Laylah Yearning Pt 01

Prologue: An Inferno in the Night:

They burn, everything is burning.

The once proud building is engulfed in flames, a celebration to creation reduced to cinder and ash. Screams clutter the night air, those I once called my sisters writhe in field of flames. One jumps through a window, likely choosing to meet her end by the fall rather than the fire. Her end is spectacular, albeit brief, like a star plummeting to the earth.

I look briefly to the building where my chamber was located, now a similar inferno. I had left my habit there, now lost to the destruction ensuing around me. I expected to feel something as this all played out, some form of guilt or regret. It is the last vestiges of humanity in me that compels me to write this after all, yet I feel nothing beyond the overwhelming need for my own kind. My need for her.

She stands in the centre of the garden. Naked and beautiful. My loins moisten at the sight of her. Her presence reminds me that there is a big difference between one who used to be human, and one who never was. These flames are a testament to that. I thought she would be in the chapel to prove a point, but no. No claustrophobic building for her. She stood under the starlit sky in the open. Since my conversion I hate the stars, know them for the façade they are. Instead I had learned to peer into the abyss in between them, and glimpse the abhorrent wonders there.

Some of the sisters had escaped the flames and were in the garden, but upon seeing her their minds were broken. They had cast their robes into the flames and now opened their legs to offer themselves to her. At first they asked to be ruined by her with gleeful delight, then when she made no move to do so they began demanding it, then they wept and begged as it became clear she had no interest in them. She did not so much as look down at them, her pitch black eyes were on me.

It is me she wants.

It is me she has.

But I keep her waiting. Before I take the path of harlotry and enter the world of unending night, before I become a willing plaything for monsters, I feel the need to write this. Why, I know not. Perhaps, it is because these words are the only thing that will show that I once existed in this world. If so, then perhaps I will throw all this into the flames once done. Either way, I shall write this now. It is hard to know when to start since I had been led to this point since her creator first took an interest in me, whenever that was. So I shall begin with how I came to discover her.

1. The Monster in the Cellar:

"I heard a strange legend about this place."

"Is that so?" I could not keep the boredom from my voice. I knew what she would say, I had heard it several times.

"Apparently this cloister is still stricter than others because it has to be. They say a pious woman trapped a demon here long ago and that the prayers of you sisters keep it weakened. Some say it is a succubus, which is why men are never allowed here, as they would be lured by it."

I stood and stretched, already aching from tending the flower bed. It was a crisp morning, I could feel in the air that autumn was but a few days from rearing it head. Lisa had been trying to make light conversation with me most of the morning, but as usual I was busy being at war with my thoughts. She was not actually a member but a visitor, going through her 'discernment', which meant she was still deciding whether or not to become a nun. I myself was still only considered a novice, but after being here nearly two years I would soon take my first vows. I humoured her and forced a smile, the smile that once had men flocking to me, "So they say, I have never seen as such. However, see that door over there?" I pointed to an ancient looking thing partially concealed by a blackberry bush, how it had not rotted away or been consumed by woodworm was beyond my understanding. When Lisa nodded I went on, "It is said the demon is trapped down there, that door has not been opened for years. They say only the reverend mother knows where the key is and I'm not certain if that's really true."

Lisa, full of youthful enthusiasm, stared at the door wide-eyed, "No one thought to get it open and look?"

I laughed, "Of course, reality is it is just a wine cellar. It is where the vintage wine is aged so they only go down there every few years."

Lisa giggled and returned to weeding, "Wine with a dark legend always sells better no?"

I gave a smile and got back to it myself. After a moment of awkward silence Lisa gingerly piped up again, "So, if it is okay. May I ask what led you to becoming a nun here? Did anything in particular lead you to the Lord?"

I bit my lip, "That is personal, I would rather not discuss it."

Lisa winced, "Oh, sorry. I meant no offence."

"Nor am I. It is just a difficult subject for me." In truth it was not overly difficult to discuss, I just did not know how I could begin telling her. How could she believe me? How could I tell her that I felt imprisoned in my own body? That I could not keep myself from men? That I had had more men in me than a barracks. That I played the whore to the point that I did an act they said was so atrocious that I had to flee here? Of the hardship of ignoring my urges and not so much as seeing a man all this time. How could I begin to tell her of that and the nightmares I suffered each night which inspire me to do so? Which have me nearly fleeing from the convent in madness and lust. I noticed Lisa staring at me strangely and realised I was trembling. I shook the thoughts from my head, pushing my growing desire to one side, "Come, it is nearly time for the midday prayer. Will you join us?" Together, we made our way to the chapel.

*****

Yes, every time I grudgingly closed my eyes to slumber I was there. In that pitch black place I was naked and filled with such heat as to be unbearable. I would scream for something, anything to relieve me of this yearning. I would scream a demand that something violate me, use me, abuse me, into the black void. My cries would be swallowed up by that emptiness. Yet they always heard, they always rushed to me.

Monsters, how else could I describe them? They were so numerous and differing that I could spend centuries trying to describe them all, though some were so bizarre as to be beyond describing. Whether they did really hear me or detected my warmth I know not. But always they swarmed at me, satiating their eternal lusts on me, doing things to me that no mortal woman should be able to endure. Yet not only did I endure, I revelled in it.

As they thrust into me I gasped in pleasure, as they bit me I groaned in joy, as they filled every hole of me I knew only contentment. It hurt yes, but it somehow added to the ecstasy of it. It seemed to go on forever, every night felt like years in their frantic embrace. As they climaxed their orgasms thundered through my body, threatening to tear me apart.

Then I would wake.

I would gasp and sit up, feeling the heat and wetness between my legs. I learned to dig my nails into my palms to regain control of myself, to prevent myself running naked to the nearest city. Before joining the convent I did exactly that, prostituting myself feverishly until the sun rose. Now I prayed feverishly until the lust subsided.

Only the reverend mother knew of my insanity. During my first few days she obligingly agreed to lock me within my room each night. But, whilst the malady had never faded, I managed to hold myself in check these days. Managed to convince myself it was nothing more than a nightmare, a result of my traumatised mind.

How ignorant I was then!

******

A week later and Lisa went on her way to visit another convent. I could not help but breathe a sigh of relief for she was beginning to suspect that something unusual was occurring in our Order. She had requested to meet the reverend mother several times, but each time we had to politely explain that she was unwell and needed to be left alone. Unfortunately they did not think to agree what illness she has and ended up giving Lisa differing accounts of the reverend mother's symptoms.

As a novice, I was given the same excuses, but I simply did not care enough to press further. I was absorbed enough with tackling my perverse desires every day. However even I could not deny how mysterious it all had been.

We all woke late one night to the sound of something screeching hysterically outside. We rushed out to find none other than the reverend mother running around, completely naked and shrieking incoherently. Her closest assistants ran over to her and, after several minutes, managed to calm her. They threw a blanket around her elderly frame and guided the weeping creature inside. Most people took it as a sign that her age was finally catching up with her, she must have at least been in her eighties. Yet as we turned toward the chapel to begin prayers for her recovery I noticed the door to the wine cellar.

For as long as I had been there I had never seen it opened, but that night it stood ajar. Had the reverend mother been down there? Why did she go down there alone? More importantly, what happened down there that had disturbed her so?

Questions that, for me at least, were soon to be answered.

Sister Muriel, the reverend mother's closest assistant, intercepted me after morning prayers. It was still dark in the morning these days and I was keen to wrap myself in something warmer before setting to my daily chores. So to be stopped outside was a nuisance, yet one look at her pale face showed it was not for some mere triviality. "Good morning Sister Luci. Have you a moment?" When I shrugged her weathered face dropped its pretence. I knew she did not like me, as the reverend mother's closest companion she likely had some idea of my past. Even wearing my habit my beauty was apparent, I say this as simple fact rather than vanity. A beautiful woman who had her pick of men was something Sister Muriel certainly never was, and as such her envy of me had soured into hate, no matter that I had chosen the spiritual path over that old life. She took on a more authorative tone, "The reverend mother has requested a private meeting with you. Follow me please."

That caught my attention, I walked with her, "She has recovered?"

Muriel swallowed dryly, "No, which I why I urge you to be careful. Her mind has deteriorated badly. She has begun to say...disturbing things."

"What kind of things?"

Muriel thought about it, then shook her head, "I, cannot. Please, I do not want to panic the others. If she says terrible things to you, I ask that you keep it to yourself. I would not be bringing you had she not been demanding it for the past few days. She turned violent whenever I tried to put it off. Please."

I could see she was genuinely saddened by the reverend mother's decline. I sympathised. She had been like a wise mother to all of us. She took me in despite my supposed sins and had only ever supported me in my bid to regain some form of sanity. Now, I would soon learn, she had fallen victim to that very madness. "Of course, you have my word."

"I am grateful." We continued on in silence, traversing the stairway that led up to the reverend mother's quarters. Eventually we came to her door. When Muriel fished out a key to unlock it I realised just how bad she must be. She knocked, "She is here reverend mother, we are coming in now." With that she opened the door and we entered.

It was a lovely, though simple, room. Its main feature was the window offering a view of the Black Forest and the mountains. All the better to appreciate the Lord's creation, the reverend mother would say.

Now that wise and kind creature was curled in a corner, whispering to herself, eyes opened too wide. As we stepped in Muriel tried to speak while I could only watch in fascination. The reverend mother's head suddenly snapped towards me. As soon as her wild eyes alighted on me she began weeping, "I cannot be you, she does not want me. Why am I not like you? Why?"

Muriel tentatively stepped toward her, "I brought her as you asked."

With an agility belying her age she stood, revealing her naked and aged frame, "I am sorry Muriel. I, I had to know, before I died. I had never seen a vision, a miracle. I so wanted to. I am such a fool. But, I had to know if there is anything beyond this world. They told me never to go there, but I so wanted..."

"Now now." Muriel said soothingly as she drew closer.

The reverend mother screamed and pulled at her hair, making us both jump back, "Out, out! I must speak with her alone! Out!"

Uncertain, Muriel looked at me. I gave a slight nod, and Muriel hurried out, holding back tears. As soon as the door closed the reverend mother turned to me and giggled, "I should never have let you come here. But then all is to her design, I suppose it was inevitable really."

I considered what to say, but in the face of this what could I say?

The reverend mother continued on, "She demanded that I send you to her, said you belong with her kind. Do you understand? No of course you don't, but you will." She began pacing back and forth, "But I cannot survive your world! I am not you. She rejected me. I should never have gone down there. But you must."

"Where must I go?" I found myself asking, not sure I wanted the answer.

My words seemed to bring her attention back to me, "Ah yes, I must give it to you. A moment." I watched in stunned silence as she went to lie on her bed, opened her legs and reached down. I watched in amazement as her fingertips sank into her vulva, then her fingers, then her palm.

Was I horrified as I watched the reverend mother essentially fist herself? Yes, but at the same time it thrilled me also. I felt that familiar sensation in my loins that would set off my malady. Anyone else would have called for help to restrain her, but I simply watched with casual interest. Her groans of pleasure as she reached into herself were strangely melodious to me. I was never one for music, but right then I could have danced to her gasps. I found myself gasping when she finally pulled out her hand, her vulva squirting once she did so. That insane lust was gripping me again, demanding that I whore myself. It took all my will to hold it in check. I did not realise I was on my knees until I noticed the reverend mother standing over me. Her dripping hand was held out to me, proffering something metallic, "I could not let anyone else find it, I dare not risk it. So I put it where no one had been in years!" she laughed manically.

Still fighting my own body, I carefully took the key from her. "Where...?" I could manage no more.

She knelt with me and placed her hands around my face, smearing one side, "It opens the door to the wine cellar. Go there, go to her, go home. Remove that silly garment you cover that wondrous body with. To go to such a creature clothed is a greater sin than any committed in this world." She stood and stepped back, she began weeping again, "I am rejected. I am not you. I cannot go there. She does not want me!" I watched her say these things as she opened the window and crawled out of it. I would later say she overpowered me and dove through, but in reality I only watched as she calmly did so. I was both terrified and intrigued, her words resonating with something within me.

I stared at the window for long time after she had leapt. It eventually occurred to me I should scream or something to prevent any suspicion. It was strange how I could not react in the appropriate manner to such situations, strange and dangerous. I hid the key away and gave my best performance.

2. Made in Her Image:

I made no move to go to the wine cellar for the first couple of weeks.

A melancholy funeral was held for the reverend mother. We were all sad but I suspect Muriel was somewhat relieved also, at least no one else would have to see the once proud woman in that state. I tried to share in the grief, yet whilst grateful to her I struggled to feel much of anything. I kept going over her last moments in my head over and over, trying to establish some sort of sense in her ravings. The only answer I could conclude was that something in that cellar had unhinged her. In which case, why on earth would I want to go down there?

Yet it was as if the knowledge of that place had rechannelled my desires. Whenever I startled awake from my nightmare orgies I no longer felt compelled to run to the nearest settlement, but instead to that cellar. This was worse as it was closer and easier for me to get to. Every time I passed that door now I felt my loins burn and urge me to go down there. The feeling only got harder and harder to resist.

Eventually I could take it no more. I crept out and made my way to that door in the garden. It was a stormy night, the winds howled and rain pattered intermittently. It served to better conceal any sound I made. Just as well, as the hinges on that door squealed loudly as I hauled it open, the key fitting the lock perfectly. Keen not to be caught, I decided to close the door and lock it from within. Foolish I know, but I actually felt little fear going down there. Indeed, as I made my way down the cold stone steps my I felt my body tingle with delight.

I was to be disappointed. The stairs opened to a vast chamber filled with rows upon rows of wine caskets. Thankfully I had the foresight to bring a lamp with me, or I would have been blind in that place. I wandered the chamber, seeking what it was the reverend mother had seen, but saw nothing. I searched for nearly an hour, silently walking around aimlessly, nothing but the howling wind outside breaking the silence. My arousal continued to grow, however, to the point that I found my free hand drifting down to relieve me. Then I recalled what the reverend mother had said, how I must not present myself clothed. I giggled to myself. Why not? Noone else was there and I would be indulging a dead woman's wish. I removed my garments, folded them carefully and set them aside.

As I did so I saw the hatch. How did I not see it before? It was an enormous thing. I set the lamp to one side and hauled the door open. A ladder led down into pitch darkness. Feeling a growing excitement building in me I regained the lamp and made my way down. It went on for a fair way until I touched the rocky floor, I was in a cave of some sort. My breath misted in the air yet I did not feel cold, indeed my lust was making me hotter by the minute.

I followed this cave, admiring the crystals, stalagmites and tites as I did so. It seemed devoid of all life save for myself, and was eerily silent save for my flickering lamp and soft footsteps. Eventually I cursed when I nearly walked into solid bars set into the rock, preventing any further progression.

As I inspected the bars and looked around I exhaled in surprise. Around the bars and on them were carvings. Carvings of monsters, yes, of the monsters from my nightmares. It depicted them doing unspeakable things to people, unspeakable things that they did to me when I slept. Across the floor of the bars were engravings of a language that I did not know, yet somehow those alien words excited me more than anything, promised me delights no other could give. I screamed and dropped the lamp as, after all my efforts, my insanity consumed me again. I screamed with need, the need to give myself to those things, to be used by those monstrosities. I began to reach for the bars, hoping they would somehow take me to them, to allow me to be a whore for them eternally.

******

"Do not touch them, look away before you lose yourself. Foolish servant."

That unearthly voice, dripping with menace and depravity, somehow broke through my madness and helped me regain myself. I stumbled back and looked away from the bars. As soon as I did so I managed to quell my lust somewhat and regain my composure. Panting, I saw the lamp had not extinguished. I reached for it.