|The Color of Blood
Author: Kaiarynn PM
The night of the Blood Moon, the chained Goddess, Isis, is at her strongest. Sometimes she's able to take full control, and, sometimes, she's able to have her fun without any distractions.Rated: Fiction M - English - Fantasy/Horror - Words: 3,053 - Reviews: 1 - Follows: 1 - Published: 05-05-11 - id: 2912741
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
Isis licked her lips. Mmmm, she thought to herself. Look at them all. So weak. So pathetic. They wait for me to lighten their lives with my… means of entertainment. The chained Goddess surveyed the diverse group of individuals occupying the tavern. She had just entered the slightly run-down excuse for a building. It was surprisingly well taken care of for how it looked on the outside. She was in full control of Kaiarynn this night, and even though the Moon Child's body was attractive and quite fetching to the male eye, she wished for her own body.
Previously, the passing of centuries meant little to her, but ever since she had been bound inside an earthy tabernacle the years had passed by as painfully slow as they did for mortals. It was maddening. She missed her own form. She missed her ability to deviate from her normal visage into any form she desired, if the occasion and desire arose. So much had been taken from her when she had been betrayed by her own mother.
Isis smiled invitingly as she moved Kaiarynn's body seductively into the building toward the simply built bar. There was a gleeman busy playing his lute and singing old songs to the side of the large room, and a mass of men singing along as they sat around him. Serving women bustled around as they attempted to keep straying hands away and keep ale mugs filled. It was a quaint tavern in a quaint village, and play time was going to be so much more fun because of it.
Kaiarynn always opted for practical clothes of a strange cut that covered her entire body in order to allow her maximum movement capability and dissuade any potential onlookers. Isis, however, usually chose to wear clothing that left little to the imagination. Perhaps a man would try to rape her due to her provocative attire, but it would be her gain in the end. His blood would end up being shed, and a part of her thirst for violence would be sated… at least for a short while. She wore a crimson loose-fitting blouse that hung precariously off her smooth shoulders and dipped dangerously low in the front revealing an ample amount of cleavage. A black, low-riding gypsy skirt that was adorned with embroidery and tassels hugged her hips, and its hem brushed across the tops of her soft leather boots. On each side of the skirt were slits cut into the fabric that ran the length of the skirt ended at mid-thigh. Her clothing wasn't as revealing as most outfits she preferred, but it would accomplish her goals well enough.
Silver hair hung wildly down to her shoulders, framing her face and accentuating her no-pupil silver eyes. The composition of her hair made it difficult to dye the strands. Kaiarynn had finally discovered a material that would dye it black, however, it never lasted long and getting it wet would wash the color away. It was easy enough for the bound Goddess to return the hair to its natural, superior shade. Kaiarynn never used her body to seduce men unless she had no other choice to complete a contract, but Isis was well aware of the body's natural curves and how to use them. She had had plenty of practice.
Her hips swayed suggestively as she carefully picked her way toward the bar. She sat down on a stool. As she crossed her legs, the slits on her skirt made the material fall away to reveal her long, slender legs. She leaned forward, resting her elbows on the counter top. The posture made her shirt dip even lower in the front and completely slip off one shoulder. She had not gained many admirers… yet. But that would soon change. They were otherwise occupied with their drunken singing, but she would have her fun. On the other hand, she had the undivided attention of the male barkeep who ogled her speechlessly.
Isis's lips curved into a lascivious smile and beckoned him with the slim fingers of one hand. It took him a moment to gather his wits enough to approach her. He wasn't an all together unattractive man, even though he was somewhere in his late twenties to early thirties. He was most likely married and had a few children. All the more fun for her to toy with.
"What may I do for you, milady?" His voice was surprisingly boyish. He had dark hazel eyes. She noticed he was somewhat overweight, but not disgustingly so. He would do well enough for her first plaything. She had so many to choose from. She would not have to settle for just one.
In addition to everything else that she felt was right with the world, it was the night of the Blood Moon. It was the one night of the year where she was at her strongest. It was also the reason why she had been able to take full control of Kaiarynn's body in the first place. Not only that, but it was the reason why she had been able to practically send the Moon Child into a void of nothingness and effectively silenced her complaints. Isis usually made Kaiarynn watch when she had her fun, but tonight she had not wanted any distractions. She wanted nothing to ruin this one night of the year. It may be a long time before she was able to have a night like this again. This sense of freedom was a rare commodity, and that knowledge only made her want to slowly cut off the fingers of the man in front of her and enjoy the sounds of his screams.
Perhaps she wouldn't start with his fingers. Maybe she should start burning her favorite runes into the flesh of his chest. No matter what she did to him after that, as long as she left his chest intact, those runes would be visible for the world to see. Whispers about the "Lady of Death's" handiwork would circulate once again. It had been too long. She would eventually convince them it was the "Goddess of Death," but, for now, the wording would have to suffice. Besides, if anything, all she had was time.
Isis subtly licked her lips. "Mayhaps there is something on the house?" She lowered her hand, easily resting her fingertips softly against the rough back of the barkeep's hand that gripped the edge of the skinny counter.
The man's face flushed slightly, but he did not snatch his hand away from her touch. "It depends, milady. What are you in the spirits for?"
She looked up at him through her thick eyelashes, and that's when he did step away from her. Shock of seeing her inhuman eyes up close making him react before he thought better of it. She pouted her lips as if deeply hurt by his rejection. The sound of the raucous group of men was relaxing. No one would be paying much mind to her action, or their conversation. She would have their attention soon enough. One thing at a time.
"If you don't mind my boldness, but one such as yourself should not be about in such areas of the city without an escort. It gets awfully dangerous this time of night, milady, and I don't need no trouble from the law for having one of the blue bloods accosted at my tavern."
The man was surprisingly brave for speaking in such a way to her, considering who he thought she might be. A blue blood. She scoffed at the very idea. She was so much more than that. He would soon find out how much more. She skimmed her pointer finger across the worn down wooden top of the bar as she brought her hand closer to her body. It was a slow and deliberate act, and her eyes never left his.
"I need no protection. I assure you, the law will not trouble you because I was accosted by a drunk."
You shall be dead long before any sort of authority graces those doors with their presence.
She smiled at him in an assuring way, and he slowly returned the gesture. Playing with the desires and emotions of humans had always been painfully easy. This man wanted money. That's what he mainly saw when he looked at her. A noble who could pay him well for good services. Not that he had any idea as to why she had entered his establishment in the first place, but he wasn't going to ask questions when a good profit might be had. After all, it was not his problem if one of the rich wanted to have a night of fun. In fact, it might very well mean even more profit for him in the long run. He also saw her beauty, and if a woman like her wanted to bed him, then he also would not complain about that. So far, in his shortsightedness, he was only seeing the monetary and sexual gain of having her in his tavern.
It was almost disgusting how simple it was to prey upon the humans.
She pursed her lips as she deliberated. How best to go about this? Should she start out with a public display of violence, or should she start out secretly before massacring the rest of them? Her tongued slowly glided across her bottom lip. Decision, decisions, she thought as she pondered on her predicament as if deciding which jewelry to wear to match her outfit.
Isis suddenly stood; the movement full of unexplained fluidity and grace. The shirt shifted and both sleeves slipped off her shoulders. The way it hung across her breasts left almost nothing to the imagination. If it fell any lower, absolutely nothing would be left to the imagination. The barkeep's eyes widened before narrowing again, and now they were smoldering. To him, she was offering herself to him by her wanton display.
"Shall we speak more? In private?" That was all the man needed to surreptitiously come around the side of the bar and motion her towards the kitchen. From there, he led her to a back room where he kept several cases of ale. The room had a small set of stairs down into the cellar-like area. The way it was built was to keep a certain amount of cool in the air in order to keep the alcohol from getting too warm.
He allowed her to walk down the stairs first before following and shutting the door behind him. The only illumination was the red-tinted light coming from the moonlight filtering through the small, barred window near the ceiling on the wall running parallel with the street outside. It worked for her. She could see in the dark anyway. She turned toward him, and she heard him gasp. Not only did her silver hair have an unearthly reddish tint to its silver color, but her eyes were now glowing in the dark. She wanted to see herself from his point of view.
"Will we be heard here?" Isis asked him innocently as she stepped closer to him.
The man shrugged nonchalantly, but she could hear the ragged rate of his breathing. He had been frightened by the sight of her in the half-darkness and was attempting to cover it up. She took another step.
"The walls are made of solid rock, and the door is thick. The singing and laughing combined… you could scream and they might not hear it." He spoke quite proper considering he was supposed to be a simple barkeep, but these were hard times. Even a learned man might be forced to stoop to making his way in the world by owning a tavern. It mattered not to her.
"Mmmm," she hummed. "Perfect."
Sexual antics had not meant much to her. Raping held no enjoyment for her. She had no qualms with those who did, of course, but such sexual behaviors were not in her repertoire, so to speak. For one, she was denied sex in any true sense of the word by the Binding. Become as one flesh, in any way, with another individual would sever her link with Kaiarynn. This severing would not result in her freedom. It was not that type of sever. It was the kind that would cause the magic of the Binding to send her to the Underworld and imprison her there. On the other hand, if Kaiarynn, of her own volition, chose to become one flesh with another, it would sever the link and free Isis. The 'of her own volition' stipulation was the hard part. Isis could have no sway over Kaiarynn's choice, and the Goddess knew that Kaiarynn would never free her intentionally. Both of these reasons combined resulted in the perpetual intact virginity of the princess of the Rhet'Yah.
The other reason was the simple fact that mortals were far beneath her. How did they deserve to experience becoming one with her? She found the very idea insulting. If she ever truly gave her body to anyone, it would be a being that was as powerful as herself… if not more. If such a being existed, she had certainly not found it yet. The God of the Underworld was certainly a powerful man, but he and Isis had never really seen eye to eye. Apparently, simply because he was the Keeper of the Dead did not mean he condoned the "mindless slaughter of mortals" as he had so elegantly put it the last time they had spoken to each other.
In any case, Isis preferred killing them. She wanted to see the horror in their eyes; the look of understanding that they were powerless to stop her. She wanted every last one of them to know her supremacy. The feel of their scarlet blood—her favorite color—slicking her skin was intoxicating. That blood meant life to them, and she could so easily bathe in it.
Isis was close enough to the barkeep to press her body next to his and push his back into the wall behind him. His arms instinctually wrapped around her waist and hugged her to him even harder. Her hands trailed up the sides of his neck before twining in his unkempt black hair. She pulled his face forcefully to hers, their lips meeting harshly. The man could not help himself in the heat of the moment, and he lost all reason. A few seconds later, his hands and splayed across the bare flesh of her lower and upper back, and his tongue had snaked inside her mouth. She would have smiled if her lips weren't otherwise occupied.
She knew if she gave him a minute longer, he would most likely have her clothes stripped from her body and almost have the same done for his own. She had no intention of letting him get that far. Even though this body was Kaiarynn's, and not, strictly speaking, her own, no one would see it in all its glory unless she deigned otherwise.
His reward, she decided, had passed its usefulness.
When his tongue snaked inside her mouth again, she flattened her right hand on his chest, over his heart, and pushed outward. She was stronger than the majority of humans, and as strong as their strongest. Consider it a perk of inhabiting a body that belonged to a race specifically bred for perfection and superiority. Her push knocked him dizzy against the stone wall behind them. The hand on his chest started to glow a white hot silver before ribbon-like tendrils of that same light slithered out from the light encasing her hand. She reached out with her free hand and forced his right arm out to his side. One of the tendrils of light encased his wrist like a manacle. By the time he had regained coherency to realize what was happening, she had already done the same to his other arm. His muscles tensed to move, but she held him steady. Her strength outmatched his.
"I shall give you fair warning since you are my first source of entertainment. This light chaining your hands to the wall is not a trick of the eye. If you attempt to move against it, it will sear your flesh. Move far enough and it will cut them off entirely. Behave yourself."
Her other hand began to glow as well. She licked her lips carefully before gripping his neck. The hissing sound of sizzling flesh filled her ears before he howled in more surprise of feeling such pain rather than the pain itself. As she thought, he did attempt to free his hands, but at the first sensation of burning caused by his unnatural bondage, he better controlled his desire to move his arms. His eyes were tearing up as he stared at her in silent horror. His need to die as a man without screaming was almost palpable. Breaking his resolve would be enjoyable.
Her glowing hands glided tantalizingly down the sides of his neck as flesh sizzled until she met the material of his shirt. Her hands then served to scorch terrible black marks along his clothing as they continued to glide down his chest and torso, across his hips, and down his legs before stopping to grip both his ankles. Light pinned them to the wall, forming manacles, as she had done with his wrists. The glowing light did not dissipate but only burned brighter around her both hands. She slowly straightened, making sure to run her hands back up the same trails of scorched clothing. She had not burned more of his flesh. Not yet. The fear in his eyes was building, but it was also sullied by his inane look of defiance. She had chosen far better than she had previously assumed.
When Isis finally made him scream—and she would make him scream—it would be all the more enjoyable for her. All the more delicious. All the more intoxicating. He would finally understand what his life actually meant in her capable hands.