Post by lostandtorn616 on Nov 23, 2006 23:14:57 GMT -5
Disclaimer: I don’t own Yu-Gi-Oh; if I did, Bakura would never wear a shirt. Ever. So why don’t you just be a turdette and rub it in my face?! Jerk wad!! (Runs off and cries in a dark corner)
Incubus – n., pl. – buses or – bi. An evil male spirit believed to harm or seize sleeping women; a nightmare; a nightmarish burden.
Here she lay: the sole being who caused The Repentance to occur. The person who had mercilessly slaughtered friend and kin alike without a moment's hesitation; one of two lone survivors of a horrific massacre that She, Herself, had bestowed upon Her backwater of a village. He had deceived me; no longer was She the malevolent and vile teenager as She once was, no longer was Her soul corrupted, and no longer did Her hands and face drip with a delicate hue of crimson from Her countless murders.
I gazed down at the small girl... no, woman... She lay bundled and secure in her bed, her tiny form wrapped in two layers of sheets; obviously two sizes too big for her, even with the slightest of movement she made the bed creaked in an eerie manner whilst she gave a soft, mewing, whimpering noise in sleep, shifting her position until she was lying sideways; my dark eyes scoured the entire length of her, observing all movement and sounds my little one made, ceasing the way my insane gaze flickered across her lightly shivering self to linger on her chest, watching the small mounds that were obstructed from viewing pleasure as they rose and fell in perfect rhythm with each breath she took.
Sharon was her name; or, to be more precise, one of them, for she was known by many in her short lifetime. Reika... Yae... just to name two of them. I, myself, knew her best as Sharon. I encountered her during a few rare occasions whence my darker, more sadistic, desires threatened to send me spiraling down into a deeper and more unsavory form of madness; unlike the other female mortals whom I had crossed paths with, some more often than others, she was Unique; she caught my eye too sudden, aroused my curiosity in ways few human women were able to.
The memories were still fresh: her face, etched tight with Pain, convulsing abruptly and maddeningly for every time I wrought Pain upon her frail self. I could still visibly envision how stupendously lovely her eyes had been perceived to mine; the edges brimming and dripping with tears before trickling down her thin, frail cheekbones that still bore faint reminders of when last she and I had played, her eyes widening slowly with mine own eyes, both experiencing different sensations, both having different reasons for our eyes to enlarge; hers doubled in size because of her oh so obvious fear, but the reason behind my pupils dilatation was due to her, and what she had unknowingly done to me.
Sharon had been a lovely and co-operating, yet stubborn, ‘child’ during the course of those few precious endless hours I spent with her; had she been another bed slave, another playmate, I would have simply just skipped the ‘harmless’ foreplay and went straight to pleasuring myself by fucking her then and there, but never her. Dark brown-blackish hair saturated with cold sweat, beads of the same frigid, overbearing liquid dribbled down past her equally sweat-stricken brow and mingled nicely alongside the pink-red scarring on her left shoulder, briefly exposed due to the blankets slipping down just a tad, and I frowned; what nightmares could be plaguing your mind, little one?
More importantly, how did you come to acquire these scars your body bears? I know I did not imprint any letters on your shoulder. My thoughts darkened at the thought of her being one of them; even the tiniest inkling to that possibility was enough for me to narrow my eyes in disgust, looking over the three letters that could barely be seen. Only mortals who were social outcasts, antisocial, or had mental defects were capable of committing the most blasphemous of sins that was just as worse as taking someone’s life.
In retrospect, however, on a few occasions did my ears catch one of her friends calling her a “cute little doll”, and I couldn’t help but smirk to myself, allowing the macabre scars the sleeping young one bared to be irrelevant for the moment.
You are my cute little doll tonight, Pet... and no man but I will have you...
I permitted my glazed eyes to delve themselves across her sleeping self once again, a much wider smirk etching into my face upon noticing that – in sleep – she had crossed her arms over her chest, closed her legs tight-knit together, and buried her head in between her knees, a thin glistening layer of ice-cold perspire was now plastered over her adolescent-looking features; all her life she had been a timid and sensitive girl, and still, some fifteen years later, she had managed to retain her shy and fragile nature, but now her personality had a macabre and morbid spiritual layer to it.
She, unlike many in this pitiful trifle known as ‘Existence’, was so easy to corrupt, to taint, but yet there was something about her, something I couldn’t put my finger on; something I didn’t fully comprehend.
That would soon change.
I knew, dwelling in my own ‘Existence’ while watching all the mortals in this supposedly civilized city as they went about their daily lives, subconsciously and carefully selecting my next playmate, of the illusionary and upfront persona Sharon had so falsely acted upon so to provide her an ample shield as a means to block out the mental abuse she suffered during her childhood years; she always feigned ignorance, pretending that she didn’t care, but I knew better; I knew, deep down in her inner sanctum, that whenever it crossed her mind, it brought her tingles of agony even after all these years.
Even now few wished to associate with the likes of her, choosing instead to avoid and to taunt her, whispering horrid and false rumors about her, but it made little difference in her eyes; no matter where she walked in her educational hell hole, inside or out on school grounds, there was always someone there to tease her, insult her, and take advantage of her caring, motherly side.
To mock her, insult her, and dampen her happy mood, calling her unspeakable names.
None of her so-called ‘peers’ appreciated her, and if they did it was only a facade they thought of to abuse and to use her kindness until she felt as if she could trust no one but herself ever again; gradually, little by little, she had grown used to this well-crafted ruse, but I had never witnessed first-hand of this torment; only hearing Him discussing the matter and then cackling insanely, envisioning the aftermath results of their false claims of ‘friendship’ and what it had done to her.
I gazed back down at Sharon’s pale face with a look that was mixed with unbearable longing and grotesque lust. Three millenniums ago I had revolted at the mere thought of a feminine form, but now, once making a pact of sorts with Him, I sought for every waking moment to caress the quivering goose flesh of a woman, gone rigid with censored need and terror; to kiss warm, pouting lips; to taste an erect nipple.
Women were supposed to be spiritually alluring, their bodies pristine, wholesome, and undamaged, their persona selfless, caring and compassionate, just like She had once been. But nearly all the females I had encountered in my long existence were the inverse, and few possessed even a hint of the pure, innocent, and angelic qualities; they were callous, selfish, and self-absorbed creatures, corrupt and filthy entities who only cared for their own pathetic desires; too blind to understand the difference between what was right and what was wrong, too careless and cold-hearted to care for others’ needs.
Only five were able to justify and redeem themselves from that example. She, and Sharon, was two of the prosperous five.
Sharon, however fortunate she may have been, had lost nearly all of her once glorious luster over the years, but it wasn’t because that she was an all-around tainted soul; she just wasn’t as strong-willed as the young one would’ve liked to believe, that she simply was not resilient enough to resist and to combat all of the compulsive influences from the world that surrounded her.
And, because of this simple fact alone, the more I restrained myself and just idly watched her as she became more corrupted with each passing day, the frustration that was often followed by inhuman lust heightened, I knew of a way to preserve some – if not all – of her former glory, but only with Her consent.
Sharon may have lost some innocence, but She hadn’t... Now I felt inexplicably drawn to her, like a fly to honey. I craved to touch and taste her in ways she would never understand, to sample her innocence first-hand before any other man. But something inside me was changing.
I didn’t comprehend what was happening or why I was experiencing this familiar sensation for every time I thought of it, but I felt certain that He was aware of this; He would always look at me with that infamous, sardonic sneer threatening to etch into His scarred, tanned features, an All-Knowing light shimmering with demonic sadism in His blood red eyes as He chuckled in dark, morbid satisfaction seeing my dumbfounded, enraged expression before He left me to my darkened thoughts to solve the momentarily complex puzzle on my own.
I delved deep into the furthest corners of my mind, hoping that I would find the answer somewhere in my recollections, both past and present, my body heating up because of my mentally aroused state whenever I reflected upon the countless times I had nightly activities with a woman; after seeing these memories, I cackled maniacally in the mindless darkness, for I had finally found the answer to my current situation.
I wanted her... both of them. They were the same person, yet separate, and so different in comparison.
She... the ‘Remaining’, the ‘Shrine Maiden’ sworn to save Her ageless village from an unredeemable plague....
The only drawback was... She was no longer Herself... She was now Sharon, a nineteen year-old mortal living here in Domino City with three of her friends, Chelsea, Maria, and Melissa, or ‘Lolly’ as the latter person preferred to be called; all three were residing with her comrades’ male friends, Ryou, Malik, and Marik.
Sharon was aware of her past selves, and the lives They had once lead up until their untimely deaths, but only to a vague extent, comprised of an endless volume of unanswered questions, dreams and daytime visions containing sketchy, incompetent details, leaving the poor little one to awake in a cold sweat, panting heavily and frowning, trying to piece a jumbled puzzle on her lonesome; the in-depth precision into her past selves’ lives had not been a vast or voluminous one.
They allowed her to bear witness to small portions of the very basics of herself, of themselves, the ‘Other Her’ wanting to keep the half of Sharon that was Her from reinstating itself; however, all the while this was happening, She fought back savagely, thrashing about both mentally and spiritually, to break away from the mindless state of paralytic quiescence She found Herself residing in. Both the ‘Other Her’ and that other accursed female spirit who lay dormant within Sharon’s body wished to delay the process of Her awakening at last, and They had done just that.
She remained subdued, Her endless maddening shrieks went unheard whilst Her very soul became repressed and shut down even further due to the invisible restraints They placed upon Her, virtually drowning in the shelter of Her mortal host’s being.
She sought companionship, to have a suitable male – human or otherwise – for Her to experiment with, to finally undergo the physical boundaries of pleasure that She had never known to exist, but despite Her silent desires, Her efforts were extinguished due to Sharon’s relentless efforts to please her dearest “Daddy”, and so her level of compassion never extended outside the perimeters of family and friends.
I had seen men much like him; so many, many times. They wanted to control any and all aspects of their daughters’ lives, keeping them as adolescent children trapped in adult bodies forever; always the obedient little girls who never shouted, never raised a hand, or revealed any ounce of defiance against their fathers’ wishes, and who most certainly did not even dare to think of anything that their parental role model may see as ‘filthy’ or ‘vile’.
Yet even though their pasts were tattered and, at times, abhorrent, decrepit with falsehood and mystified, perverse inclinations which came to them almost naturally, they were utterly barbaric in damaging their offspring’s sexuality that beckoned to them; some were bluntly upfront about it, hearing their daughters’ outcries and angered protests, while others were far less calculating and treacherous about it.
Sometimes they were fortunate enough as to douse that pure fire forever; however, for a select few fathers, that did not happen. More often than not, their daughters’ would break loose from the restraints placed upon them, outwardly defying their fathers’ authoritative behavior, dismissing the harsh, degrading words they heard them use, mistreating and taking advantage of their bodies’ sensual natures until they became to be nothing less than sex-voracious, deflowered whores eager to seek out and to sample with misused prostitution.
Sharon was a welcoming exception, although rare, but she was still in danger; the remnant of her that was She wished to experience sheer pleasure, imposed it with every fiber of Her being, but Sharon secretly feared it. Her father wasn’t the most simplified man around when it came to discussing the matters of carnal knowledge, she was fully aware of this.
In the dead of night would Sharon awaken, confined to seek out the only possible way to feel even the tiniest spark of such ardor by herself; yet even then, her attempts to experience the sensual need she had never been fulfilled with were smothered because of the hidden fear that her father would one night wake up, and stumble upon what she hoped would remain in secret, interrupting her most sheltered and private moments.
She firmly believed that if that were to happen then her father would view her in a different sort of light; that he would regard her as no less unsavory than the women who worked the street corners, selling their bodies openly for either enjoyment, or for cold hard cash. Or worse, he would think of his ‘Little Girl’, his ‘Darling Angel’, as a slut; that she was ridden with layer upon layer of the most obscene of grime, and was not worthy of being his child, that he would discipline her for such a thing.
Chelsea, Maria, and Melissa had, with given time and even more assurance, persuaded her that she wouldn’t have to constantly fret over such trivial matters if she moved away from her hometown for a while to get away from her overprotective father, to move in with them and their male companions; of course she accepted their offer, knowing full well that only Chelsea and Melissa did the same as she on separate occasions, while Maria simply didn’t care.
Still, a part of her feared that her friends’ crushes would think of her as her mind relentlessly worried her father would, and so she had stopped all attempts to discover a blissful climax for what it was, with no strings attached; although her optimistic half of her persona couldn’t help but silently congratulate her three comrades for finding their special someone, her lesser positive half was screaming in outrage, screeching at the supposed injustice of it all, but she submerged those negative thoughts deep within her.
If her friends were happy, then she would be happy for them.
All the while She endured this torment, this endless torture, in silence.
But that would end now, tonight if need be, it must end tonight; after all, She had been catatonic for much too long, and it was time for Her to live; to venture deep into the depths that Sharon failed to reach, to know, to feel, and to savor in Her darkest and deepest desires. And now that I was no longer an inexperienced ‘partner’, knowing full well that a woman’s potent sensuality was never something to fear, I would never let an opportunity like this to pass me by so easily.
The both of them wished to know pleasure, to sustain scared boundaries, and I would fulfill that wish.
The predicaments were less than favorable to my liking; Sharon’s personality would most likely prove to be quite an irksome obstacle for a few short insignificant moments, but that did little to discern me from my intentions. She yearned for pleasure, and if She did, then Sharon did as well, but only I would be graced with such an opening; they both wished to know pure, unimaginable ardor, and I would provide them with it.
I edged nearer to her bed with calculating steps that only a masterful thief possessing honed skills could rival the manner in which I walked, lurking threateningly over Sharon in a menacing, malevolent silence, my eyes drifting across her tiny self again to observe her undersized chest rising and falling in sync with each soft breath she took, barely restraining myself from reaching out and touching her; there would be enough time for that soon, and so much more.
My trench coat was the first thing to be discarded from my body; shrugging my body from out underneath the blood-stained garment, wrenching my eyes from her just long enough to watch it pool carelessly down to the floor, then I stepped out of my equally red smeared boots just as inarticulately, fixating my gaze on her again. I stood close, so precariously close, on her bedside now; reaching down, I gripped the flimsy edges of the bedspreads and unhurriedly tugged them away from Sharon’s body.
She was clad in a pair of running shorts and a loose-fitting tank top that allowed for a prevalent source of mental imaginings to probe my mind, for her choice of bed clothes barely concealed her thin, scantly clad self; with careful precision, I maneuvered onto the bed, lying Sharon on her back and then straddling her waist, my fingers cutting across the plains of white flesh along the edges of her thighs, digging my nails into her skin only lightly, and then slowly traveled up to caress her hips.
Her legs weren’t elongated or curvaceous like the majority of women I had come across, but they felt immensely yielding and wifely, unlike anything I had been granted to touch; I couldn’t force back the conscious tremors that wrecked me, since my own flesh was strong, masculine, and rough. Quite the inverse as to what I sensed radiating from the glorified example of the feminine form beneath me; I could only imagine how soft the other more alluring and tempting parts of her would feel.
How I wanted to just shrug the rest of my clothes off and take her; but, fortunately, that time was soon at hand.
Tapping the pads of my fingers over her thin, bony hips, my lips pulled back as a sardonic grin etched into my features when my right hand snaked upward just a tad to press the palm of my hand down firmly on her slim, inane midriff. A smirk instantly replaced the unsettling smile my face bore just seconds ago noticing Sharon shivered whence my palm, fingers and all, skimmed across the hem of her shirt; she was painfully sensitive, nervous, responding subconsciously, even while she was sleeping.
She then wavered unconsciously in response, and I breathed in harshly, not batting an eye as I anticipated that she would awaken in a manner unhoped for, but she did not rouse from her undisturbed slumber, and I exhaled cruelly; I scrutinized her sleeping form, taking a few moments to observe her face in greater enlightenment now that I was face-to-face with her.
She wasn’t the type of young woman to be viewed as “perfect” by others, but she wasn’t the picture-esque embodiment of “hideous” either; her skin was blemished under her eyes, revealing how lacking the required amount of sleep over the past few months, or years, had taken its toll on her. What had once been unmarred flesh was now light bags of black-blue.
I suspected that if the room were inflamed with florescent lighting, and not draped in darkness say for the faint overcast of light originating from the table-side lamp on the far left of the room, her skin would appear even more discolored, possibly a deathly pale in tone, and in dire need of a bit of sunlight, but I cared not; whereas inconsiderate mortals would likely victimize and besiege her for appearing this way, it only added to her enthralling appearance in my eyes; she was physically ripe, just right for the taking.
My right hand soon created a pathway within her shirt, my fingers stroking her brassiere gently and then dipping inside, immediately cupping her left breast, the pads of my fingers entering first before my left hand began the exact ritual with her other petite mound; in a matter of moments my limp manhood stirred, constricting my pants and making them feel unbearably tight, hearing a soft, delectable noise of arousal slip past her lips.
Satisfactory mull lustered from my intense glare at the response her body subconsciously gave in gratitude for being handled, for the ministrations my hands dealt unto it, and so I continued; wishing to explore an area of her that was more enticing than the upper half of her form, despite the flimsy outer layer of clothing she wore obscured any view of her most sensitive area.
Slipping my right hand from underneath her shirt, I guided my wandering touch down to where the hem of her shorts lay, sticking my index finger in just enough to grasp the flimsy clasp between my thumb and forefinger; grinning like a mad man, I expertly unfastened the button and then edged both fingers down even further, displaying blue satin panties to my narrowed sights after tugging the zipper down and prying the material folds apart slightly; even with this final barrier concealing her most precious treasure, I could still easily sense the heat radiating from her sex.
Driven by curiosity I brought my right hand up to my mouth, licking two of my fingers, bringing them back down in place before they tip-toed up and rested fully on the thin, smooth strap; with my grin widening, I carefully lifted the very tip of her undergarment up and prodded them inside. No sooner had I done this the tips of my fingers were coated in a searing layer of liquid, her dainty maidenhood oozing pre-cum in tiny droplets the moment my cold fingers brushed against her tantalizing virgin folds.
I smirked, pushing them inward a bit, my eyes scanning Sharon’s face for her reaction, anticipating it greatly; sucking in a labored breath, pre-cum dribbled along my fingers, coating them in a heavy layer of the mesmerizing, overheated nectar as more was offered for my negligible ministrations, showing how my actions prior and now had affected her, and then came the softest of sighs as her face convulsed in agonized, sexual mirth; they would have been imperceptible to a mortal’s hearing, but they were there, and I heard every one she made.
Smirking all the while this happened, I eagerly shoved my fingers inward deeper and penetrated her enclosed walls that fit snug inside, tightening and being coated with the moist, heating liquid while delving deep within as my fingers probed even deeper still, searching for that oh so sweet spot I knew all females withheld before adding a third, and final, finger.
Sharon’s face now had that stupendous expression of both torment and ardor I had enjoyed seeing from when last I played with her, an anxious perspire coating her forehead and trickling down past her brows that pinched the bridge of her nose, her breath labored as she panted lightly; other than the occasional mulled noise she made, there was no indication that her body – or that she, herself – was consciously aware of what was happening.
My fingers skimmed, stroked, and rubbed the insides of her silken folds, feeling a sense of overwhelming sensitivity and vulnerability making its way off the little one’s body the moment my fingers located a small bump at the tip of her, and I couldn’t help but chuckle to myself upon my finding; I knew it was her clitoris my fingers was now rubbing and stroking mercilessly, violently, causing Sharon to whimper and writhe slightly underneath me, making timid noises of pleasure as she did.
Grinning, I quickened my pace, knowing that I was running the risk of awakening her, but I cared little for the moment; I wanted it to happen, and I would obtain what I wanted and when I wanted it.
Sharon’s eyes snapped open.
Incubus – n., pl. – buses or – bi. An evil male spirit believed to harm or seize sleeping women; a nightmare; a nightmarish burden.
Here she lay: the sole being who caused The Repentance to occur. The person who had mercilessly slaughtered friend and kin alike without a moment's hesitation; one of two lone survivors of a horrific massacre that She, Herself, had bestowed upon Her backwater of a village. He had deceived me; no longer was She the malevolent and vile teenager as She once was, no longer was Her soul corrupted, and no longer did Her hands and face drip with a delicate hue of crimson from Her countless murders.
I gazed down at the small girl... no, woman... She lay bundled and secure in her bed, her tiny form wrapped in two layers of sheets; obviously two sizes too big for her, even with the slightest of movement she made the bed creaked in an eerie manner whilst she gave a soft, mewing, whimpering noise in sleep, shifting her position until she was lying sideways; my dark eyes scoured the entire length of her, observing all movement and sounds my little one made, ceasing the way my insane gaze flickered across her lightly shivering self to linger on her chest, watching the small mounds that were obstructed from viewing pleasure as they rose and fell in perfect rhythm with each breath she took.
Sharon was her name; or, to be more precise, one of them, for she was known by many in her short lifetime. Reika... Yae... just to name two of them. I, myself, knew her best as Sharon. I encountered her during a few rare occasions whence my darker, more sadistic, desires threatened to send me spiraling down into a deeper and more unsavory form of madness; unlike the other female mortals whom I had crossed paths with, some more often than others, she was Unique; she caught my eye too sudden, aroused my curiosity in ways few human women were able to.
The memories were still fresh: her face, etched tight with Pain, convulsing abruptly and maddeningly for every time I wrought Pain upon her frail self. I could still visibly envision how stupendously lovely her eyes had been perceived to mine; the edges brimming and dripping with tears before trickling down her thin, frail cheekbones that still bore faint reminders of when last she and I had played, her eyes widening slowly with mine own eyes, both experiencing different sensations, both having different reasons for our eyes to enlarge; hers doubled in size because of her oh so obvious fear, but the reason behind my pupils dilatation was due to her, and what she had unknowingly done to me.
Sharon had been a lovely and co-operating, yet stubborn, ‘child’ during the course of those few precious endless hours I spent with her; had she been another bed slave, another playmate, I would have simply just skipped the ‘harmless’ foreplay and went straight to pleasuring myself by fucking her then and there, but never her. Dark brown-blackish hair saturated with cold sweat, beads of the same frigid, overbearing liquid dribbled down past her equally sweat-stricken brow and mingled nicely alongside the pink-red scarring on her left shoulder, briefly exposed due to the blankets slipping down just a tad, and I frowned; what nightmares could be plaguing your mind, little one?
More importantly, how did you come to acquire these scars your body bears? I know I did not imprint any letters on your shoulder. My thoughts darkened at the thought of her being one of them; even the tiniest inkling to that possibility was enough for me to narrow my eyes in disgust, looking over the three letters that could barely be seen. Only mortals who were social outcasts, antisocial, or had mental defects were capable of committing the most blasphemous of sins that was just as worse as taking someone’s life.
In retrospect, however, on a few occasions did my ears catch one of her friends calling her a “cute little doll”, and I couldn’t help but smirk to myself, allowing the macabre scars the sleeping young one bared to be irrelevant for the moment.
You are my cute little doll tonight, Pet... and no man but I will have you...
I permitted my glazed eyes to delve themselves across her sleeping self once again, a much wider smirk etching into my face upon noticing that – in sleep – she had crossed her arms over her chest, closed her legs tight-knit together, and buried her head in between her knees, a thin glistening layer of ice-cold perspire was now plastered over her adolescent-looking features; all her life she had been a timid and sensitive girl, and still, some fifteen years later, she had managed to retain her shy and fragile nature, but now her personality had a macabre and morbid spiritual layer to it.
She, unlike many in this pitiful trifle known as ‘Existence’, was so easy to corrupt, to taint, but yet there was something about her, something I couldn’t put my finger on; something I didn’t fully comprehend.
That would soon change.
I knew, dwelling in my own ‘Existence’ while watching all the mortals in this supposedly civilized city as they went about their daily lives, subconsciously and carefully selecting my next playmate, of the illusionary and upfront persona Sharon had so falsely acted upon so to provide her an ample shield as a means to block out the mental abuse she suffered during her childhood years; she always feigned ignorance, pretending that she didn’t care, but I knew better; I knew, deep down in her inner sanctum, that whenever it crossed her mind, it brought her tingles of agony even after all these years.
Even now few wished to associate with the likes of her, choosing instead to avoid and to taunt her, whispering horrid and false rumors about her, but it made little difference in her eyes; no matter where she walked in her educational hell hole, inside or out on school grounds, there was always someone there to tease her, insult her, and take advantage of her caring, motherly side.
To mock her, insult her, and dampen her happy mood, calling her unspeakable names.
None of her so-called ‘peers’ appreciated her, and if they did it was only a facade they thought of to abuse and to use her kindness until she felt as if she could trust no one but herself ever again; gradually, little by little, she had grown used to this well-crafted ruse, but I had never witnessed first-hand of this torment; only hearing Him discussing the matter and then cackling insanely, envisioning the aftermath results of their false claims of ‘friendship’ and what it had done to her.
I gazed back down at Sharon’s pale face with a look that was mixed with unbearable longing and grotesque lust. Three millenniums ago I had revolted at the mere thought of a feminine form, but now, once making a pact of sorts with Him, I sought for every waking moment to caress the quivering goose flesh of a woman, gone rigid with censored need and terror; to kiss warm, pouting lips; to taste an erect nipple.
Women were supposed to be spiritually alluring, their bodies pristine, wholesome, and undamaged, their persona selfless, caring and compassionate, just like She had once been. But nearly all the females I had encountered in my long existence were the inverse, and few possessed even a hint of the pure, innocent, and angelic qualities; they were callous, selfish, and self-absorbed creatures, corrupt and filthy entities who only cared for their own pathetic desires; too blind to understand the difference between what was right and what was wrong, too careless and cold-hearted to care for others’ needs.
Only five were able to justify and redeem themselves from that example. She, and Sharon, was two of the prosperous five.
Sharon, however fortunate she may have been, had lost nearly all of her once glorious luster over the years, but it wasn’t because that she was an all-around tainted soul; she just wasn’t as strong-willed as the young one would’ve liked to believe, that she simply was not resilient enough to resist and to combat all of the compulsive influences from the world that surrounded her.
And, because of this simple fact alone, the more I restrained myself and just idly watched her as she became more corrupted with each passing day, the frustration that was often followed by inhuman lust heightened, I knew of a way to preserve some – if not all – of her former glory, but only with Her consent.
Sharon may have lost some innocence, but She hadn’t... Now I felt inexplicably drawn to her, like a fly to honey. I craved to touch and taste her in ways she would never understand, to sample her innocence first-hand before any other man. But something inside me was changing.
I didn’t comprehend what was happening or why I was experiencing this familiar sensation for every time I thought of it, but I felt certain that He was aware of this; He would always look at me with that infamous, sardonic sneer threatening to etch into His scarred, tanned features, an All-Knowing light shimmering with demonic sadism in His blood red eyes as He chuckled in dark, morbid satisfaction seeing my dumbfounded, enraged expression before He left me to my darkened thoughts to solve the momentarily complex puzzle on my own.
I delved deep into the furthest corners of my mind, hoping that I would find the answer somewhere in my recollections, both past and present, my body heating up because of my mentally aroused state whenever I reflected upon the countless times I had nightly activities with a woman; after seeing these memories, I cackled maniacally in the mindless darkness, for I had finally found the answer to my current situation.
I wanted her... both of them. They were the same person, yet separate, and so different in comparison.
She... the ‘Remaining’, the ‘Shrine Maiden’ sworn to save Her ageless village from an unredeemable plague....
The only drawback was... She was no longer Herself... She was now Sharon, a nineteen year-old mortal living here in Domino City with three of her friends, Chelsea, Maria, and Melissa, or ‘Lolly’ as the latter person preferred to be called; all three were residing with her comrades’ male friends, Ryou, Malik, and Marik.
Sharon was aware of her past selves, and the lives They had once lead up until their untimely deaths, but only to a vague extent, comprised of an endless volume of unanswered questions, dreams and daytime visions containing sketchy, incompetent details, leaving the poor little one to awake in a cold sweat, panting heavily and frowning, trying to piece a jumbled puzzle on her lonesome; the in-depth precision into her past selves’ lives had not been a vast or voluminous one.
They allowed her to bear witness to small portions of the very basics of herself, of themselves, the ‘Other Her’ wanting to keep the half of Sharon that was Her from reinstating itself; however, all the while this was happening, She fought back savagely, thrashing about both mentally and spiritually, to break away from the mindless state of paralytic quiescence She found Herself residing in. Both the ‘Other Her’ and that other accursed female spirit who lay dormant within Sharon’s body wished to delay the process of Her awakening at last, and They had done just that.
She remained subdued, Her endless maddening shrieks went unheard whilst Her very soul became repressed and shut down even further due to the invisible restraints They placed upon Her, virtually drowning in the shelter of Her mortal host’s being.
She sought companionship, to have a suitable male – human or otherwise – for Her to experiment with, to finally undergo the physical boundaries of pleasure that She had never known to exist, but despite Her silent desires, Her efforts were extinguished due to Sharon’s relentless efforts to please her dearest “Daddy”, and so her level of compassion never extended outside the perimeters of family and friends.
I had seen men much like him; so many, many times. They wanted to control any and all aspects of their daughters’ lives, keeping them as adolescent children trapped in adult bodies forever; always the obedient little girls who never shouted, never raised a hand, or revealed any ounce of defiance against their fathers’ wishes, and who most certainly did not even dare to think of anything that their parental role model may see as ‘filthy’ or ‘vile’.
Yet even though their pasts were tattered and, at times, abhorrent, decrepit with falsehood and mystified, perverse inclinations which came to them almost naturally, they were utterly barbaric in damaging their offspring’s sexuality that beckoned to them; some were bluntly upfront about it, hearing their daughters’ outcries and angered protests, while others were far less calculating and treacherous about it.
Sometimes they were fortunate enough as to douse that pure fire forever; however, for a select few fathers, that did not happen. More often than not, their daughters’ would break loose from the restraints placed upon them, outwardly defying their fathers’ authoritative behavior, dismissing the harsh, degrading words they heard them use, mistreating and taking advantage of their bodies’ sensual natures until they became to be nothing less than sex-voracious, deflowered whores eager to seek out and to sample with misused prostitution.
Sharon was a welcoming exception, although rare, but she was still in danger; the remnant of her that was She wished to experience sheer pleasure, imposed it with every fiber of Her being, but Sharon secretly feared it. Her father wasn’t the most simplified man around when it came to discussing the matters of carnal knowledge, she was fully aware of this.
In the dead of night would Sharon awaken, confined to seek out the only possible way to feel even the tiniest spark of such ardor by herself; yet even then, her attempts to experience the sensual need she had never been fulfilled with were smothered because of the hidden fear that her father would one night wake up, and stumble upon what she hoped would remain in secret, interrupting her most sheltered and private moments.
She firmly believed that if that were to happen then her father would view her in a different sort of light; that he would regard her as no less unsavory than the women who worked the street corners, selling their bodies openly for either enjoyment, or for cold hard cash. Or worse, he would think of his ‘Little Girl’, his ‘Darling Angel’, as a slut; that she was ridden with layer upon layer of the most obscene of grime, and was not worthy of being his child, that he would discipline her for such a thing.
Chelsea, Maria, and Melissa had, with given time and even more assurance, persuaded her that she wouldn’t have to constantly fret over such trivial matters if she moved away from her hometown for a while to get away from her overprotective father, to move in with them and their male companions; of course she accepted their offer, knowing full well that only Chelsea and Melissa did the same as she on separate occasions, while Maria simply didn’t care.
Still, a part of her feared that her friends’ crushes would think of her as her mind relentlessly worried her father would, and so she had stopped all attempts to discover a blissful climax for what it was, with no strings attached; although her optimistic half of her persona couldn’t help but silently congratulate her three comrades for finding their special someone, her lesser positive half was screaming in outrage, screeching at the supposed injustice of it all, but she submerged those negative thoughts deep within her.
If her friends were happy, then she would be happy for them.
All the while She endured this torment, this endless torture, in silence.
But that would end now, tonight if need be, it must end tonight; after all, She had been catatonic for much too long, and it was time for Her to live; to venture deep into the depths that Sharon failed to reach, to know, to feel, and to savor in Her darkest and deepest desires. And now that I was no longer an inexperienced ‘partner’, knowing full well that a woman’s potent sensuality was never something to fear, I would never let an opportunity like this to pass me by so easily.
The both of them wished to know pleasure, to sustain scared boundaries, and I would fulfill that wish.
The predicaments were less than favorable to my liking; Sharon’s personality would most likely prove to be quite an irksome obstacle for a few short insignificant moments, but that did little to discern me from my intentions. She yearned for pleasure, and if She did, then Sharon did as well, but only I would be graced with such an opening; they both wished to know pure, unimaginable ardor, and I would provide them with it.
I edged nearer to her bed with calculating steps that only a masterful thief possessing honed skills could rival the manner in which I walked, lurking threateningly over Sharon in a menacing, malevolent silence, my eyes drifting across her tiny self again to observe her undersized chest rising and falling in sync with each soft breath she took, barely restraining myself from reaching out and touching her; there would be enough time for that soon, and so much more.
My trench coat was the first thing to be discarded from my body; shrugging my body from out underneath the blood-stained garment, wrenching my eyes from her just long enough to watch it pool carelessly down to the floor, then I stepped out of my equally red smeared boots just as inarticulately, fixating my gaze on her again. I stood close, so precariously close, on her bedside now; reaching down, I gripped the flimsy edges of the bedspreads and unhurriedly tugged them away from Sharon’s body.
She was clad in a pair of running shorts and a loose-fitting tank top that allowed for a prevalent source of mental imaginings to probe my mind, for her choice of bed clothes barely concealed her thin, scantly clad self; with careful precision, I maneuvered onto the bed, lying Sharon on her back and then straddling her waist, my fingers cutting across the plains of white flesh along the edges of her thighs, digging my nails into her skin only lightly, and then slowly traveled up to caress her hips.
Her legs weren’t elongated or curvaceous like the majority of women I had come across, but they felt immensely yielding and wifely, unlike anything I had been granted to touch; I couldn’t force back the conscious tremors that wrecked me, since my own flesh was strong, masculine, and rough. Quite the inverse as to what I sensed radiating from the glorified example of the feminine form beneath me; I could only imagine how soft the other more alluring and tempting parts of her would feel.
How I wanted to just shrug the rest of my clothes off and take her; but, fortunately, that time was soon at hand.
Tapping the pads of my fingers over her thin, bony hips, my lips pulled back as a sardonic grin etched into my features when my right hand snaked upward just a tad to press the palm of my hand down firmly on her slim, inane midriff. A smirk instantly replaced the unsettling smile my face bore just seconds ago noticing Sharon shivered whence my palm, fingers and all, skimmed across the hem of her shirt; she was painfully sensitive, nervous, responding subconsciously, even while she was sleeping.
She then wavered unconsciously in response, and I breathed in harshly, not batting an eye as I anticipated that she would awaken in a manner unhoped for, but she did not rouse from her undisturbed slumber, and I exhaled cruelly; I scrutinized her sleeping form, taking a few moments to observe her face in greater enlightenment now that I was face-to-face with her.
She wasn’t the type of young woman to be viewed as “perfect” by others, but she wasn’t the picture-esque embodiment of “hideous” either; her skin was blemished under her eyes, revealing how lacking the required amount of sleep over the past few months, or years, had taken its toll on her. What had once been unmarred flesh was now light bags of black-blue.
I suspected that if the room were inflamed with florescent lighting, and not draped in darkness say for the faint overcast of light originating from the table-side lamp on the far left of the room, her skin would appear even more discolored, possibly a deathly pale in tone, and in dire need of a bit of sunlight, but I cared not; whereas inconsiderate mortals would likely victimize and besiege her for appearing this way, it only added to her enthralling appearance in my eyes; she was physically ripe, just right for the taking.
My right hand soon created a pathway within her shirt, my fingers stroking her brassiere gently and then dipping inside, immediately cupping her left breast, the pads of my fingers entering first before my left hand began the exact ritual with her other petite mound; in a matter of moments my limp manhood stirred, constricting my pants and making them feel unbearably tight, hearing a soft, delectable noise of arousal slip past her lips.
Satisfactory mull lustered from my intense glare at the response her body subconsciously gave in gratitude for being handled, for the ministrations my hands dealt unto it, and so I continued; wishing to explore an area of her that was more enticing than the upper half of her form, despite the flimsy outer layer of clothing she wore obscured any view of her most sensitive area.
Slipping my right hand from underneath her shirt, I guided my wandering touch down to where the hem of her shorts lay, sticking my index finger in just enough to grasp the flimsy clasp between my thumb and forefinger; grinning like a mad man, I expertly unfastened the button and then edged both fingers down even further, displaying blue satin panties to my narrowed sights after tugging the zipper down and prying the material folds apart slightly; even with this final barrier concealing her most precious treasure, I could still easily sense the heat radiating from her sex.
Driven by curiosity I brought my right hand up to my mouth, licking two of my fingers, bringing them back down in place before they tip-toed up and rested fully on the thin, smooth strap; with my grin widening, I carefully lifted the very tip of her undergarment up and prodded them inside. No sooner had I done this the tips of my fingers were coated in a searing layer of liquid, her dainty maidenhood oozing pre-cum in tiny droplets the moment my cold fingers brushed against her tantalizing virgin folds.
I smirked, pushing them inward a bit, my eyes scanning Sharon’s face for her reaction, anticipating it greatly; sucking in a labored breath, pre-cum dribbled along my fingers, coating them in a heavy layer of the mesmerizing, overheated nectar as more was offered for my negligible ministrations, showing how my actions prior and now had affected her, and then came the softest of sighs as her face convulsed in agonized, sexual mirth; they would have been imperceptible to a mortal’s hearing, but they were there, and I heard every one she made.
Smirking all the while this happened, I eagerly shoved my fingers inward deeper and penetrated her enclosed walls that fit snug inside, tightening and being coated with the moist, heating liquid while delving deep within as my fingers probed even deeper still, searching for that oh so sweet spot I knew all females withheld before adding a third, and final, finger.
Sharon’s face now had that stupendous expression of both torment and ardor I had enjoyed seeing from when last I played with her, an anxious perspire coating her forehead and trickling down past her brows that pinched the bridge of her nose, her breath labored as she panted lightly; other than the occasional mulled noise she made, there was no indication that her body – or that she, herself – was consciously aware of what was happening.
My fingers skimmed, stroked, and rubbed the insides of her silken folds, feeling a sense of overwhelming sensitivity and vulnerability making its way off the little one’s body the moment my fingers located a small bump at the tip of her, and I couldn’t help but chuckle to myself upon my finding; I knew it was her clitoris my fingers was now rubbing and stroking mercilessly, violently, causing Sharon to whimper and writhe slightly underneath me, making timid noises of pleasure as she did.
Grinning, I quickened my pace, knowing that I was running the risk of awakening her, but I cared little for the moment; I wanted it to happen, and I would obtain what I wanted and when I wanted it.
Sharon’s eyes snapped open.