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The moon cast long shadows over the frozen
ground. Friar Essex floated above the cold earth, silently slipping
his form along the high brick wall that surrounded the mansion.
Floating as he was, he did not leave any indication of his passage, no
footsteps were being written in the fresh snow. He reached the gate
and willed himself invisible. Now hidden from sight he slipped
through the gate and into the courtyard.
A fountain stood directly before him, the water
frozen over, looking like glass. He skirted the fountain and
continued approaching the large, two story home. From within he
could hear the sound of laughter, music, and fun. A party was in
full swing, the wealthy and prominent enjoying a welcome respite of life's
daily drudgery. Approaching the manor he worked his way along the
vertical wall until he was able to see beyond the closed window and into
the mansion.
He saw men and women dancing and against the back
wall three men were smoking cigars, thick plumes of smoke wafting
upwards. A butler was serving drinks behind a well-stocked bar and
three maids catered to every whim of the gathered partiers. A lone
woman stood with her back to the wall surveying the activities. With
a smile he scColletted her thoughts.
He reached out
his mind to her and planted a thought the the doorbell had just
rang. When she turned her back to the room and left towards the main
foyer he slid along the building and worked his way to the front
door. The door opened and the woman, wearing the same bored
expression, greeted him, "hello. Are you here for the
party?"
"Yes."
She stepped aside, "than, please, come
in."
He smiled as he was invited across the
threshold. "Thank you." With his thoughts he spoke
to her, his mind probing hers, you look bored. Are you?
"Yes," she said, sounding dazed.
Would you like to add some excitement to the
party? He could feel himself growing excited as he envisioned the
acts he had plColletted for her. Evil thoughts danced behind his
eyes. He was bored, the trek to find that evil demon bitch slower
than he had hoped. He had stopped for a distraction and found it
when he happened upon the party full of the opulently dressed and garishly
rude.
Her reply greeted him, "yes," in that same
dazed tone.
"Then strip."
"No,"
she said as she began to unbutton her dress. "No!" she
wailed as she realized that she was obeying his commands.
"Stop," she whimpered as she pulled her dress over her shoulders
and dropped it to the floor. She unfastened her brassiere and
dropped it onto her dress. "Please," she cried, tears of
shame streaming down her crimson cheeks, "don't, please
don't." She pulled off her panties.
"Didn't you say that you were bored?"
"Yes, but...."
"Then go into the other room and lay down in
the middle of the floor."
Tears were pouring as she struggled against her
obeying body. She found herself following his commands, walking in
only her high-heeled shoes into the main room of the mansion. A
thought flared into her mind and her misery escalated as she knew she
would obey the silent command. She was trembling in shame as she
crossed into the room. The sounds of the party slowly faded until
the room was silent, with all eyes locked on her naked form.
She walked to
the center of the room and lowered her body to the floor. Her face
burned in shame as she spread her legs wide, exposing her sex to the
gathered room. Her hands, driven by the silent commands that guided
her, dropped to her pussy. She spread her sex wide, revealing the
pink interior of her pussy. Slowly she began to masturbate, tears
streaming from her eyes. She slipped two fingers into her pussy,
pulled them out, and ran them up her body, slipping them into her mouth.
The men closed on her like a lion to a wounded wildebeest,
angling for a closer view of the naked woman shaming herself. Slowly
the hard faces of the gathered men grew blank as Friar Essex planted the
thought that she was there for their pleasure. The first man, his
eyes wide and unseeing ripped his pants open and pulled his erect cock
free. He stepped between the nude woman's legs, dropped to his
knees, and forced his way into her dry sex.
The woman hissed in pain, fresh tears mixing with the
older ones. The actions of the first man prompted the remaining men
into action. They began ripping their clothing from their bodies, throwing
them aside like discarded trash. They fell to their knees and
surrounded the crying woman who shouted, "fuck me," from
clenched teeth. She knew the vulgar words were forced from her mouth
by the same man that had forced her into this degrading position but as
the words escaped her lips again she knew she was powerless to stop them.
Friar Essex
watched, hidden in shadows, from the doorway. He spurred the men
into their lecherous activities, guiding their thoughts and actions.
He reveled in the humiliation he caused by forcing the gathered men to
rape the woman. He reached his thoughts to her, bored now? he
asked. She could not answer.
Outside the wind was howling, swirling the snow into
sheets of obscurity. Friar Essex looked at the women that were in
the room. He had been holding them still, not wanting them to
interfere with his ministrations. A thought entered his mind, the
wind outside a catalyst. Strip, he commanded the women, smiling when
they did. He shut his eyes and forced his thoughts into the women's
minds.
It sure is a nice summer day, the thought to the
women. So sunny and warm, wouldn't some nude sunbathing be
nice. He willed the scene he was describing into the women's
minds. Why don't you go outside and bathe in the sun. As one
the seven women obeyed, walking naked out of the house and into the
snow. They crossed the dirt road and lowered their bodies down until
they were all lying naked in the snow, the wind burning their skin.
Friar Essex
returned to the room to watch as the woman was raped again and again by
all of the men present. He took a positing by the window and cast an
occasional glance outside at the nine women lying nude in the snow, the
icy wind roving over their freezing bodies. He glanced back and
forth, watching the rape continue, listening to the tears of the helpless
woman. Outside the first woman died.
When each man finished he sent him outside with the
same false thought of the weather being a perfect summer day. When
the last man finished, he too walked outside naked to freeze to death in
the elements. Friar Essex crossed the room and stood over the naked,
beaten, bruised and bleeding woman, "I guess your not bored
now," he said.
She looked mutely beyond him, her eyes
unfocused.
"It's too bad about your friends and
family," he taunted, "braving the elements like that. I
wonder," he continued mockingly, "how you will explain it.
You see, you will not remember what happened here. The authorities
will inquire and deduce, speculate and decide, and the rumors. Well,
the wealthy have always been the subject of rumors, have they
not?" He turned to go, "oh," he said turning to face
her, "just so you know, you are pregnant now. I wonder who the
father was?"
He was laughing as he left the mansion, floating
past the twenty four naked bodies, lying lifeless in the snow.
The wind
continued its wailing song as he transformed into a large, black
bird. He was close, he knew, the town was just a few days flight
away. He had needed the diversion, and now that it was behind him,
the memories fresh in his mind, he felt invigorated. The days would
pass quickly, with the scene behind him replaying in his mind, spurring
his efforts.
He flew against the backdrop of the night sky,
heading east along the shore of the ocean. The waves were fluorescent
in the moonlight, breaking noisily against the somber shore. He flew
low to the ground, looking for stray couples he could torment and feed
from as he continued his trek across the frozen landscape towards the
small village just outside of Collette's home.
He hated her, that hatred fueling his journey.
She had surprised him with her strength when she trapped him within the
walls of the cathedral, and from that he had learned not to underestimate
her again. But, he thought as he flew, I am so much stronger
now. He was confident he would destroy her, make her his
slave. He would make her pray for death from the same god he
pretended to worship, only to deny that prayer. He would make her
suffer, as she had made him suffer.
She would pay, he vowed.
He continued
flying low over the breakwater, the city behind him nothing more than a
delightful memory of the torment he had brought. He flew faster
until his tiny lungs burned with the exertion, his bird wings sore.
He slowed his flight and glided along at a more leisurely pace.
Hunger burned in his throat and he longed to feed.
Flying slowly he began searching for prey on which
to feed. Still soaring, though more slowly, he skirted the
shoreline. About two hundred yards off shore he spotted a boat at
anchor, bobbing on the waves. He changed his flight and began to fly
towards the boat. Ironic as it seemed he alit on the crows nest and
stared down onto the wooden deck.
Three men were drinking heavily and fishing, their
poles mostly ignored in the dark, the alcohol their companion. They
were talking loudly, boisterously bragging about their exploits.
Each man seemed to be out-lying the next, fabricating stories about fish
and then about women and life in general. With a caw he frightened
them, their voices dropping to look skyward towards the dark
night.
"Wha wuz that?" the first man slurred.
He sent thoughts
to the first man and his black eyes were shining in delight as he watched
the scene unfold below him..
"I know you've been sleeping with my wife,
Lars," the man who had the thought planted in his had accused the
drunk Lars.
"Wha? Derek, I dun know whet you
talkin' 'bout," Lars said, the same man that had first asked
what the errant sound had been.
A vision entered Derek's head, a scene of Lars
fondling his wife's breast. "I've seen ya," he accused,
accepting the vision as fact, "I seen you in bed wit my
wife." His voice climbed as his throat tightened in
anger. "I'ze gonna kill you." He head was throbbing
in a burning rage, the passion escalated by the thoughts planted by Friar
Essex from his perch above.
Derek lunged at Lars, spinning his feet from under
him to leap at the reclining Lars. Lars backed away on his hands,
trying to avoid Derek's lunge. "Stop it," Lars shouted,
sounding almost sober. "I don't know what you're talkin'
about."
Derek climbed to his feet.
"Stop it," the third man shouted as he
stood up. "Derek, you know that Lars did no such thing."
Another vision, this time of Lars and Christopher in
bed with his wife. He could hear her moans of pleasure. In his
head her her his wife call out, "God, you two are so much better than
my husband. He don't know how to pleasure a woman."
Hearing his wife demean him while singing the praises of his two
companions caused his face to burn in hatred, "I'm going to kill the
both of you," he shouted into the cool night air.
Lars backed away
until he was pressed against the side rail of the wooden vessel.
Christopher tried to skirt Derek, working his way towards the front of the
ship. In his head Derek heard, "Lars is about to jump,"
stop him. He was uncertain where the voice came from but sure enough
Lars turned his back and brought his hands up to grip the gunwale.
He pulled himself up and Derek lunged at him.
The two men fell into the water and with a caw both
men received the same thought, you can't swim, Friar Essex informed them,
the ocean is too powerful. Save your strength, don't fight it.
From his perch Friar Essex watched as the two men sank underneath the
black water and disappeared from view. He flew down and landed on
the deck in his human form, "Christopher," he called out, using
Lars' voice, "help me."
Christopher darted from the front of the ship and
stopped cold, "who the fuck are you, mate?"
"It is not important," he
said. "Come here."
Unwillingly, Christopher stepped forward.
"Dinner," Friar Essex breathed opening his
mouth to expose his fangs.
Friar
Essex bit Christopher's neck, sinking his sharp fangs into the soft
flesh. He drank deep, feeling Christopher growing weaker as more of
his blood left his body. Friar Essex drank deep, pulling the coppery
ichor into his mouth. It slid down his throat and his strength
returned as Christopher's faded. Christopher collapsed dead in his
hands and with the strength from his feeding he shoved the warm body over
the side.
He stretched his limbs, and leaping skyward he
retook the form of the black crow. With a strong caw he began his
trek towards his destiny. He could feel that he was getting close,
less than a week now and he would be taking up residence in the town just
three miles away. From there he would befriend the townspeople,
gather their confidence and lead them into battle.
And he would win! He shook in bliss as he
pictured Collette kneeling at his side with her face a mask of shame and
regret. He imagined her as his slave, how he would use her body and
make her suffer countless ways for countless eons. And when he grew
tired of her, he would do to her what she had done to him; trap her in a
prison for eternity.
With a caw, he flew on.
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