0 comments/ 3397 views/ 2 favorites A Jar of Hearts Pt. 01 By: lordroxbury 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. ***** 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. A Jar of Hearts Pt. 01 The creature crouched, pressed against the building, listening as the hours of night were spent and still the man seemed not to tire and then as he called for more women as the three he had paid for were spent and no longer up to servicing him! Talons raked the stones - carving great steaming furrows in them - and the night seemed to thicken around it. This young blade had not brought guards with it. No need to wear the vessels skin either since access might be gained from the outside of the building. Patience with this one was the game! The creature sank into a deeper crouch, crossed its gangly arms, and continued to watch as the young man returned to the sport which a fatted purse could pay for. It hated waiting! That its anger was rising was only going to make the last act of this little drama all the sweeter. Piotr slipped from inside of this latest wench - he could no longer recall all of their names - but, at the last, he felt that all-consuming fire ebbing within his loins. Casting about he could now count seven whores sprawled around the room and on various pieces of furniture. He remembered using each of them, and vigorously, and the few coins remaining in his purse were going to be needed to bring him home. Verily there must be a hack that could be hired to take him out of the Old Quarter? This was something which he should have asked the Madam upon entering her establishment. This was definitely a house he planned on returning too. The Old Quarter might be close, but the girls were lively and his coin had brought them back to his lap in turns as they had recovered. When they were tired out - but still far from sleep - they had pleasured one another as he watched! Even whilst he was still deep inside one of their sisters. The room stank of the seed he had spilled and of the musk of women and he needed a breath of morning air before he worried about finding his clothes and returning home. Rising upon weakened legs, Piotr stumbled to the nearest window, unlocked the latch, and cast it open to welcome the cool air of the failing night. A few seconds later the slumbering whores were stirred to wakefulness by his high pitched screams! Waking from the embrace of The Master, Elissa was shivering and in a refuse choked alley in an unfamiliar part of the capitol! She seldom ventured out of the Old Quarter because of the ridicule and casual cruelties heaped upon the poor as dared to do so. She was, as was to be expected, naked. The egg-like philter through which The Master took her was in one hand, the consecrated jar in the other. From a thong of entrails dangled the cursed blade by which the will of The Master was done. Rummaging through the small mountains of cast off clothing Elissa found a stained tunic, a pair of men's pants and a short cloak that was still large enough to conceal the bounty which she had taken in the night. Already she could hear the gathering throngs as discovery was made of what had been done in the long hours of the night. Not wishing to be seen she hurried through the alley until she emerged facing the curtaining wall surrounding the Old Quarter and knew exactly where she was. Tucking away her treasures, Elissa whistled a jaunty tune as she approached the gate over Fleet's Ditch and tossed a cheerful wave to the men of the City Watch as they took her measure and allowed her to pass. "Wee bit o' the strange fer ye dearie?" called the older of the two guards as he smiled at her form through the loose-fitting rags. "Aye Master Turn-Key." Elissa called over her shoulder. "None the stranger than the night just passed." END - Part One A Jar of Hearts Pt. 02 All characters in the following work are fictional. Any resemblance to real persons – either living or deceased – is coincidental on the part of the Author. Furthermore, as the body of the following fiction involves graphic depictions of sexual activity AND violence all characters, unless otherwise noted, are written as being of the majority age of eighteen years. Thank You - Elissa placed the second jar – that of lust – into the proper receptacle within the Infernal Wheel and marveled as the blood-rune beneath it fired with the pleasure of The Master. She found herself wetted from the experience and wanting a man. Unusual, since she had only ever allowed the pleasure of her Master to fill her desire. Still, this yearning was building within her and she could not quiet it. Perhaps it might go unnoticed if she were quick about it. All the better still if she were to find yet another sacrifice suited to the needs of The Master. Verily the daemon could not take umbrage at her own lusts if they were satiated in His name. She had discarded the stinking rags which rescuing from the trash heap in that alley had allowed her to renter the Olde Quarter of the capitol with barely more than a ribald comment from one of the wretched members of the City Watch. Making her way into the warren in which she lived had been little trouble after that. The sacrificial skin had already been tainted upon His alter and then burned in the name of The Master. Now, even though sleep was threatening to drag her down, Elissa must force herself back into the twisted lanes and narrow alleys of the poor tenement hovels in search of quenching these desires. A stick of Goblyn Root served to revive her, though the bitter taste of the plant did nothing for her appetite. Elissa was no addict and avoided the vices of The Quarter as much as possible. The Master insisted upon his vessel being free from the taint of the sins upon which he otherwise feasted. A stale roll stuffed with meat tamed the rumblings of hunger within her. The purse from last night's sacrifice still held ample coin for her meager needs and still allow her to seek the pleasure which her body was demanding. It was almost an entire candle's length before she chanced upon one of the stews that serviced women. For a district of the capitol wherein a man might get every imaginable vice and desire fulfilled – if their purse was not wanting for coin – a woman seeking the same distractions would have a difficult time of it. The aged pimp at the door gave her a smile consisting of bare gums and the rotting stumps of a few teeth. "My needs call for a clean one." Elissa said even as she showed the man three silver coins. The going rate for a male whore within The Quarter. "Not so easy to find today milady." Assured the pimp. "But Longpole has a few within that will suit." Elissa passed through the thin door with the peeling paint in search of what she needed. Already the tension inside of her was building again and a discomforting wetness had begun between her legs. Her breasts were also sensitive to the tough and her hardening nipples spoke to her growing arousal. One of the handful of doors that the pimp had indicated did not have its lantern lit – indicating that there was already someone paying their custom within – and she tapped upon the frame to announce herself before pushing through the portal. The room she entered was much as her own quarters. A few aged and stained pieces of furniture, an old fireplace and rusted grate, and a pallet sitting in the middle of the room. A set of heavily mended curtains dressed the only window and the occupant was turning back into the room after emptying the contents of his chamber pot into the alley below. A string of muffled curses said that he had hit his mark – dousing some wretch below in night soils – and he returned the pan to the floor and kicked it beneath the bed. The young man was not unpleasing to look upon and he carried no obvious taint that Elissa could see. She chanced whispering an incantation under her breath which confirmed what her eyes had already told her. The man-child was, indeed, clean. He was wearing only a pair of loose fitting leggings and a breech clout that covered his manhood. His was a medium built and his height was only a hand's length taller than Elissa herself. Reaching back into the hallway she lit a taper from a candle and fired the colored lantern hanging outside of the door then shut it as she stepped back inside. Elissa's tensions were lightened from the moment that Anton's tongue was pressed against her sex! She arched her back as he took her with his mouth and proved that he was well schooled in his craft of pleasuring a woman. He had little trouble in finding the swollen bulb of pleasure that would grant her release and as his tongue touched it she jumped and almost tumbled off of the bed. It was infrequent. This yearning for taking a living man into her. Normally, Elissa much preferred the attentions of The Master and doing his bidding as means of relieving herself. She was relatively inexperienced with men and knew only to take her pleasure as it came. At least with this one she had chosen well! "Mmm!" She pressed herself against his eager lips and skilled tongue. "Ohhh!" This one was proving himself an expert as the tip of his tongue and lips teased her folds. Despite his best efforts though her pleasure refused to come by such means and after some minutes of merely basking in the waves of ecstasy rising from between her legs to assail her mind Elissa bade him rise to strip. Gone with the tug of a rope belt was the breech clout so that now his sex was shown to her and it had risen magnificently from the tangled web of hair covering his upper legs, stomach, and crotch. His balls hung heavy and full between his legs and his manhood was, oddly enough, curved upward in its hardness. Elissa eyes were fired with lust and she tightened in anticipation of accepting such a marvelous instrument inside of her. Knowing full well that she was breaking any number of acceptable behaviors for a person of her sex, Elissa guided Anton to his back upon the bed and gently grasped his stiffened member! It was the man's place to be atop a woman – or so insisted the holy men of this benighted realm – and since she was already in league with a daemon prince and murdering the scum of the capitol, there was no real harm in breaking just one more social convention. Anton gasped at her touch and Elissa called upon a small portion of her power and marveled as the man-whore shrank in upon himself now that he was under her spell. Truly, the gifts of The Master were many fold for those as were loyal. Her ability to control those consumed by their vices was just one such gift, and one of the more useful ones. She dared not use too much though. The Master was always aware whence she used his gifts. He would prove most unhappy with her if he knew she were wasting them upon a man in order to appease her own lusts! The penis was hard and felt welcome in her hand. Anton, his eyes reduced to bottomless reflecting pools of shadow by the power of The Master was helpless in her grip. She could have gutted the man-whore with the dagger in her boot and he would have thanked her for the privilege if she had so willed it. Instead, she would take the pleasures her body needed and be done with him. Not like the wanton women in the adjoining rooms of the brothel as they rutted with these men. Allowing their bodies to be used as the men took them and yet daring to think that they were in any way maintaining some form of control! They were merely paying for the convenience of remaining nameless and thus avoiding the persecutions of the clergymen and their accursed churches. It was all fine for a man to walk the streets and to take from a whore, but allowing a woman the same freedom as a man was unheard of and unwelcome thinking in most corners of the realm. Elissa swung one leg over Anton's prone body, straddling the thing she desired most at that moment. Already her own sex was wetted and ready to take him inside of her. She knew to expect some discomfort from the deed – before the pleasure came – because she had only allowed two other men the privilege of having her body like this. Both those other times had been more from curiosity than from any physical yearning of her own. Both times The Master had punished her deliciously for daring to give his vessel to another. Elissa closed her eyes as she guided the head of Anton's engorged cock to her opening and then in a single fluid motion impaled herself upon it! "Ahhh!" She cried out. Thankfully, within the walls of the brothel, it was a common sound and one which would pass unnoticed. The angle she had taken him at and his odd shape made this one hurt just a little more and Elissa could feel the blood-tears as they leaked down her cheeks. Still, such was not going to stop her release and thus she began to move her body. Short strokes at first – raising her body just enough to feel the friction within her – before burying Anton deep inside of herself again. Her nails lengthened and hardened into blackened talons and she raked them down Anton's chest as, indeed, her own pleasure began to build. The blackened down covering her sex was soon dampened from her exertions, her sex was hungrily devouring Anton as she rode him! Reaching behind and beneath her own bucking ass, Elissa's hand encountered Anton's testicles. They were heavy and drawn close to his body. His time was near indeed! Such surprised her. Most creatures in the grip of The Master were unconcerned with their own pleasures and were, verily, unable to come to their own release. Still, she kept her motions even and consistent until her womb and sex tightened around his manhood and her mind was awash with pleasure! Elissa was barely aware of her mouth hanging open in silent exclamation of her pleasure as she ground herself against Anton and convulsed atop of him. Before the blackness consumed her though she was vaguely aware of an added wetness between her legs and knew without doubt that her slave had, miraculously, achieved his own release! Upon unsteady legs, Elissa exited the brothel into the weak, late morning, sunlight over the capitol. The old pimp smiled at her as she tried to walk and laughed aloud at her comical success. He would not be so pleased once he found what was left of young Anton. Still, her desires satiated, and her sex and thighs sticky from the effort, she could return to her Caew pleased and ready to resume the work of The Master. Anton's seed was running out of her and soaking her small clothes. Elissa was only too pleased that home was not so far off that calling for one of the hacks that plied the streets of the Olde Quarter was going to be required. She had good reason to believe that The Master would have need of her again tonight . . . The Third Task Her trepidation at again allowing The Master to wear her was off putting and Elissa found that she was having difficulty arousing herself enough to pass the philter into her sex that He might come upon her wholly! She blamed her foolish behaviors from this morning. Had she been possessed of sufficient strength to refuse her own lusts and take pleasure from only her own fingers – as The Master seemed to prefer – then performing the ritual needed by Him would not now be such a challenge! Also, her sex still ached from the unaccustomed and vigorous use to which she had put it. Even the idea of placing something foreign within herself was enough to cause her to wince with pain. Still, he had called, and she had no real choice. Her path had been set before her long ago. The egg shaped device set with the darkest of runes was wetted by her sex – though Elissa had been forced to rub at herself until she was certain that she was going to climax without first placing the arcane device – and passed between her folds only with the utmost difficulties! She groaned with pain, not pleasure, as it seated within her and she resumed her attempts to bring on her own orgasm. Her fingers teasing and rubbing through the folds of flesh between her legs as her heart beat increased and she sweat through the thin cotton shift that she was wearing. Finally! Her body convulsed and as she lost herself in pleasure The Master came into her and her form began to change. *** Gostig hummed a jaunty tune that he was certain he had heard somewhere before as he worked on his latest creation. In so far as he knew he was the only one of his kind to dare work beneath the nose of both the Justicar, and the Templar Hunters. Were he ever discovered he would most certainly burn. Yet where else were the materials for both his works and his pleasures to be found? Verily not amongst the pious village peasants or wandering communities of gypsies and circus folk. This latest one was a beauty. He had taken in the last of the needed materials himself – slaughtering three whores in the process – but the capitol was rife with not save the talk of two rather grisly murders which he had not committed. Some deviants amongst the gentry and the lower nobility. Both of them mutilated in the dying, skinned, and with their hearts torn from their bodies and spirited away. One had been a sadist. The other just the pampered brat of some minor lord-ling. One, if accounts and gossip were to be believed, had bedded an entire brothel worth of whores before he was killed. Gostig had read accounts of daemons and their servants that performed such works but had never thought to be in the same place as one of them! It was all very exciting. Well, unless you were counted amongst the dead, or were a practitioner the likes of himself. The skin and organs were needed in his work. The corpse had to be whole if reanimation were to be a success after all. Tonight, Gostig had assembled his greatest accomplishment thus far. A golem comprising the reassembled corpses of no fewer than half a dozen different wretches! One of them he had acquired by giving his custom to some lowly resurrection men. Little higher on the order of beings than your average ghoul they took the bodies of the recently departed and sold them to the universitat for their studies in medicine and anatomy. Strange then that he felt so little in the way of remorse for having then informed the Justicar of the men's activities. He had recouped his coin, been rewarded by the local Magistrate, and then been able to recover the corpses of those same wretches once they had been cut down from the gallows. Parts of them were easily identified within the quilt work of his creature by the myriad wounds and burns they had endured whence being put to the Question. The others, those whores, he had bought from their pimp after they were no longer able to turn a coin to his satisfaction. Gostig took no shame in that he had enjoyed their favors in turn. Once apiece whilst they still breathed. Several times more after that particular function had ceased. He much preferred a wench that was still and pliable to his whims than one that was not. A deviant behavior, to be sure, but it was one he could little resist anymore. Slipping the cassock of peeled skin over his wasted form the necromancer began to chant within the runic circle from which he could channel the powers needed to raise this creature and enslave it to his will! Already he had made the appropriate sacrifices of flesh and blood. New scars would form and in time tell a tale of his greatness! The power built within him and the runes – drawn in blood upon the floor – began to smoke and burn. The first twitches of the massive form told him that his will was sufficient to bring the creature back. His eyes watered and the sweat beaded upon his brow as Gostig fingered the fetish of severed fingers and dried eyeballs hanging about his neck . . . As he prepared to seal the enchantment and pour a profane life back into his creation he became aware of shadows shifting and moving across the wall. Shadows where there was no light thrown by the dozens of candles which served to illuminate his Gostig's lair! "Dark One take me." He breathed as the golem continued to move now – of its own accord – and still the shadow deepened and crept towards him. "Assss it wishessss!" Hissed the darkness and in the last moments of his wretched life Gostig saw his creation rise from the table over which he had labored to sew it together. He had a moment of the deepest pride. Mere seconds only, and then he began screaming as the shadow swept forward and claimed him! Elissa's return to consciousness was startling! At first she knew not where she was and the flashes of memory of what she had done whilst possessed and transformed by The Master were seldom of any help. Before her sat the third vessel. The black runes spelling out the sin of Pride, rested between her parted legs. What remained of the sacrifice was still twitching and smoking in a discarded heap. The Master had been most displeased and had seen fit to give the Daemon's Share of her punishment to this wretched thing. His skin, already burned with the necessary runes, was folded next to the urn. In the room with her however was a monstrosity! She choked down the urge to scream though. She was sitting, naked, in a circle of protection as the thing stumbled around the exterior. No doubt testing its strength and wanting very much to get at the soft thing inside of it! A golem. Of that she had no doubt, even though what little reading she had done in regard to fel necromancy was fleeting and difficult to recall. It was comprised of several bodies. Men and women both from the tangled mess of varied genitalia between its misshapen legs. The trunk of the thing also had both the hair of a man as well as a plethora of breasts of differing sizes stitched to it. With shaking hands Elissa pulled the tattered and blood stained clothes of the fallen necromancer over her. Her flesh crawled at the touch of what she knew to be leather cured from the skins of the dead, but there was nothing else for it, not if she were to regain the safety of her lair with The Master's prize intact. As usual, her sacrificial knife was strung around her neck upon a length of scorched intestine. Everything else was before her. Elissa passed a whispered thanks to the Dark One as she noted that the door leading out of this wretched cellar was both behind her, and securely within the circle which the necromancer had forged. The cellar door, blessed was the shadow, opened into a little used alley fronting the river. It was little problem then to walk a hundred paces and pay a pole boatman a silver coin to take her to a part of the river which ran through the Olde Quarter and near enough to her lair that Elissa might pass unseen! Within the Watch crying the hour she was slipping the key into the door and canceling the charms and other magickal defenses which were proof in case the locks were forced! Immediately she burned the skin and then locked the third vessel into its place within the Infernal Wheel! With the deed done she purified herself and knelt before the alter and gave thanks to The Master. "The flessssh wassss weak . . . yessss?" The question oozed from every shadow in the dingy room and the cold bit at Elissa and tears came to her eyes. "Yes Master." Elissa said through her tears. A note of fear and panic rising to her voice. "Another will sssserve assss well, hmm?" His tone was mocking, and the sound smacked at Elissa, driving her onto her stomach in supplication! "No! There is no other as devoted as I." As much as Elissa wished to scream this to the shadows there was little to be gained by further angering the daemon. A Jar of Hearts Pt. 02 "The flessssh raisssser paid in your sssstead! Sssstill, am I not merciful in my punisssshmentssss? Call them and they will sssserve as an insssstrument of my will! You sssshall be theirssss as the moonssss turn!" And with her sentence passed the voice faded and the room again warmed itself. Elissa wept upon the floor and cursed her own foolish weakness. That damned necromancer might have spilt his blood but it was her body which would be used as The Master saw fit! It was some time before strength returned to her limbs and she was then able to dress and clean the room. A local scribe was summoned and together the two of them crafted the summons which The Master had demanded be sent over her own name. Elissa was careful in her language. Letting the lesser members of the coven know that she had displeased Him would be as bloodying the waters for the sharks! She masked her forthcoming punishments as a rite to further her ability to carry the form of The Master and demanded that they present themselves in the said place as the moons turned at month's end. Once all was said and the letters were sent upon their way Elissa collapsed across her pallet and fell into a most fitful sleep. One in which her dreams were plagued with visions of naked men encircling a foolish young woman, and taking her in all the ways a wench might be taken, as they laughed at her shame! To Be Continued. . .