Page 22 of The Flesh Remembers
“I don’t believe you!” He laughed, letting her head drop. The other man was behind her, his fingers slipping into her wetness and finding her swollen clit and rubbing it slowly.
“Please!” the woman cried, pushing back against the other man’s hand. Eleanor could see the woman was shaking with desire, and she felt a similar feeling within herself as well and could feel the wetness between her legs coating the inside of her thighs.
The first man grabbed the woman’s hair again, but this time brought his rock-hard cock to her lips. “Open for me, like a good girl,” the man said to her softly. The woman obediently opened her mouth, and Eleanor watched as the large member was thrust inside her waiting mouth. The woman’s head began to bob up and down and she sucked the cock, while the other man behind her grabbed both of her arms and held them behind her back with one hand and grabbed a fistful of her hair with the other as he watched her with a lustful smile on his face.
“Oh, you are such a filthy whore!’ the first man cried out as she used her mouth on him, her lips and tongue moving over his thick, hard cock. The woman moaned against his cock as if she relished the names he called her.
“I’m coming, whore, I’m coming!” The man seized her face in his hands to steady himself as ropes and ropes of his seed filled her waiting and eager mouth. As he was filling her mouth he told her firmly, “don’t you dare swallow that come, whore!”
Once he was satiated, he pulled his cock from her mouth and looked down at her with a satisfied smile. The woman was on her hands and knees, still, her mouth full of his hot come as she had obediently done as he instructed. The other man then yanked her head backwards again and kissed her deeply, the seed filling her mouth now filling the man’s and mingling between them as it dripped down both of their chins.
The first man had set himself on the floor next to her and pulled her backwards into his lap, pinning her arms behind her and yanking her legs open and pushing them open as wide as possible with his legs. The second man crawled forward and let some of the juices from his mouth spill down between her legs, where it was already wet and swollen, adding to the lubrication. The man behind her began using his fingers to rub between her legs; his own her sensitive clit, the juices spilled from the second man’s mouth mingling together with hers. The woman moaned louder, panting, her head tossing from side to side as she seemed on the verge of complete collapse.
The second man then kneeled in front of her and lined up his thick, hard cock with her entrance and in one deep thrust was inside her. They both cried out again and again as he began to thrust in and out in a frenzy. The other man continued to rub her from behind, and it was not long before the woman was screaming out as her release flooded her body, shaking her violently. The man penetrating her followed suit very soon after, crying out as he shot his essence deep into her, thrusting as hard as he possibly could, all the while.
And then the three were silent, collapsing onto one another in a tangle of sweat-covered flesh, sticky with the remnants of their desire.
“All right, my dear, I think the time is right.” Blackwood smiled and rose from the couch, leading her to the crimson-draped dais at the chamber's centre. The participants began to move from their activities to form a circle around them, their eyes gleaming with anticipation.
“Strip,” he commanded.
Eleanor hesitated, her hands trembling and her mouth dry. It was one thing to witness, to observe the perversity, but it was another to become a willing participant. She concentrated her thoughts on James and being with him once again. She thought of the chance they might have for a life together. Children, a home, happiness. It was all she had ever wanted, but to do this? Debase herself like this in front of the greedy eyes of strangers? It was too much.
“I-I can’t do this,” Eleanor cried as she turned and began to rush towards the door.
“Dr. Ashcroft,” Blackwood called to her, his voice steady and unbothered. “No one will force you to do anything here. You are, of course, free to go. But I just want you to realize what you are giving up. We must abandon the project if you cannot perform the ceremonies necessary to facilitate the resurrection process. Your James will have to be returned to the grave to rot.”
Eleanor turned to look at Blackwood. He confidently leaned against the stone wall, one hand casually toying with the buttons on his coat.
“Is that what you want?” His smile was deceptive and secretive. There was so much hidden behind that smile, but Eleanor could not deny the power of his words. She couldn’t let James return to the grave after coming this far for him.
Yes, she could do it. Shewoulddo it. Eleanor took a deep, ragged breath and untied her robe's sash. The fabric slid from her shoulders, pooling at her feet.
Gasps rippled through the crowd at the sight of Eleanor’s white, unblemished flesh, followed by murmurs of approval.
“Lie down,” Blackwood instructed, his voice a sharp contrast to the reverent silence that followed.
She climbed onto the dais, the cool velvet pressing against her bare skin.
The chanting intensified as the participants moved closer, their hands reaching out to her. Fingers brushed her arms, her thighs, her stomach. Lips followed, pressing kisses to her skin, their warmth igniting sparks of sensation wherever they touched.
She felt herself dissolving under their hands, her body responding instinctively to their touches. Someone’s mouth closed over her nipple, their tongue circling before teeth grazed her, sending a jolt of pleasure through her. Another pair of hands gripped her hips, spreading her thighs as a mouth pressed against the sensitive skin there.
The pleasure was overwhelming, a tide that carried her further from herself with every passing moment.
But then the chanting shifted, the rhythm slower, more deliberate. Blackwood raised a hand, and the participants froze, their touches lingering but still.
“It’s time,” he said.
Two robed figures stepped forward, each carrying a small bundle swaddled in black silk. Eleanor’s breath caught as they placed the bundles on either side of her. When they unwrapped them, her stomach churned.
Lying before her were two small effigies, crudely carved from bone and wood. Their faces were twisted and grotesque, bound with red thread and covered in strange markings.
“These are more than symbols,” Blackwood said, his voice echoing in the chamber. “They are vessels waiting to be filled. One will hold the spark of your love, the power that will tether James to this world. The other…” His lips curved into a dark smile. “The other will receive what remains. Pain, grief, rage. The darkness you carry inside you.”
Eleanor’s chest tightened.
“You must choose, though you cannot know which vessel carries love and which carries darkness,” Blackwood said,his voice soft but insistent. “Which vessel will you bless, and which will you condemn?”
