Page 2 of Song of Tenebrae

Sky was ready to heal herself and willing to forgive everything that happened, she claims she couldn’t move on without it. I never faulted her for that, we all have our own ways of handling trauma, and hers was harder in my opinion.

“I have the scars too, Temp.” Her voice is soft, like she’s trying her best to calm me. “I look at them every day.”

“Hail didn’t inflict them, though.” I retort and cut out the white lines on my vanity top.

“No, but he knew what was going to happen and he didn’t stop it.”

“We’d be dead if it weren’t for him,” I sniff the first line and tip my head back, “I have no doubt about that. He saved us.”

“He had a motive,” I see her jaw clench slightly before she takes a large breath, “but I don’t think they were going to kill us.”

“Fine maybe they were just plumping us up for the next sacrifice to Satan.” I sniff the next line. “I will always admire your strength, Sky. I don’t have it in me to forgive them.”

Her eyes grow sad and her lips turn down slightly as she watches me chase the white oblivion. I know she doesn’t like my methods of coping through my pain, but I can’t do anything to change that right now. I don’t know how she moved on from learning about a large group of deluded people who thought themselves Illuminati and used that excuse to kill people. They were all just a group of serial killers using the guise of Satan worship to enact their cravings.

“Why don’t you go relax? Take the rest of the night off.” Her hands move to my shoulders as she scrutinizes me.

“I have one more set.” I grin at her, “unless you want to take it over.”

She rolls her eyes and steps back, “I’d rather not.”

“That’s what I thought.” I get up out of my seat, feeling better. “Besides, I need The Sanctuary’s manager walking the floor.”

“Temp,” she calls as I move behind the changing screen, preparing for the next dance. “What happens when Raiden shows up here?”

Whennotif.I press my hand to the pentagram scar on my stomach and I swear it burns to the touch. Her and I both know what this means to him and he believes I am his.

“I’ll kill him.”

Rhiannon by Fleetwood Mac beats through the speakers as I strut out onto the stage. I’m wearing a long black lace robe and a G-string, nothing else. I let my hair down in tumultuous waves and its ends tickle just under my ass cheeks; I haven’t cut it in almost a year. I haven’t wanted to alter a single part of me that endured the pain; I don’t want to forget. I put myself through the memories everyday, just to keep the anger fresh.

Then there’s that part of me that I try to bury everyday, it makes my stomach curl and my heartbeat faster. No matter how hard I fight it, it works its way to the surface, and I give in for a few moments. The feel of him moving inside me, the taste of his mouth, and the sting of his blade.

I move in the moment, imagining he’s watching me, and let myself remember. The way his mouth felt on mine, the nip of his teeth into my skin, and the slick sweat along our bodies. My hand glides down between my breasts and the lace robe opens wide, revealing my imperfect skin. His mark is on display and as I rub my fingertips over the raised ridges, I imagine it’s his blade.

I drop the robe to the stage and walk to the edge, letting my memory flood me, and take me back to when I was imprisoned by those golden-green eyes. My body moves like liquid, my back rolling with the motion, and my mind making me feel like he’s right there, inside me. I feel myself grow wet and I slip my hand inside my G-string, pressing my fingers to my clit. I tip my head back, letting myself feel him and his calloused fingers rubbing my hardened nub. Everything tightens and I’m on the verge of coming, my pussy clenching with the memory of being stretched by him.

“Let’s see the pussy, Witch.”

I open my eyes, the memory slipping away, and glare down at a sexually frustrated cunt. I bend at the knees and grab his greying beard, yanking him in close.

“Take a look in the fucking mirror, Bitch.” I snarl into his face then shove him away.

He falls into his friend’s lap, who’s laughing his ass off, and glares at me while throwing a twenty on the stage. I know men like this, they test the boundaries of the dancer, and secretly love to be put back in their place. I love to put them all back into their place, I will never let myself be at the mercy of a man again, and I pray for the one who fucking tries it. I pick up his twenty and shove it through the strap of my G-string, curling my finger and motioning him to me. He comes because men think with their dicks more than their brains. I spread my knees open wide and grab his face, burying him between my legs. I begin to grind against him and his hands land on my thighs. I can feel his tongue against the thin lace fabric covering my pussy and I laugh at his attempt to taste me.

I shove him back once more and chuckle when he sucks in a lungful of air. I stand and toss him a wink as he throws another bill onto the stage, this time one-hundred dollars. I grin and shake my head as I sashay off the stage, my pussy still craving a release.

Incognitus

I bet she’s wet.

After having that creep’s face between her legs, I bet her pussy is begging to be filled. That’s just the way human nature made them. Weak and good for one thing, taking a dick pounding.

Then there’s him…

He’s been watching her and I can’t believe how pathetic he looks. When I was asked to report on Deluge and their roaming around the world, I took the opportunity. The elders have reservations about Raiden and the band members that follow him like he’s their leader and not the deity they’re supposed to be worshipping. They no longer sacrifice as they say they do and Kenny is not as free as he seems. There are no sightings of him and after the slew of missing or dead parish leaders, things are suspicious.

So, here I am.

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