Reign of Ruin

by Bene, Jennifer

  A blinding wave of pleasure that obliterated the pain for a glorious flash. A perfect moment of bliss that in a less broken person might have been a religious experience. Her moans bordered on screams as she shook, and through the haze she heard the head cardinal speaking.

  “See how her body accepts the blessing? How God turns her pain to ecstasy in celebration? She has been chosen and will deliver us our weapon. Remember, each drop of her blood spilled through her service proves her purity, and we must do our part. Now, continue and baptize her, cardinals.”

  His last command was barely complete before another cardinal was between her thighs, ignoring her whimpers as he forced his cock inside. A fresh wave of pain that made her scream, and the very room seemed to shake in response, but no one else reacted. Sobbing, she strained at the manacles holding her arms taut, and then another pair of hands pressed her forearms into the stone to prevent it. It was too much. She was raw and torn, but he kept fucking her.

  After an endless amount of pain, he pulled out and spilled his seed, and just like before she was granted an orgasm. A carnal lie that told her nerves to expect more pleasure even as she tried to fight against it, but it was impossible as the bliss drowned her. Lost in the bone-melting haze, she slowly became aware of hands stroking the still warm ejaculate over her belly, her breasts, and then another cardinal ripped his way inside her.

  Merciless, they seemed to only thrust harder when she screamed, cried, wept — not even pausing when a roar hurt her ears. But maybe the thunderous sound was only in her head.

  Maybe she was losing her mind.

  Four, five, six of them and she was somehow still conscious. The pain was unavoidable. Even as her muscles grew weak from the constant strain, even as she prayed to God to let her die, the torment that felt like knives tearing at her never wavered. She wailed in agony, begged and pleaded, until even her voice started to give out. Their seed was spread across all of her exposed skin, fingers dipping into her mouth to feed it to her once she was too weak to fight back at all.

  She’d lost count completely when the pain finally began to ebb, when every thrust didn’t feel like pure torture, but there were still two more unholy men who used her until they too were spent. Each forced orgasm still rocked her, leaving her weaker each time, but finally… they were done.

  Would they leave her alone? Let her sleep? Finally kill her?

  “Cardinals, our blessed Danielle has been baptized by this holy council. Through her suffering she shall have absolution. Through her purity our weapon will be forged.” The head cardinal was nearby again, but she didn’t bother opening her eyes even when he blocked the warmth of the fire with his body. “We thank you for your gift, my child.”

  “Thank you,” the others solemnly repeated.

  “God has made her strong, and made her body ready for the final baptism.” Those words got her eyes to open, and she whimpered as she looked up at the cardinal’s red robes, glowing with the light of the fire behind him. A dark, damned figure.

  “The Devil,” she whispered, knowing the evil in him first hand, but he looked down at her with a strange look on his face.

  “No, child, you are protected. He cannot harm you, and with your body you will bring us a weapon to win this war.” Raising his hands, he clapped once and the cloaked men returned. Dazed, she almost smiled when one of the men handed the head cardinal a knife.

  Finally, death.

  “Cardinals, we know that under the law almost everything is purified with blood, and so our last gift is the final baptism. It will protect her purity, just as her blood has purified her acts of service.”

  The cloaked man that had provided the knife pushed the hood back from his face, revealing a shaved head, and pale skin. As the cloak was pulled away by others, he moved between her legs in silence. Young and muscular and naked, he leaned over her, arms braced by her waist, and she shook her head, tensing as she prepared for him to violate her.

  “My child, we thank you for your sacrifice and your service to God,” the head cardinal said.

  Then he dragged the knife across the man’s throat. There was a terrible choking sound, wet and sucking, as hot blood poured over her stomach and chest. Cloaked figures caught him by the arms, holding him as he bled over her and died. It was the head cardinal who laid a hand on the man’s forehead to lift it, letting the last drops spill before he dipped his thumb into the mess on her stomach and traced a cross on her forehead. Almost exactly where the gentle priest had.

  In shock, Danielle shuddered, wanting to scrape the man’s blood off her skin, and when her tongue moved to wet her lips, she tasted copper.

  They had killed him. Murdered. Broken a commandment under the guise of a holy rite. If she had not been hollow already, she would have mocked their hypocrisy as he was dragged away by the others as if nothing horrible had happened.

  Damned. We are all damned.

  Broken, she didn’t fight as the cloaked men returned and undid her chains. They had to lift her from the stone, holding her upright when her legs wouldn’t support her while blood flowed over her skin, dripping down her thighs.

  “Remember that you are thrice blessed and protected by God, our Lord. No evil will have dominion over you, my child, even as you give all of your self.” The head cardinal gestured and the cloaked men half-carried, half-dragged her after him as the cardinal led the way to the other end of the massive room. She didn’t walk. Couldn’t. She let her feet scrape the stone, limp in the grip of the cloaked men. Watching the blood dripping off her to leave a bloody, crimson trail that the other cardinals followed.

  This time, the roar that shook the floor beneath them was definitely real. Everyone paused for a moment, and Danielle raised her eyes to the door just as a rumbling growl emanated from behind it.

  “What…” It was the only word she could say before smoke wafted in front of her face. Choking on it, she ended up breathing more of it in as she coughed. Sugary sweet, her head was spinning a second later, but they kept her face close to the golden object. Suspended on a chain, it swayed, spilling forth gray smoke that clogged her lungs. Suddenly dizzy, she would have collapsed completely without the men holding her up.

  “Danielle, your faith will keep you strong even in the presence of evil. We all serve God in our own ways, and you alone can use the gifts God has given woman to herald our victory.” The head cardinal opened the door himself, and she was dragged forward until the pitch black of the space beyond was inches from her toes. Confused, unable to make sense of his words, she struggled to lift her eyes to the darkness. “Give God your pain, child. He honors those who serve him,” he whispered.

  A searing pain suddenly sliced across her shoulders, and she cried out just before she was shoved forward into the dark.

  Chapter 8

  The heavy sound of the door locking behind her was nothing compared to the low rumbling growl that seemed to come from everywhere. On scuffed hands and knees, she tried to find the source in the darkness, but there was nothing to see. Worse, the terrible pain in her back confirmed that the head cardinal had used the knife to slice her open.

  “Why!” she weakly yelled at the door, or at least she thought it was the direction of the door. She felt the anger burning somewhere underneath the pain, a dull rage that ate at her, and she had to bite her cheek to stop the tears. They had taken everything from her, brutalized her over and over, and for what? To shove her in a cell so she could die as slowly as possible?

  Maybe that’s why they fed me. So I’d last longer.

  A harsh, hysterical laugh burst past her lips, and she tried to sit upright, but the skin on her back pulled and she hissed air through her teeth. Another growl buzzed through the dark, just to her left, and she pushed herself away from it despite the pain. Too weak to run from whatever it was, she wiped at her running nose and scrubbed the tears and blood from her cheeks. “Please don’t hurt me anymore. Just kill me. End it, please.”

  “Hurt you…” a low, strange
voice echoed, this time coming from the right.

  Danielle reached out, sweeping her arm through empty space even as the wound on her back spilled more blood. It hurt, but she’d been in pain for so long that her body just felt tired as she sagged and sat back. Head spinning, she wanted to lie down and be done with it. Let death come, let the growling thing eat her, and move on to whatever came next.

  Heaven, Hell, a black abyss of nothing.

  She’d take her chances.

  “So broken,” the thing purred just behind her, and even though her body tensed, she didn’t move.

  “Just kill me,” she repeated, and something like a laugh, but not, echoed in the darkness from all sides. It was disorienting, and she realized as her skin buzzed that the pain was fading a little. There was a humming in her blood, like a song, and the beat of it thrummed along her nerves.

  Maybe this is what dying feels like, the brain shutting down.

  It’s nice.

  “Death is not so nice.” The voice was in front of her now, and her eyes played tricks, creating a hulking shape out of the darkness. A shadow darker than the black, but when she reached for it her hand passed through empty air and wiped the illusion away.

  “Death would be a gift,” she replied to the nothingness.

  “So many other things to do…” A faster reply, almost against her ear, and Danielle turned as she felt her hair move. Like a light draft in the stagnant space. “I can show you.”

  “Do whatever you want, just kill me when you’re done.” Sighing, she cursed herself internally for speaking to whatever delusion the smoke, or her failing body, had created.

  “You are not dying, nor delusional, Danielle.” The voice was close again, just behind her, and the way it said her name made her skin break out in shivers. “Hmm… do whatever I want? You would give yourself to me?” it asked in a low, purring thrum that ran down her spine.

  “Does my answer matter?”

  “Of courssssee…” Once more the voice was everywhere, scattered and echoing, and she shifted, trying to find a comfortable position, but one did not exist on the rough stone floor. “Will you?”

  Sighing, Danielle looked up at where the ceiling would be if she could see. She had looked up at the ceiling during so many terrible things inside Eden, wondering if God could see her suffering, wondering if it would ever end — and there had never been an answer. There was not going to suddenly be one in the dark after being brutalized by the cruel priest and then the cardinals. This weak attempt at hope was just some last-ditch survival instinct of her brain, and she was done with that. Done and ready for the end. “I just want to die so I can escape all of this.”

  “I can take your pain away.” The low, soft voice was like a whisper directly in her ear. “I can make you feel better, feel pleasure, feel powerful.”

  Closing her eyes, she tried to block it out, instead focusing on the memory of a warm voice reading from a book and the silken feel of her sister’s hair as she’d braided it. She remembered the café table, the playful smile of a young man that may have been someone she loved. In her head she saw flashes of trees swaying in the wind, rain falling on a pool creating thousands of ripples that she could never count.

  The presence was close, almost like a buzz against her back. “I can help you remember,” it purred.

  Turning her head, she could have sworn she saw a shadow move, and she swallowed past the dry sweetness in her mouth leftover from the smoke. “How?”

  “You are so broken… I can put you back together, Danielle.” A breeze against her face, warm, like something big had exhaled. “I can give back what they took from you.”

  “What are you?” she whispered, and heard the thing’s soft, echoing laugh.

  “I am trapped. Just like you.”

  “That’s not what I asked,” she muttered, a frisson of unease coiling around her spine as she waited for pain… but none came. It had been so long since she had dared to speak her mind that it felt good to argue, to contradict, and no one slapped her or hit her for doing it.

  “I want to hear all of the words you want to say,” it purred close by. “I want to hear all the noises you make.”

  “Tell me what you are.”

  This time the breeze came from behind, warmth blowing over her neck. “Your priests call me a demon.”

  “Are you?” she whispered, a twist in her belly that could have been fear beneath the haze of the smoke.

  “What I am they cannot comprehend, but others trapped me here a long time ago. They want my power, use what little they have stolen to heal their people.” Another purr, still behind her, and it made her ribs buzz. “But I can do so much more for you… you just have to say the words.”

  “What words?” Her voice shook a little as she asked, because if the cardinals were right then this would be true damnation — but what was the alternative? To die in pain? Or the chance that maybe they drag her out of the darkness, put her in the baptism baths, and return her to service?

  She’d die first.

  “I cannot damn you, Danielle.” Warmth coated her back, but there was nothing touching her, just… warmth. It soothed her as a soft rumble shook the room. “Just give yourself to me.”

  “You’ll help me remember?” she asked, picturing sunlight on green grass.

  “Yessss…” The voice scattered, echoed, and then moved around her as it continued. “I will fix what they have broken… as long as you give yourself to me.”

  “Okay.”

  “You must say it, Danielle.” The voice was close, like a whisper against her ear.

  There was nothing left. Nothing of herself to protect, no scrap of her soul worth saving. Even if the thing lied, even if it meant death and damnation, at least it would end. She licked her lips, swallowing before she finally said, “I give myself to you.”

  The rumble grew, louder and louder until the floor shook underneath her, and then she felt something wet move across the cut on her back. Like a big tongue, it stung for only a second, but before she could even wince the pain was gone. “Good,” the voice hummed, still low, but stronger. More powerful. “You taste wonderful.”

  Turning, she realized the fresh wound was completely healed. Not a tug on her skin, or an ache. “That’s amaz—” Danielle gasped and let out a short scream as she was suddenly lifted into the air, completely off the ground, and she flailed, scrambling to grab onto anything in the empty black.

  “I am here.” A low chuckle that turned into something closer to a growl as huge hands landed on her hips. Then she felt warm breath between her thighs, and she tried to snap them closed but found she couldn’t. “You bled here,” it said just before the tongue swiped through her folds.

  “Oh my—” Shivers took over as the large tongue stroked and slid, teasing her clit with each long sweep, and when it dipped inside Danielle’s eyes rolled back. The flicking motion inside her was too much, and she suddenly came with a stunned cry. Legs shaking, body shuddering, there was a buzzing moan against her cunt as it returned to long licks. “What a-are you doing?” she asked.

  “Fixing what they broke.” Another lick that teased her and sent her into little aftershocks. “You were perfect. They just could not see it.”

  “I wasn’t a virgin,” she tried to explain, waiting for the thing’s attitude to turn violent, but instead she heard more low laughter.

  “That does not matter to me.” The hands left her floating in the dark, bereft of touch or direction until the voice came from the empty air above her. “It means nothing at all. And you were not a virgin when you were taken.”

  “Taken?” she asked, reaching her hand up to find it, but there was nothing there.

  “Like all of those here.” The voice moved, disorienting her. “You can remember.”

  Something reached in, tapping like a piercing headache behind her eyes, and then she saw flashes. Rubble near a collapsed wall. Her home. Her father putting her and her younger sister in the basement. The shouts, the
gunfire, her sister crying quietly on the floor as Danielle picked up a baseball bat. The door opened at the top of the stairs, but it wasn’t her father. She screamed for her sister to run, watching as the man put his gun away while he swaggered down the stairs, unafraid. Danielle shouted, swung the bat, but he caught it, ripping it free of her hands before he hit her with his fist. Pain bloomed across her cheek as she fell, hitting the ground hard. From the floor she saw her sister scrambling up the shelves, out the window, but there was someone there and Mary screamed.

  “STOP!” she shouted, almost screaming it, and the memory cut off with a sudden dizziness as the dark took over. The vivid afterburn of the scene still blazing inside her mind. It had felt so real, like she was standing there. Feeling it, smelling the smoke. Her cheek almost seemed to ache, but she touched it and realized it didn’t. It had been real, once, but not now. It hadn’t happened now. Tears in her eyes, Danielle tried to sit up while floating in air and found it impossible. Listing in the void, her chest ached with the pain of fresh loss that was long past. Then, like a flick of a light, she remembered her father’s name. Isaac. “What happened t-to him? To Mary?”

  “I can only show you what you once knew, what they took from you. I do not know everything, Danielle.” A soft purr from underneath, and then she felt warm, hard muscle behind her as large arms wrapped around her. “Perhaps their holy crusade was not the best memory to return at first. How about this?”

  Another piercing headache and then she felt the cold. Sitting in snow, tying the laces on skates as Heather and Landra shouted at her to join them. Clumsy steps onto the ice and then she was flying, with cold air whipping her hair, chapping her lips, but it didn’t matter because everything was perfect. The sun was bright, glistening off the ice on the trees, and her best friends were racing her across the pond.