Far beneath the palace lay the true place of power in the land of the Slaver-King. A natural cavern carved by the relentless action of fresh river and saltwater from the ocean tides mixing together made for the most 'holy' place suitable for the Aunt's needs. Here was where she must lure the bearer of the key before she could summon the Gatebringer. With them under her control, she could finally fulfill the vision and open the way to the Sacred Land! All was in place as she'd consistently saw in the vision; fifteen red-headed males from the far North and a woman of mixed blood whose mother and father were tied to the Sacred Land.
Yes, everything was in place! The stars were in their proper alignment in the heavens and after so many tortuous years, the way to great power would finally be opened. But, there was one potential bit of poison in the dish she was making. Always the 'Skull-Faced Man erupting from the engulfed body of the girl darkened the vision before cutting it from her sight. Except for the white skull, he was a warrior bathed in blood, savage and matchless in battle! He alone could stand in her way. However, that possibility had also been planned for.
Through her exhaustive search, she found a warrior capable of killing the Skull-Face! Through years of manipulation, she'd managed to bring forth the finest of warriors. His birth, training and every aspect of his life including all the circumstances which brought him to the City of Golden Towers were shaped by her design! No man could stand against him and he was born to serve her purpose; to open the way to the Sacred Land. The Skull-Face Man from her vision whoever he was, would meet his end against her creation!
Looking over the still unconscious slave girl, The Aunt's near night black gnarled hand traced the naked curves of her body down to the patch of woman's hair betwixt shapely thighs. Placing her fingers between the pliant lips, the Aunt found that which she was looking for. Her eyes smiled through the open portion of her headress as she said, "How one so beautiful has managed to remain intact to such a fruitful age is a miracle itself! With such energies within you untapped for so long, you are the perfect vessel in which to use for my purpose." It was then her trusted slave Hasim stood upon the high wooden platform and called down to her. "Mistress, the King has summoned you!"
It was her 'nephew' who summoned her. Soon, she would no longer need him or his line to attend the everyday workings of the kingdom. For now, she would play the ever-dutiful counselor and seer to the Slave-Trader King. The Aunt checked the chains holding the unconscious woman to confirm they were secure. Satisfied with her inspection, the Aunt looked up to her slave and said, "Hasim while I attend to the King, bring down all the red-headed Northmen captured on our shores. Be certain to bring only the ones found on that strange long-boat and make sure no male, including yourself touches this woman!"
Taking two steps back from the natural stone column where the woman was chained, the Aunt stopped and folded both arms across her sunken chest. Her gray rimmed brown eyes suddenly burned with amber light and a circling ribbon of fire swirled about her feet. Soon, she would be able to cast off this ridiculous guise of an aged witch forever! A few hours more of holding her true self hidden in order to complete her task could be easily endured. Now she would attend her nephew and guide him in his final role. With a sharp outward extension of her arms, the flames circling her feet engulfed the Aunt and in an abrupt flash, she was gone.
***
With the cavern now quiet except for the sound of swirling river and seawater, a sudden rattling of iron chains echoed about the stone walls. The young woman had pretended to be asleep even as the old crone put her filthy hand inside her! As she pulled on her chains futility trying to free herself, her mother's warning kept ringing in her ears, 'Going to the lands of the Southmen to find your father will bring you great misery. But along with misery, your two greatest love's will come forth. Twice when you are in great need, look into the darkness and call for help. At the second calling you will be answered, but in payment give your inner power to save the lives of you and all your people.'
The woman never understood her mother's words when spoken. Only in time would they reveal her meaning. Now she understood a great deal! She also knew that old witch had something terrible in mind for her. She was trapped in this dark place... her mother's warning! Once before when her new captors took her from that awful foul-breathed man who stripped her in front of the crowd of leering Southmen, she tried to flee and fell to the pier.
While looking into the darkness between the planks, she called out for help. Of course, nothing happened. One irritating thing about her mother, she was never wrong! Realizing she could not free herself, the woman looked about the place she was being held. Except for the small firepot near the long path of wooden stairs leading up into the darkness away from her, there was shadow and darkness all around her. Strangely enough, the space just above where the water drained seemed to be the darkest place of all. Before she could stop herself, the woman looking into the darkness screamed, "HELP ME!"
When the echo of her scream faded beneath the sounds of the swirling water, the woman looked towards the darkness and nothing happened. Uncontrollably, tears flooded her fear-reddened eyes then poured down her cheeks. This time her mother had been wrong. No miraculous rescuer would come to her in this 'time of need' as predicted. The woman slumped feeling the weight of her body pull hard against her chained wrists as she felt all hope fly from her.
While the weight of her predicament pressed her down further, a voice echoed from the darkest place she called out to. In her language and encrusted with a thick accent the voice inquired, "What assistance do you require?" At the sound of the voice, the woman found fear inspired strength for she quickly pulled herself up by her chains regaining her feet. Trying hopelessly to peer through the absolute darkness to see the owner of the voice, the woman relented and answered, "H-h-have y-you come to help me?” There was a pause and then the voice replied, "It depends on what you mean by... help."
Frantic the woman screamed, "GET ME OUT OF HERE!" The woman stood waiting until the echo of her plea died with no response. "Are you still there?" "Yes. But, it is not in my power to take you from this place. I can give you what you need to survive this. You will have to give me something important first. Will you give that which you must to survive?"
Again her mother's words rang loudly in the woman's desperate mind, 'Give your inner power to save the lives of you and your people....' Confused, the woman wracked her brain to decipher her mother's cryptic message. A terrible thought burned through to the forefront of the woman's mind. Why did the hideous crone repeatedly stick her hard crooked fingers between her legs? The Woman couldn't understand a word the crone said, but she could tell it was important no man had yet to enter her 'inner gate'.
She had seen twenty winters and while the other women her age were married and had children, no man of her mother's people ever called for her. She was tolerated because of her mother's powerful reputation, but what man wanted the daughter of a demon? Yet now, a voice did call out to her. She desperately wanted to live and if it meant giving herself to the darkness, so be it. At the least, she would be able to spoil the crone's plans!
Summoning up her remaining courage, the young woman called out to the voice in the dark. "I-i am w-willing to give the only thing I-i c-can!" The woman gasped gripped in abject terror for from the abysmal dark stepped forth a true demon! Covered in bright red blood, the demon had the body of a beautiful and powerfully framed man. However, it's face was that of a denuded skull on the upper portion with the flesh intact on the lower. The demon crossed over the gap where the water drained into the sea in a great bound and landed gracefully beside her.
The demon had a powerful caustic smell similar to that of the cavern. It burned her eyes and nose causing her to screw her eyes shut much from the irritation as fear. More frightening than the demon's smell was it's presence. Death seemed to exist all around it! The woman had little of her mother's sensitivity, but what she possessed was overwhelmed by the demon's proximity. With her eyes still shut, the woman heard it's hollow voice say, "Do you accept me Marta daughter of Mjarga?"
The woman's cedar-colored eyes went wide as she looked upon the skull-faced demon. "H-how do you know me demon?" Almost seeming to smile, the demon replied, "I know you well my Marta." Unsure if whether it was the demon casting its spell over her or not, the woman named Marta felt her fear beginning to subside. Gently the demon's rough and powerful hands caressed her skin and the blood covering them streaked in languid lines wherever they went.
All too soon, the demon's touch had become more than Marta could bear! As it pulled her against the hard muscled body, she felt the harder member press her sweating skin. Marta gasped aloud as one hand cradled her buttocks, while the other kneaded her shuddering breasts. With ease the demon lifted Marta from the cavern floor to stand betwixt her legs. Again the young woman with gritted teeth gasped deeply as the demon's blood-soaked member brushed through her tangle of hair and over the pliant lips it covered.
The demon guided her legs around its strong waist and held her close as its member continued to rub against her swollen lips. Despite her chains, Marta pulled the demon to her with all her strength! No longer did the demon's smell repel her nor did its touch burn her skin. Marta now thrust back hard against the demon with growing abandon. It was then it pressed her against the natural stone pillar and entered her gate! Marta bit the demon's shoulder against the excruciating pain. Her mouth filled with the acrid taste of the blood covering its tough skin and she grunted in agony with each thrust within her growing stronger.
To Marta's surprise, she began to crave the agony. With each thrust that seemed to tear into her, she wanted more. Once again her body thrust hard upon the demon's member until her hips ground against the demon like a miller's stone wheel. Suddenly, she felt the demon begin to shudder within her and then her own body was no longer hers! A great shout erupted from her as the demon nearly crushed her in its embrace.
Over and over it thrust vicious and deeply into her. Then with one last mighty push, the demon's member seemed to breach the deepest part of her! Unable to speak, Marta felt her self flooded with searing heat! At the rush of sensation, the shuddering of her body returned more violent allowing only a long high-pitched groan to escape her throat. At the death of the last echo of her cry, the demon relented.
Completely spent, Marta hung as a boneless fish in the demon's embrace. Laying her head on the demon's broad shoulder tears of anger fell from her cheeks as Marta thought, ‘This must be what my mother felt.’ A demon had taken her mother and she was the product of that union. Now as her witch mother, Marta realized she too was the 'Bride of a Demon'! Gently the Skull-Face released her and said, "Hold your tongue and that which I have placed within until the witch comes for you. Only when she asks, 'who did this?' can you tell her. Do you understand?" Marta still out of breath nodded, 'Yes' as the demon faded back into the darkness.
The cavern filled once more with sounds of mixing waters only to be jarred by the sounds made by men in chains being forced down the wooden steps. Whatever the Witch was planning would soon start. As the unfamiliar ache between her legs grew, so did Marta’s fear return. But now, she would trust in her mother's words and do that which the demon had told her. She would survive this day and hopefully... see the last of the old crone as well!
© 2011 H. Wolfgang Porter. All Rights Reserved.
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