wandering through the mists, the ground just soft enough to muddy the shoes. who was she? the last several days seemed to have no meaning. she couldnt recall any details of them at all. she had no idea what this forest was, but the mists were just cold enough to cause her to shiver.
under other circumstances she would have seen the beauty all around her. beauty in every shadow, beauty in the hanging moss, beauty in the ancient trees surrounding her.
she walked and knew she was tired, but she knew she must continue her journey.
she dimly recalled a face...a strong, somewhat cruel face that both terrified and aroused her.
the breeze blew gently as the light faded and brightened as the mist moved past her. the light was from the moon, but seemed to light her way adequately.
the face kept appearing in her mind even when she tried to think of other things, but who was he? why was he so terrifying and why did he make her stomach feel tight with desire?
she recalled other memories. walking through new orleans with her college friend, having benets at the cafe du monde, walking by the river, looking at the boats, having dinner at couvant on magazine street and enjoying the flow of the humanity on the sidewalks as music drifted out of several bars and the street corner musicians plied their trade. she remembered joking with her friend that she half expected one of anne rice's vampires to appear to carry them away. her friend giggled at the suggestion, but she associated all vampires with tom cruise since they had seen that movie, and she had a huge crush on tom cruise, even though she had been told he was very short.
ah, now she recalled when she met the man. he was standing by her elbow smiling when she noticed him, and he asked her with a deep but almost musical voice, if she was a fan of vampires.
he wore a light tan linen suit with a vest, and the collar of his shirt was open. he exuded masculinity without feeling the need to draw more attention to himself.
(there will eventually be more to this...it was an experiment in just writing without giving myself any direction, just free form writing. i dont want this to become too predictable, and right now, if i were just reading this, id have definite ideas about what would happen next. unfortunately life has a certain predictability so A often leads to B....but how boring is that? so, i need some time and space to ruminate on where i can take this, and time to actually write it. it may be done in a week or a month, or longer. when i finish, ill do so as a different entry and ill include the beginning so you dont have to look for it. )
Noooooo. You cannot just leave it at that! Ergh! That is soooooo annoying. I was fully engaged in that story and now it is on a cliffhanger! What happens next? Does the man find her again? What happened for her to lose her memory? So many questions!! Now I will sit in my corner and cry 😭. Get the next chapter up ASAP!!! Pleeeeeaaaaasssssseeeeeee!!!!
Less "smutty" than my last tale, this one still has some rough parts.
viewer discretion is advised.
She staggered through the door, tears running down her face. She had been walking home from the small market she enjoyed buying from, but this one time, on her way home several teen boys stepped in front of her.
She tried to walk around the youths, but she realized this was a local gang that was known for doing whatever they liked to the defenseless. Stealing, beating, raping, murder, nothing was too low for their "code". They all were talking at her, but in her fear, she could make out very little of what was said. One of the bigger ones backhanded her, knocking the groceries from her hands and leaned into her face.
"Bitch, you think you are special? You have to pay the tax to walk down this street. Havent you heard? We own the night around here."
At that moment someone reached out and grabbed her purse, and another grabbed her by her hair and pulled her off balance.
She had been abused terribly at the age of 10, and had really never completely recovered. Her PTSD kicked into high gear, and as the boys moved closer, she screamed and screamed. They tried to quiet her, first with slapped then a punch that took her breath away. One of them started to drag her towards an abandoned building, which she instinctively knew she wouldnt be leaving if they got her in there.
"What the hell are you doing?"
Looking up, she saw two policemen that had just stepped out of a car. Did they hear her screams? At this point she didnt care, as one of the boys pulled a pistol, and fired in the direction of the police. They lost interest in her, and she took the opportunity to run as fast as she could, all the way to her home, losing both of her shoes but not caring.
Once home, the tears ended fairly quickly, but she had to run to the toilet to vomit the contents of her stomach out. While they had "only" had the chance to rough her up, she still was living in a moment of horror that wouldnt go away. She shed her clothes and staggered into the shower where she turned the water on full hot, then slowly folded in on herself, just sitting in the corner of the shower, weeping.
She became aware of him at some point...five minutes, an hour, two hours? He just stood outside of the shower, waiting.
He was her lover and her friend, and so very much more. At the moment he was a rock to cling to in the storm of emotions she was feeling, and she opened the shower door and launched herself into his arms.
"What is wrong darling? What happened?"
He stood silently holding her as she spilled out the story, withholding no details. She could sense his anger, held deep inside, but he wouldnt show it to her. His anger frightened her even if it had never been directed at her, and she knew he would keep his rage within.
Finally they sat on the edge of the bed together. He gently said "Do you still want to remain as you are? You need never fear such trash again you know."
He had offered her unending life and unending youth several times, (after he had proven that he wasnt a semi insane roll player), but she had always said no. She was content with her life, with aging, with just being a person. She still couldnt believe that the creature beside her had stolen her heart; no, not stolen...she had freely given it to him.
After tonight however, existence suddenly had become inverted. She looked into those eyes of his that seemed to extend to an eternal well of sapphire, and finally she nodded. "Yes, make me strong, make me never fear again."
He smiled. "I cannot make you strong, as you have always been strong. You just dont realize how strong you are within".
His words had that cheesy ring that always made him sound like he was out of an old movie, but she still was able to smile, feeling his love for her.
"I dont care if it hurts, just do it my love. I want to just be with you forever."
He slowly smiled that special smile he had for her. "And so you shall".
The next night she returned to the little grocery, and talked to the owner. He had seen the punks attack her, and while he knew they would kill him if he interfered, he had called the police, and a car had been close. He told her the police had caught one of them , but the rest had gotten away, including the huge one that was their leader, then he offered her a ride home so there were be no repeat of last night.
"Thanks Sam", and she smiled at the little grey haired man, "but Im really looking forward to this walk". She walked out as Sam shook his head thinking the poor girl was crazy, but had he seen the smile on her face, he would have seen the strength there, as well as the anger. Perhaps he would even have felt a little sorry for the gang members.
This story has it all...extreme adult themes, violence, etc. Not for the faint of heart. If you are easily triggered, I suggest you skip this one.
If you are still reading, hope you enjoy.
Sister Agatha loved this time of the day the very best. Once a month the Mother Superior gave the young nun a special dispensation to stay behind at the old church that she helped to care for, and to pray into the nighttime hours. She often would have a short prayer, then just sit and listen to the night sounds outside, and enjoy the silence of the secluded old chapel before riding her bicycle back the 4 miles to the convent.
It never occurred to her that it might be dangerous as she knew the roads well, and this was a fairly secluded area with only the single lane road running between the convent and the old church, and then on to what others thought of as “civilization”.
In Agatha’s mind, they could keep their civilization and all of the noise and horror she associated with it. She had grown up in a largish family, and rarely ever got to enjoy simple quiet and solitude. Her parents alternated verbally abusing her and just neglecting her. She had always sought something more…something more meaningful to life. One day when watching a nun walking through a local park, she knew that she would be perfectly at home and at peace in a life of quiet reflection that being cloistered away would bring. She gave no thought at all to the loss of a sex life, as sexuality had never really been a part of her life.
At twenty two years old, Agatha was in the prime of her life, and the chores that were given for her to do around the church were long completed, and now she knelt at the alter. A casual observer would believe she was praying, but really it would be closer to the truth to say she was meditating: just emptying her mind of the distractions of the day and listening to the night birds and insects singing in the warm summer darkness. She was aware of the hard stone floor of the old church grinding against her knees, and she welcomed the pain as a focus. She softly sighed in pleasure to herself as she felt the warm summer breeze gently blow through the open windows and swirl against her.
“What do you pray for little one?”
a deep voice suddenly asked from behind her. Catching her breath, Agatha swiftly turned to see a man standing behind her. He was far enough away from her so that he wasn’t “in her space” but still, he walked some distance into the church. She couldn’t believe she didn’t hear the huge old wooden doors creaking open to admit the stranger. The nun struggled to get her heart beat and breathing under control as she said
“ I’m sorry, I didn’t hear you come in, you startled me”.
He was taller than average and slender with dark blond hair and striking blue eyes that she found very difficult to look at. He was dressed in tight clothing that was all black with a black leather trench coat.
“I am sorry to startle you sister, but I was hoping you would pray for my soul.” Was he slightly smiling?
“I would be happy to pray for you” she whispered. “Do you have an illness, or have you sinned against God?”
“You could say that I have both an illness, and I have sinned against God.” He smiled a most wicked smile then, and said in a very low voice “and I am about to again”.
Agatha had stood up as they were speaking, and now she involuntarily took a step back away from the strange man. He took a slow step in her direction as she said “What do you mean? If you feel you are about to sin, you must be strong and resist the will of Satan, and instead embrace the will of the Lord. If you do that you will find it difficult to sin, and your Illness may be wiped away by Gods infinite love.”
The man had stopped smiling. Suddenly at a speed that Agatha had trouble following with her eyes, He moved directly in front of her, and grabbed her throat in a hand that to her felt as if he had been holding a glass of ice water. She kicked out at him, but even though her kicks struck home, he just held her and looked at her with an expression that could only be described as “hungry”.
His voice now almost a growl rasped at her. “I don’t need or desire to have the love of your God, and I don’t seek his mercy. What I want of him is of a more …material nature.” With that his free hand tore open the front of her habit, exposing her simple undergarments.
She screamed in terror as the man, obviously mad, held her by her throat, just high enough that she had to stand on her tip toes so that she would not choke. He didn’t seem to be making any extra effort at all to hold her there, even though she weighed over one hundred and twenty pounds. His grip was like a piece of steel, and both of her hands couldn’t seem to move even a single one of his fingers. When finally she glanced at his eyes, he seemed to be genuinely entertained gazing at her partially exposed body, and also by her struggles. He hooked a finger of his free hand into her bra, and with a flicking motion ripped it from her terrified body.
Her nipples reacted to her fear and to the sudden exposure to cool air by hardening, which humiliated her. His finger traced a line down her belly to her sensible white cotton panties, and proceeded to rip those away as well, exposing her silky chestnut brown delta of Venus. He tore away the remnants of her clothing like it was made of tissue paper. Now the lovely young nun was left nude but for her wimple.
Agatha was now almost unconscious from the iron grip on her throat, and she was dimly aware of being roughly laid face down partially on the alter. Her chest and face were on the alter cloth, and her bottom was exposed in the air.
Suddenly a pain like a branding iron flashed through her young body and she became fully conscious again. Now she was aware that this evil man was spanking her naked bottom like a child! He was very slow and deliberate in his actions, and his strikes seemed to be taking almost no effort at all, almost as if he were just shooing flies away from his face.
The spanking went on and on, and she was aware of a terrible noise that seemed to come from a distance, but she realized that it was actually her own screams that she was hearing.
Just when it felt as if the flesh were about to fall off of her burning bottom he stopped the torture and whispered in her ear “That punishment was for daring to offer me to your God. He once took one that was dear to me, and now I am taking back one that is dear to Him. This is justice.”
She now felt his hand on her hips and he was moving behind her. Her shocked mind hesitated to contemplate what was happening to her even as she knew it was coming. With a ripping, tearing sensation, she felt his ice cold sex, huge in its lust, force its way into her virgin slit. Her shame was made even worse because she knew that he knew that he had awakened something within her, and that her sex was actually wet, even in her terror and confusion.
Thrusting into her, she saw flashes of light behind her eyes as the pain created a delirium in her mind that she had never experienced. Deeper and deeper he seemed to push into her, as each thrust literally pushed the breath out of her body.
The rape slowed down, and even through her agony, she felt almost as if this diabolical man in some strange way felt affection for her. She felt the sting of the second penetration as his long needle sharp fangs sank into her shoulder, and she felt his mouth on the wound, her hot blood squirting into his mouth. On and on the blood ran freely, as she grew steadily weaker being violated in two ways right on the alter of the old church that was her only love.
A kind of peace descended on the girl as the angel of death slowly bent to embrace this daughter of a merciful God, when she tasted a cool metallic liquid on her lips. As the blood dripped from the wrist of the vampire (for that is what he was) into her mouth, the Angel of Death recoiled from the nun…she would never now be his.
Eternity for Agatha began that night. She no longer prayed to God, but preyed on the servants of that same God. Nuns, priests, sometimes even a bishop would die in strange circumstances. They would always be found nude in their bed, their faces a mask of passion, but having died of severe anemia.
Sometimes when the moon is bright, she can still be seen walking with a man in the darkness. If one was close enough to hear them speak (and survived to tell the tale), his name was never heard from her lips. Instead, she only called him….Father.
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