Tuesday, February 12, 2013

From The Fire She Rises

She picked up an apple and watched it rot and decay in her hands. She sighed and tossed it on the ground. She was so bored. She walked across her chamber to the vanity.  She sat down and looked into the mirror. Nothing new there. She was stunning. Perfect. Easily the most beautiful woman there ever was. She was as beautiful in Death as she was in Life. She was as bored as she had been when she was alive too.

“How long have I been here?” she thought to herself. “Too long,” she laughed.

She didn’t remember too much about her Life anymore. She couldn’t even remember how she died. She just knew that she hadn’t been a very good person in Life, because otherwise she wouldn’t be here.

She looked around her chamber. The walls were high and plain. No paintings or decorations on them. There was the vanity she was sitting at, a dresser (which had nothing in it), and a bed. She glanced side ways at the dresser. One of His biggest jokes was to give her things to remind her of what she didn’t have. She wasn’t allowed to wear clothes, she was completely naked. She didn’t even remember what it was like not to be naked. He also always made sure there was a pitcher of water, and a bowl of fresh fruit. Not that it mattered. She had been hungry and thirsty for hundreds of years now. Anytime she picked up the fruit it would rot in her hand, and the pitcher always seemed to be empty when she would attempt to pour a glass.

All of those things used to bother her. She would cry and plea to God to take her out of this place. She would repent and pray and pledge herself to God.

She laughed again. “What a fool I was,” she said out loud.

She got up from the vanity and walked to the one window in her room. She looked down below. She was in a tower, how high she never could figure out. Her view was lovely. Mountains, a  sky, trees and flowers. She could just see a peek of water from the other side of the mountains. A lake perhaps. The sun shined, and the birds chirped and everything seemed so picturesque and perfect out there.

But she knew better. Probably fake. Another one of His clever tricks to make me long for something I can’t have. He had so many of those tricks.

In Life, she remembered using her looks and men’s lust to get what she desired. She had slept with plenty of men, but she never enjoyed sex. Ever. She loathed it really. Men made her skin crawl. She thought them all pathetic, and weak. To be able to be manipulated so easily baffled her. Women were much stronger in her mind. But men were necessary. For whatever reason Eve let Adam take the reigns of the World. So women always came second. And could do nothing with a man. She did only what was necessary to survive. She didn’t feel bad about it, though she knew she probably should. She’d figured that was why she was here. No remorse for the broken hearts, and promises. 
As soon as she arrived He put her in this room, where she sat for so long without any contact from anyone or anything. She just cried and hated herself and pleaded with someone anyone to help her. She cried over the dying fruit and the dry pitcher. She cried over her naked body, and the beautiful view. She cried because of the stale air in her chamber, and the loneliness. She thought she would die, again, from her misery. But that’s just wishful thinking she discovered. She would never die, or escape her prison. This was Hell, after all.

She stayed in that room for so long by herself, until she finally stopped crying. She became numb. She spent her day’s staring at the walls, and her sleepless nights she stared out the window. There was no sleep here either. When she gave in and became numb, that’s when He started coming.

The first time was in the middle of the day. The sun was shining through her window, and she sat on the chair of her vanity blankly staring at the bowl of delicious looking fruit. Suddenly she got very hot, and her whole body started to sweat profusely. Her hair clung to the back of her neck, and she panted trying to get air. Her mouth dry. She stood up and looked around her room. Nothing had changed. The window was still open, her bed still there, the fruit, the water, the blank walls, the sealed door with no knob seemed to remain sealed. She was confused. She went to the window and tried to get a gulp of fresh air. But nothing. She stopped and realized she couldn’t hear the birds chirping anymore. It was as if someone had shut off all the noise in the world. She wrapped a slender hand around her throat, still gasping for fresh air. She turned around  and faced her bed. Maybe she should lie down? She started for the bed, when suddenly something grabbed her by the back of her hair, she went to let out a scream but something unseen covered her mouth and quieted her. She could feel something grab her around her waist and lift her in the air. Her eyes darted to the vanity, in the mirror she seen herself floating in the air. Her naked body suspended in the air, but that was all she seen in the mirror. Suddenly she was flung onto the bed, she landed on her stomach and the air was knocked out of her. No time for air, she tried to scramble to get away from whatever  was in the room with her. But it grabbed her ankles and pulled her back. She grabbed the blanket, but it just followed her as she was pulled. She tried to flip over onto her back to face the invisible attacker, but it shoved her face down on the bed. She couldn’t lift her head and she grunted and whined. She was so afraid. She could feel the thing touching her body. Caressing her sweat soaked hair, moving down to her damp neck, and tracing it’s way down her spine all the way to her buttocks. It gripped one cheek and grasped it hard. She inhaled sharply.  It grabbed her hips and forced her to her knees. She was now kneeling on all fours on her bed, she could still see her reflection in the mirror. She looked pathetic, and helpless. She knew this scene all too well. Though she may not know who was committing the act, she knew this was rape.

She began to whimper and cry, not able to tear her eyes from her reflection. She watched as her body began to jerk as it entered her. She let out a cry of pain. It did not hesitate. It continued to pound into her body.  It dug into her sides as it gripped her tightly, continuing to thrust into her. Harder and harder. Faster. In the mirror she looked as if she were having seizures, shaking so violently back and forth. She cried out. Loud and angry. But it didn’t care. Suddenly with one final thrust, it stopped. She didn’t move from her position she opened her eyes and looked around her room. The air was thinner now. Breathable again. She let out a breath, then breathed in, and before she knew it she was panting. She couldn’t find her breath. She was having a panic attack. She fell onto her side and hugged her knees to her chest. She sobbed and her body shook. Oh her body hurt so bad.

Later when she gained composure, and calmed down. She went to her vanity and lifted her leg onto the surface. She inspected her vagina. It was raw, and bloody. She touched it tenderly, and winced in pain. She laid in her bed for days on end, waiting until the bruises went away, and she could walk again without the pain. She just sat there and thought and replayed the whole thing in her mind. What had that been? Will it happen again?

Some time went by, and she healed. For a while she would sit in suspense, just waiting for it to come back. She was very conscious of the air. She wanted to be ready when it got hot and unbearable again. She knew that would be the sign it was happening. But it never did.

She just went on with her normal routine. Walls, window. Walls, window. Walls, window. She almost completely forgot about the whole thing.

Then one night as she lay there looking out the window, the air got thick, and hot. She snapped out of her daze and sat up in bed. She pressed her back to the wall and pulled her knee’s to her chest. As her hair began to get wet, and her forehead had beads of sweat, she had a thought. She was pretty sure it would come and do the same thing again. She would probably have less injury if she fought less.

She was petrified, but she convinced herself to lie flat on the bed with her arms and legs spread.  She lay there panting, partially out of fear, and partly because of that damned air. She had another thought, and quickly brought her hand to her mouth and spit in it and then rubbed it down there. Just as she did that she felt the weight on her. It bowed the bed, and hovered over her. She could feel the hot breath, and feel it leaning against her pelvis. It crushed her. She didn’t move. She lay there panting and staring up at the ceiling. She wasn’t going to give it the satisfaction of her crying this time. It waited for a long time, and she started to think maybe nothing was going to happen. Then suddenly she felt it penetrate her. She cried, but she clenched her teeth and prepared herself for the next thrust. And it came just as hard as the first. It kept on and she turned her head to the side and suffered through it. Every last thrust, every hot breath on her face. Even though she had tried to lubricate, she could feel it starting to become raw again. She looked up at where the invisible rapist would be and wondered…..

She slowly moved her hand down and began to touch herself as it continued to pummel into her. She closed her eyes and tried to let herself feel the pleasure. She just kept rubbing and rubbing and finally there it was. Pleasure. She hadn’t felt it in so long. She let out a small moan, and suddenly the thrusting stopped. Her eyes snapped open just in time to feel the hard slap on her cheek. She cried out. The pain shot through her. Her hand flew up to hold her throbbing jaw. A tight grip wrapped around her neck and lifted her up against the wall. She tried to grab the invisible fist holding her, but it was too strong. She opened her mouth but could not get any air.  It pushed itself inside of her again, and fucked her hard against the wall. She let her eyes roll up and stared at the ceiling. She couldn’t breathe, surely she would suffocate. But she never did. Her lungs ached and screamed for air, but no release came. Neither of life or death. She just stayed in that terrible state for what seemed like forever as it pounded into her. It hurt so bad. It stretched her out, and ripped her insides. But it was relentless. It flipped her around so her face was squeezed against the wall. Finally she took a breath, but it wasn’t over yet. It had her by a fist full of hair and it kept her head tight against the wall. The wall scratched her face every time her body jolted up then back down as it continued to fuck her from behind. She cried every time it did. Then suddenly, it stopped.

Her body crumpled onto the bed, and the air became thin again. She cried and coughed and cried some more. She grabbed her throat and tried to massage it. It ached, but not as much as her vagina. She looked down and seen the drops of blood falling onto her mattress. She cried all night.

After that night it came every night. She stopped fighting, but it never stopped hurting. It got more and more violent and greedy. Her body was just a pleasure tool. There was no human there, no emotion or feeling. She was merely an object. She realized this was happening because she hated sex so much. She knew this was her punishment for using it as a tool in Life.

Years went on and she never got used to it. There was no ability to go numb to this. Every time was like the first time. Painful, terrifying, humiliating, and violent.

She layed back on her bed and tucked her hands behind her head. She smiled to herself, thinking back to those times used to be so depressing. Now she laughed. She had won. She thought of all His other whores who had gone through the same thing. Who were still going through it. They were weak. She didn’t pity them at all.

“Women will always be the most powerful. Men will always be victim to their carnal lust. And as long as women remember that, we have them by the balls,” she thought.

She thought back to the moment when she realized that. It was another night of rape for her, she was on her knee’s on the floor. The invisible attacker had her by a grip of hair on the back of her head and was fucking her mouth. She was gagging and crying and couldn’t breathe. Suddenly, a lightning bolt cracked in her mind. An epiphany. In Life she had used it as a tool, why couldn’t she in Death?
She looked up at her invisible lover, and started to move her own head. She began to push it deeper into her mouth, and started moaning and licking and sucking. Thrusting and thrusting the big, unseen dick in her mouth. Her neck ached and her jaw felt like it would break, but she kept going. She looked up with a seductive stare at her attacker. And she felt the grip loosen slightly on the back of her head. She had caught it by surprise! She didn’t stop. She kept going and going. Moaning. Sucking. Licking. Moaning. Sucking. Licking.

Finally it pushed her back hard, and she slid across the floor and her back hit the door. She looked up and waited for something, but it never happened. The air thinned, and her body began to cool down. She reached up and rubbed her jaw and began to laugh hysterically. She won!

After that night she kept up the act. She acted like she loved it, she NEEDED it even. And it seemed to like it right back. Eventually she learned that it was Him who was visiting her. And He came every night. She eventually began to look at it like a challenge. Her goal was to shock, and surprise Him. She began to try new things. Daring things.

She even began to enjoy it herself.

“Hell isn’t so bad,” she said to herself. Suddenly, the air got thick and hot. She smiled sweetly, as she felt her body moisten and become excited. “Hello, dear….”

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