Chapter XII - New Plans

by nevermind

Tags: #cw:noncon #f/f #masturbation #multiple_partners #pov:bottom #sub:female #urban_fantasy #college #corruption #demon #horror #magic #mystery #police #possession
See spoiler tags : #cw:gore #body_modification #cw:blood #cw:death #ego_death #happy_slaves #turned_evil
(Some Content Warning tags are spoilered. Click to show them) #cw:gore

The inferno in Mina’s veins was slowly cooling down—but her body still felt as if she might burst with utter rage and panic. Next to her, Sam stalked the empty sanctum with barely contained anger. She stared at the blood-stained room, her brain utterly failing to accept the absence of Jordan.

The last Herald was gone!

This can’t happen! The Mother must rise! Jordan must serve! All must serve! she thought, as she tried to find anything else to go on except for the bloody boot prints that she had spotted the moment they had returned to the medical practice twenty minutes ago. She had followed them across the parking lot, where they had ended next to the side of the road—presumably where a car had left before Sam and her had returned to the nearly destroyed Sanctum.

Back inside—without Jordan—the resonance was frighteningly weak, and the heat in her blood felt unfocussed and impotent. After the surge that had called them here, the Mother’s energy had almost completely collapsed. It was still present like a delicious aftertaste in the air—otherwise Mina would have been utterly lost—but where it had once felt utterly intoxicating just to stand in this Sanctum, now there was only a small ember of her Mother’s power glimmering in the energies of the world.

“Stop looking for clues that don’t exist and help me,” Sam snapped, her voice cold and full of anger and frustration. She was cutting another gash into Katie’s body in an attempt to get more blood out of her, and her arms were already red up to the elbows. Mina looked up from the floor, giving up on finding anything left behind by whoever had desecrated their sanctum, and turned her attention to Samantha Collins. Just for a moment, Mina appreciated the beauty of her fellow Herald, so utterly unlike the girl they had claimed. Smeared with blood, full of rage and bound by pitiless servitude. Mina’s cunt hungered for the moment when their enemies lay dead, and she would taste Sam’s body. But not right now. Mina grunted and went to her knees next to her.

“This is fucking risky. They could return any moment,” she said. After everything that had happened, it felt anticlimactic and extremely dangerous to just... stay and repair the damage.

“I know nowhere else to go. We need the resonance! We need Her guidance, now!” Sam said, an intense glint in her eyes—most of it the burning determination of being the Mother’s servant, but some of just plain panic and fear. Mina reluctantly agreed. She couldn’t deny the urge to be reunited with the Mother’s presence. And she couldn't deny her fear. It felt wrong. They were meant to be predators. Meant to kill and hunt and snare. Not to scramble and lick their wounds.

It took them another five minutes until they were finally done, and the last unholy symbol had been redrawn. With the last stroke of Sam’s blood-smeared finger, they could feel the resonance surge through them, welling up from their loins, as their Mother’s wonderful unholy presence filled them once again. It was merely a sad echo of the power that had permeated this place before, but it was enough. It had to be. Mina looked at Sam, and Sam looked back at her in an unspoken question of who would be the one to be possessed.

When neither of them had an answer, Mina decided to make the first step. “Mother,” she said. “We have failed.”

Sam’s face twitched, and a shiver went through her body. The small woman’s eyes went empty and her posture changed almost imperceptibly. “You have,” Sam spoke with terrible clarity. Her voice was resonating in the depths of both of their minds with the Mother’s power. A tear rolled down Sam’s expressionless face, and Mina shivered with the overwhelming sensation of the Mother’s barely contained disappointment and fury.

“However, I do not waste cruelty on those that are devoted to me. You have done as I asked as best as you were able.”

Mina shivered with awe. She felt as lightning had struck the ground just next to her. The hairs on the back of her neck were standing up.

“What will we do now?” Mina asked. “How can we kill them? How—”

“You will do nothing to kill the Order!” Sam said, and even though Mina could feel the Mother’s will prickling in the core of her being, she didn’t understand, and felt cheated. Robbed.

“What?!” she said. No! She wanted to hunt. She wanted to kill, and claim others in the Mother’s name, and make them serve!

“Not until the time is ripe. We mustn’t strike prematurely now,” Sam said, her voice terrible and beautiful. She walked stiffly over to the bag that the Heralds had placed set onto a cabinet, and the Gift inside it started to rustle within it. Sam carefully opened the bag, and the Gift skittered up her arm, across her smooth skin, and draped itself around the young girl’s neck like a shawl. The Gift that had been meant for the Healer. And before that, for Jordan.

“Our enemy has weakened us greatly,” Sam said, “As it has done so many times before. But it has come to pass just as I had suspected: In their pathetic weakness and compassion, they failed to strike the killing blow; the third Herald is alive!”

Sam paused, as if to think of what to say next—but her expression remained thoughtless.

Finally she continued. “They might yet slay her—but there is nothing you can do about this. She is too-well guarded. That is the nature of the gambit that we are playing, the risk we take to reap the greatest reward. Jordan has already clouded their judgment with unknowing lies, and the whore Ana has rejoined their ranks, unaware that she’s my poisoned knife. The pawns are in place, and for now there is nothing more to be gained from engaging them directly. There are no more roaming gifts they can kill, no more Sanctums for them to discover. The only thing they can do is find the both of you or kill the final Herald, which they foolishly decided not to. As long as they fail to do that, their work will never be done.”

“But what if they do?! What if they decide to kill Jordan?!” Mina yelled, frustration bruning in her chest. It felt so fucking wrong to just gamble on that. She couldn’t believe that there wasn’t a better way.

Suddenly, Sam’s eyes seemed to erupt like an endless sea of flame, and Mina found herself taking a step back as the resonance roared with uncontained anger. “Then I will wait again a hundred years and rise once more!!!” Sam boomed. “I can be banished, but never be killed!!! Once more or less matters naught!!! Do not be deluded into thinking you are special! You are merely my vessels!!! Your lives are trivial!!! There will be others like you, if you fail!!!”

“We will not fail!” Mina said, braving the storming resonance radiating from Sam, daring to look her Mistress in the eyes, staring into the unfathomable abyss beyond.

A cruel smile crept across Sam’s lips.

“We shall see.”

Jordan was tapping her feet nervously as the car pulled to a stop. In her chest, she still felt the absurd sensation of having an enormous, gaping wound—but without the pain. She shouldn’t be alive. But she was. She was literally being kept alive by magic. She didn't know how to even start with dealing with that, so she pushed the thought aside.

They got out of the car. Josiah had taken her, of all places, to the public library. “Don’t say anything,” he told her. He then made a surprisingly hard-to-follow gesture with his hands, and led her inside. It took Jordan a moment to figure out that Josiah had turned them invisible when they just walked past the police without any of them giving them a second look. They passed the entry desk and walked past the shelves to the back of the building.

On any other day, she would have been utterly shocked and disturbed by the crime scene that came into view before her; but after all that had happened, she took in the blood-smeared marble floor with only a vague sense of detached alarm. She’d seen so much shit already. This was just another drop in a huge bucket.

At some point, one more drop would cause the bucket to spill.

Josiah took her down a staircase, and—judging from the signage—into the library’s archive.

“Brother Josiah!” said a woman as soon as they entered, stepping out from between the bookshelves. She had a french accent, and wore the same many-layered robes as Josiah. Jordan wasn’t an expert in historical dress by any stretch, but she’d read one or two books out of curiosity, and the Order’s uniform showed influences of many historical styles, some maybe even pre-christianization, but others definitely edwardian or younger. The Order had obviously been around a very long time.

The woman’s eye caught her, and her brow furrowed. “Who is this?” she asked, addressing Josiah. The old man’s face was a mask of extraordinary seriousness. “Before you stands the third Herald of Lilith, tainted by Her unholy blood, awakened in the Constellation of her coming, to plunge the world into Darkness.”

Jordan blinked, trying to keep her irritation and discomfort to herself. “Hi,” she said, attempting a smile and almost succeeding. If the woman was in any way shocked by what she’d just been told, she didn’t show it. She merely gave Jordan a careful glance, inspecting her like she was auditioning for a part in a play.

“Why did you not kill her, Josiah?” the woman finally said with a sigh, her voice equal parts disappointed and frustrated.

“Because—” Jordan started, but Josiah interrupted her.

“—not because I was afraid to pay the price, Sister Jeanne,” he said, his voice calm but hard. “I could do it right now.

Jordan’s pulse spiked and her head spun with a sudden rush of adrenaline. No! Oh God, no! Don’t! Heat welled up inside her and for a moment the world seemed to tumble around her before suddenly, a sting of cold pain froze her solid and her thoughts clearly again.

Josiah’s hand was holding hers. He had cleansed her. “But I won’t,” he said pointedly. “Because there is another way.”

Jeanne raised an eyebrow. “No,” she said. “There is not. Until one of the Heralds is killed, the Constellation will continue.”

“Sister Ana made a discovery,” Josiah said. “In an ancient Aztec text. About a way to cleanse the blood curse.”

“Aztec?” Jeanne asked, looking surprised. “Is that why you told Felipe and me to clear the back room?! Why didn’t I know? ”

“Because I told her not to tell anyone about it!” Josiah spat, his voice raised for the first time since Jordan had met him. “Because I didn’t believe her! Because I thought it sacrilegious!”

“What changed your mind?” Jeanne asked. It took Josiah a moment to answer.

“I thought we had lost her,” he finally admitted. “And I saw a chance to... at least try to get her back. However sacrilegious, however slim. I promised her Grandfather that I would protect her, no matter the cost.”

Jordan watched with a dry throat. No matter the seriousness of the situation, she couldn’t help but inwardly roll her eyes at Old White Men knowing better, and sticking blindly to tradition, and unironically calling things ’blasphemy’. But if it meant staying alive, she’d take anything she could get.

“That means we need Sister Ana, non?” Jeanne said, again scanning Jordan up-and-down.

“I’m here,” said a young woman’s voice from behind them, and they turned around.

There were three people standing at the foot of the stairs, all clad in the elaborate Order get-ups. A young and handsome man with black hair; a wiry, middle aged, I’ll-bash-yer-fookin-head-in-looking man with a buzz cut; and finally, a very young blonde woman, looking like she hadn’t slept in a long while. She looked strangely familiar. Unnervingly familiar. She must have been the one that Lilith had hated so much that remnants of her image still puddled in the back of Jordan’s mind. It was a strange feeling, like meeting someone that looked exactly like you had imagined a character in a book you had read.

“Sister Ana,” Josiah said, and for a split second, there was something in his voice other than strict gravitas. Happiness. Relief. Guilt. It lasted only a split second. Then he seemed to catch himself.

“I am glad that you are well,” he said stiffly, and the young blonde gave him a hard look. She looked like she’d been through a lot, which, considering what Jordan half-remembered about Lilith’s ‘flesh-servants’ and ’gifts’, was entirely understandable. Jordan could easily imagine her shooting back a sarcastic reply.

“I am glad you are finally here to help me, Brother,” Ana said instead, her voice equally stiff and formal—almost demure. There was an awkward pause that stretched a little bit too long, before she added: “I am sorry that I failed you.”

Jordan couldn’t help it. “What?” She blurted out, “How the fuck did she fail? She killed all the Mother’s gifts, didn’t she?! Without her, I’d have one between my legs right now!”

The young blonde looked over to her, and their eyes met. For a moment, Jordan felt a strange rush of emotions. An immense sense of sympathy and connection. That poor girl had surely risked her life, and this was the way she was treated? A stiff greeting, and not even a ‘thank you’?

“Thank you,” Jordan said. If they couldn’t get their heads out of their asses, at least she could. “Thank you for fucking with Lilith’s plans. Thank you for delaying them long enough that they didn’t get to me.”

But they got Sam.

And that was the final straw. Suddenly, the world collapsed in on her as the combined weight of every terrible thing that had happened crashed down on her like an avalanche. She saw the image of Sam in her mind, legs spread, in a pool of blood, as the Gift pierced her—saw the image of her dying, saw the image of her rising again, her eyes cold and full of evil. The emotions were too much. Bitter, ugly tears erupted from her, and she collapsed onto her knees, sobbing uncontrollably, screaming with grief. A rough hand touched hers and she felt the cold, otherworldly resonance of divine magic as they tried to cleanse her. But this was not the cursed blood within her. This was just her, crying in grief over the love she lost, over the life she lost, over the end of her world, and the impossible, terrible reality she was facing.

It was a miracle she had been able to hold out this long.

The rough hand receded, and someone else took its place. Suddenly, someone was fully embracing her. Someone soft. Someone warm. She could feel the warmth of the person’s body like a blanket around her. And then, even more warmth. Warmth like she had never felt before. A supernatural, magical warmth, entirely unlike the toxic heat she felt when the cursed blood welled up inside her. Not lust and hatred and purpose, but love and security and protection. Then a soft voice was whispering to her. “It’s going to be alright,” it said—and somehow the words carried far more than they should be able to. The words were magic, too, she realized—and what should have been nothing more than an empty platitude instead carried hope, and strength, and the painful experience of a hundred wounded souls, and endless truth. A truth that didn’t deny or diminish the terrible nature of what had happened, but instead affirmed it, and made Jordan know that her despair was valid and human and good, but that it was also true that it really was going to be alright.

Finally, the embrace ended—but the warmth lingered within her, and for the first time in a while she felt that there was some good in the world. She took a last sniffling breath, then got up. As she got to her feet, she saw that it was someone new that had embraced her. A woman. She was very young too, probably the same age as Sister Ana. She had a soft, round face and a stubby nose, and short black hair. The woman looked at Jordan with dark black eyes, smiling mildly.

“Thanks,” Jordan managed. Her voice still felt small and weak.

“Sister Leah,” Josiah said as if nothing had happened. “Where have you been?”

The young woman that had healed her turned away, and some of the warmth seemed to vanish from Jordan’s world. “I was still upstairs,” the Healer said, “helping Brother Felipe to strengthen the amnestic charm on the library. It only took a minute.”

“He can do that on his own.” Josiah said.

“But I still helped him,” Leah said, shrugging.

“So you did. No matter,” Josiah sighed, and turned back to Ana.

“Sister Ana. Do you have your research on the Tzimi... something?”

“Tzitzimime?” Ana said, looking taken aback. Sho looked at Josiah, then at Jeanne, then at Josiah again. “I... you told me never to speak of it again.”

“So I did. I was... wrong,” Josiah said, and Jordan couldn’t believe how painful it sounded, as if admitting you were wrong was some kind of transgression. “We should... entertain every avenue—and your research was sound. I... judged you too harshly.”

That last statement garnered an audible gasp from some of the members of the Order. It seemed that Jordan was witnessing a veritable upheaval in the way things were done around here. If this is change, it can’t come quickly and radically enough, she thought. The corners of Ana’s stiff mouth twitched, and they turned into the barest hint of a smile. Still, she seemed tense and ill-at-ease. “I... admit... that I have brought the research with me, despite your orders.”

Josiah was visibly struggling with himself. “Well... done,” he said tightly. “Where is it?”

“Back in the Hotel, in my travel trunk. I only took my small briefcase along when I went to the library, and I haven’t been back to the Hotel since then. But...”


“It won’t be enough.”

The floor seemed to fall away beneath Jordan. Oh fuck. No. Please!

“What do you mean?”

It means they’ll have to kill me. Jordan thought, her pulse racing, panic constricting her chest. If they can’t cleanse me, they’ll kill me!

“We need more than just knowledge. We need tools,” Ana said, lowering her gaze, sighing.

Oh God, please no. This can’t be happening, Jordan thought. There had to be a way to figure this out. There had to be something that they could do! Anything!

“An Aztec ceremonial knife and vessel,” Ana finished, and the world stopped—and the floor returned beneath Jordan’s feet. She gasped, not realizing how she had been holding her breath. Fuck! Her head swam with the impossibly close call she had just avoided. She couldn’t believe how lucky they had gotten. She couldn't believe that, of all things, being a history major had ended up saving her life.

Her chest untightened as she blurted out:

“I know where we can get those!”

Sam’s body still throbbed from the experience of having her Mistress possess her flesh. Feeling her body move at Her behest—her mouth forming Her words—had been the most amazing feeling. And now, with the Mother's guidance back on their side, the universe seemed to have stopped tumbling and turning around her. They had purpose again, and wasted no time by covering any evidence of their return to the Sanctum. They left Katie’s body behind and hurried to Mina’s car, an enormous, beaten-up Ford estate, the kind of massive, unwieldy thing that wouldn’t be able to make a turn in a European inner city. They quickly drove off, and Sam’s mind returned to the hot sense of purpose at her core.

They were somewhat safe, for now. At least that was what her diminished connection to the Mother let her feel. There was a plan, even if it was terribly, shockingly risky. They knew what to do, even if there wasn’t much that they could do. At least they weren’t aimlessly scrambling anymore, like they had been when the Sanctum had been attacked. It almost felt like they were the ones hunting again, not the ones being hunted.

Mina drove them out of town, across a short stretch of highway, and took an off-ramp two exits west when the Mother’s resonance threatened to become unbearably weak. It felt completely and utterly wrong to abandon the epicentre of Mistress’s influence, but they also knew what Mistress had done to Ana’s and Jordan’s minds. It was out of their hands. There was nothing they could do until all of their Gifts had matured—and until then, they needed to lay low. Either the gambit would pay off, or it wouldn’t. It was all about buying time, now. The mother’s resonance felt alarmingly tenuous this far from its origin and Sam had to ignore the crawling sensation under her skin that was screaming at her to turn back. If they left for too long, the resonance would die down completely, and the Mother’s influence would die out like a snuffed candle. That couldn’t happen. That’s why they were going to create a new sanctum—a place to keep the flame burning. That’s what they were looking for now: A place to claim.

Sam's mind was idly drifting as they drove through another suburb nearly indistinguishable from the ones they had just left. She imagined the people that lived in the houses passing by the car window. She imagined their car stopping, and the both of them getting out, breaking down a random door and overwhelming the tenants. Her lower body tingled as she imagined a young woman, in her own living room, as they claimed her soul and body. For some reason, she had to think of Halloween, the horror movie from the 70s. She had always found it weird that in that movie, Michael Myers was just driving through the neighborhood in a car. It felt so much at odds with the inhumanity of him. She remembered the night she had watched it. She remembered feeling afraid for the poor girl he was stalking, the babysitter. Now, Sam was the unfeeling killer stalking the Neighborhood. It felt so hot. She thought of all the beautiful actresses that had played the survivors in those kinds of movies. Once the Mother had risen, Monsters like Sam and Mina would hunt them in real life, and they, too, would become flesh-servants—and meet the fate that they had avoided in the movie. The thought tickled Sam pleasantly. It made her feel part of something big and unstoppable. Yesss, she thought, and slipped her hand between her legs. The idea of it made her so fucking hot. Once she was part of the Constellation, she would taste their corrupted souls, and their fame would mean nothing anymore! She would meet her former idols, and watch them scream as their souls died! Every beautiful woman she had ever adored from afar was going to become another one of Her whores. Willing flesh, like everyone else, ravenous and shameless and hers to use and command. Sam moaned and shivered as she rubbed her cunt, and it wasn't long before the fantasy made her cum.

Mina wasn't letting herself get distracted like Sam. There was a thin smile on her lips as Sam moaned and gasped and came, but she kept her eyes on the road. She was driving them through the suburbs slowly and methodically, scanning the houses around her, looking for one that was right for their needs. Secluded, preferably at the end of a cul-de-sac, behind bushes or trees, in a part of town where there was no neighborhood watch or HOA. She worked for the police, so she probably knew which kinds of neighborhoods had better chances of break-ins not being noticed.

Eventually, after a good hour of driving, they found a good place. At the end of a road, framed by two houses with ‘for sale’ signs posted in the front lawns, and a small bit of woodlands on the opposite side of the road. Mina parked the car around the block, collected a pair of handcuffs from the glove compartment, and got out, telling Sam to wait as she checked the place out.

Five minutes later, she returned, wearing an evil smile that moistened Sam’s cunt.

Another short while had passed. Now, the car was safely in the garage, and they were in a stranger’s living room. The air smelled of baking cake.

“What are you doing?” whimpered the middle-aged woman that Mina had handcuffed to the radiator. Her expression of absolute terror sent pleasant shivers down Sam’s spine.

“Shedding pretense,” Mina said, as she pulled off her top and revealed her tits. Both she and Sam were completely naked now, as was natural for them. “Don’t worry, Diane. We’re not going to harm you. We just need a place to hide out.”

The brazenness of Mina’s lie almost made Sam gasp in pleasure. She was soaking wet.

“Why me? Why here?” Diane asked, pain and confusion in her voice.

“Because there was only one name on the doorbell, and it was female.”

“What?” the woman asked, eyes wide, but they gave no further explanation. Words were wasted on her. It didn’t need to understand in order for her to be sacrificed. Sam and Mina exchanged a meaningful look. Again, an unspoken question lingered between them, and Sam could almost physically feel Mina’s need. “You do it,” Sam said. After all, she had been the one to experience the bliss of being inhabited by the Mother’s presence. Mina smiled, and embraced Sam, kissing her deeply. There was a whimper from the corner of the room, and they broke the embrace. Mina turned and languidly walked toward the woman, her hips swaying hypnotically.

“Look at me,” Mina said. The woman had averted her gaze in shame, her face deeply blushed. She had almost curled up into a ball. She looked up, and Sam could see the resonance catch her.

It wasn’t strong. Of course it wasn’t. Mistress’s presence was weak, and even if She herself, in the flesh, had been standing there, it would have taken a bit of time for the woman’s mind to give in to her Call. With Her resonance on the brink of collapse, this would take much longer. But the woman was looking at Mina now—and she wasn’t going to look away again. The hook had sunk in, and it was only a matter of time before the resonance would saturate her. It would be a temporary control of her being, fleeting and volatile. But it would be enough for their needs.

“Yes. Look at me. Look at my body. You can sense it, can’t you? It’s beautiful.”

“What? No. What are you talking about? I—”

“Look at me,” Mina said, gently brushing her hands across her wonderful body, tracing the curves of her hips, her breasts. Sam could see the subtle red glow of the Anchors in her nipples. Mina stroked across them, making them sway from the tips of her breasts.

“Please stop this,” the woman begged. But she was still looking. She couldn’t look away. Her eyes were wide. Open. Receptive. Sam could already feel the heat rising between her legs. It wasn’t as hot as the immediate violence of using a Gift to claim a body and soul. But it was just as much an act of domination, of subjugating someone’s mind and making it serve the Mother’s will. Sam’s fingers found her pussy lips wet and ready. She gently started stroking up and down their length. The woman was already too focussed on Mina to notice.

Soon, the woman was no longer protesting.

“Yes. Look at me. I am beautiful,” Mina said as a drop of drool ran down Diane’s chin, dripping onto her chest.

“Yes. You are beautiful,” the woman agreed. Her words were small things, without much behind them. A thin smile had crept on her lips. Her eyes were fixed on Mina’s piercings, which were glowing a dim red. Sam could almost taste the hot pleasure they must have been granting Mina. Sam’s own nipples felt so fucking sensitive and raw, and she took her free hand and tweaked the small studs, twisting them. She abstractly still knew that she was feeling pain from their blistering heat, but being the Mother’s willing flesh had shifted the pain into even more pleasure. She twisted harder, and a soft moan escaped her. She was almost certain that she could see Mina’s smile widen when she heard it.

After another ten minutes, and an orgasm, Mina told Sam to get the keys and uncuff the woman. They weren’t finished with her yet, but she was already theirs. Sam could see the woman’s nipples poke through her shirt, as if her low moans weren’t enough proof that the Mother’s resonance had reached her core.

“Yes,” Diane said as Sam dug the key out of Mina’s discarded clothes. “Yes. I am beautiful, too. I am beautiful. I am obedient. I am docile.” As she spoke the words, Mina was echoing them, speaking in unison with her, building the resonance. Sam knelt down. Diane was utterly oblivious to her as she repeated the truths that the resonance at her core told her. There were tears rolling down her cheeks. She hadn’t blinked her eyes in a couple of minutes, repeating and repeating as the resonance built and built in her. The woman’s mind was a wine glass, and Mina was the one rubbing its rim with wet fingers.

It was time now to make that metaphor even more literal. Sam opened the handcuffs and started undressing Diane. For a moment, she wondered how she knew that she needed to do this. But of course, it was like instinct. The knowledge lived in her gut, at the base of her spine, where the Mother’s Gift had claimed her. Diane was utterly uncooperative, too caught up in Mina’s resonance. It took some time to rid her of her clothes. As soon as she was done, Sam wetted her fingers with spit, and pushed them between Diane’s legs. She wouldn’t even have had to bother. The woman was soaking wet. She pushed into her opening with a slick sound, and felt Diane's lower body contract around her invading finger as the woman moaned and shivered. She was wet and needy and getting her off didn’t take long at all. Sam could physically feel the resonance redouble in her as she came. The woman was glowing with it, vibrating with it in the unseen dimension that only the Mother’s servants could perceive. Sam and Mina made her come another two times, until the Mother’s presence in their wombs told them that it was enough for what they needed to use her for. They let off, and Diane finally relaxed after tensing and trembling for half an hour. For a moment, it seemed like she had passed out from exhaustion. Maybe she had. It wouldn’t be surprising. But after a couple of seconds, her eyes opened again, and they were as empty as her expression.

“I will serve the Mother,” she said, her voice carrying no emotion at all.

“Willing flesh,” Mina commented trough a cruel smile that made Sam want to drag her to bed and fuck her soul out once again.

“Willing flesh,” Diane repeated, and Sam’s body tightened. Only the blood of willing flesh may create a sanctum, she knew at her core. Her mouth watered, and the sudden need to serve her Mistress welled up in her like a flood wave. Not yet, she felt more than knew.

“Is anyone going to visit today?” Mina asked.

“Yes. My daughter will arrive in an hour, at four. Last thursday was her birthday.” Diane said.

“Has she ever arrived early?”

“No more than five minutes,” Diane said.

“Does she own a gun?”

“No, of course not. Not my Ellie.”

“Good. Does she usually come in through the back door or does she ring the doorbell in front?”

“Through the back door. She has a key.”

“Good, we’ll be able to claim her once we have created the Sanctum.” Mina said, and looked at Sam. They shared a cruel smile. Mina turned and went for the kitchen. She returned a few moments later with a large chef’s knife.

“Anything else you want to ask her before we use her up?”

Sam looked at the naked, defenseless woman before her. She considered for a moment if there was any reason to prolong her life.

“Nah,” she said with an indifferent shrug, and Mina drew the blade across the woman’s neck.

Thank you for reading! If you're enjoying this story in particular, or my writing in general, you can support me by purchasing my first story collection on Gumroad for any amount you feel is fair. My stories are free and always will be, but if you've gotten some value out of them, please consider making a donation.

Show the comments section

Back to top

Register / Log In