It is currently Mon Oct 23, 2017 4:44 am




Post new topic Reply to topic  [ 13 posts ] 
 Demonic Triumvirate (Closed) [warning, adult content] 
Author Message
Stablehand
User avatar

Joined: Wed Sep 25, 2002 5:00 pm
Posts: 91
Location: Maxim
Post Demonic Triumvirate (Closed) [warning, adult content]
[ooc: This story is an offshoot from This Thread . This is a closed thread but if anyone thinks they would fit into it then please pm me. Thanks.
~Mal
ps: Due to the nature of this story some scenes -may- offend so reader discretion is advised.


IC:

Alone.

Was this to be his permanent state of being from now on? It seemed so familiar but he hadn't always been like this, even when he was forced to steal the shapes of others he didn't hide away from the Isle, didn't sit in a self made solitary prison with a heightened paranoia for company. No, he had once been the Torturer, a demonic presence to be feared, a leader to be revered. Yet here he was once again in that old familiar solitude with nothing to lead and nobody to fear him.

He had sent Demetria away not just for her own sake but for far more selfish reasons; after all, what was the point of sinking into a pit of despair and self pity if there were people around to help keep spirits up?

Then there was the matter of trust.

It felt as though the whole of his clan would happily stick a knife into his back and then all take turns to twist it further down into his flesh. Why did so many enemies ally themselves to his cause? His paranoia couldn't answer that question but one thing it did know for certain was that he couldn't turn his back on anybody, couldn't trust anybody. The truth was that wherever he went now he was alone with nobody to stand in his corner with him. Even so, wasn't there a time when this would have only served to anger him? To prompt him into taking action against these enemies? Why then did he now sit back and let it happen, why did he do nothing to pull back at the clan that slipped through his fingers like sand through an hourglass?

That one could be answered with one word, a word that explained everything.

Alone.

The demon hesitated at the door of the temple, he knew they were inside there, waiting for him, aching to mock him again, to point out his failings, to question his heritage as Sacris had questioned it. The shadows of Pariah. Why did they even waste their time with him if he was indeed the failure that they thought. Perhaps they had had high hopes for him and felt let down when he sunk into his current state of mind. They had raped Demetria in his presence and he had done nothing to stop them.

He was no longer the Torturer.

He was a joke.

Maledict pulled open the door of the temple and stepped inside, his gaze carefully watching the movements of the shadows as they slipped across the walls and slithered over the floor. Once upon a time they would have instantly covered him, heading for him like a moth flies toward the light of a candle, not now though, even shadows thought him unworthy of their attention.

Why? He asked in his usual hushed tone. Why did you do that to her? What did it achieve? The words were swallowed up as soon as they tumbled from his cruel thin lips.

go away. Came the shadows' reply. Maledict shook his head with a firm resolve. He would get an answer. No. Even if it means an end to my miserable existence I will be answered!

torturer talks big. comes here expecting us to serve him when he does nothing for us. where did you go torturer? when did you lose the way? our hand was forced when we took your woman. Do you love her, demon? Do you love the human?

Each of their words dripped with poisonous barbs and ended with a contemptuous snigger.

Does it matter? The demon inquired. Does that make a difference?

when a demon follows his heart he is weak, he becomes nothing but what his own heart dictates, he loses his way, loses the cause that he fought so violently for. There is no despair in you Maledict W'Ikandor. We show you who you are and you throw it back in our faces, we give you the gift that is this kingdom and you only care that we forced ourselves on a human female. You tell us, W'Ikandor, you tell us whether it makes a difference.

Show me who I am? He retorted. You have shown me nothing. All you give me are vague statements and cryptic clues.

The temple fell into silence for long moments as the shadows all converged up into the roof, swirling and dancing erratically as they considered his words.

go away, W'Ikandor. come back when you are worth our attention. we once told you that you were not demon, not human but something else. the thirteen put their hopes into you and look what happened.

The Thirteen betrayed us. They deserved to die. Maledict stated simply.

there he is. there's the W'Ikandor we need. their own creation that turned around and ripped their throats out. tell us, torturer, when was the last time you tore out a throat? when did you last have someone stretched out on your rack begging for a mercy that you were incapable of giving? not demon, not human, shall we tell you what you are? shall we tell you what the 'something else' is right now?

Stygian eyes narrowed and Maledict nodded, his face set in a grim determination. Yes. Tell me.

nothing, W'Ikandor. right now you are nothing. go away.

The temple doors flew open and crashed noisily against the walls as the shadows spoke their final words. Maledict didn't argue, instead he just lowered his head like a shamed child and left the temple. Perhaps they were right, it wasn't as though he had done anything recently to prove them wrong. How the mighty are fallen.

An Orc pushed open the huge gates of his newly formed keep and the demon walked inside and as he did he heard her voice in his mind.

"Maledict, I am here."

It couldn't be. It just couldn't be her. So much time had passed that he had assumed she was dead, or if not dead then residing in another plane of existence. There was no mistaking the voice though, it was her voice. He made his way down a long corridor which led to the entrance hall and smiled cautiously at the sight that greeted him.

Mallya and Dementia. He said, stating the obvious as he gazed upon the two powerful demonesses. Why were they here? Why now? Had they been sent to kill him, to finally end his existence now that he was a failure? Only time would tell, but if they had been sent to do exactly that then he wasn't sure that he would fight against it.

Not that it isn't a pleasure, but what do you want?

_________________
The Torturer


Tue Feb 03, 2004 10:39 am
Profile
Stablehand
User avatar

Joined: Wed Feb 12, 2003 11:12 am
Posts: 46
Post 
The confusion in his mind increases first, and then quickly she senses his disbelief. There is no doubt that he will be here soon now.

Mallya stands waiting expectantly when she senses another presence. Demon in nature but not the one she seeks. She does not move. She is focused on her purpose and this unexpected visitor could be an ally to her cause. She turns her head slightly when Dementia’s claws graze her shoulder and teeth nip playfully.

Yes, it has been quite some time hasn’t it?

She senses Maledict’s approach and turns her attention back to the hall.

Mallya and Dementia. He states simply. Yes, he is in need of some help to be sure. But at least he looks happy to see them both. Well, as happy a Demon can look that is.

Not that it isn’t a pleasure, but what do you want? He asks them both.

Mallya steps towards Maledict her eyes searching his. She does not intrude any further into his mind. It has been a long time, to long, and in his state Mallya’s not sure how far he will trust her. She leaves only a slight familiar presence there in his mind, to comfort and reassure him.

I’ve come because, dear Torturer, you need me. What in Darden’s name has happened to you? I barely recognize you, actually if I hadn’t followed the pull of your consciousness I wouldn’t have known you at all. It’s been a long time to be certain but surely not that long.

She reaches up to touch her shoulder were just minutes earlier Dementia had drawn blood. A trace upon her own delicate claws is licked away with slow flick of her tongue. Do you still yearn for the taste? She collects more of the thick sweet liquid and slowly, gently she paints his lips. Her eyes are still searching his looking for any sign of familiarity. Yes the body is different, but are you really in there? She scrapes her hand across his stomach increasing the pressure slightly as she goes, creating a wound that would cause a mortal to scream in pain. She circles him once, appraising the new body and giving him some time sort out her sudden reappearance in his life. She stops in front him. We have much to talk about don’t you think? Surely you can offer an old friend some company and perhaps a mortal or two to chew on. I’m starving, it’s been years since I’ve had my last meal, and I know Dementia is always in the mood for some fresh heathen, aren’t you dear? Mallya glances back at Dementia and smiles the secret smile of one with a plan before turning her attention back to Maledict awaiting his response.

_________________
It is better to be hated for what you are than to be loved for what you are not.
Sanctum Officium 1am GMT 27/3/04 Forever remembered


Tue Feb 03, 2004 11:20 pm
Profile
Stablehand
User avatar

Joined: Wed Sep 25, 2002 5:00 pm
Posts: 16
Post 
Dementia smirked at Maledict, standing with her arms folded. She lightly drummed her claws on her lizard hide forearms. Her golden eyes glowed in the low light of the hall.

"You get the chancccee to give yourssself a new body, and you ssstick to the sssame basssic look?" Her forked tongue darted across her lips. "How dull." She stepped to Mallya's side, reaching out to drag a finger through the open wound. "Did you at leassst sssave sssome humansss for sssnacksss when you did your redecorating? Or do you jussst feassst on your own ssself-pity?" She brought her bloodied fingers to her lips and sucked the warm liquid from her skin. She eyed the strange shadows that haunted the keep and stroked her serpent hair.

"I can't imagine that hiding away and ssstarving yourssself isss good for guild morale. What a fearsssome Torturer you've become." She turned and walked towards the nearest corridor, her hips swiveling provocatively. "Shall we retire to your officccee. That'sss a far more interesssting location for conversssation." She flashed a fanged grin at Mallya and hissed. "Where'sss your human plaything?"

_________________
Would you like to be fried with that?
Tastes of human? Yummy
~Sanctum Officium~
Never Forgotten


Fri Feb 06, 2004 2:27 am
Profile
Stablehand

Joined: Sat May 24, 2003 3:57 am
Posts: 19
Location: Vagrant
Post 
As a rule, predators knew other predators. At least, they knew how to pick out predatory traits in others. The vampire clung to the ceiling, above the Three of Them. Quietly and quickly she had crept towards the source of the sounds. Now here she was, and there they were.

There was That One, from the desert. That One who had brought food from the humans, had been at that time a dominant presense. He did not seem so now, although seeming was not always a wise thing to gauge by. Especially not with things like that, who courted with things like Her.

Woman with Wings.

Memories stirred from before hunger, when blood had been just messy and red. Killing memories, the only kind that mattered. Elation of vengeance, vengeance without motive (why had it been?). Hate without reason (whence went rationale?). Passion transcendent of any true morality (she didn't need it?). Fire and flame, and fingers inside flesh. She had been good at throats.

Blood, then.

A lot of it.

(she didn't want it.)

The smell of it now, but not the same as then. Someone else. She wasn't hungry yet, but the hunger always wanted fed. Down there, the Three of Them were talking. The Serpent drew from the blood of the Woman with Wings, and began to move away.

For the moment, she withdrew further into the shelter of the shadows. She would wait, before acting. Wait to see what That One would do with them.
[center]~~~~~
You learn to much, you'll never know.
You start to laugh, and God says No.

~Monster Magnet, God Says No[/center]


Sat Feb 07, 2004 10:33 am
Profile
Stablehand
User avatar

Joined: Wed Sep 25, 2002 5:00 pm
Posts: 91
Location: Maxim
Post 
Strange that their mocking words didn't bite into him, in fact, rather than being hurt by the poisonous syllables he was mildly amused. His tongue flicked across his lips to taste the blood of Mallya, savouring the metallic aftertaste as it rolled across his tastebuds. It was a flavour that he hadn't tasted in a long time, pure and demonic. A slight shiver ran up his spine at the seductive promises offered by her blood, promises that were shattered only by her words, her dark and mocking tone. Hardly recognised him? In truth he hardly recognised himself.

We all change, Mallya. Some of us for the better and some of us for worse. He spoke in his usual hushed tone, almost forcing himself to sound unperturbed by the two demonesses. The Torturer could also sense another, that creature, the one he had fed in the Red Desert. It was always hidden, always watching, and although he couldn't see which shadows it chose to disguise itself with, he knew that it was there, knew that it was watching, waiting.

Maledict turned and began to walk down the long corridor, waving his arm to request that his two uninvited guests follow him. You will find no humans in here to feast upon. There is nothing left. His tone became harsher as he spoke over his shoulder to the two demonesses who he now led down a narrow flight of steps. Only darkness. Long fingers wrapped around the handle of a huge wooden door, the wood itself was scarred with black as though it had been burnt, yet it remained solid. And me. The Torturer pushed at the door to reveal the room beyond.

Welcome to my office. Such words once had meaning and would strike fear into the hearts of any that had been led here, though he suspected that his two guests would be feeling everything but fear of this room. He stepped inside and his pale skin was instantly illuminated by the dull orange glow of the braziers that burned slowly in each corner. The ceiling was made from wooden rafters which were scarred in the same way as the door and from these rafters hung all manner of whips and chains. Maledict reached up and trailed his fingers across the tools of his trade causing some of the chains to jingle together creating a dark melody that echoed beyond the rafters.

As for my body, Dementia, why would I not choose that which has been proven to meet my needs? He placed his palms down onto the rack that stood in the centre of the room and carefully eyed the bench that ran across the far wall, various blades, pokers and other devices glinted malevolently in the glow of the braziers. So tell me, ladies. The words spilled out with a sigh of resignation. Did you come here to test me? To make sure I was still a master of pain and suffering? Or will you just stand there and see who can come up with the most cutting remarks? A grin twisted it's way across cruel thin lips. I mean, that's all you've done so far. Am I supposed to be hurt? To break down in tears at the sheer horror that is your mockery? He looked at them over his shoulder with narrowed eyes. I have tasted pain the like of which even you would find hard to stomach. Do not mistake me for some weak willed fool, some ridiculous creature who is a Torturer in name only.

_________________
The Torturer


Mon Feb 09, 2004 10:14 am
Profile
Stablehand
User avatar

Joined: Wed Feb 12, 2003 11:12 am
Posts: 46
Post 
She listened to his words, secretly pleased at the emotions that she had elicited from him so quickly. She couldn’t help the half smile as he played absently with his tools, his toys. Yes, she quickly decided, he is still there, he just needs a night of blissful pain.

Well Mal, she addresses him informally now as they are about to embark on an intimate evening, tonight I am yours to prove that, to whomever needs the proof. Yes we all change with time, sometimes for the better sometimes not. Sometimes we need to remind ourselves of who we are, especially when we surround ourselves with those not of our kind. I can see the old bloodlust in your eyes now, your smile as the delicious thought crossed your mind. It is time my old friend to rediscover who you are, just as it is time for me to rediscover who I am. She hops up on the table that he leans on, straddling it, her left leg inches from his hands. She leans forward so that their face are close.

Help me find myself Mal, and in doing so, find yourself again.

Her eyes smolder as she clasps both legs into the table. Laying down slowly she clasps her right hand in and then brings her one free hand against his chest.

Help me here dear, if you would. I expect that it shall be a long night and I’m anxious to get it started. It has been too long since my body has been subject to your merciless attention; I never have had the patience that you do in this particular area. Hell, I don’t think I’ve ever known anyone with your patience when it comes to the art of torture.

She lays back resting her head upon the hard surface of the table, her eyes half-closed in anticipation of the sweet agony of his touch. She wonders which of his devices he will choose to use first. She wonders if he will take her when he’s done. It’s not something they had ever shared before, mostly because she spent her life pining away for Demian. What a waste a time. It was time for her to give up on that last remnant of hope that somewhere he still survived. If he did, then it was obvious he would never come to her. It wasn’t something he was capable of. She needed more in her life than the old passion of a forgotten love, tonight would be the first step in her new life. Tonight, with Maledict’s help, she would start the process of freeing herself, even if he didn’t know it. She chuckles to herself at the irony of the whole situation. Here she had come to help Maledict and now she was contemplating how he could help her. Yes she had changed too, and not for the better, it was time to remedy that situation.

_________________
It is better to be hated for what you are than to be loved for what you are not.
Sanctum Officium 1am GMT 27/3/04 Forever remembered


Sun Feb 15, 2004 10:08 am
Profile
Stablehand

Joined: Sat May 24, 2003 3:57 am
Posts: 19
Location: Vagrant
Post 
Ah, to be a fly on the wall in such circumstances. A more acumenical mind could have found it fascinating, if only as material for a dry dissertation on the sociology of demons. That was provideing, of course, that such a mind managed not to find itself spilled out all over the floor for it's voyeurism. For a less scholarly individual of more specialized tastes, the scene might have proven more than a tiny bit enticeing.

For the vampire's part, this behaviour was neither fascinating nor enticeing. A long-forgotten curiosity had driven her through the door, trailing across the floor as the thinnest of mists. Now she clung to the rafters, perched carefully amidst the tools of the Torturer's trade, and observed. She ignored the words they spoke, for the sounds made her ears itch of late, and focused on what they were doing. Woman with Wings had bled, and fed That One with it. The Serpent had taken her portion, and met with no resistance.

Sociology was, to the solitary predator, a complete mystery.

Lachaion watched in a continueing silence as Mallya strapped herself onto the table. Eventually, when the demon stopped talking, it struck the vampire just how continuous the silence had become. She had not well marked the Torturer's reaching to jangle the chains, and now they had slowed to a halt. However brief the pause, it was oppresive to her. Such stillness lent itself to introspection, and the broken mind walked itself in inward circles, possessed of an uncomfortable memory and desire to know.

She reached out, though neither with hand nor foot, and set the chains to moving again as they had when That One had touched them.

There was a cold comfort in their clinking, which silenced the maddening spiral.
[center]~~~~~
The deformation age, they know my name,
Waltzing to scum and base and married to the pain.

~Marilyn Manson, mOBSCENE[/center]


Mon Feb 16, 2004 3:36 pm
Profile
Stablehand
User avatar

Joined: Wed Sep 25, 2002 5:00 pm
Posts: 91
Location: Maxim
Post 
The name.. He whispered the words as he moved silently around the rack that Mallya had so helpfully shackled herself to. Is Maledict, demoness. Long fingers grasped her free wrist and fixed the clasp tightly around it, a grin cutting it's way into his melancholy as the snap of metal against metal echoed around the walls. The Torturer glanced across to Dementia before leaning forward from the top of Mallya's head until his lips were but a whisper away from her ears. You would do well to remember it. He then stood up straight and cast an accusatory glance toward the rafters, he knew it was there, knew it was observing the scene that was unfolding in the office of The Torturer. Perhaps now it would begin to see who he really was. What he really was.

Maledict moved around to the side of the rack and wrapped his fingers firmly on the handle of the iron cog that was fixed to the workings beneath. I'm sure you would agree that.. He paused for a moment before turning the cog one revolution and almost immediately the chains that she had shackled herself to snapped back until they were taut. ..familiarity breeds contempt. Stygian eyes flashed with macarbre intent as he turned the cog another revolution which pulled her arms and legs until he could see her muscles begin to tense against the pressure and he knew that the ecstatic promises of pain would have already begun whispering it's seduction into her ears. One more revolution of the cog was enough to make most races scream and begin the pitiful song for mercy, this one though, this one was not most races, she was demon. Even so, everything felt pain, it was just that some were more tolerant than others and The Torturer prided himself on finding the brink of tolerance and then pushing it just a little further until the subject either embraced it with the passion that it deserved or rejected it until the sweet darkness of death shrouded them.

A third revolution of the cog was turned and the sound of bone popping from cartilage filled the still air of the chamber. He hadn't realised just how much he had missed this room and all of it's instruments of his trade, it had been too long since he had been here, too long since he had been the master of pain, the apostle of despair... The Torturer. Let me know when it starts to hurt, demoness. He said with a low chuckle as he turned away from her and moved over to the bench on the far side of the room. His hands hovered slightly above the variety of blades, tongs and branding irons that were spread across the bench in immaculate order and then with a mischievous grin on his face he picked up one of the irons and placed it into the burning coals of the brazier that stood at the far end of the bench. The dull orange glow of the coals washed across his face and burning sparks danced around his head as he moved the iron deeper into the heat of the coals.


Soon she would be whimpering, either for him to stop.. or for more....

_________________
The Torturer


Fri Feb 27, 2004 6:03 am
Profile
Stablehand

Joined: Sat May 24, 2003 3:57 am
Posts: 19
Location: Vagrant
Post 
The sparks flickered and rose, and the creature hissed a soft and impotent warning. Thin lips slid back from fangs glimmering orange in the oily light. Fire was a long-time nemesis. The gentle caress of even those few glittering flakes was enough to awaken pain where they touched the vampire's cold, dead flesh. This, in turn, reawakened the drowsy instincts that had been lurking beneath the thin veil of animal curiosity.

Foremost among these, above the fight-or-flight reflex roused by the flame and beyond even the basest of territorial urge, boiled up the cold and hollow sense of hunger. Emptiness: A chilling, sick pit of greasy desire. That dry, parched memory of the desert.

This place was rife with the smell. It poured from the Woman with Wings, but Lachaion had the vague idea that interfereing with That One would be tantamount to suicide.

But what about the reptile?

Ten little razors slipped out of ten thin fingers, as exquisite and precise as any of the other blades arrayed around the office. Slowly, she crept along avoiding the tools that hung amid the rafters with her. That One knew she was there, she knew that much. The other two, however, had given her no sign that they were aware.

For the moment, as she moved cautiously towards Dementia, she had no intention of making her presense too known to them until she had her teeth fastened to the Serpent's veins...
[center]~~~~~
Get up, c'mon get down with the Sickness!
Open up your hate and let it flow into me!
Madness is the gift that has been given to me!

~Disturbed, The Sickness[/center]


Sun Mar 07, 2004 11:29 pm
Profile
Stablehand
User avatar

Joined: Wed Feb 12, 2003 11:12 am
Posts: 46
Post 
He does not even attempt to conceal the contempt in his voice as he corrects Mallya on his name. She has struck a deep nerve and she knows it, but, The Torturer was in his element once again and even her best attempts would not deter him. Oh she would try to make him angry, to distract him from his task at hand. It might do him some good to loose his temper in this process. Something, some kind of emotional response would not kill him. In fact, it might in some ways help him. Mallya had watched enough of The Torturer’s workings to know that, to her knowledge at least, he had never lost his temper during the tedious work. He in fact detached himself in a way that Mallya envied a great deal. She had never been able to accomplish that detachment. He on the other hand, seemed to stay in a constant state of calm. She seemed at times to be ruled by her emotions.

Familiarity can breed many things my dear Torturer, contempt is but one of them. She whispers as her body is stretched to impossible lengths. Her muscles tense as the pain begins. Small beads of sweat begin to form upon her forehead. She takes a deep breath, this too causes her pain, but she forces her muscles to obey and relax as she exhales.

Let me know when it starts to hurt, demoness. He chuckles quietly. She smiles as he moves away from the rack.

It is exquisite. She turns her head, watching as he selects the first toy of the evening, her muscles are slowly growing accustom to their new lengths as she continues her relaxation. It is best to remain as relaxed as possible when being subjected to pain, absorbing it, welcoming it. The tension of anticipation has abated. She is beginning to truly enjoy herself, and the night is still young.

_________________
It is better to be hated for what you are than to be loved for what you are not.
Sanctum Officium 1am GMT 27/3/04 Forever remembered


Wed Mar 10, 2004 11:06 pm
Profile
Stablehand
User avatar

Joined: Wed Sep 25, 2002 5:00 pm
Posts: 91
Location: Maxim
Post 
Exquisite.

Yes, pain was that and so much more, if only everyone had the same outlook, had the same open mind. For years now Maledict had grown tired of all the other 'subjects' that he had spread out on his rack or tied to his whipping post. Tired of the ones who would whimper and scream as soon as they caught sight of a blade in his hands or even before that... some of them had been prompted to scream bloody murder just by looking into his eyes, and this was before he had even showed them the demon beneath the skin, the true Torturer who's beauty really was skin deep. Curs and whelps, the lot of them.

There were some exceptions to the general rule though, some who would quite happily jump onto the rack and allow him to have his way with them, to teach them the glory of torture. One of these exceptions was even human... Demetria, though the others were indeed demonkind, Mallya being one of the latter. Perhaps it was because demonflesh healed much faster than humanflesh, except, of course, for wounds inflicted by iron which on the whole never healed and sometimes even killed.

Lyssia

The name floated into his mind to accompany the thought of iron death. The Witch still had a debt to pay to him, whether she realised it or not. Even though he had alluded to things being equal when she had replaced his dark soul back into it's rightful body, he hadn't meant it. Did she really think he could forgive her so easily? A smirk daggered across thin lips and stygian eyes narrowed as his belly filled with fire at the thought of the Witch. She would pay.

Long fingers wrapped around the handle of the branding iron and felt the heat that crawled through the metal to tell him that it was ready for use. Without a word he pulled it from the coals and held the glowing hot end inches away from his face, it's heat casting a dull light across his pale skin. The Torturer moved swiftly across to the prone Mallya and with his free hand he grasped a hold of her left foot and pressed the hot iron against the sole. Swirls of smoke danced around the burning iron as he pushed it deeper and deeper, the stench of burning flesh quickly rushed into his nostrils and he let out a satisfied sigh that could easily have been mistaken for a moan pregnant with desire.

This may not heal. He whispered with malice as his gaze locked with hers. The surroundings melted away from his mind and all that was left was the Torturer and his victim, the pain and the pleasure, the artist and the subject. He pulled the branding iron away from her foot and grinned as the flesh where it had been continued to sizzle and pop like thin strips of meat under a flame, already a blistering welt had risen up from the sole of the foot in the shape on a blade beneath a semi circle.

Maledict then placed the iron back into the coals and turned to his workbench where he picked up a tiny diamond bladed dagger which he held up between thumb and forefinger and scrutinised before turning to face the demoness once more. I don't know why it is, He said, with his belly still full of fire from uninvited thoughts of the Sidhe Witch. that I always start from the bottom up. He gently placed his arm beneath her knees and lifted up so that her ankles weren't flat with the surface of the rack. I assume that I just can't abide leaving any part untouched. Stygian eyes cast their gaze across her face. Though I suppose you would have it no other way. He smirked and with his gaze still locked with hers he put the blade to her left ankle and quickly slashed across, the blade sliced through flesh and then tendon with unnatural ease. The Torturer then repeated the process on her right ankle. Blood spilled freely from the wounds adding to the already prominent vitae stains on the wooden surface of the rack.

Feel free to scream, to beg me for mercy. The demon said in his usual hushed tone, a tone that belied the anger, the desire, the need within. Or for more. He grinned, moved his arm from beneath her knees and raked now unsheathed talons across her inner thigh, causing the flesh to welt up instantly at his touch.

_________________
The Torturer


Tue Mar 16, 2004 7:09 am
Profile
Stablehand
User avatar

Joined: Wed Sep 25, 2002 5:00 pm
Posts: 16
Post 
Dementia stood back, content for a short time to merely monitor Maledict's techniques. Her clawed hands idly traced the growing lines of desire through her body. There was just something truly erotic about watching blood flow from a bound prisoner. Of course, the fact that Mallya was a willing prisoner did take some of the fun out of it, but some concessions had to be made from time to time...as much as the demoness hated to admit it. Something she would never admit, however, was that in spite of being drowned in disgusting emotions and self pity, the Torturer still knew his art.

Her forked tongue flickered hungrily across her lips, tasting the scent of roasting demon flesh mingled with her lust in the air. Her hair shifted and writhed about itself, hissing a matching hunger. Blood was in the air, and her little darlings hadn't quite been fulfilled with their last feast. Dementia bit her lower lip, pricking it with her fangs and drawing blood. The act sent a frisson of pleasure down her spine, but she ignored it. Patience, afterall, was one of the few traits treasured by mortals that she could and would actually claim.

"The iron isss indeed a nicccee touch Shape Ssstealer," the demoness laughed, clapping almost sarcastically. She stepped forward, her bare hips swaying to the tune of her own desires. Her lips curled into a grim smile as she glanced from the demon to demoness, her hands moving with a mind of their own to caress the open wounds that were even now beginning to heal. Her claws ripped at the newly growing skin, keeping her tendons exposed. Small portions of skin and muscle clung to her nails which she fed to the serpents of her hair. Her golden eyes met his obsidian gaze with an arrogant smirk.

"I ccertainly didn't exxxpect you to usse that knowing the wound you sssuffered and died from. Tell me, wasss it jussst like old timesss living like a parasssite in the bodiesss of otherss after the witch killed you? Did it bring back warm and fuzzzzy memoriesss to sssate your all too human heart?" Her eyes narrowed as she toyed with one of Mallya's breasts, drawing the tip of her foreclaw in spirals down from the nipple and leaving a thin trail of blood where it pierced the demoness's skin. Dementia smiled, turning her attention away from Maledict to lean down and lick the other demoness's lips.

"Ssso isss he doing asss well asss you'd like, or doesss he need to try harder?"

_________________
Would you like to be fried with that?
Tastes of human? Yummy
~Sanctum Officium~
Never Forgotten


Sat Mar 20, 2004 2:45 pm
Profile
Stablehand
User avatar

Joined: Wed Feb 12, 2003 11:12 am
Posts: 46
Post 
His grasp was strong and his skin felt cool against her own. Of course her body temperature was quite elevated at this point. His touch quickly disappeared as the searing pain of hot iron meeting the sole of her feet took over. She could hear her skin popping and the smell of burnt flesh soon followed. Lights explode in her eyes and a small moan escapes her lips as she embraces the pain, pushing her foot toward the brand. The brand is removed but the searing continues for a few seconds longer. The cool air assaults the freshly scorched skin and a new pain is borne. Mallya is riding wave after wave of pain and a grotesque cross of a smile and grimace revel her long sharp teeth.

She feels her legs lift, though not of her will, and the tendons in her heels are sliced quickly and neatly. She feels the blood poor from the wounds as Maledict intimately claws the inside of her thigh. She thrusts her hips up slightly at him grinning suggestively, though knowing that she won’t get out of this that easily. It was fun to tease though.

Her mind is beyond speech at this point; she is too wrapped up in the pleasure of all the pain. Concentrating she manages to form two words though they come out sounding quite guttural.

Don’t……stop.

_________________
It is better to be hated for what you are than to be loved for what you are not.
Sanctum Officium 1am GMT 27/3/04 Forever remembered


Sun Mar 21, 2004 10:34 am
Profile
Display posts from previous:  Sort by  
Post new topic Reply to topic  [ 13 posts ] 


Who is online

Users browsing this forum: No registered users


You cannot post new topics in this forum
You cannot reply to topics in this forum
You cannot edit your posts in this forum
You cannot delete your posts in this forum

Search for:
Jump to:  
cron
Powered by phpBB © phpBB Group.
Designed by Vjacheslav Trushkin for Free Forums/DivisionCore
Free Browser Based Strategy Game - Fantasy Authors, Books and Series