Li**** Posted July 12 Posted July 12 AN ~~ So the powers that be deemed one sentence and the title of this work incomprehensible due to being in French. Translated into English the meaning and beauty is lost but hey Ho. Luckily I didn’t get points. Onwards! ~~ **Trigger Warning** - Reason: Knife Play Like a handful of gems had been thrown at her she glitters red. Skin Pearlescent in the morning sun. Rubies drip from her lips and hands, spit silently down lips of fading pink. Arms outstretched, her hands overflowing cast red drops of fleeting life below. Forgotten as they pool amongst the ashes of her sins. Dawn broke and with it brought a technicolour rainbow to be played across ivory skin. Marred only by the welts and crimson veins drawn by harsh tool. Dust motes dance in the stillness and solitude of the tower as vision clears. Strung angelic in the rafters, crucified. Many hours earlier she began her confession. He began his sermon. She entered quietly into the abandoned church. Ancient oak doors screeching against blasphemous Intrusion. Like a church mouse she slides inside and seals herself into her tomb. The air is peaceful, anticipation hangs like heavy clouds as she makes preparations for sacrifice. He will arrive. Time skips and falters, vision clearing. Adjusting to stimulus the world slows again to real-time. She returns tentatively to reality. Skin parts reverently giving way to lash with each strike. Spittle, sweat and vengeance coat whatever hide is left unaffected, shining like diamonds amongst the dirt of her sins. Rough hands bring absolution and solace, righting past indiscretions claiming penance violently. Composer looms over His symphony, eliciting cries for forgiveness. She has little to atone tonight yet desperation drives her to his confessional. Kneeling, she is laid bare at His feet unworthy yet under scalpel and microscope. She will be dissected before He is done. Her scalp burns as she is lifted, hands wrap around throat like vice and vacuum sucking precious air from her lungs. Blood rushing in her ears creating thrumming beat. Suddenly she is pushed backwards. Heavy thud of booted footsteps reach her as he forces her to dance backward lest she be trampled. Twisted and slammed against the pulpit she feels the weight of his grasp upon her neck. She is supine against him, inch of burning flesh against inch of cool leather. Metal Belt bites her ass as she keens breathlessly . He leans over her. Eyes ablaze and licks red rivers from coccyx to ear. He breaths deeply savouring the taste of her life and scent of her fear. He demands she “open”, gravel voice itching at her nape. Teeth parted she is given leave to gasp air before her jaw is held tightly again, his filthy hands coated with grime blood and muck leave a bitter taste as he grasps her jaw. Turning her head harshly 90 degrees. Forcing her face into favoured position his hands replaced by clergy collar. The symbol of his sanctity forever perverted by her whore mouth. She whimpers at the gag. Ropes spring from the ether it seems as one arm is roughly lashed and cinched to the barrier, arm outstretched so tightly her shoulder screams. The other follows once she is flipped and spread so that she is pulled down into the wood harshly. The grain and edges biting tenderised meat of her back, she slips. Blood and plasma lubricating her so that she must dig in with her hips to balance. Cool air tickles her breast before the grieving sting of willow sets her ablaze. He works her flesh, raising tracks and maps of red mountain welts upon her delicate skin. Blood rushes to service and spills over in blooming tapestry. He pauses as he surveys the lamb. Sacrifice whimpering and shivering naked and afraid. The he has always enjoyed her breasts. Shapely tissue soft mounds more than had full but pleasant to bind and torture. Sensitive nipples darkened by arousal or terror or both. He would miss them. And yet. A flash of silver. She screams. Collar dropping, desecrated , she cries. Tears run tsunami down her cheeks. Saline stinging as is chases towards reaped flesh. She wails begging. Regret showing effervescent in the way she recoils as far as she is able. Intent and like a mad mad he pinches flesh and pulls. Knife flashing again. Her nipples held captive in his hand. They are pocketed as trophy of this sluts demise. Knife flashes twice more and she cowers away swaying and spilling precious blood across hollowed ground. She bleeds upon his alter. The pulpit she the wine for communion. The ropes slack and she falls with indignity slumped upon the dusty floor. A sniff and nudge with his boot has her prostate once more. “You have honoured me, I see you little whore. Your suffering feeds me, I shall give you grace and free you” he whispers. She struggles to hear the sibilant voice but he does not speak for her to hear. She must listen. Silence and then the distinct squeal of petulant wood. Unyielding and yet carried as if featherlight. A cross Hoisted Immobile it hangs transcendent in the breaking Dawn. His trash, meal and curtailed crawls to his feet. At last he kneels, gentle hands rest upon cheeks thumb brushing across chapped and bruised lips. “you are magnificent, sweet torment you will soon be free". He croons. He cradles her battered broken body reverently, stands still a moment to savour the weight she holds. He casts this moment in memory. Set down she stands like mannequin,resting. Leaning against his chest shaking and trembling in aftershocks. Her temperature is starting to withdraw. Ropes gently bind arms and ankles. They will not hold her weight but restrain only the involuntary jerks of life left in limbs. She is too far gone to struggle. He turns and walks away. Intent to retrieve hallowed items. I’ve come and doomed he clutches desperately to his sanity in these the final moments. Lifers from a box of blood red velvet the nails made by his own bare hands are held up to the light. His final gift to her. Smelted from her collar and shackles gifted years ago the are to be truly a part of her. So often caressed gently reverently in peaceful hands they now will break apart tendon cleave feet in holy matrimony He sets to work. Her final use not yet complete. He labours. Strain pulling muscles tight. Sweat gleams across his back his torment hangs finally, Like a handful of gems had been thrown at her she glitters red. Skin Pearlescent in the morning sun.