The King in Yellow Chapter Twenty One
- 3 years ago
- 11
- 0
The King In Yellow Chapter Fifteen free porn video
“Tell me about this vision” Katya prompted, sitting back in her chair and eyeing Kristina thoughtfully. She was a striking young woman – if she were only a few years younger she would be taken for an art student – and her spiked hair was dyed as white as her fishnet stockings. She wore midnight-dark lipstick and eyeliner and a leather bustier and mini-skirt. A tattoo of black roses spread from where the word “catharsis” was inscribed on her breastbone in an antique text.
“It seems so long ago” began Kristina in a voice that was incongruously aristocratic “but it came to me just before Easter, when I was still Sister Kristina at the convent of St Theodota. For some weeks I had felt compelled to intensify my mortifications; I felt that I was approaching some sort of vision - the revelation of a mystery”.
Alone in her cell Sister Kristina lit candles at either end of the narrow shelf over her cot. She shook out the match and disposed of it. Bathed in their yellow glow she unfastened her black habit, stripped it off and laid it neatly on the cot. Naked save for her veil and a cruel, barbed cilice wrapped tightly around her waist and under her crotch, she knelt at the worn prayer stool and closed her eyes. After a long period of silent meditation, she took a knotted scourge from under the stool and kissed it. Then, bracing herself with her left hand she arched her back, set her knees wide apart, and swung the scourge with all her force over her shoulder into her back and buttocks. She repeated this five times at long intervals, gasping for breath at each stroke, and then switched the scourge to her left hand. Now, the knotted thongs cut across the crimson welts already standing out on Kristina’s freckled skin and her breathing became ragged and interspersed with low groans of agony. Her naked body twisted and writhed, making the wicked barbs of the cilice cut into soft flesh - vividly red drops of blood fell from her groin onto the stone flags - until she fell forward, the veil covering her eyes, and lashed herself with what strength remained to her. Her back and arse glistened slick with blood when the pain finally overwhelmed her and she sprawled on the floor in a dead faint.
“That was when the vision came to me” she told Katya, her eyes fixed on her ebony fingernails and heavy, silver rings. “I had often meditated on the martyrdom of our own St Theodota, and as I passed out my thoughts had been of her courage under the whip, on the rack and at the bite of the iron combs. But it was revealed to me that her death had been very different to the story in the ***********ure. She looked up with a smile as wicked as it was startling, “It was not the religious ecstasy I had been expecting”.
The procurator was waiting on the marble steps outside the Temple of the Emperors with his Svitavian guardsmen when Kristina was led in chains to face him, a small crowd of curious citizens following her from the barracks to the forum. They halted before him.
“So, this is the Nazarene, Theodota” he proclaimed. “This is the woman who will die sooner than sacrifice to the Divine Caesars”. Kristina stood defiantly before him, dirty and bedraggled in a torn and crumpled tunic. The procurator took a broadsword from one of his guards and held the point to her white throat. He moved close and loomed over her. “It will not be a soldier’s death at sword-point for you if you refuse this final chance” he told her “but something much more painful and prolonged”.
“I know it” said Kristina, loudly for all to hear. “And I must refuse to offer the sacrifice”. She lifted her manacled hands to the neck of her tunic and tore at it, ripping the unbleached linen apart so that it fell away from her, leaving her standing as a naked offering on the temple steps. “I am to be the victim of Vid, and Vid is jealous” she announced. At this, the crowd gathered excitedly around her, all speaking at once. The guards looked from man to man, disturbed, and a white-bearded warrior in splendid helm and armour took the procurator by the elbow to mutter urgently into his ear. He listened carefully to the veteran guardsman’s words, and then held his hands up to command silence.
“So be it” he cried. “The law is satisfied that Theodota dies. And the law has no quarrel with Divine Vid”. He gave a sign to his bodyguards, and two of them stepped forward, took Kristina by the arms and led her away.
A ring of braziers spread their warm light around a forest clearing a short distance outside of the city walls. Garlanded worshippers in white woollen tunics stood all around, the procurator’s guards amongst them. Kristina stepped out of the darkness. Her flesh had been bathed and oiled; her hair was pinned up and dressed with white blossoms. All eyes followed her as she went up to the priest of Vid – the procurator’s bucellarius, who had spoken for her that morning – and waited.
The priest raised his sword to the night sky and at this signal the congregants drew up before him in two lines. Men and women stood on either side. Each held a length of green wood or a bundle of birch, rose-thorn or nettles from the woodland around them.
“Vid does not grant death easily” the priest said, and he held his sword to Kristina’s lips to be kissed. Courteously gesturing her to step aside, he moved past and strode between the two lines of worshippers to the centre of the clearing. Here there was a four-faced obelisk taller than a man, where he turned and waited with the sword at his shoulder, his hand reached out to Kristina inviting her to join him. Two files of faces turned to watch her throw her shoulders back and take the first step forwards.
A sturdily-built matron to her left struck her viciously across the upper thighs with a strip of green rosewood and landed another two blows to the backs of her legs as Kristina moved past her, wincing and moaning. On her right a man armed with a bundle of birches took his turn to lay into her back twice; the second stroke making her stumble and draw a sharp, hissing breath. A younger woman was next in line, holding a huge bunch of stinging nettles. Halting Kristina with a hand to her shoulder she carefully brushed the leaves down the left of her body from breast to knee and let them fall to the ground. Kristina made a fist and bit down on her knuckles to stifle a sob as she walked on.
She spread her arms to welcome two cruel blows that cut into the soft flesh of her breasts, flattening them against her chest and driving the air from her lungs. Switches lashed out from the left into her arse and from the right into the gentle swell of her belly and Kristina began to wail and sob. She twisted around from side to side in a wild dance; her hair tossed and her breasts swayed. She was already crying brokenly and barely able to stagger forward when a boy with his hand swathed in strips of cloth seized her and rubbed a clump of green nettles down the curve of her back and over her buttocks, deep into the cleft of her arse. Then Kristina fell on her face and moved forward on her hands and knees, crying out shamelessly in pain like a wounded animal. Canes beat down on her from either side until her strength failed her and she curled into a ball with one arm held up to fend off further punishment.
A stocky, grizzled man put his sandaled foot onto the small of Kristina’s back to pin her to the dry, red earth, then bent to thrash her quivering arse with his bundle of birches. She could only kick her legs, hammer her fists into the grass, and howl. Only when he had drawn blood did he step back and allow her to drag her pain-wracked body up from the ground and squirm painfully forward on her elbows. A tall, severe woman pushed her onto her back with the toe of her boot and slashed at her with a green switch, kicking her legs apart to redden her crotch and inner thighs with a sharp flurry of blows. Welts stood out across the lips of her cunt and Kristina screamed until she was hoarse.
At last, she found herself at the feet of the soldier-priest. She clutched the hem of his tunic to pull herself up onto one knee and tilted her head back to bare her throat to his blade like a defeated gladiator. The priest stroked her hair and she smiled up at him through her tears. Sheathing his sword in the turf, he produced a length of coarse rope from the folds of his robe and stood waiting. Painfully, she moved to the foot of the obelisk and sat with her back against it and her legs splayed open. He wrapped the rope around her breasts and upper arms and she tilted her head back obediently so that the final stretch could be tightened around her throat. Then he stood behind and took the end of the cord in his strong hands, bracing his arms ready to pull.
“It felt right to be exposed that way, lustful and proud” she said, and Katya saw that she had slid forward in her seat, had opened her stockinged thighs wide, and was pressing her left hand deep into her naked groin. Her voice wavered. “The rope began to bite and I stroked myself, slowly at first and then faster and harder. It hurt where my most tender skin was bruised and broken but I pressed all the more brutally and felt my cunt swimming with wetness. All eyes were on me, and I heard nothing but the sound of my own breathing – and then of the blood hammering in my ears”. She was masturbating quite openly now, careless of Katya’s presence.
“I have sought out evil people” she told Katya, staring through her, “but found no-one to compare with Theodota’s lovers in my vision. I know that she found the most profound release when the rope finally claimed her, but my reverie ended before then”.
Katya laid a hand on her knee and leant forward, her eyes ablaze. “I shall put you under the knife of Dmitri” she said, intensely. Then, brushing the nun’s fingers aside she pressed her mouth down to where a death’s head tattoo adorned Kristina’s pubic mound and began to suck and chew at her clit.
She tensed and closed her eyes, jabbering under her breath until her whole body shook like a young tree in a storm when the climax seized her. -->
Liesl
- 03.11.2021
- 6
- 0
The King in Yellow Chapter Eight
- 2 years ago
- 6
- 0
The King in Yellow Chapter Thirteen
- 3 years ago
- 12
- 0
