The Original Sin

Marguerite was never quite sure what made her stir from the mists of darkness that enveloped her mind. The faint echoes of female whimpering or the insistent whispering of her name.

A light tapping of her face strengthened the effort to open her eyes, the struggle against heavy lids for vision.

"William..what is happening?" Marguerite could not recognise her voice, a slurred wisp.

William had a wild look of despair in his eyes.

"I am so sorry. I should never have..."

"Troubled by doubts, my dear Strafford?"

The note of mockery was unmistakable in the strange disembodied voice that suddenly rang out. William visibly stiffened at the sound of the voice.

"Please, let us stop this. She has not seen any of the members nor does she know what is taking place," William pleaded as he turned to face the speaker.

Marguerite faintly glimpsed a masked figure all in black that stood to the front of William. Abruptly aware of the strange surroundings, Marguerite tried to focus on the flickers of light on the unfamiliar walls. Walls that looked roughly hewn out of stone. The first slivers of panic sliced through her.

"Have you forgotten, my dear Strafford, how you were ranting about this whore just this fortnight past. How this faithless whore threw you over for a duke." The ugly sneer was clear.

"Have you grown soft? Remember, she weds Monmouth in a week."

William's face flushed a dark red as he snapped at the figure in black. "I recall all of that perfectly, but this was not what I had in mind when you proposed punishment. Nor did I think that this was what the Brotherhood meant."

Cold steel ran in the dark figure's voice as he gripped William's shoulder. "It is too late, my dear Strafford. The brothers have gathered and I would not try to deny them if I were you." The slump in William's shoulders reflected the triumph in the figure's voice.

"What is happening, William?"

Panic lent strength to her voice as Marguerite tried to make sense of a situation that was rapidly becoming sinister.

The tears gathering in William's eyes as he stared in defeat made her blood run cold.

Suddenly, she noted what had been a niggling thought at the edge of her mind. He was in black robes like the strange figure, only his face was not covered by a mask.

"Ahh, my dear, you've woken from your slumber in time to join us for the main event of our congregation."

As he drew closer, Marguerite noticed the ornate black mask that obscured half of the man's face, leaving only a glimpse of thin lips drawn into an ugly sneer beneath cold eyes. Eyes hidden in the shadows of the mask tied tightly over a head of light brown hair.

"Welcome, my brothers, as we celebrate this holy day, you are all invited to partake of this feast that our new member has provided for us as a fitting end to his novitiate."

The flare of light, as numerous candles were brought into the dark room, illuminated the dark room. However, the light did little for Marguerite, who found herself staring into a pit of black despair as she noted the group of nine men in masks and full black robes with the sign of a flame emblazoned on the front of their robes and masks. They were flanked by a larger group of men dressed in black shirts and breeches loosely secured by black ties roped around them.

Her eyes widened as she glimpsed the origin of the whimpers that prompted her return to consciousness. Stretched out and bound to wooden pillars on a raised platform was the lithe figure of her cousin, Cicely. Uncomprehending terror stared out of those beautiful green eyes, so like her own, as barely muffled screams alternating with whimpers streamed out of her gagged mouth.

Recollection descended swiftly to fill the blank of Marguerite's mind as she took in details of the scene before her. William had begged for a meeting near the gardens they frequented as children after she had rejected his numerous letters pleading for her to call off the wedding. She had brought her maid and Cicely who was curious about his persistence, having met William briefly at her first ball in the last month. William had launched into the usual pleas and despite her kind intentions, Marguerite was starting to feel irritated. Before she could make her excuses and politely leave, they were set upon by three men, whose faces were concealed by handkerchiefs. As she started to scream, a damp sweet smelling cloth was pressed to her face and all faded into darkness.

As realisation dawned, Marguerite turned her head to stare accusingly at her childhood friend, who was studiously avoiding her eyes.

"Why?"

The question went unanswered as regret flashed across William's face.

The sneering figure in black stroked his fingers down Marguerite's chest, bringing instant recognition of her state of undress. Panic coursed through her veins as she realised she was bound like her cousin and spread naked in front of the restive, leering male audience. The smell of fear mixed with that of male arousal as Marguerite struggled in vain with the ties that bound her to the wooden pillars of the surface she was laid out upon. The sneering figure raised the wooden support under Marguerite's neck and shoulders, giving her a clearer of the audience and her cousin.

"You should not waste your energy, my dear. You will want to conserve your strength for enjoying the festivities of the night," he mocked as he proceeded to pinch her nipple. He cruelly increased the pressure of his grasping fingers as pain flashed in her eyes.

"No!"

That scream merely brought laughter from the male audience surrounding her.

Another figure in black emerged from the group and addressed the audience. The air of command was unmistakable in his stance. Light reflected off his blonde hair and the ring on his hand, swallowed eventually by the black robes that swirled around him.

"Our brothers, as you have probably heard, our latest member and the master celebrant have arranged a surprise for our celebration this Midsummer's Eve," he announced amid cheers from the audience.

"However, this surprise necessitates some special rules." Looking at each of the leaders, he continued in deliberate, harsh tones that brooked no argument. "This lady is the reserve of the leadership of our brotherhood and the member whose guest she is. No one, not even the leadership, is allowed to leave bruises on her in any way."

He held up his hand as murmurs swept through the crowd, halting the rising dissent that had the sneering figure starting forward in protest.

"You do not wish to challenge me, do you, master celebrant?" The menace in his voice and manner warded off further protest from the brown-haired figure with the ugly sneer. Sulking, the master celebrant backed off with obvious reluctance.

Hope rose in Marguerite's heart as she pleaded with the blonde leader who was inexplicably familiar. "Please, please, cease this and release us, we will never mention this to anyone."

The blonde man visibly winced as he cast his eyes upon Marguerite and glanced round the audience. In a soft voice laced with regret that reached only her ears, he crushed the last flickers of hope in her breast. "I am sorry, my dear, making you the reserve is the best I can do. There is nothing I can do to completely deny the brotherhood its enjoyment of the Midsummer feast."

As Marguerite's eyes went flat with despair, he sought to increase what little comfort he could throw her way.

"I will not be part of it, but I cannot say the same for the rest of the leaders or," he flicked a scornful glance in William's direction, "indeed, your friend who has brought you and your companions as sacrifice on this day."

Marguerite turned her head away in fear and despair.

The clink of cups brought her attention back to the scene. The sneering figure was raising a toast, "Drink up my brothers, for our annual feast shall begin." Marguerite raised her head and stared in horror as the men swallowed drams of powder mixed into their cups of mead. Only the blonde leader abstained. The smell of male arousal rose and was overwhelming as the front of their robes tented with obvious animal desire.

Despite her determination not to allow visible signs of her fear to appear in front of the audience, the blonde leader saw the slight trembling that had began in her limbs. Taking pity on her, he brought a cup to her lips. "Drink this, it will help. A sedative has been added and it will help with the pain. You do not want to be fully conscious for what is to come."

Although she turned her head away from the cup, the man held her nose and forced half the liquid down her throat. The glint that played off the ring caught her attention, but the numbing effect of the drink and drug took effect even as she tried to recall where she had seen the ring.

A terrifying scream tore through the air as the blonde leader turned away from Marguerite. Her head whipped round as a scene of terror unfolded before her eyes.

The sneering figure had taken off her cousin's gag even as he bent and bit savagely into Cicely's breast. When he lifted his cruel mouth, blood started to well around Cicely's left nipple.

Cicely's voice pitched higher as she begged him piteously between sobs. "Please cease, please.. I am untouched.. please..."

Her attacker paid no need to her cries. He had parted his robes with one hand and was stroking the weapon between his legs with the other. It was an ugly red monster curved like a scimitar that leaked whitish fluid as it grew more erect. Cicely's cries and struggles became frantic as she stared in horror as the weapon between her assailant's legs as he advanced upon her.

Marguerite closed her eyes in helpless despair even as Cicely wailed. "Save me, Marguerite! God, please save us!"

The attacker paused only to gesture an offer to the blonde leader to begin the proceedings. Upon the refusal of the leader, he advanced on his prey with a cruel smile of anticipation.

"You would do better to pray that Priapus and Dionysus do not visit a babe upon you after we initiate you on this holy eve!"

Cicely's prayers turned into choked screams as the cruel assailant threw himself upon her and brutally thrust himself into the tender nether lips and rammed past her maidenhead. As he pounded her relentlessly, screams of pain erupted from Cicely's throat, which, perversely, excited the rest of the group.

They stroked themselves, groaning lewdly as they watched the male figure bite and grope Cicely's white breasts whilst he battered her lower portal. The animalistic shout he gave as he came inside Cicely was echoed by their cheers as he collapsed upon the shaking girl. Cheers that turned into unrestrained lust as Marguerite's maid, Mary was dragged naked into the crowd and bent over the platform next to Cicely. Two impatient members of the audience began savaging Mary.

When he finally pulled out of the poor girl, a stream of blood and cum dribbled out of Cicely's bruised nether lips. Smiling cruelly at both women, the rapist walked towards Cicely's face, contorted in pain and overrun with tears. "You will clean me with your mouth and do not think of biting me unless you want a further lesson in pain."

Cicely's face was obscured from Marguerite's view as the rapist thrust his weapon into her mouth. Another leader took his place between Cicely's thighs and resumed her torture.

Marguerite had squeezed her eyes close, refusing to bear witness to her cousin's ordeal. Her eyes sprang open, however, as she felt something slap her cheek. She opened her eyes to find the ugly weapon of Cicely's first assailant in her face as he leered at her.

"Your friend has made me hard again to plough your noble little cunt, should you not thank her?" The rapist mockingly asked. Marguerite steeled herself for what was to come. Yet, the brutal thrust of his male weapon into Marguerite's dry portal tore a muffled scream from her throat. The attacker stared down at himself, seeing no visible signs of a ruptured maidenhead.

"So the rumours are true, you are no virgin, you are a dirty whore!", he leered as he laughed derisively in the direction of William. "She's been plying her wares to the duke, my friend. You were right to bring her in for our feast. We will punish this dirty whore as we enjoy a duke's preserve!"

Marguerite sought to detach herself as the assault continued, willing her body into unresponsive numbness and filling her mind with images of her fiancé's beautiful, kind face.

When her attacker grunted and came in her, she barely flinched. Even as the rest of the leaders took their turns rutting on her, she was unresponsive. Only when William took his place between her thighs, did she allow any expression to cross her face. The look of contempt perversely triggered the hidden cruelty in William, who poured the rage, jealousy and disappointment of the last months into his rape of the woman he believed he loved above himself. Mindless thrusting and punishing her, he came without joy. Terrible shame followed as he snapped out of his madness and was aware of Marguerite's scorn and hatred. He looked down at himself with disgust as cum dripped off him.

"I_I_ am so sorry..." he stuttered.

"You animal..." Marguerite spat out before merciful darkness claimed her.

Searing pain brought Marguerite back to the nightmarish world she had briefly escaped. The source of it was made clear when she raised her head and saw the red brand on her left thigh, it was the flame that marked the masks and robes of the Brotherhood. They had marked her like an animal.

Before pain sent her back into oblivion, Marguerite glanced round and glimpsed the horror that had been visited upon Cicely. Blood smeared her mound and covered her legs, forming a pool intermingled with white cum. Her pale, lithe form was covered in bruises and bites. Her swollen mouth covered in crusts of dried blood and cum. Her eyes, while open, were blank and unseeing. Only the slight rise of her chest as she breathed indicated any signs of life. Even when they applied the brand to her, Cicely made no sound. Mary, who appeared in a similar state, had curled up, her limbs not being bound to the pillars as Marguerite's and Cicely's were. Her eyes were closed as tremors shook her body and her face contorted in pain. A hoarse croak of pain barely audible came from the girl as they branded her.

"I said no one was to leave any marks on her," the blonde leader roared in fury as he returned and saw the brand that had been applied to Marguerite.

The argument between the leadership made little impression on Marguerite as darkness started to reclaim her senses.

When Marguerite woke to the new dawn on the steps of her fiancé's residence, she found herself gripped in his shaking embrace.The new dawn had brought the darkness of the new life that one fateful night had bestowed upon her.