Amissa experiences a vision, carves into herself, & gets intimate with an otherworldly creature. Maybe her mother was right & she is special.
My room is luxurious. At least by the usual standards. At home I’d had a bed that nearly filled the entire room, one chest to hold my clothing, and one shelf to hold my necessities. There was no luxury.
Here the bed barely takes up any room at all. It’s wide, thick, covered with plenty of blankets and pillows, and has to be reached via steps. I have ten or twelve shelves and four chests of varying sizes. Every one of them belong to me and me only. I don’t have to share. The walls are covered in paintings. To some they might appear eerie, depicting various rituals throughout the history of The Eleven but to me they are something more than pictures.
They are mesmerizing. They are real and true. They have a life all their own.
I find them powerful and motivating.
In the corner there is a bath. The water is tinged pink because of the blood that is filtered in from somewhere else in the temple. Now that I’m awake I step into it, the steaming water embracing me like my mother’s arms. I can hear screams coming from the other side of the wall. I can’t tell if they’re from pleasure, from pain, or from a mixture of both. I put my hand on the wall. It’s warm and damp from the humidity in the air. There’s life in it and I wonder if I’m bathing in the blood of the temple itself.
Submerging myself I stay under until I can no longer hold my breath. Only then do I rise, breaking the surface gasping for air. I wipe my face and lick my lips, able to taste the iron from the blood.
Movement out of the corner of my eye catches my attention. My head swivels but there’s no one there. I shake my head and submerge again. This time when I come out of the water I scan my room. There’s no one there. The bathing pool is deep. I sit on one of the steps and the water touches my chin, the rest of my body beneath. Closing my eyes I think about everything that has happened until now, about my first service to the Temple and The Eleven.
I can’t be sure how many times I’d been filled with his seed. I can’t be sure how many times I’d offered up my own release. I know the fire had not been quenched until I could no longer walk and he was done with me. I’d wanted him to hold me. I remember that. His arms were strong, his chest sturdy. His horns marked him as a demon creature, not evil just from somewhere else. I am also marked. I have a brand in the middle of my back as well as a symbol carved into the flesh above my heart. I am different. It isn’t love I felt for him. I’m no fool. It’s lust. It’s trust. It’s pure power and desire.
My brand flares and I gasp, opening my eyes and jumping to my feet. Water splashes everywhere as I cry out. It burns and I flail, overcome by its power.
The pain doesn’t stop until I feel hands on my shoulders. They’re female, small but firm.
“Calm. Feel it flow through you,” the woman says. “Deep breaths. Even deeper fulfillment.”
I do my best to do as she says. I’m still focused on my breathing when she says, “Good,” and lets go of me. Turning to get a look at her I’m surprised to see no one. I’m alone in my room.
Still trying to win the battle against my body I climb out of the bath and search for her. She’s not in my room. She’s not out in the hall. When I shut the door I admit to myself I’m very confused but I don’t let that clutter my thoughts. I must trust this place, the temple, and The Eleven.
Still naked and dripping water all over the carpet covered stone floor I cross over to a shelf that runs along one wall. There are eleven stones there, each a representation of one of the eleven stars in the heavens, the celestial bodies that not only watch over us but control us as well. They aren’t human. They don’t even have to take human form. They can be anything, anywhere. My mother once interacted with one of the Eleven. It was her greatest joy in life, she said. He’d demanded her obedience, had sex with her, kept her captive for two weeks, then released her. Her devotion to him and his siblings, as we tended to call them, never wavered after that.
She claimed I was the result of their union and I never contradicted or questioned her. Even if I doubted the truth of the story. Though I believe it could happen I have never believed I was special.
I pick up the first rock and kiss it. Each stone varies from palm size to head size. With each kiss I feel power infuse me, my lips tingling. It’s like food for my soul, a soul I gave up three years ago. I’m about to kiss the last one when once again something out of the corner of my eye catches my attention. Whirling around I see a fleeting image. A man and a woman, both barely discernible, floating in the air. They’re wispy as if made out of fog or mist.
Walking over to them I reach out. I see them smile and reach out for me in return. Though they aren’t solid something happens when my flesh crosses paths with whatever substance they’re made out of. My body goes rigid and I feel as if I’m being hit by lightning. The world goes white and I see images around me.
All manner of creatures have gathered. They’re surrounding me, everywhere I look that’s all I see. Demons, like the one I’d had sex with last night. Angels, beautiful and deadly creatures I’ve been warned about who also come from somewhere beyond the world I reside in. Men. Women. It’s an orgy bathed in blood, the ground slick with it. I inhale deeply and my brand throbs. The symbol, too, burns from within, as if my heart itself is on fire. Glancing down I see more carvings on my body. Two along my left thigh and one down the inside of my right lower arm.
I’m me but something else and I can feel it. I’m powerful. I’m a part of something large and world changing. The air shimmers and suddenly the vision is gone. I’m once again alone.
My head hurts but more than that I know what I must do, as if the brand is whispering it in my ear. Going to the bed I strip it of all its blankets. I need no coverings for this. Over on a side table I find a knife, the one I’d been given at breakfast. It’s very sharp. I dip it a few times in the bath and then wipe it dry with a piece of cloth.
Then, with a heart full of purpose, I climb up and onto the bed. Stretching out my leg I press the knife into it. I can still see the carving clear as day in my mind’s eye. I can’t do the one on my arm. That will come later. I’m assured of that. One of those on my leg, though, I must have now. I need that connection.
It hurts and there’s so much blood. I rely on my faith to make it accurate, letting The Eleven guide me as I fulfill part of my vision’s promise. When I’m done I lie back, my leg bleeding, and my body shaking. My hands are covered, sticky. I lift one hand to my lips and slide in my index finger. Slowly I suck it clean. As I do so I feel a spasm between my legs. Need is rising, my pussy begging.
My reward for doing as they wish me to do.
I put another finger into my mouth and suck it clean, swallowing the blood. I leave the others coated and slide my hand down between my breasts, over my stomach, and between my legs. There’s a puddle of blood beneath me, the bed slick with it. Leaning my head back against the pillow and arching my back, I insert my clean fingers into myself.
It feels so good. There’s a thrumming, that connection between symbol and brand once again heightening what I feel with something otherworldly.
“This is my gift!” I yell out, shoving my fingers in and out of me as fast as I can. My other hand, still dripping, gets involved, its middle finger rubbing my clit. The world spins and begins to drift away as my orgasm begins to descend upon me.
Before it hits me, though, everything goes black.
The world fades away and I drift. I’m not sure where I’m drifting or where I’m headed but it’s somewhere else. It’s dark and light, hot and cold. Extremes overlap, existing at the same time and not at all. I never want to leave.
“Return and be ours.”
The voice is a whisper, barely heard. It comes from everywhere and nowhere at the same time.
Suddenly I open my eyes and I’m not alone. I’m in my room but there is a man sitting on the edge of my bed. Glancing down I see that things aren’t as they were a few moments ago. There is no blood. My hands aren’t between my legs. I am lying under the covers. There is no daylight coming through the skylight.
“You left us,” the man says. He’s wearing a wraparound skirt and nothing else, his chest bare except his necklace. On the end of the chain there is a pendant. It looks just like the symbol carved into my chest minus the x. Without thinking or asking permission I reach out, taking it between two fingers. It’s hot and it seems to hum with internal power. His hand reaches up and takes mine, prying the pendant from my fingers.
I look up into his eyes which are smoky gray. He’s clean-shaven with hair that hangs down his back. Wide shoulders and a gentle grin endears him to me instantly. I like the look of him. More than that. I love the look of him. I’m drawn to him. My body shivers as I feel the desire I felt before, with the demon, returning.
He squeezes my hand. “Not yet, Amissa. I will give myself to you soon but first indulge me with conversation.”
I nod, swallowing over the lump in my throat. My need must be obvious, though I can’t tell how.
His free hand reaches out and pulls down my covers to reveal my naked body beneath. He gestures to my leg. “You did that to yourself. Why?”
I stare at the symbol and smile. It’s exactly what I saw. There’s no discrepancy. It’s exact. Something or someone had to have guided my hand. “It was a part of me. I saw it and just knew it had to be done.” I raise my head and meet his gaze. “They showed me.”
“They showed you what?” He asks, leaning over to run his fingers over the carving. It no longer hurts, already making a scar. Yet another reason for my belief and trust in The Eleven.
“The future. Power. Desire,” I tell him. Pulling my hand free from his I wrap my hand around his pendant. My brand flares, sending a shiver running through my body. He watches as I let it happen, not fighting the effects.
“You’re special,” he tells me.
“I’m beginning to think the same thing,” I tell him. Something, I don’t know what, clicks in my head and I give his necklace a jerk, yanking it free from around his neck. The moment I do his form shifts. He’s still handsome but becomes even more so. I can’t say he’s an angel but he’s something else.
He’s something else and I want him. His skin glows and tattoos appear across his body. Looking down at me he asks, “How did you know?”
“I’m special,” I tell him. He nods and climbs onto the bed. Hovering over me, literally, he looks down at me. I throw his necklace onto the floor and reach up, running my nails down his chest hard enough to leave beads of blood behind. “Give yourself to me,” I tell him. The strength and power behind my demand surprises me. It also flips a switch, turning the dial up on my desire. “Now.”
He drops to the bed and pulls off the wraparound he’s got on, tossing it away. He’s got a dick that’s hard and throbbing. It shimmers as he lines it up with my entrance. Lifting my head I flick out my tongue, licking at the blood I’ve drawn from him. He blood tastes dark and rich, earthy. It’s intoxicating.
When he spears me I wrap my legs around his waist and my arms around his neck, holding tight as he pumps himself in and out. I can feel my insides twisting, my body melting as we share this space and time. As I stare into his eyes they begin to glow from the inside. “I give myself to you,” he tells me. “Take my power, take it freely, Amissa,” he says.
Then he’s gone. I can still feel him, his cock inside me, him holding me, but he’s not physically there. A glance to the side and I see I’m floating above my bed. My body is moving, having sex with an invisible entity. It doesn’t phase me. I need this. I feel like I’m going to explode and I do. My orgasm hits and my body goes rigid, spasms wracking my body. Then I feel him. Not just his semen, no I feel something more being released. My back arches, my arms and legs dangling free as I’m infused with some sort of magic. Otherworldly magic. It’s light and heat and it enters through my sex, spreading out from there.
The room fills with a glow, a glow that comes from me. My carvings light up with an internal orange fire. I’m up in the air until it’s over and then I drop to the bed, exhausted. This place is doing something to me. I like it. I love it. I want more of it.
Lying there, panting, I hug my pillow. I place my hand over my heart. I can feel it pounding, racing.
Tomorrow I’ll have to talk to someone about it all. I can’t tonight.
I am both fueled and drained at the same time. I can feel the power inside but in my weakened state I don’t think I could access it.
Sleep is about to claim me when I feel something in my hand. I open my eyes and the Angel’s pendant is lying there. I smile. I trust The Eleven put it there, that they’re watching over me.
“I’m special,” I murmur before drifting off.