Dar Pleasure

The young peasant woman watched as the Queen’s procession seemed to glide down the dirt pathway. Her conveyance was the burden of eight oiled and muscled eunuch slaves, working in unison, their flesh rippling with accustomed exertion. The white gauze to protect their fair Mistress from the blazing sun, twisted in a flirtatious dance billowing out about them.

Well manicured fingers grasped the swirling whiteness that surrounded her haven and pulled it back to gaze at her offerings with flashing eyes. She found that bright green eyes met hers unflinchingly. There was awe in those pooled depths, but no fear. A smile curved her brightly painted mouth. Yes, she was the one.

The young woman was startled to look up and find herself gazing into the Queen’s eyes. She found that she could not look away, the opalescent stare captured her so completely. She trembled as the Queen’s mouth pulled away from her sharp teeth in what could only be called the smile of a predator. The woman wondered if this was to be her last breath for her disrespect.

An elegantly formed pale arm motioned for her to come near. The woman walked, gracefully barefooted, to where the Queen motioned.

“Do you know what it is, to be the Queen’s favorite?” Her voice was melodic, entrancing, stealing her will.

The woman shook her luxurious golden tresses in denial.

“If you would but show me.” She said defiantly, shrugging off her filth as if she were royalty herself.

The Queen saw the fire of her spirit, and the desire to break it coiled in her belly with the burning hunger only known to the damned. Her incisors peaked at the thought, pricking her own tongue, drawing blood.

“What is your name?” she demanded.

“I am called Kiernan, your Majesty.” The peasant answered.

“Kiernan.” The name rolled off of her tongue as honey. “Kiernan, are you promised?”

“I am promised to the temple.” Kiernan replied with disgust.

“No longer. You will come with me.” She pulled aside the gauzy whiteness further to allow Kiernan admission to her pillowed Eden.

Kiernan was lifted up by one of the tanned eunuchs, his large browned hands encircling the smallness of her waist, to take her place amongst the silk. The Queen leaned over her, pushing her tresses from her face. A long white finger trailed a path down her cheek, brushing lightly over her full lips, trailing down her neck, following the path of her carotid artery down, then coming to cup the curve of her full breast.

“Yes, I think that you will do nicely.”

Kiernan shivered as perfect fingers caressed her flesh and she unwittingly arched into the touch. A burning serpent coiled between her thighs, ready to strike.

“Is this what it is, to be the Queen’s favorite?” Kiernan asked, her words thick, as desire dripped from every syllable.

Unearthly, but ultimately feminine laughter carried on the slight breeze. “There is so much more.”

The Queen lay back against the masses of silk, her raven hair fanning out about her, bringing midnight to the brightness of the day. She motioned airily and the conveyance began to move steadily toward the rising towers in the distance.

Kiernan could not stop staring at the dark goddess. The perfect rigidity of her ethereal countenance splashed with the voluptuous red plumpness of lips that bespoke life and death entranced her completely. She found herself again staring into eyes that mirrored the ocean, sparkling as if the sun reflected in their eternal depths. Kiernan cast her eyes downward. A gentle hand stroked the curve of her cheek.

“Before this night is through, your eyes will not paint me with such light.” The Queen whispered into the delicate shell of Kiernan’s ear.

Kiernan shuddered as the warmth of the Queen’s breath danced across her skin. She closed her eyes and inhaled deeply.

“What do you want, little Kiernan?” The melodious voice mocked her.

“I want to serve my Queen.”

“Are you so eager then, to serve the Night? Do you not fear death?” The lush lips brushed against her ear and her throat, a delicate contrast to the sharp words they spoke, sending shivers down her spine.

Arienne’s eyes feasted upon the bounty splayed before her. She could scent the desire screaming from the warm flesh. Her rushing blood was a cacophony of temptation, echoing, deafening in her sensitive ears. How eager this she seemed to serve her Queen, to know the forbidden touch of her own.

Arienne knew that after the sun fell to rest below the sky, that the younger woman would hate her, she would hate with the same burning passion that was now adoration. But the sadness of age and the finality of death would never touch the spun halo of her golden hair. The creeping rot that was time would never leave its mark burned into her soft sun-kissed skin. She would stay thus, for eternity.

Her knowing mouth came to rest softly on Kiernan’s lips. She eased Kiernan’s mouth open, guiding her tongue inside to taste her. Arienne felt hands taut with tension entwine into her masses of hair and urge her closer.

Arienne wrapped her own arms around Kiernan and deepened the kiss, their tongues parrying and thrusting in mimic of coitus. Her hands traveled the arched invitation of Kiernan’s body, sliding across the roundness of hip she so coveted. The thrust of her incisors piercing the supple flesh of her lip shocked Arienne into pulling away.

“Majesty?” A dazed Kiernan questioned, her eyes half lidded- smoky with unfulfilled desire.

“We have arrived.” Arienne replied airily. She took one last look at Kiernan, savoring the innocence.

A servant kneeled in front of the conveyance, and Arienne stepped down onto his back, and down to the well- woven carpet the was laid before the massive stone doors. With a dismissive waive of her hand, the doors opened into a great hall.

Kiernan was wide-eyed as she was led into the lavishness of the hall. Its massive pillars rose hundreds of feet into the cathedral-like ceiling and finely spun tapestries of crimsons and purples hung , heralding the show of wealth that was to come. Rows of heavy hand-carved tables were laden with untouched fruits and meats, the scents tantalizing her empty stomach.

A goblet of blown glass was thrust into her grasp by unseen hands. The liquid was dark and rich and the goblet was warm in her hands. She held the heady ambrosia to her lips and downed the richness with one burning swallow. The heat spread down through her body, running through her veins like liquid gold. A dizziness grasped at her consciousness; pulling her down into the darkness, cradling her in its shadow. She felt strong hands grasp her before the impact of stone floor.

Night had fallen when Kiernan extracted herself from induced rest. She lay in a soft bed amidst an oasis of overstuffed pillows. A candelabra of brightly burning candles sat on the table next to the bed, and a fire burned in the great blackened hearth. And next to the fire a porcelain bathing tub had been left for her, its contents steaming, filling the room with the scent of rose petals.

Kiernan sighed, staring longingly at the bath. Her limbs were still heavy and warm, and the soft bed bade her to keep her place. She felt the unseen hands glide across her flesh again, guiding her, pulling her to the bath. Kiernan allowed the alien touch to bid her where it would and the gently burning warmth increased in its pleasure and intensity as she followed its whim.

She sank into the luxuriously heated water; the hands continuing their task on her scalp, scrubbing and massaging. The unseen touch finished with her hair and began on her arms, the water following an unknown will; soothing and soft.

The touch became hesitant as it slid over her generous breasts, centering on the rosebud tips of ever-hardening nipples. Kiernan sighed as it crept down the flatness of her belly, urging between her thighs. Her legs fell apart of their own volition, allowing the sweet caress to wander into her womanhood.

It was a tentative touch, the slight parting of her labia, the soft touch barely upon her clitoris. She gasped aloud. Then it slipped down further, daring to creep inside of her flesh, to fill her.

Without warning, a great gust of wind blew open the door; snuffing her candles and chilling the water, leaving her in abject darkness. A hooded figure stood in the doorway, filling it, dominating all with its presence.

She saw two burning coals within the black abyss of the hood, and she opened her mouth to scream, but found she could not. Terror settled within her like the weight of death. A skeletal hand motioned to Kiernan and she rose from the water, her nakedness and vulnerability exposed for it to see.

A muffled sound which could only have been approval echoed like the sigh of shadows throughout the room. Kiernan found herself entranced by the hellfire that burned in that hood and walked toward it. A silk scarf was placed across her eyes, drawing her into an even deeper darkness.

She was carried through many twisting corridors and there was a cold to the arms that held her, a frigidity that was soul deep. Kiernan felt the shadows change, the hissing caress recede as she was set down.

Kiernan waited for the light to emerge from the darkness, but it did not. She knew that many gazed on her body for it grew hot under the intensity of the stares. Then she heard the melodic voice of the Queen. She longed to call out, to seek the woman’s protection, but she found that she could not speak.

“Her purity is unchallenged?” Arienne asked.

There was not a sound in the chilled silence.

“Let it begin.”

A voice unlike any she had ever heard before began speaking in a language that was unknown to Kiernan. As the voice intoned, the inflection became a melody and the warmth that had filled her before wrapped around her.

A hot mouth bit down upon her wrist, the teeth piecing her skin. There were hands on her breasts, weighing them each in turn, clammy fingers rolling her nipples between them. Foreign appendages crept up her thighs into her moist sheath, her body unwilling to obey her.

Kiernan knew that she should be fighting, knew that she should rail at this humiliation, but secretly, she yearned for the touch, the thrust between her legs. She wondered what horrible creatures were before her, that she had to be blindfolded and if it were these creatures that were exploring her flesh. The hands were human-like, but they lacked the warmth in touch, it was alien, foreign- and it thrilled her. She felt the draw to lie down and spread her thighs, aching to be claimed. She was compelled by some unnatural presence to be still. Did the Queen watch, with those unnaturally glittering eyes?

She remembered the feel of the knowing feminine mouth on hers. She licked her lips in anticipation. Kiernan then felt another mouth upon hers, hard and demanding. She yielded, opening and inviting. She was pressed back onto a table, and she felt steel come to rest on her wrists and heard the clink of chains. The same cold restraint clicked about her ankles and her legs were spread wide.

The heavy black silk was removed and even the soft light of the candle was harsh to her. She blinked several times, fearing to open her eyes, fearing what she would see, but unable to keep them closed.

She gasped at what stood before her.

The first thing she saw was a cock, long and thick, purpled with its intensity. Kiernan wondered at what it would be to wrap her hand around it, to touch it, to take it in her mouth.

A masculine voice spoke amid rumbling laughter. “Her body is pure, Majesty. But her mind is not.”

She followed the sound up the maze of hard muscles to wide shoulders, to a strong jaw, and into another pair of unnaturally bright eyes. They were blacker than the night, but they glittered, emanated light from a place where there was none. Black hair hung down over too pale skin and his smile was slashed by the teeth of a carnivore.

He began speaking again in the arcane language and Kiernan’s body began to tingle. Her breath caught in her throat, and her chest hurt as she struggled to take breath. Kiernan arched spasmodically, her muscles twisting and changing.

She felt a warm, thick viscous fluid slide down from between her legs. The unnatural glitter that was alight within all of the eyes in the room turned to a cold, hard fire.

The Queen was before her, staring at her with those same bright eyes. She wore a diaphanous gauzy gown, and with the candlelight surrounding her countenance, she was a dark parody of the Mother.

She knelt down between Kiernan's thighs, grazing her nails across the tanned flesh. Arienne’s tongue snaked out from between lush lips and tasted the flow of blood. She raised her head, a small trace of blood at the corner of her mouth.

“She is yours.” Arienne whispered and walked away, unable to watch what would happen. She was losing her relish for the violence, for sharing the consumption and destruction of innocence.

The large, swollen penis that had been before her, was now pressed into her mouth and urged down her throat. Kiernan thought that she would choke with the sheer breadth of it.

There were even more hands between her legs, and mouths as they lapped at her cyclic blood.

She was turned by strong hands, her chains twisting her arms as she was rolled onto her stomach, her mouth still full of the thrusting cock.

Kiernan felt a stinging smack on her buttocks, and she cried out. She heard the hissing voice in her head again and shadows began to block her vision. The dark-haired god was gone. The unseen hands that had touched her before, now stroked her hair and then she felt the touch of Death himself.

A skeletal finger slid into her bloody sheath. The sighing knell of approval echoed throughout the hall. Then it pushed through the veil of her maidenhead, thrusting and tearing.

She screamed a symphony of pain as the thrust became a long serpent tongue climbing into her womb, scraping the walls of her uterus, consuming all that it could tear free. The scraping and slurping echoed in her ears, drowning out the hissing calm that buzzed in her ears.

Kiernan knew it was the hooded figure that had come to her room that stood behind her, that consumed her flesh while she lived. She thought of death and her womanhood dripped; swollen with desire.

She was horrified at her own reaction, but the images refused to stop. Images of her throat being ripped open by all those biting teeth, images of her mouth covered in her own blood…the pain had become pleasure.

Kiernan felt those skeletal fingers again, probing her anus and she sighed. “Yes. Hurt me.”

She was abruptly shoved over onto her back to stare up at the horror before her; the rotted flesh of the walking dead, and she splayed her legs, offering whatever he would have.

The cloak parted, and a three- headed snake jutted proudly from where his cock should have been. It slithered forward, nudging the opening of her slit, scenting its prey, tasting. It thrust itself inside of her, squirming and slick. She felt the other head slide into her anus. It rammed into the tightness there, tearing and consuming. But the third, he displayed his power, hissing and baring his fangs. Those fangs sank into the flesh of her clitoris, not injecting venom, but suckling.

Kiernan grit her teeth as the swelling in her clitoris continued with the abuse of her body.

She was grabbed roughly by the hair, and teeth like that of a cannibal tore into her throat. Kiernan choked as her windpipe was crushed and her mouth worked a silent scream as she orgasmed against the thrusting, squirming reptilian cocks.

Her body became numb as the life blood flowed from her to gather around the table in an arcane sacrifice. Her eyes fluttered closed.