A Jar of Hearts

All characters contained within the following work are fictional. Any resemblance to real persons - either living or deceased - is entirely coincidental and not intentional on the part of the author. Furthermore, all characters are considered to be of the majority age of eighteen years unless otherwise noted.

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Seven Taken, the Sinner's Hearts

Seven Times the Moons Musts Turn

Seven Skins the Fires Burn

Seven Jars Blessed and Dark

The Servant's Hand Wields the Blade

Seven Men Must She Take

Her Work the Payment

The Deed Once Done

The Master Take Her, the Final One

The First Task

Elissa had long dwelt within the warrens of the Olde Quarter. However, unlikened to other women of her age, she had not had to take to earning her keep from the flat of her back. No. She had long ago sacrificed her maiden's gift at the behest of her Master, but such had been done to acquire power. Real power. Not the vestiges which mortal men scurried about attempting to grasp and call their own.

Her own mother - a whore in the Quarter - had been blessed by but a small touch of power. Her father, from what little she had learned over the years, a good deal more. Her affinities had always lay within the shadows of what the realm deemed to be 'acceptable' magicks. Casting an appraising eye about the hidden alcove of her rooms in a crumbling insula. Elissa might count herself pleased with all that the scant years of her life had afforded her. The carefully chalked circles of summoning, containment, and binding had been painstakingly researched from tomes which, she held little doubt, the Crown would have seen burned. The Alter - her conduit to the Master - was completed. The last item having been acquired from a vice-taken midwife. Nobody outside of her circle could really appreciate the troubles that one went through in securing the cured skin of a stillborn infant. Above the Alter there sat the device which The Master had bade be crafted. In each of the six receptacles there sat an earthenware jar set with eldritch runes of only the darkest make. Soon enough these musts be filled. The Master would send her when the moon was set, fat and fullest, in the autumn sky. Already the blade was prepared. Blessed by dark rites by her coven, secreted away in a box of blackened heartwood and wrapped in the peeled flesh of still another sinner. Its blade awaiting the blood of others, even as those fel jars awaiting something far heavier and more important.

Ivar sat at the edge of a weathered chair, watching as the two wenches pleasured one another, though neither of them seemed to be enjoying themselves. His breeches were tented by his stiffened manhood and in due time he might take of them both. The whore master below had promised him no interruptions - a service which his purse had bought - and a surety which the two sell-swords standing outside the door would see too.

Ivar was, during the days of his toil, a rather minor functionary within the King's Court. His truest nature well masked by his simpering and toadying to the whims of every courtesan and nobleman that were higher in the estimation of The King than himself. He used there indifference and neglect to his advantage though. Making his monthly trips into the Old Quarter without fear of being discovered. Coin, after all, bought him whatever it was he needed. He held a third of the City Watch in his purse, several other pimps were his as well, and if in the future this outlet for his hidden sadism failed Ivar was well acquainted with several flesh traders whom would prove to be only too accommodating in delivering morsels like the two writhing upon the bed to a small townhouse which he had recently acquired and had grand designs for. Feeling himself sufficiently aroused Ivar finished peeling off his riding boots.

Inga - though never thinking of herself as a deviant - had fallen far since arriving in the capitol. She knew this even before the keeper of the house in which she had taken work had bade her strip to her small clothes and attend to a man in one of the upstairs chambers. She had thought herself as being taken in to serve as a chambermaid. It had taken less than a fortnight before all was revealed to her and her illusions shattered. The first night when the Master and two of his men had set themselves upon her had seen to that. So, now she thought nothing of seeing to the needs of those men as called here in all the hours of the day. She had even learned to take her sleep in snatches as the visits permitted. She no longer remembered when it was that she had last passed an entire night in a bed without being summoned.

Sensing that the younger woman was nearing her release, she pressed her tongue into the weeping sex between her parted legs and worked at the most sensitive parts of her! At last the girl's hands clasped the thin sheets, her hips writhed beneath Inga's weight, and her flushed chest rose and fell erratically as pleasures grasped her . . . Inga tasted the younger woman as this happened and found pleasure in having helped her reach a peak. It was not the first time, she doubted that it would be the last. As she was preparing to rise though Inga felt the man's weight upon the bed and heard the oiled switch as it came down! She bit her lip as it found the tender flesh of upraised buttocks and the back of her thighs! If she cried out then the customer would be most displeased - this was not her first evening with Lord Ivar after all - and she knew that the lash musts fall before the man was able to find his release. If she pleased him by taking the lash, then perhaps he would use the new girl and leave her with only the welts this time?

Siobhan arched her hips and lower back even as Inga's tongue touched between her legs and an unfamiliar pleasure gripped her! She was aware of her hands pulling at the sheets upon the bed, of her muscles seizing upon her, other than that she could say little to what happened for some moments . . . Waking from her fit she found that Inga was still there - her head buried in Siobhan's wet and sensitive sex - and the man with whom they had been sent, was taking a rod to her upturned ass, raising welts and with a fevered look in his eye! Inga said nothing, weeping silent tears as that rod fell across her two dozens of strokes, if not more so. Unable to move, Siobhan watched in mute horror as the lashing continued until the welts bled and Inga was biting through her lip from the pain. Then, the man seemed to calm himself. His fury spent. The exertions seemed only to have hardened his manhood, yet Inga was beyond any use to him. The man casually hooked her under her hips and rolled her away . . .

This new wench had been lively and willing with Ivar's usual favorite - at least until he had begun punishing the wanton slut - no doubt her desire having vanished with the first fall of the lash. As the whore master had informed him that one of the girls tonight was new, Ivar had decided not to employ the small truncheon he had brought along. Inga was rolled away and he grasped the girl by each ankle, pulling her toward him, his throbbing member demanding its own release now that his other appetites had been whetted. Ivar found her, indeed, to have 'dried' from watching him beat her companion. Little matter, he did not need her to enjoy herself. He thrust at her and she yelped as he found her entrance, burying himself within her and feeling her grasping him! He was heedless of her discomfort as his thrusts increased in speed and strength! She only began to groan and to become wet again as he neared his climax and her hips were only beginning to rise to meet his thrusts as his body seized and he spilled his seed inside of her.

To his amazement he found that using the girl so vigorously had not shrunken him and that he was still sufficiently aroused to perform. The girl whimpered as he withdrew from her - the smallest showing of blood proved that she had, indeed, been ill-prepared - and he rolled her onto her stomach. This time he would have her from behind. Rutting like a beast offered other opportunities aside from debasing these whores. The girl's ass was raised and fresh tears came to her eyes and cheeks as he, again, pressed into her. This time he found her somewhat more welcoming and since his seed already filled her Ivar had the option of taking more time to enjoy her.

Elissa allowed that killing the two men standing upon the door might have been unwarranted, but from the sounds carrying to her ear from the other side of the door were most distressing to her, she had blooded her hands in partial payment for the women within. Her blackened flesh glistened in the low light cast from the poor candles in this wretched place as her hardened talons pulled the heart from the sucking hole she had punched in the chest of the last guard. The low cries of a whore carried through the door and she decided that The Master had chosen well her victim. Elissa would have few regrets in claiming such a swine! Willing the power to fill her the shadows in the passage deepened and she became as one with them. In such ways it was much the easier to pass through the barriers of the physical world and thus to strike at her Master's behest.

The bitch was spent! Ivar felt her shuddering beneath his weight as he continued to thrust at her upturned sex, his fingers were busied at her ass - though that intrusion had caused the whore to resist him - necessitating the use of the lash. Now she accepted his attentions. Sobbing quietly into the filthy sheets. He had spilled himself inside of her for the second time as the lash had fallen across her bowed back. He might have liked to have continued using her, his purse had bought these two outright, but a chill filled the room suddenly! Turning to chastise the man that had dared walk in upon him, Ivar was greeted by a sight straight from the nightmare tellings that the priests in his village had used to instill a fear of the Gods into the smallfolk. He began screaming as it crossed the aged floorboards and took him in its arms!

Elissa walked easily down the front stairs of the brothel, lightened by the experience of having worn the skin of The Master. The power had burned through her but not so much as it had the recently departed Master Ivar. She had savored every scream which she had ripped from his debased throat, and watched as each drop of his life's blood had painted that squalid room. The whores had joined in his symphony at the end - their fragile minds having already been twisted by the hand and tools of a sadist - it was little wonder then that she had left them, naked, gibbering upon the bed in which they had been so used. Elissa did not envy them the time they would now spend in the asylums of the realm, but at least they were in no fit state to speak to what they might, or might not, have born witness too.

At the foot of the stairs she crossed paths with the aged pimp who claimed ownership of the flesh within his walls. He barely had a moment to scream as she flexed the waning power within her and sent him off to treat with whichever of the Gods he kept faith. The fewer witnesses left to speak of what had happened the better.

The first rays of the morning suns were just climbing above the crumbling walls which encircled the Olde Quarter, the King's solution to keeping the poor and destitute amongst his citizens contained and out of the sight of the wealthier and better citizens. Elissa secreted the jar away with the voluminous folds of her traveling cloak. Such a garment was needed as her possession by The Master had destroyed the clothing which she had been wearing. Nude, save for her small clothes, she padded back amongst the crumbling warrens upon bared feet. The cold and wet flagged stones of the ancient streets were warmed by her passing and she reveled in the first calls of the baker's boys as they sold the wares of their masters in the street stalls.

She was only three blocks removed from the first task when a scream pierced the morning calm and served to summon the City Watch. Rather than risk being seen, Elissa hurried her pace her own feelings of calm now gone and her heart filled with a need to return the vessel to the alter. A sudden fatigue gripped her but she would not fail in reaching her sanctuary. All was dependent upon that.

The Second Task

The Master was pleased! Elissa could feel his contentment as she locked the vessel into its place upon the Infernal Wheel. Thinking back she had been amazed at the amount of blood spilled as she had gutted the sadist in the flesh den. Following her escape from the onrushing City Watch she had slept for two days. She had known the price required for taking on the form of The Master in order that his will be done. She had accepted it, and willingly. The cold aura of the daemon filled the small room which she called her own, though Elissa was seeking better chambers from which to work. The chance of ensnaring another wanton the like of the sadistic gentry in the brothel was unlikely to happen again.

Moving would mean having to rebuild her carefully crafted Caew, but with the help of her coven that would not prove so time consuming as one might think. The sacred blade was already secreted away and her few pieces of furniture were cleaned up. The stink from the burning of the sinner's skin had already vanished, almost as though that offering to the Master had not happened at all. The jar, though locked into the Wheel, trembled in time to the beating heart and life's blood contained within it.

The cleaning and the like had left her feeling spent and sweaty. Not any proper way in which to receive her visitor. Elissa stripped to her skin and sponged herself clean. Paying close attention to the mound of her sex and the dusting of hair covering it. She also took the precaution of rinsing her own hair, knowing full well that the stink of burning might well linger in the tangled fall of black hair which fell to the top of her backside. A few sprays of rosewater around the room were the last of her preparations and she hurried to make certain that the pallet she slept upon was stuffed with clean and dry ticking and that the coverlet was clean. No detail must be missed in honor of her visitor.

Piotr hurried himself through the squalor of the filth caked streets, hoping only that his new boots were not yet ruined by the stinks he had sloshed through on his journey through the outskirts of the Olde Quarter. Surely, he thought, there had to be a better breed of whore somewhere in this accursed capitol? He could little help it that he was gripped by such lusts for flesh that his sickly wife was unable to tend to every one of his urges!

Such had been the way of things since his father had taken him to their villa in the south of the kingdom when he was blooming into manhood and spent lavishly at a brothel in his own lands to see that his son was initiated and that all was revealed to him. Since that magickal night Piotr had found himself beset with strong appetites that no one woman could ever hope to satisfy.

In fact, when one woman was not enough, he had been known to seek multiple partners in a single night. Sometimes waking in the morning with little memory of what he had done and wondering why his chambers were stinking of cheap scents and his bed was filled with naked women and men. The last such episode had sent his father into a rage and had his little distractions banished from the house. Apparently, a concerned neighbor had seen some of what came and went from the house, and had promptly notified the elder lord with that concern. Thus, Piotr was now forced to find his release in the warrens of the poorest quarters of the capitol. A place where there was very little likelihood of someone of his father's acquaintance seeing him.

Elissa lay out upon the clean coverlet and opened her legs. The egg-shaped philter was not unknown to her. It was the same device with which her mother had stripped away her girl's innocence and initiated her to The Master. Remembering such pleasure, and pain, caused her to shudder in pleasure even as she pressed the arcane device to her opening and then relaxed enough for it to pass inside of her!

It was cool at first but quickly warmed as she became excited. Her fingers found the point of her sex where the barest touch could bring her release and pressed down as Elissa bucked her hips and rubbed herself against the palm of her hand. Her eyes fluttered shut and her breath caught and no sooner was her pleasure taking hold then she felt the presence of The Master - cold and inviting - fill her mind and open her to his wishes.

Her whole body convulsed as the change took hold. Her feet shriveling into cloven hooves, her arms lengthening, gaining muscle, and the skin of her body blackening at the presence of the daemon! Her mouth opened to gasp her pleasure and her, newly forked, tongue brushed over her bloodied gums and her fangs gnashed together in anticipation. A single, bone-chilling, word filled her mind and she knew what must be done;

"Lust!"

It breathed through her and she was off the bed and to the open window in two long strides! With little effort she was over the rotting wood of the sill and crawling up the side of the crumbling insula in which she sheltered. Far less likelihood of being seen if she moved over the rooftops. Her clawed hands sank into the ancient bricks with ease and propelled her upward until the twinned moons kissed her blackened skin and all the terrors of Olde Nyte filled her, feeding her from the nightmares of the slumbering folk below her hooves. Then, as the moons slipped from behind the sweeping cover of thin clouds, the creature was gone into the shadows in search of its prey!

Piotr allowed one wench to work him to an enormous hardness using nothing more than her mouth. Something she had learned in whatever peasant hovel she had crawled from - no doubting that - but it was not something that most whores were willing to do. Not for free, anyway. A second whore was rubbing the knots from his muscular shoulders and the third was performing a precarious balancing act so that he might bury his face between her legs and taste of her!

Each of the woman made appreciative moans and other sounds that he knew they were enjoying themselves. Not for him the sadist's joy. He did not seek to hurt those with whom he shared himself. No. It was just that Piotr was never satisfied with just one woman. And that with the passing of even the higher bread women his mind would immediately move to what they might look like without their clothing on.

He had suspected that his lusts were gaining the better of him when such began to happen whence he would chance to encounter one of his younger sisters in the palace corridors. He knew that they too kept lovers - despite not having yet taken on a husband - but theirs had always been a liberal family - such was acceptable so long as they were discreet. Besides, whomever they did end up marrying might be thankful that their wife was an experienced lover?

Without removing his tongue from the quivering snatch of the one whore, Piotr lifted the girl from her knees and impaled her upon his swollen penis! The whore cried out at the sudden intrusion but in no time was moving in accord with him and urging Piotr to spill inside of her. The others need not worry about being cheated though. Long practice had made him accomplished enough to please more than one wench in a single bedding. The acrobat - having used his tongue and two of her own fingers to bring on her own orgasm had fallen into the arms of the massage artist and the two of them were writhing together on a separate couch, calling out their renewed pleasures and encouraging Piotr to hurry through their friend that he might have them as well! The wench in his lap cried out as he buried himself to the root of his manhood and emptied himself deep inside of her. Perhaps - if the Gods smiled upon her - she would beget one of his bastards and be blessed? If not, Piotr already had plans to visit her again in another day or two. She was lively, willing, and - best of all - tight. He could see his seed running out of her as he pushed her off onto the nearby bed and moved toward the one with the gifted fingers and soft touch.