by J.M. Thomas
explode with the sizzling electricity, her nipples hardened, and she found some sort of resolve to not leap from the bed and rip away the light blue robes in which Nubium had wrapped himself.
Stanley, cowering beneath the form of a true god, found a way to look more pathetic than normal.
"I will take the punishment, Pearlly."
Every time he used his pet name for her she felt homicidal rage consume every particle of every atom in her body. Maybe she should take Nubium's sword, lop off Stanley's head, and ravage the god in a room painted with blood.
"It was my sin," Stanley said.
Fuck Stanley Jenkins, she thought. He's a burglar who lavished gifts on a guy he blew every other Wednesday, and I've never seen so much as a bouquet of flowers. Under the robes of the man who stood and stared at her, he's staring into me, was the cock she would kill her husband where he stood to get.
Stanley isn't going to fuck this up for me.
Pearl held out her hand to Nubium.
Nubium stepped to the bed.
Stanley for a moment thought he might want to watch then thought better of it and retreated from the room.
Nubium never said a word, and when she would think about it years later, it was gratitude painting the thoughts of their time together. Monarch took him and sucked every inch for what felt forever and for an instant simultaneously. He throbbed inside her mouth. He throbbed again inside her pussy. They did not make love, not by any stretch, and Monarch did everything she could to take from him, but her attempts felt almost childish as he had his way. Was she ready to have him spread his seed to take fruit? Yes, she thought, during the fleeting moments of the time in bed to which there could never be equal, but that isn't what she wanted. Monarch wanted him. Monarch wanted to possess him. Monarch wanted to consume him. Monarch knew she would never again taste another man's cum because it would all feel so pedestrian, and that was not the kind of lover she was. Nubium fed her, and for the first time in her life, she felt what it was like to not feel hunger. With her stomach full, a wisp of clouds started to fill the room. Monarch closed her eyes, let out a sigh of complete satisfaction, and opened them again to see Nubium gone.
Listening to his wife in the throes with a god did nothing for Stanley's self-confidence. Those sounds he heard were nothing he had ever or would ever hear. Not from her. And he knew, while cowering in a corner with his hands over his ears like a child trying to block out the taunting of the bigger, faster, richer, just plain better boys in school, those were sounds no woman would ever make while with him.
The one word she said when she entered the kitchen, and Stanley tried to remember the last time he saw her hair mussed, her skin red from exertion, an actual radiant sheen to everything about her, but couldn't, she gutted him and made him feel ridiculous for ever having a single thought about anything.
"Thanks," she said to him.
And she meant it.
Anguis considered incest to be nothing more than an abstract idea formulated and propagated as a measure of control. There were pleasures she had no intention to forbid herself for any reason stemming from one entity exacting control over another ran contradictory to whom she thought herself to be as a member of the Five Gods of Mare. Her counsel alone dictated her thoughts, feelings, path, and prohibition against anything, even something as base as the forbidding of physical pleasures with one’s family, could not occur for if it were to occur she would not be Anguis. She advocated truth to one’s self and provided the example of the enlightened existence achieved when the norms, the rules, and the laws were cast aside in the service of personal values. That the other gods, the Five and their progeny, thought it disgusting she sleep with any of them regardless of lineage contributed to the continuance of such behavior.
Anguis ran her slender fingers through the thin layer of sweat upon Eimmart’s back. When Anguis began replicating portions of herself, and one might think of the replication as reproduction due to the genetic revisions she made, Anguis created a minor god who would not only slither from man to man, woman to woman, child to child, to help them unlock their buried passions and act upon them, she created one who would be a great lover. Not her greatest, for her brother Frigoris held that mantle prior to his banishment, but a great lover. Anguis knew every particle of every atom within her body, she understood how the bouncing of those particles against one another excited her and took her to ecstasy, and service to those feelings was built into the very fabric of Eimmart. By creating offspring so specific to her desires, Anguis denied Eimmart his own identity but gave herself the physical toy she wanted.
Eimmart slipped his hand between her legs and Anguis closed her eyes and felt his fingers sliding around the remnants of their time together. It did not matter to her whether Eimmart felt aroused or satisfied by playing with their combined juices. It never mattered to her what whoever occupied her bed felt before, during, or after their liaison. For Anguis, the touch and the feeling it caused within her was the only care, and in that respect, she thought herself the absolute embodiment of existing for oneself. For Anguis, she felt herself so beyond selfishness she had no definition for the word. She was herself, and she lived as herself.
Anguis pushed his hand away and replaced his fingers with her own.
“Go,” she murmured.
Eimmart wiped his hand on the sheets, another indication what he had just been doing was for her, not him, and stomped through the darkened room to the door. She narrowed her eyes and they followed him, and the thought to destroy him and his defiance, but then she pulled her finger to her mouth and wiped it clean. Anguis would never get rid of Eimmart. He tasted too good.
When Summus breathed life into Anguis, Cognitum appeared at the same moment and they were forever after linked together as twins. Perched upon her throne within the palace of black glass, constructed by Eimmart and his own siblings, gazing out over the view of the mare with which she shared a name, she could sense just how out of place Cognitum was even without looking at him. He wrapped himself tightly, confining, with precious little other than a square foot of face visible. As twins, they should share something in common she thought whenever she would give thought to the matter, which was not often. As it happened, Anguis would never limit herself to the narrow world in which Cognitum lived, a slave to rules, to conventions, to norms, and Anguis wondered whether Cognitum ever fucked anyone or anything other than himself.
She pulled herself from her polished throne made of the same material as the palace itself. She slinked down the steps.
Cognitum whetted his lips and prepared himself for the onslaught.
“Dear Brother, have you come once again to rein me in?”
It occurred to him she must practice the way she walked, glided almost, somehow finding a way to make people focus on her lines, on her breasts, on her legs. There existed beauty, even for Cognitum it made no sense to argue against the fact, but there also existed sin in all its forms. The devilish grin, the one she enjoyed tormenting him with, appeared when the gap between the two of them fell to a scant yard.
“Or have you come here, dear Brother, to take the experience that would redefine how you see everything in your sad existence?”
Her smell hit him first. Lilacs were the first image to appear in his mind, but he knew lilacs were wrong. As he had smelled it before, and as he had smelled it since they came into being, he knew the scent to belong to her only. It was Anguis, and it was the only explanation. She ran her hand over his arm. He reacted to it, and as he advocated, as he preached, as he demanded within the confines of his purpose as one of Five, he attempted to suppress the feelings. But there was a reaction, and she knew it, and she preyed upon it.
“If you don’t control your acolytes, there will be full-blown rebellion in South America,” he said.
She ran her hand over his back.
Again, Cognitum attacked his feelings.
“What is wrong with a little rebellion?” she asked.
“You know those who die w
ould number in the millions.”
“As you know it is against you they would rebel, not me.”
Anguis stood behind him. She ran her hand from his shoulder, down his back, and around his waistline.
It was a light touch.
“Why am I eternally bound to concede to you?”
She grabbed his dick. A rush of feeling. A hesitation. An eventual slap away.
“It makes me want you more, you know,” Anguis whispered into his ear.
“I will go to Summus and he will intervene.”
She shoved him forward and he struggled to remain on his feet. Then she laughed. That laugh taunted him from the very day they were born, they taunted his thoughts and his dreams. Once, for the slightest moment of time, he considered surrendering to her and her lust in the hopes he would never again hear that laugh, but he knew it would be the act of a fool. He turned to face her.
“Running to Daddy. Again. You bore him more than you bore me.”
She raised her arms, pushed again, and again, and drove him toward the vestibule to the throne room.
“You may return if you ever become the slightest bit interesting or unless you want to get fucked. Otherwise, there is no reason to come here again.”
Nubium provided a better example of the perfection of a god than even his father, Summus. Artists could accurately represent him in
