Across Blac Seas of Infinity

Author's note: Some parts of this Lovecraftian tale of cosmic horror will contain dark elements and non-consent. I'm eager for feedback, so please leave a comment.

*****

The money from RaptorChick arrived that Monday evening as Abigail limped home from Professor Ward's office - 100 bitcoins, worth well over $100,000. "The Shard building. See you Saturday." But Abigail had no intention of waiting that long.

Abigail slept fitfully on her stomach that night, partially due to the lingering sting on her butt cheeks but mostly because her mind was racing to develop a plan. Professor Ward was watching her somehow - whether through arcane or mundane means - and he would obviously be displeased with her decision to meet with RaptorChick. Abigail figured she'd get another spanking for it, or worse, but the most important thing was that Ward didn't somehow prevent her from going. Furthermore, she didn't trust the British woman one iota. Both factors led Abigail to a single conclusion: she would leave for London Wednesday instead of Friday and surprise them both. Everything should be fine as long as she returned within a couple of days to drink the elixir that kept her sane.

The next two days were a flurry of clandestine activity. She only had one class on Tuesdays - art - and she skipped it; not unusual enough to attract attention. Converting such a huge quantity of bitcoins to cash was a pain in the ass - only in a figurative sense, mercifully - especially since Abigail didn't want to create a trail for Professor Ward or RaptorChick to follow. She couldn't do it all, but by Tuesday night Abigail had acquired nearly $20,000 in cash at a horribly inefficient exchange rate that would have given her father a heart attack. A relatively minor offense compared to the other weirdness in her life, but Abigail couldn't help picturing her father's disapproving gaze. She blanched at the thought and fervently hoped he would never find out anything that wasn't on her report card.

Wednesday was dreary and uneventful until Anthropology. Blowing mist engulfed the university and cast a depressing pall over the student body, but some power in Ward's class held the malaise at bay. The Professor had filled the floor of his auditorium with tables displaying dozens of artifacts from his most recent trip to Peru, and when Abigail arrived numerous students were already inspecting the relics and peppering Ward and Victoria with questions. A brazier near the center of the floor emitted a thick, ground-hugging purple smoke that swirled around everyone's knees and created a bizarre ambiance. The coals in the brazier crackled as Abigail walked past, and she felt a subtle eldritch emanation wash over her - the tattoo on her left breast tightened and tingled, making her skin crawl.

Victoria watched her intently before approaching Abigail with a whisper, "We're not taking any more chances. Nothing in the room should have an essence like the Knife, but even so, the smoke should muffle any potential effects. How are you feeling?"

The question caught Abigail by surprise since Victoria wasn't usually very empathetic. "Great. Why? How are you?"

"Fine, thanks," Victoria answered wryly. "But I'm not mystically bound to a murderous fertility dagger. If you notice any change in your... urges... please let me know. It would help if you filled out the spreadsheet I sent you."

Abigail blushed. "For your research, or because you're concerned about me?"

"Both. Was your last period normal?"

Abigail ground her teeth together and nodded.

"Good," Victoria said. "Don't get pregnant."

"Why does everyone keep telling me that?" Abigail shot back in a whisper.

Victoria raised an eyebrow and leaned in. "Because the Knife's power is based on fertility, not just sex. If you got pregnant - which I'm sure would be remarkably easy - the Knife's power over you would grow beyond what we could contain with a simple elixir. And... well, who knows what effect it would have on your baby. So don't get pregnant."

Professor Ward's powerful voice drew the class's attention. "On Monday we discussed the Temple of the Sun and how it was used for over a millennium for the ritual beheading of male sacrifices. The items here, however, are from the adjacent Huaca de la Luna. There were no murders performed at the Temple of the Moon, but there were still thousands of sacrifices made of a different sort. After looking at these artifacts, does anyone have any ideas?"

Abigail bit her tongue and ran her eyes over the stone rods,knives, and carved statuettes of women bound in various contorted positions.

Ward continued. "Life and death always go together, two sides of the same coin. At the Temple of the Sun life was destroyed, and at the Temple of the Moon life was created through a myriad of fertility rituals, typically at the expense of female captives. The stone objects you see here were used on thousands of women as part of these rituals over hundreds of years, and I believe the collection of statuettes is a kind of instruction manual that was passed down between generations."

The class was uncomfortably silent except for a loud thunk as a girl set down a massive stone rod in the now-obvious shape of a penis.

"Fortunately for us, we live in more enlightened times," Ward said.

After class Abigail visited Ward's office and sucked him off while Victoria recorded the session. She wasn't nearly as hungry as she had been on Monday, but there was still a sweet sensation of relaxation as the elixir in his semen disseminated through her body, like a coiled spring inside her tummy gently unwinding. She nursed every last drop from his softening cock before pulling away, and when Ward rubbed her hair Abigail actually purred with contentment. Her rational brain raged against the terrifying and humiliating web she was caught in, but her flesh and soul felt so satisfied when she submitted.

Ward and Abigail spoke briefly, and she rushed out as quickly as she could without arousing suspicion. She had a change of clothes and a wad of cash in her backpack, and within minutes she was in a cab heading for the airport through the blowing drizzle.

Boston Logan wasn't too crowded and Abigail tried to avoid attracting attention, but various policemen looked right at her several times and gave the weird knowing nod she had come to recognize from male students. Giant Knife at the airport? No problemo. Good thing, because she had no intention of leaving it behind.

The female ticket agent gave Abigail a suspicious look when she dumped cash on the counter and asked to buy a one-way ticket on the red-eye to London. Abigail was afraid she would get caught up in some sort of anti-terrorist security screening, but when ticket agent's male supervisor came over he sent the lady away and helped Abigail without any questions. No name, no ID, no tracks. The Knife was similarly waved through security without comment by the officers or other travelers.

Abigail dozed in her cushy first class seat, settled sideways to minimize the pressure on her tender cheeks. It was both disturbing and reassuring that the Knife's power affected people other than just her - visible proof that she wasn't hallucinating the whole thing. If she was insane, it was a madness that extended beyond the boundaries of her own mind. And it wasn't just an esoteric experiment by Professor Ward - the money from RaptorChick proved that. Whatever was happening to her, it was connected to the death/fertility cult of Shub-Niggurath the All-Mother she had experienced through Punchau's memory.

Abigail woke from her restless sleep as the plane touched down. When she dreamt of Punchau's memory it was never from his perspective, but always looking down at his heavily tattooed body like a disembodied spirit. Maybe the memory was just too painful for her subconscious to willingly revisit from within... the visions of his cruelty were awful to behold even from a distance, but worst of all was the arousal she inescapably shared with his phantasm. When she opened her eyes on the plane she was slowly rubbing the hilt of the Knife against her pussy through her panties, clutched between her thighs, and it took a great effort to control her sexual urge as the hatch opened and the other passengers began to disembark. If anyone noticed, no one said anything.

A taxi took Abigail straight to the Shard building and dropped her off in front of the enormous mirrored tower. The bright morning sun reflected sharply from the thousand feet of glass that reached up into the sky over Abigail's head and tapered to a delicate point at the summit. It was Thursday morning now, and RaptorChick wasn't expecting Abigail until Saturday; Abigail wanted to make the most of her advantage, so she'd have to locate the woman on her own without even knowing her real name. She joined the throng of businesspeople flowing into the tower for work and tried to act like she belonged, which was pretty difficult considering her rumpled student attire. Still, pretty girls could go anywhere...

The ground floor of the Shard was at least a hundred feet high inside, and the colossal walls of glass cast prismatic reflections across every surface. The workers all headed towards a bank of elevators near the street entrance, but the majority of the floor was an atrium dominated by a forest of deciduous trees far too dense and expansive to be contained in a man-made structure. Red and gold leaves shimmered in the rainbow light, but deep within the glade a dark tree rose above the surrounding foliage, skulking, hiding like a disfigured giant among festive carnival tents.

The dark tree held Abigail's eyes and called to her through the rustling branches of the atrium. She left the flow of human traffic and stepped to the edge of the stone tiles, where the building's floor gave way to a thick layer of decaying vegetation and the gently swaying leaves overhead began to block out the brilliant ascending sun. The Knife drew her forward and the tattoo on her breast itched against the light fabric of her summer dress, but with a shake of her head Abigail stepped back and caught her breath. RaptorChick wasn't in the trees. If Abigail didn't stay focused she would lose her advantage.

She turned around and boarded the first open elevator along with a dozen other people who barely spared her a glance. They each pushed buttons for their floors, and by instinct Abigail pushed the topmost button, marked with an eagle in flight instead of a number - a raptor. Maybe this would be easier than she thought. Her selection drew a curious look from a couple of other riders, but they disembarked one by one until Abigail was left alone. As the elevator rose it emerged from the tapering core of the building and ascended along the outer edge of the tower, giving Abigail a wondrous view of London surrounding her. When the elevator doors pinged open behind her she spun around in surprise and stared wide-eyed at a blonde woman in a business skirt and jacket who was apparently waiting for her to arrive.

"Punchau?" the woman asked. She was no older than Abigail - and Abigail still struggled to consider herself an adult - but this woman was obviously at home in her suit and belonged in an office building. Her hair was pulled back into a tight bun, and her makeup and clothes were immaculate... enough to make Abigail feel shabby after her flight. Most curious of all, she glanced at the Knife rather than ignoring it.

"Yes," Abigail said and stepped off the elevator into a waiting room encased in glass. "I'm here to see... well... RaptorChick."

The woman betrayed a slight smirk at the monicker and spoke with a British accent. "Miss Taylor sent me to bring you to her office. My name is Grace. Please follow me; the lift doesn't go any higher, so we'll have to take the stairs." Without waiting for a response, Grace turned and walked through a door that led into the interior.

Abigail followed a step behind, taking in the sights. The building was much narrower at this height, and every corridor and room they passed had giant window-walls overlooking the city - but strangely, most of the rooms were empty except for some janitorial staff. Out the windows, the sky was darker than it should have been this early in the morning, almost as if twilight had come far too quickly. Grace climbed a wide staircase near the center of the tower and they emerged into a smaller glass-enclosed room surrounded on every side by a large balcony. The sky now was darker still, and stars shined in the fading light. The stairs continued upward, but Abigail halted in shock at what she saw on the balcony.

"What's going on out there?" she gasped, grabbing at Grace's sleeve and pulling the woman to a stop. Outside the glass, in every direction, dozens of men and women were fucking on the balcony, their noises silenced by the separating glass. The details varied, but numerous naked women were bent over the railings and being taken from behind by similarly naked men. Periodically a woman would fall to the floor exhausted, and another man would lift her up and begin again. There were more women than men, but the men never seemed to run out of energy. Ropy black vines crisscrossed the floor of the balcony and soaked up the spilled fluids.

Grace twisted her arm to free her sleeve and take Abigail by the hand in an oddly intimate way. "They're preparing for you, Punchau... but you're early."

"Preparing for what? For me how?" Abigail reached for words, disgusted. The men prowled the balcony like animals between their ejaculations, and the women looked beyond the point of resistance - if they were unwilling - as the contortions of repeated orgasms wracked their bodies. As Abigail watched, several new women tentatively emerged from a staircase onto the balcony and huddled together, staring up at the twilight sky in confusion. The black vines curled around the women's ankles, and several men broke off their couplings and fell upon the women, ripping their clothes to shreds and then engulfing them, thrusting themselves inside as the women moaned and screamed, but didn't seem to fight back.

Grace watched the scene unfold and said, "How can you be so ignorant? They are sacrifices to the All-Mother, begging for her blessing on this glorious occasion. The ritual takes days to prepare, and everything must be meticulously executed. Miss Taylor can tell you more... it's not really my expertise." She glanced at the Knife and continued, "Forgive me. I shouldn't have spoken to you like that."

Abigail just stared outside and wondered if there was anything she could do to help those women... and men. "The men will be... sacrificed... later?"

Grace nodded and smiled. "Of course! They're being prepared for your hand, for your Revelation. Everything should be ready in two days. With you here, the All-Mother is certain to bless me with some sisters," she said, watching the orgy on the balcony. Only then did Abigail realize that her fingers were intertwined with Grace's and she snatched them back. Grace looked saddened and said, "I'm sorry I have displeased you; I was surprised by your questions. If you desire to punish me, I ask only that you let me bring you to Miss Taylor first."

Abigail clutched the Knife and tore her eyes away from the spectacle outside, looking back to Grace and her humbly down-turned eyes. A strange desire welled up in Abigail as her gaze wandered over the other woman's body... Grace bit her own lip in delicate uncertainty, and Abigail remembered the soft pleasure of the woman's pussy in Punchau's memory.

"Take me to Miss Taylor, please," Abigail said and cleared her throat. She had never thought of being with another woman, but something about Grace really made her hot. Her suit wasn't at all revealing, but Abigail was transfixed by the sightless sense of Grace's concealed sexuality. It was probably just the influence of the Knife, but Grace possessed an unnatural allure that had surged when she apologized to Abigail and then ebbed as the girl turned to lead her further upwards.

The tower continued to narrow as they ascended the glass staircase, and the sky outside darkened further until it was deep night illuminated by a sickly, bloated full moon. Thick black vines continued up towards the summit of the Shard, but Grace led Abigail off the stairs at the penultimate floor. Glass and steel framed a very corporate office that Abigail recognized from Skype, and RaptorChick herself stood across the room, crowned in gold and staring out at the moon. Several burly men shifted uncomfortably when the two women entered, but it was otherwise silent until RaptorChick turned and spoke:

"Welcome, sister, and thank you for bringing the Knife. We have much to do."

*****

Author's note: This is really only a half-chapter, but it felt like a good break point for a cliff-hanger. The next part will have a lot of exposition, and I need some time to think about how to do that in an interesting way.

Hopefully the noncon elements are well-grounded and aren't off-putting to readers. I want to create high stakes and emotional tension for our characters, which I think this achieves.