It was completely dark in the aged cathedral except for the hypnotic flickering of the large candles and massive, smoky smoking torches which cast eerie shadows along the rough stone walls. The air was intoxicatingly heavy with the smell of sandalwood incense and anticipation. There was a hushed silence except for the sounds of shifting robes and the breathing of nearly fifty people seated in stiff, straight wooden pews. Clad in black, they all sat motionless. A solemn, childish look of expectation was cast uniformly on their pale faces.
Six tall men in black robes stood rigidly at the front of the building rhythmically chanting an old (an ancient) dirge. They were surrounding a large granite dais that was in the center of the altar area. A pale male figure, stripped to the waist, was tied helplessly to the cold, black stone altar. Sweat glistened off his limp body. He occasionally tugged futilely at his solid leather binds. His hazy, drugged eyes blinked continuously as he tried to comprehend the danger he was in. The robed men paid little attention to him. Their eyes were raised, watching the entrance with rapt attention.
The heavy, wooden double doors silently opened. The crowd's eyes moved as one to gaze at the small hooded figure moving ethereally down the plush, crimson carpeted aisle up to the altar. Her feet did not even appear to touch the ground as she swayed up to the front of the church. All the crowd could see of the person was sharp blue eyes peering from the fold of the soft fabric. Two robed young boys who carefully carried candles and incense followed the tiny figure. The pale boys gazed at their leader with eyes filled with lust as they took their respective positions at either ends of the dais. The leader lithely stepped up, looked at her clergy, and nodded solemnly. Two of the solid men stepped closer and untied the strings of the long, velvet cloak that was tied around her long, shapely throat, letting it sink to the floor. The bound man gasped unintentionally as he gazed upon her lithe, flawless figure.
Their leader turned around and faced the crowd. Her drowsy eyes scanned the crowd for possible danger. She was a stunningly attractive, petite woman with a figure of a film noir heroine. She was clad in all black, from her tiny gloves to her dominatrix leather boots. The boned satin corset accentuated her fantastic hourglass proportions. The rigidity of the corset pushed up her large, milky white breasts creating cleavage that any Playboy bunny would be proud of. The soft black skirt was slit seductively high on either side revealing a tantalizing amount of shapely upper thigh.
Her long, wavy auburn hair hung loose around her neck and bare shoulders. She bit her blood red lips and stepped forward. Her abnormally blue eyes shone with an intensity that was almost inhuman. Her skin was smooth and very pale. The torchlight cast strange shadows across her face making the lines seem as if they were carved from marble, a Venus de Milo. And that is what she was, a work of art.
She reached up with a small, lace gloved hand and gripped the silver medieval cross that hung around her smooth neck and lingered between her breasts. Standing against the altar, she appeared as a goddess preaching to her flock.
"You all know why we are here," she began in a voice as velvet as her discarded robe.
The assembly murmured in unison. The bound man vainly struggled to look around the hall, his head started to clear from the effects of the drugs. He stared fearfully at the woman in front of him. Bella looked over her shoulder and threw him a sly smile. He flinched and lay back down, squeezing his eyes shut. She continued.
"This is a wonderful night. The moon is new and the wind is right. My faithful clerics here have found me an exceptional young man to make my…"
She paused and ran her eyes gradually over the young man's body. An extremely charming smile slowly formed on her full lips. Her languid eyes languidly caressed the captive's body. Bella stepped over to the platform and laid a cool hand on his bare chest. His flesh involuntarily twitched under her touch. He stared up at, his body trembling a little. She leaned over and placed her lips against his ear. He tried to move, but his binding kept him firmly in place. He ached in his helplessness. Bella could see it in his eyes. She placed a hand on the side of his face and whispered,
"Oh, where do you think you're going? Do you really believe you are the first to try escaping? You're not," she paused. "Am I that terrible? Your fate isn't a hard one to bear…really it isn't."
Bella ran her tongue slowly over the man's earlobe. He shuddered and tried to turn away. She rose and faced the congregation.
"Do you all agree that this man is a suitable candidate? Isn't he attractive enough? Look at his dark, piercing eyes. Couldn't they alone rip you apart?"
The crowd mummers in unison with a few voices chanting, "As you wish, Bella."
She smiled a broad, child-like smile and then turned to face the altar. Bella looked down at the bound man and back up at the candle burning above him. She allowed the small, leaping flame to mesmerize her for a moment. She watched as it continuously changed shape and color. She placed her thin, pale hand above the flame. Gradually, she allowed the fire to lick at the flesh. Bella only stood there as the fire engulfed her finger. The man watched horrified as the flames grew and her flesh began to smoke. Bella looked over at him with a coy look. Slowly, she drew back her unmarred hand.
"Does this frighten you, Jakob?" Bella turned to the congregation. "He is suitable, is he not? Look at this chest? His muscular arms? He is a spectacular human specimen."
