent. Something saw Kell and it wanted him.

    But again, just like with the reverent one who had been on his knees before her, she blinked and it was gone.

    The righteous one, the pure one, returned to the forefront of wide green eyes. She was the oracle once more. Unsullied and untouchable by all but the worthy. And oh, how this ritual would make them all so worth of the delicate Ovrem bright toy. A toy for Kell to move and manipulate as he saw fit, her head guided this way and that. A pretty object for the dark-eyed dark-clothed prince to play with.

    “I did everything Irma told me to. I cleansed my mind, my soul, and my body. I read and I meditated. The words will be wonderful. Everyone will love them. You will love them.”

    His stern tone sent a wrinkle across the smooth skin of her brow. Had she done something to displease him? He had never spoken to her in such a way before. Not even when they were young and he played roughly with Jarek’s bright toy.

    Delicate fingers were already in motion before his even finished their commanding gesture. UP went the gossamer fabric cocoon to reveal the beautiful blush-and-cream colored butterfly beneath. Her body on display just for him. Let him see. Even as a young girl, she was compliant with the orders coming from the doctor and his princely son. They knew what was best. Who was she to question them?

    Lotte’s eyes were downcast as she peeled away the wisps of fabric to reveal her truth to him but soon enough that irresistible poison was back, stepping around Raker to emerge in the front. Let the light hit your chest. How easy it was to take Raker’s words and twist them. Her eyes lifted slowly, following the great length of his body until she was looking up at him through her lashes.

    He desires you. He covets you.

    Lips pursed softly as head tipped, her eyes always on his, studying him, learning his truth.

    A soft inhale of breath sent the poison back where it belonged, behind Raker, the one who loved Kell the best. Cheeks filled with a deep flush, her fingers releasing the hem of her gown, letting it drop down to cover her beautiful body. Eyes down once more, her fingers twisting in the fabric near her thighs.

    “Is it time yet? Are the people ready for me? I still don’t know exactly what I’m supposed to do. You’ll stay with me, won’t you?” The words tumbled out of her in a blur as she reached for his hand, clasping it desperately. So much was riding on her small shoulders, so many people’s salvation depended on her.
     
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  13. reverse

    reverse crusher rusher Member

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    Their treasure in the window, pressing her heart against the glass and trying to send it out to everyone. It was a beautiful sentiment with the girl they'd acquired long ago for tomorrow's purpose. Stunning Charlotte - hadn't that been her use, always? Here she was above it all, it was no wonder that she looked at them like this. The way she'd been told her own story, they were her destiny. Kell knew better. The sunlit nymph by the clean pain was meant for him. He'd learned it when he tugged her along by her wrist to whatever games he wanted to play, and when father took her back.

    Kell let her look at him. With the way the others thirsted for him and the approving glances he collected even outside of their inviting but stoic fence, the youngest Ovrem was not lacking in confidence. He thought it was a reason why he had more claim to her, even. It was his turn to remake her after his own tastes because Jarek was becoming obsolete with his age, harboring tender illusions for a being that should be used as a weapon. Like a spire with a heady head to hammer the flock into rows.

    One corner of his rich lips lifted when he recognized the woman's eyes in the girl beauty. Kell stayed where he was, basking in that desire, and studying her sudden intentions, taking over her like the shadow of a cloud does the merry fields. She was a well of new things, a statue spewing gold into a fountain pool, and now she was showing the potential he'd recognized in her before, that father liked to be blind to. They intentionally forgot she'd come to them through incredible amounts of blood, because they couldn't reconcile the crimson spill with her alabaster veneer. Kell wanted her because of that evil, and he'd felt it reaching back at him from inside her. Her true selves.

    He grinned knowingly when she became the Charlotte that the people had worshipped when she stepped out of the car. There'd be plenty of time to see her later, his own Lotte. And share her. They'd listen to his suggestions then, because they'd be funneled through her. He nodded and listened carefully to what she said. It was as important that she clean herself. The beginning of both Ovrems rituals were the same - ready the mind with purity, and keep the body spotless.

    It was more pleasing, though, to see her obey seamlessly. His harder voice could make almost anyone into a servant. Charlotte did it out of a belief, though. He gave a long breath for her beauty. Admittedly, she was otherworldly with her innocence. He knew father had taken distance from these kind of things, perhaps because the older man had an attachment to her purity, or could be he believed she should not be disturbed in her current growth by something as distracting as flesh - her own or man's. Kell, of course, meant to make her a festival of it, so that she couldn't live without it. Her awed, downcast blues were lovely, the way all submission from stunning nymphs is.

    She saw him too, and he didn't mind that. They could be truthful when they were alone, even if she didn't understand the scope of his meaning in her life. Such a haughty lift of her chin. Not even father had seen her like this, presented for what she was. And then she let the dress fall back into place. Everyone's Charlotte, again. He tilted his head and considered all of her while she asked her questions. Kell took her hand. He didn't want her to feel rejection, even if she should know the gravity of it all. In the beginning the good doctor had known to be stern with her too, for her own sake, but he'd grown disgustingly soft with the years. Kell was the only one who could give her what she needed now.

    "It is." time. "They think they are." ready. "Always." with you.

    And he turned around to move her toward the door. They had wanted to carry her in, like the savoir she was, their glory on their shoulders, pelted with adoring song. But Kell had fought vehemently to bring her out himself. He knew that possessiveness could be in his way, but he was also in a position to let it. His hand was of course large around hers, and he brought her with him easily down the now empty corridors. The cleaned golden object that they had been waiting for. Down the stairs like a radiant apparition.

    They landed behind Jarek's podium. The man already had his hands outstretched during his speech, and soft hymns crowded the air from the commune, who gathered at a respectful distance to the speaker, and around the stone table. They were spilling out the door and pressing up against open window frames. No one looked at their leader when she was coming down, lead by their dark prince. Jarek smiled where he stood but continued telling them of their future, and what parts of the book had given him alone the right to govern the words she'd spill.

    John was there, and was the first to fall to his knees when he saw her. He was a reasonable emotionalist most of the time, but his love for Charlotte overflowed like the blood out of her mother in her last moments. He reached for her with one hand, fingers spread like he was starved for her, while he whispered prayer into his fist. The others, inspired by his devotion, did the same, one arm out for her, and one curled with a ball of fingers to their mumbling mouths.

    It was not quite her turn to take the stage, and Kell stood with her beside his father. The man smiled widely at his son. He truly loved the boy and the girl. He always had.

    Jarek cleared his throat to change what he was saying. "And you will always have my bloodline to lead you." he said, filled up with fatherly adoration then. He took his son's hand and brought him into an embrace. The crowd sighed at the caring display. Kell hugged his father back. Both men in black, Jarek with a white strip over his shoulders with the communes sign there - a circle pregnant with a line with one end crossing the boarder of the circle, an image of her, who could see other worlds. "My son! When I pass, everything I have will go to him. Never question it. It will be fate when it happens. It is all part of it. I said it's so and I'm your leader. You must believe it too." Jarek said at the crowd, and they all nodded, eager to obey.

    He let go of his son then to continue his own version of the ceremonial scroll. Kell returned to the golden girl and leaned close to her with a grin that made Raker swirl in her heart and then dive right down through her stomach to her cunt. "I'll move the ritual on." he whispered to her and let a silver something slide into his palm from his sleeve. A long blade. "This is your future, Charlotte. And it's with me." he declared.

    Jarek was just finishing preparing them for the ritual. He held his arm out for his son again. "Kell. My prince. It is time." he said so the boy would know to bring her to the stone table where they had old spices for oils, and holy water they'd brought from out of country. It would be a modest display of her body, as it all soaked into the fabric. And Then Jarek would kiss her, and they would sing loudly while he spoke into her ears, until she awoke as their Oracle. "Let us become the spearhead of humanity. Put glory on me!" he roared and the people cheered fervently back.

    Kell nodded but didn't bring her anywhere. Instead he stood behind his father. Jarek had a puzzled expression but then smiled lovingly at his commune again, sure Kell knew what he was doing. "Glory onto you, Father!" Kell said, and it ignited the crowd to do the same. The chant became louder, and there were tears in Jarek's eyes. He whispered low that he loved Kell. Finally his son was with him in this. And then Kell grabbed the black and white hair of his father, pulling his head back to show off the aged column of his throat. The crowd sheered at the choreography.

    "Glory." he said into his father's ear before the broad blade shot up and then back. Jarek eyes opened faster than the wound, just slightly, but the wound opened wider. Some of the believers screamed in horror, but with the loss of Jarek's voice, Kell took over. He put his knife hand to his mouth, and crossed one finger over his lips to calm them. "This is the ritual. All praise Jarek!" he said. The panic in the father's eyes didn't register as anything unusual then, and a horrible celebratory noise left the oterh bodies, thanking him for his own sacrifice. The gash over his throat prevented him to tell them he was being betrayed. "Pass what is his onto me!" Kell continued, and the crowd agreed deafeningly. They were calling for Kell by the time Jarek's arms hung, and he could only move his lips, mimicking breath.

    Kell looked to her, and kicked over the flimsy podium. "Kneel, Charlotte." he said, and when she did, he'd bow his father by his hair, to shower her in Jarek's blood, to paint her like she'd been found the first time, after having killed her mother. This was the real her. Raker went livid inside her, tearing at her memories and short instance and introductions to a woman's heart. It bit down on her nerves and tried to jump out at the last Ovrem from her chest.

    Go! This is who we are. This has been us all the time!
     
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  14. Teneo Lupum

    Teneo Lupum damned if you do, damned if you don’t Member

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    Kell’s plaything followed along obediently at his side as he led her down eerily empty halls to her destiny. A broken toy mended messily about to be shattered into beautiful pieces once more. Jarek’s voice washed over her like a warm wave, filling her soul and making her heart sing. It was his voice that had pulled her back from the brink so many years ago. It was his voice that had pieced her back together. It was his voice that would usher her into her future.

    The horde of people watched her closely, ecstatic to see their fair-skinned, light-haired angel standing in contrast with the dark prince. All the eyes watching her so closely made her shrink into Kell, hiding her face against his upper arm.

    Step into the light, little one. Don’t hide from them. They want to love you. Let them love you.

    Frightened eyes landed on John, in front and sinking to his knees before her. He loved her. He wanted her. He was reaching for her. One foot stepped, her weight shifting forward, the hand not clasped tightly in Kell’s lifting from her side to reach for the one who worshipped her. The prince would not like her going to another man, even one so meek and mild as John. She knew this and pressed herself into his side again. Father pulled Son away and into an embrace, leaving the sun to shine by herself, soaking in the love emanating from the assembled group like warm rays of sun. They loved her and she loved them too.

    Silver flashed in his palm, her gaze drawn by the shine. For so long, she had been denied what she wanted - sharp, shining, dangerous, metal. Charlotte had almost forgotten how it felt to feel human skin part and split under the bite of silver, the feel of warm crimson spurting in steady rhythms, watching the light leave the eyes. Poor Mother had given herself to Charlotte’s dangerous prayers. It would have been even better if she had not fought, if she had given herself willingly to the blonde oracle.

    The father gave himself willingly. He did not fight, he did not try to stop the ritual. He stood tall and proud as the son spilled his prayers out onto the stage. Charlotte basked in the love pouring from the congregation, her eyes sweeping the crowd. This was the light and it was hitting her chest. Jarek Ovrem had found her and nurtured her and loved her to bring her to this very moment. This was her purpose.

    The simple command pulled her attention to the dark prince. The obedient supplicant dropped to her knees to accept the bloody baptism. Arms spread wide, head falling back as she bathed in the doctor’s love. The white dress soon became soaked, clinging wetly to her beautifully perfect body, revealing its shape to the congregation. Golden hair turned crimson. Her face dripped with the scarlet reward of her devotion.

    Life faded from the father’s eyes and the shell was cast aside by the son. The girl rose to her feet and stepped from the dais to go to her people, the ones who loved her. John was first. Second to Kell, he loved her best and he would be rewarded for his devotion. Her forefinger ran down her cheek, leaving a porcelain trail through the red paint. The finger touched his forehead, drawing the symbol on his skin that adorned Jarek’s shoulders, the symbol of their beliefs. Another smear of her finger across her cheek but this time she used the vermilion liquid to color her lips. Hands clasped John’s cheeks and tipped her face up towards his. “Step into the light and accept my blessing,” she breathed her favor across his mouth before leaving a bloody stamp on his lips.

    Charlotte, the broken-yet-mended-now-bloody Oracle, moved through the crowd, blessing them with the mark on their forehead or a red kiss to their lips. Only John received both. Desperate hands reached for her, fingers slipping across the once-white dress that clung to her like a lover’s caress. The people parted before her, praying and singing desperate hymns to the angel moving through them. Their worship made her smile, her teeth shining white in the red of her painted face. Mother’s blood hadn’t coated her this thoroughly. The uniformed men had seen to that, pulling her away before she’d been able to bathe herself in Mother’s love.

    She could feel Raker coiling low between her thighs. She could feel the seductive poisonous one aching to join Raker. She could feel Kell’s eyes on her back as she gave her benediction to the people. She could feel their love.

    A glance over her shoulder at the macabre scene on the dais, the wide unseeing eyes of the Ovrem father, the shell of a body discarded carelessly in a heap, her dark prince watching her. She turned slowly, a feral grin splitting the reddened face.

    There he is. We’ve missed him. Let him have everything. He is strong. Open your arms for him.

    Arms spread like angel wings as she picked her way through the multitude gathered to worship her, her eyes locked onto her prince, shining out from the gory paint that colored her skin.

    “This is your future, Kell. And it’s with me.” She echoed his earlier statement as she stepped back onto the low stage.
     
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  15. reverse

    reverse crusher rusher Member

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    Kell had seen John's inspiration and the wave of worship it elicited throughout the congregation. It made him smile, and he liked seeing Charlotte too, when she reached back for him but her eyes gave away her thoughts. Kell wasn't inclined to worry about John. Dear little man, who was fortunate to have her close - he shouldn't have had such a hubris heart, that thought anything could come from loving her like that. Kell had sympathy for John, because John had nothing that was powerful other than that love.

    Kell did not object, however, when the angel returned to him. The worth of the two males had been determined then - John stuck on the floor, reaching, while she sought out Kell's arm. She had a little nod for her good decision, but Kell had mostly been concentrated on what happened next, silver reaper in his hand. No one suspected. How could they? This ordeal had been sealed by Jarek's love. He'd felt father's struggles, but the very nature of the wound rendered the patriarch speechless. Finally the good doctor could do no more harm to their legacy with his aged tongue. Kell marveled at his own plan while it clasped into place.

    Her purity kept her from seeing anything askew, and she produced herself right there, for her birthing shower. He moved Jarek's head from side to side by the hold in his hair, and it made sure to coat the beautiful, pale girl until she was dark and ruby-shining. He thought he could see the candles on the blood she wore, like stars, close, on a heaven made of human riches. He felt ready to take her then. She'd become every red dream any man ever had.

    John had doubt in his good soul but that was overcome with her new beauty when she came to him. She tasted like sin, but one he was ushered toward. He cried when she kissed her, smearing Jarek on his mouth, and he trembled for her finger when she shared their symbol on his head. He clawed for her but knew to hold back when she moved on. The love he felt was making him sick, it was too much. He thought he was going to succumb from his filling sentimentality, but managed somehow to get through it, and let it permeate him instead of containing it. He followed her on his knees while she visited others with one of the blessings he'd had two of. He truly felt privileged, and did keep count.

    Kell held his arms out while the sisters who learned to crave his love came up to him, one with blood lips and one with a mark on her face. Somehow the girls knew to start peeling the clothes off him. The crowd were strangely entrance as the pretty man was made bare before them. There had never been public debauchery before, here, and this cemented some kind of severity to the new reign. His body was honed well, an angel in his own right, with his long muscles clinging to endless bones, and an offensively sized limb. It made some gasp. His hair was a little wilder for the shirt that had passed overhead, and when he breathed the shadows dividing his strung-out flesh deepened.

    Reve hung the bloodied banner taken from Jarek's corpse on one of Kell's hands, and he put it over his shoulders. The cloth stuck to his body and framed his monstrous organ. He'd become an idol of their rebirth in blood. He looked at Charlotte expectantly, a statue in a church without details to his waiting eyes, while she came to him, returning from her lap of greeting the cult. He nodded at what she said. Her mind was being brought along well with this event. He'd painstakingly made it all fit together.

    When she reached him, he pulled her closer and then lifted her in his arms. She was a light woman, and it was easy for him to hang her off him like a bride, and start his journey to the table. Along the way the people moved, but not much, so they could be brushed by the blood that was on them both. Her dress started to rip from their curled fingers, and soon he could remove the last shreds from her skin with smears of red turned pink against her alabaster.

    He sat her on the stone and stroked her hair away from one ear so he could speak into that small shell. "Are you ready to become what you should be, in fire?" he asked. His cock was filling steadily, controlled by his skills in the primal pleasures, until it was a stupendous rod, standing. Kell climbed onto the table and sat there, in the middle, for all of them to see, the spire risen and waiting for her. They were quiet, lamenting their own adherence to what was being offered. Unfettered enjoyment - unmitigated, sanctioned sin.

    John shook his head when he saw her there, bloodied and nude, but everyone could see he, like the other men, was ready for a woman. He groaned and grabbed the significantly less impressive tent than what Kell was showing, and rubbed himself while he pushed to the front of the crowd, once more kneeling below his beloved, scarlet angel. "I love you, Charlotte!" he declared like it would sway her now. "Please, come with me... I can't stand it!" he begged.

    Kell smirked to himself and brushed her shoudlerblades so she would know to turn from the pure love to a much more powerful one. He smiled at her, they were both wearing Jarek's blood, and his throbbing length was waiting in his lap. He waved her in closer and the crowd bustled with anticipation, many of the men already disrobing to reveal their stiff states. Crying, John did the same. He couldn't help it. She was too much beauty at once - this moment was too much for both his boiling lust and breaking heart.

    When she did come to him, Kell would grab her by the hip, and stand her with one of her feet on either side of his legs, her entrance directly over his grand flesh. He'd leaned forward and whisper onto her cunt, and Raker would roil in there, readying her girl-hood while bathed in his breath. "Say you'll be my Oracle." Kell demanded, looking up at her face while his demand hit against her folds. And when she did, he'd force her down quickly, so the crowd could see their beloved, innocent Lotte staked on that great threat.
     
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  16. Teneo Lupum

    Teneo Lupum damned if you do, damned if you don’t Member

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    Such a pretty bride being presented to the congregation in the arms of the Son. A congregation who understood that they must prepare her and strip her bare for what was to come next - a wedding of blood.

    Soft questioning promises, for he was promising to turn her into what she should have always been, whispered into her ear made her turn toward him, effectively ignoring the second-rate man crying out and declaring his love for her. Everyone could see as he disrobed that he was not the man for the crimson-crowned Oracle. He was not the one to bring her into the light.

    The dark prince, however, was the one who would. He had baptized her with love. He had baptized her in blood. He would baptize her into womanhood. There was never any need to turn her attention away from John. Kell held her rapt attention since the start of this light-bringing ritual. His fingers on her hips were rough, painful as they marked her with blood under the surface of the Jarek-marred perfect skin. He marked her outwardly as his even as he prepared her to be claimed as his in the most primal of ways.

    Say yes. Always say yes to this one. He knows best. He is best.

    “I am your Oracle. I am yours.” There had never been a demand of his to which she had not acquiesced, not even when they were children and he had been harsh with her. Even during their childish play, even when the doctor had tried to keep them apart, Charlotte was always his. Raker had known it from the beginning, whispering in her mind the perfection that was the Son.

    There was no time to consider, no time to realize what was going to happen. Charlotte didn’t need to; Raker knew and the seductive poisonous one knew. Charlotte didn’t matter anymore. She was pulled down quickly and entered.

    There was pain. So much pain. It was her blood now that baptized the Son, her blood that completed the ritual and marked her prince. Charlotte gave herself up to the pain, letting the exquisiteness of it wash over her and sweep her away. There was no Charlotte. There was no Raker. There was no voice of seduction. There was only the Oracle now. She was the one for whom they had waited. She was the one for whom they had prayed. She was the one who would bring them to the light.

    It was their longing, their desires, that had brought them to this moment.

    Her perfect mouth opened in a silent scream as Kell penetrated her body and her very soul over and over again. Delicate fingers clenched in the air, tightening on the holiness of the act before gripping the chest of the perfect being beneath her. His movements became her movements, her movements became his movements, until they moved as one. They were one. They would be one from now until forever. The Oracle and her Disciple. The Prince and his Bright Toy.

    The bathed-in-blood doll leaned forward, pale perfect skin pressed to pale perfect skin. “I want more blood. Make them bleed.” It wasn’t Charlotte’s voice that dripped into his ear. It wasn’t Raker and it certainly wasn’t the poison one. This was the Oracle with her voice soft, husky, and demanding. “The older sister, the one who begs for your favor. She will bleed. She will bleed for me.”

    The choice of who would make poor Reve bleed and how they would make her bleed was left up to the Prince to decide. But there would be blood as was demanded. By the end of the night, the room would be full of blood.

    Her symphony of pleasure interrupted her demands, the musical cries becoming her prophecies. The pain brought blood, the pain brought pleasure. The broken mind mended together with every thrust and every grip on her hips. Every bruise knitted pieces of her mind into something better.

    “The fury of the mighty God shall come upon you. And it certainly shall be that the immortal Saviour against men will send wrath if you do not placate God.” Her voice trailed off, interrupted by pained gasps and moans as his cock reformed her insides in his likeness. “Placate him with blood!” Her voice crescendoed until the last word rang around the hall, working the group into a frenzy.

    The Sibylline Oracle made her prophecy and it sent her into her own religious frenzy, shudders coursing down the length of her spine. Raker coiled low between her thighs once more, urging her on until there was no holding back. Raker and Kell had pushed her too far and there was no turning back. Bloodied lips sealed to his, letting her screams feed his soul as she tightened around his impressive length.

    “ I am yours,” she exhaled the words sweetly against his lips. His to use, his toy, his Lotte.

    There was no need to let the light hit her chest. She was the light. And she would save them all.
     
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  17. reverse

    reverse crusher rusher Member

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    John was completely breathless when she was positioned. How hard he was, and how horrified. He didn't want to see this, but he'd break his neck if he looked away. Again he shook his head, and again it meant nothing in the wake of the better man's whims. Charlotte's beautiful hips, virginal one last time, one last motion, as Kell pulled down and planted his hulking member into her stomach. John cried out, but the deafening approval shouted by the crowd made his voice a simmer in a roiling sea. John felt defeated, and mingled that dread with the arousal of watching his love be taken, overtaken, by a far more glorious man. It was the sexual peak of his life, and he wasn't even involved.

    The crowd watched, transfixed to the scene and the moment in their hearts, when the girl, ill-designed to take the heft of what she was lanced on, as she was obviously struggling with the sensation. It is not in human nature to subject oneself to such abuse without suffering. They saw it in her, but that was the torment of any martyr. She took to it well, like it was necessary. They should all be inspired by her, and they praised her in her work to save them. She took the pain for payment, and reveled in it. Virgin Oracle, turned bride of their prince.

    They were elated to see her crimson on Kell's length. It was a sign, surely - everyone knew it was powerful, her proof. She was theirs now, the way an idol belongs to her crowd. They cried for happier reasons than John and his moving, miserable hand. It was difficult for the otherwise pious man who loved her not to be brought along. There is such forgiveness in defeat, to feel something more powerful than all your own strength. In a way it was liberating. He felt such deep sadness, but also absolved of continued vying for her attention. She belonged to a much better creature.

    Kell felt the taut grip of her prized insides, and it was his victory. Their holy maiden defiled, willingly, for him. He was killing Jarek again, more and more for every thrust, every time he sunk her down on him. Her arms were out, fingers curled to let the people know she was being murdered, high up in her stomach, a tribute to his length. Genetic superior son, who'd set his own ambition to bloom and shadow his father's plans. Her little breasts danced and her mouth was a hollow. He laughed darkly in his throat, and the crowd thought it was dapper, thought he looked formidable - beautiful man taking on the very turn of their belief, and being so fetching and strong about it.

    As the pair worked to be a single animal for them, dear Charlotte already taking to fucking after only having been introduced to it today. To think that old king foolishly thought her purity was going to save them. This was real faith, this was true mining of power. It was in the essence of humans, not in something fine and methodical. True things can only come from nature, and this was that. Their dreams, sleeping in their stomachs, woken up by the small girl on the big man, her stomach in turn full of his flesh and the courage to take it.

    Even Kell was in awe when the magic set in, insanity funneled for his design. It was perfect, new voice and new demands. He nodded to the sister Lotte asked for, and the crowd cleared in that pocket, to leave Reve alone in the middle. Beautiful and dark haired. She looked afraid, but her arms were by her side, inviting while she trembled. She disrobed and stood, willing to participate with her brown nipples and cusp-of-existence breasts. Ellen darted up behind her, and hugged her. When she drew her fingers over her sister's abdomen, there were crosses of blood form her nails. The crowd understood and swelled back to fill up the room they'd given. All lips that could, found those trails, and nails continued to tear at her skin to make more trails for them all to suckle. The way Reve arched, hips and eyes rolling, it looked as though she was being fucked by all of them.

    While they feasted on the blood Charlotte had given them, they saw her on their prince, convulsing. Their saint, finding it finally, her own undoing. Kell kissed her back, her inspiration beautiful, her taut grip tortuously loving his practiced limb. He wouldn't let her mind mend, and wrecked her harder. He laid her down, despite her willingness to bounce, and thrust down into her comparatively small body. He had heard her promise herself to him.

    His one hand on her throat kept her where she was, his limb red with her blood still pistoning in and out of her recently opened place, her recent virgin's wound. The crowd who'd taken on Ellen's practice and started undressing to bleed each other, thought he looked like a rider, who was fighting the last of Charlotte that wasn't the Oracle. He was battling for them, cleansing her of that unneeded thing Jarek had so foolishly protected.

    It was a ruthless session of invited violation. Surely her little body could not take it. But she was dying for them. Kell knew she was their symbol, so after having abused her like this to fuel her break from sanity, he turned her on the axis of his cock, to have her face outward, one hand still on her hip while the other let go of her throat to grab at the hair ontop of her scalp. They could all see her face now, as it was rocked with his never ceasing pushes, which lifted her stomach.

    "Tell them you have our God inside you, tell them he speaks through you." Misinterpretations would set in the crowd then. Good religions are always divided. They'd hear it as thought he himself was the very creature they reached through her. It was another design, and Raker screamed inside her to make it so. It was holding on to the limb every time it traveled outward, and already convincing her that this was the highest pleasure for a woman.

    And then John was as the table, clawing with his free hand while the other still tended to and teased his incredibly full but tragically average cock. He looked up at her face, her new expression of being run through by both her new being and Kell's bulky weapon. There were tear's down John's eyes, there had been for a while, and he reached for her again, and even if he had the length to touch her, he didn't dare. "C-can I have a taste, Oracle?" he asked the new being. "I... I'm inlove with the woman. I think I'll die if I don't get to have her." he complained.

    Kell stuffed her harder with that, and her stomach deformed vulgarly from the brutality of it. It seemed appropriate to other eyes, she was a sacrifice, the vessel of their God, it couldn't come without consequences to the girl-flesh. Kell snickered, also soaking in adrenaline for fulfilling his fate flawlessly, acquiring her purity and the hearts of everyone in one act of unhindered lust. John averted his eyes from the new king.

    "Charlotte. Please." he pleaded. He presented the gift by pushing himself onto the table, cock laid out there, its lust having it change a darker color, denied until now. It laid there, his own offering to her, hoping. Kell laughed cruelly and pulled her head closer to his by the hair he was already holding.

    "Suppose if he gives us blood, we should take it?" he said into her ear suggestively.
     
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  18. Teneo Lupum

    Teneo Lupum damned if you do, damned if you don’t Member

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    Their Oracle was such a beautiful sacrifice for them. Laid bare, body and soul, on that cold stone table, Kell's large hand forcing her chin up and back to arch, presenting her as their sacrificial lamb. And what a lamb she was. Soft and curved, her young woman's body was ripe for the taking. From her vantage point atop the hard surface, she reveled in the people and their blood-letting, watching them attack each other with graceful abandon.

    Soon enough she was shifted, moved and molded by her prince into what he wanted her to be and how he wanted her to be. His hand was so strong as it pulled her head back, exposing her neck for the sharpness of their love. The alabaster skin of her throat yet another sacrifice for them. See how she offered herself for them? See how she showed the explicitness of what she would do for them? Her throat laid bare, her pulse throbbing in time with the thrusts of the limb that continued to bloody her.

    Like a puppet, the pretty little Oracle said exactly what her master wanted her to say. Her frenzy so complete that she would say anything he required of her. "Your God is inside me! My words are his words!" There was passion in her voice. How could anyone ever suspect that the son was feeding her her lines, that he was the one controlling the mouthpiece? Raker played his part well, staying low and driving her deeper into her throes of religious and sexual passion. It was the highest pleasure for a woman. There was no doubt about that. Kell had pulled her completely into the light while Jarek had wanted to keep her in the dark. She was sure of that now. The father wanted to oppress her true power and keep it locked away for himself. Kell wanted to share her with the people, such a kind and generous man he was.

    The second-rate man drew her attention but it was not the green eyes of his love, Charlotte, that looked upon him. These green eyes burned with righteousness, with religious zeal; they were the eyes of the Oracle. She saw the man, desperate for the body but nowhere near prepared for the soul of the girl. Her head was held immobile by the hair but her eyes drifted downwards to the less than satisfactory offering John brought to her. A cruel smirk twisted her pretty lips.

    Kell's words dripped into her ear, his breath warm in the pink curve of the shell. They should take the blood. It was being freely offered, wasn't it? Free will was so important. Sacrifices meant nothing if they were not given of the person's own volition.

    "He will bleed for us." That simple statement was for her prince, for the one who was deforming her stomach with the strength of his love for her. "Bring me the knife!" That command was for the congregation before her. Ellen, always desperate for the favor of the son, immediately crawled forward on hands and knees, just the way he liked her. Her hand closed around the blade of the weapon that had been used on the first sacrifice of the event. She did not care that it bit harshly into her palm, adding yet more blood to the father's blood staining the metal. Shaking with the strength of her frenzy, she crawled forward and offered the sharp object to the bloodied blonde.

    Charlotte's hand closed around the handle and she held the blade aloft. Loud cheers erupted from the crowd; they were caught in the blood frenzy now. It was beautiful in its simplicity. The red life-giving substance gave them new life now. It brought them into the light and straight in the beginning of their salvation.

    "Will you bleed for me?" It was Charlotte's sweet voice that asked the question of John. The Oracle knew the man would do anything for the girl. He loved her, after all. No answer was required. She knew that he would comply with whatever demands she made of him especially if it meant there was even the slimmest chance of being with her the way he desired.

    The slightest nod of his head or agreement in his eyes was all she needed. The amount of control she demonstrated was admirable but then again, the blonde had always been good with a blade since she was a young girl. Mother was proof of that. The hand in her hair kept her throat exposed to her people, the ones who loved her more so now, as her eyes moved to follow the track of the knife. The point was sharp enough to cut paper so the skin of the man meant nothing.

    She dragged it along the presented length, from base to tip. A thin red line appeared as the velvety skin split and opened. The blood welled up yet did not drip. Not satisfied, she cut him again, parallel to the first. And then again, crossing the first two lines. Again and again until he was bloody. The outward sign of his devotion to her.

    It was not enough though. Raker and the poison one and the Oracle demanded more. John gave of himself freely and they would take until he could give no more. "Come closer. Let me love you." And when John did, the metallic love she was offering reached for his side. The fingers of her free hand reached and stretched, tracing the lines of his ribs. Such beautiful curved lines. With the same restraint as before, the steel slid along those curved lines, opening the skin over them. These wounds bled more freely, the skin of his side quickly stained and wet with red.

    Her grip on the knife released, the blade dropping to land near Kell's feet. Those delicate fingers traced through John's paint and lifted to his lips. "Will you taste the strength of your love for me?"

    And all the while, her princely disciple pumped away, forming her in his image and making a grand display of the pretty doll that had been brought specifically for this purpose. Her fingers within John's mouth as he suckled them clean held her captive until she could take no more. She was shuddering once more, coating her prince with a wetness that was not red.

    "Will you fill me with your love, my prince? Your oracle begs you to claim me as your own." Again, words just for him, begging words, pleading words. "Please..."
     
    Last edited: Sep 27, 2018
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  19. reverse

    reverse crusher rusher Member

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    Kell felt her voice though his rigid flesh when she obeyed him, his words through her. She'd been raised the perfect, unknowing prophet for him. One last, grand gift from father. He enjoyed her stop, the bottom of her tunnel, another pain she should be feeling but his good Lotte was taking to this well. A soldier, bleeding on him, for him. And the crowd thought she said it out of her own inspiration. He was maddened enough by his own glory that he might believe it too, soon. His free hand petted down her bent spine, while his thrusts compromised those stacked, bone rings. Little thing, taking something behemoth, grotesque.

    The crowd cried in elation when she claimed her title. Some already looked to Kell as he stabbed her, their worship shifting as per his design. And others simply took it as more fare, more celebration from her lips to cement this moment, and they rocked and ate from each other. The room, from having been the welcoming lobby of their leader's house, was fast becoming a garden of other-side things. Roses, everywhere, overtaking tan and alabaster skin - sprouting in rows or billowing alone, still large.

    They were dreams come true tonight. They had been under the watchful eye of the good doctor, and while he was forgiving, it seemed that they needed to be restricted under his care. Important people must act as though they are better - their backs straight and their eyes clear, to save the world, you must present yourself as a savior. But not even their Oracle herself was straight-backed. She was unleashed, and she was becoming through such an intimate act, which they'd thought was taboo. The way Kell took her, heedlessly and expertly - perhaps there was nothing that could be taboo, if there was a man that got to fuck the Oracle like that.

    John's heart upset his stomach when she turned to him. Wasn't this what he wanted? Why did it frighten him so. She'd changed, she wasn't sweet anymore. He'd felt it before, their red thread of connection, he'd had a chance, he was sure of it. Sweet little woman, letting him hold her hand and spoil her. She was a dragon now, claimed, made by a mortal. The most beautiful monster, her knees on the stone and her blonde reigns held by the son of their dead king. And still John worshiped, standing there by the living grave of the woman he'd idolized, and masturbated about. He was ready for any scraps.

    "Yes!" and he called it many times over, while Ellen moved with the holy tool. He crawled closer to them, also on the altar of rock. In a sense, John wasn't so low. He was the Oracle's toy. He was the first. He tried to hold on to that, so it could be his own glory. It faded and rotted in the light of Kell's riches, but it was something, when he thought he'd lost her. He held his cock out for her. A queen will appreciate little jewelry even when her coffers are brimming with solid gold.

    His jaw dropped when she continued her taking of what he submitted, eyes wide when he looked down. It was such a tantalizing pain, but the Oracle herself was tending to his limb. That awe carried him through when her knife licked him many times over the limb that really didn't deserve so much love. He was bawling, but he still held the shredded skin up for the silver judgement. Men watched in envy, and others celebrated harder on each other.

    She said she'd love him, and he basked in the knife after that. The others sang and John thought it was for him. He swayed there, on his knees, and could pick up the scent of her intimate salts, as they were being stirred and whisked by the steady thrusts of Kell. John looked longingly at the woman he loved, even as he was made into a canvass of moving crimsons for her. He thought she was the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen, fucked to this insanity by another man. He choked willingly on her fingers, and felt gratitude roil in his belly.

    Kell watched her. John was the closest things she had to a conventional love, and she eagerly burned him with bleeding flames for this. He laughed darkly again, and the crowd hummed with that, growing fond of his amusement, the decisive nature of it. He let her have her fun with the henchmen who'd been consumed by the moment, littered with outlets for his pumping heart. Kell had the best prize here, and she was showering him in devotion as the ritual went on.

    His cock rocked in her on its own when she pleaded. Beautiful Lotte, her own mother's murdered, impaled by him so soon after he'd done the same with father. They were tandem souls, ready to bathe in worship. His scepter in her kingdom. He pulled her golden threads so hard he bent her head back to look at him, upside down. The crowd watched their Oracle contorted. They should have been worried for her sinew and bones, but they knew she wasn't human anymore. Their holy maiden begged - how formidable Kell must be!

    He looked at her with dark eyes then, like any hero at the junction of his great triumph, and the people complained and begged him too. Suddenly they were modest about Charlotte's worth, just as she had been. They pleaded as John had his arms out, swaying with his lack of balance from the sensation of all her cuts. His poor, smaller, now gushing, bloody limb was still hard as he gurgled on his own, the slit in the bulb finally pouring out his white product onto the stone. Nobody saw when he reached his sensual zenith.

    Kell let her go, and the people inhaled when her head sprang forward from its sudden lack of restraint. He turned her again, and laid himself down, back to the stone. There was a merciless bucking after that, the lovely, light girl bouncing on his hips both by his upward thrusts and his hold on her waist. As his crescendo neared, she was of course wrecked faster, and they were all livid with their emotional participation of the claiming of her body and mind.

    He breathed harder, and the crowd almost panicked, ripping itself apart when he pushed up into her a final time, delivering his human essence into her goddess womb. They cried and a sea of hands tried to sink the immovable stone table. The innocent girl had been fully transformed by their prince's signature, soaking into her inner. When John fell back no one caught him, and everyone called for their beautiful Oracle, and were eager to see what the seeding would do to her.
     
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  20. Teneo Lupum

    Teneo Lupum damned if you do, damned if you don’t Member

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    John danced for her, swaying on his feet as the crimson blood ran freely down his side and between his legs. She loved him for that; she loved that he so willingly bled for her. The Oracle loved him and because the Oracle loved him, Charlotte loved him. After all, weren’t they one and the same? Wasn’t the Oracle simply Charlotte being released from the bonds that held her?

    Now, there was only Lotte and Kell, the only two that mattered as they completed the ritual that would save everyone. Listen to their song, listen to how they sing in anticipation of their salvation. She was upside down now, bent in half so prettily for her prince, shining eyes locked onto his dark ones. She loved him so much in this moment, so much that it didn’t matter that her earthly body was not meant to bend so sharply, so much that the people did not matter. Only he mattered.

    Her hands moved on their own, delicate white fingers like spiders as they tiptoed along her sides and stomach, feeling for the perfect spot. It was located and those gentle fingers tightened. Sharp nails bit into her skin, opening it so she could bleed for them. Charlotte’s red mingled and mixed with the father’s blood drying on her skin. The Oracle and the Ovrem mixing on her skin. Voices rose to proclaim the wonderfulness of the joining.

    He released her golden hair and quickly moved her once more, his toy to manipulate into the correct position. Her movements were no longer her own, controlled as they were by his hips. Pale blood-covered arms flew outward, a cruel mockery of a crucifixion as she added her own voice to the song of the people. Reaching hands snuck over the edge of the stone table, fingers grabbing and sliding across the skin of the fucking couple. But that did not matter to the girl. All that mattered was the man below her and inside her.

    That final blessed push filled her with a rush of sudden heat, her eyes wide as her head dropped, her chin almost meeting her chest. The multitude fell silent, waiting with bated breath for the Oracle. Silence hung and lingered until the people gnashed their teeth and tore at what little garments remained.

    Large eyes burned with a holy flame as her gaze lifted, first locking with the prince sprawled below her. “The virgin will conceive and give birth to a son.” Her voice was low yet carried a seductive authority. This was the poisonous one and her words were for her prince.

    "Your descendants will be like the dust of the earth, and you will spread out to the west and to the east, to the north and to the south. All peoples on earth will be blessed through you and your offspring.” This was the Oracle and her words were for the people. They gasped as one, crying out their excitement. Wasn’t this what they had been waiting for? The knowledge that it was they who would rule the world? That it was they who walked the one righteous path?

    "I will bless those who bless you, and whoever curses you I will curse.” With these words, her eyes traveled around the room, making contact with those who could stand to look at her in all her glory. Her fingers danced in her own blood as it trickled down her stomach. It was her blood she used to mark the man on the table beneath her, carefully drawing the circle-line symbol on his forehead. He was the anointed one, consecrated with her blood on his head and his cock.

    Two of the men approached the stone table and took her under the arms, one on each side to support her slight weight. Poor Charlotte was depleted and slumped against them. They did not dare remove her from the side of their new leader. Instead, they formed a throne from their arms for their oracle and held her aloft so the people could see her.

    Jarek’s blood was dry on her body but Kell’s essence was wet on her thigh, the Ovrem men claiming her as their own, each in their own special way. The blonde head fell to rest against the shoulder of the man to her right. He shuddered in delight at her touch, breathing in the perfume of warm copper that clung to her skin. He too had been chosen, not in the same way as John, but in his own way and he relished the small favor she provided.

    The Oracle was there now but after one blink of those fiery eyes, Charlotte appeared briefly, her whole face softening and confused. One more blink and the girl was gone, replaced once more by the woman. “Arise, my prince. Arise and lead us to our redemption.” As she spoke, one arm extended, her hand reaching for Kell.
     
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