೦ Anna ೦

 

I wake up wrapped in something soft and cozy. For the first time since I’ve been taken, I feel warm, and my hands are free. There are still shackles attached to my wrist but they aren’t attached to my collar. Also, I am relaxed and content.

I must be still dreaming.

But my butt hurts, and that’s how I know I’m not.

As I want to move, I realize that I can’t, because something heavy is pinning me down.

I manage to pull one arm from the blanket trying to find out if Samael has yet another freaky device to confine me. And he does.

It’s his arm.

My mind jumps into overdrive, and I realize, that the warmth seeping through my body originates from behind me.

Instantly I freeze into a statue of ice. I don’t even dare to breathe.

What the hell is happening?

I want to relax. I want to close my eyes again and pretend that I am in my dorm room, and Sam has finally come to me. But I can’t.

My ass still hurts, and even worse, Sam’s pressing his boner right into my butt cheeks, which spreads yet another strange sensation through my body.

He just raped me, anally, and I’m getting horny from feeling his denim-wrapped cock against me. Who is the crazy person here?

It’s clear that Sam needs help. It’s clear that I don’t have the skills or knowledge to help him. But it’s also clear that he feels something for me, as contradicting as his feelings for me are. But he cares about me, in his twisted way.

Why else would Sam be lying here with me, one arm around me, pressing me against his chest like a much beloved stuffed toy. Am I just that to him?

As I let out a long-held breath he begins to stir. A soft moan breaks from his body. It sounds so cute, it makes me want to turn around and wrap my arms around his neck. It makes me want to roll him on his back and crawl on top of him, so that he can wrap his arms around me.

But those are mundane things to think of, things Sam doesn’t even know. He can’t, because no one ever did this with him. So, how could he know?

I have to show him.

So, as he moves, I use the opportunity and turn around, but my plan doesn’t work. He’s too close and I can’t wrap my arms around him. Instead, I’m pinned between his arm and his chest, my hands pressed flat to his body. And Sam opens his eyes.

For a moment, I am scared, that it’s Samael that looks at me, until a smile appears on his face.

How could I ever forget what Sam’s smile does to me. I feel a different warmth, a different content, and, most crazily, I feel safe. I feel like he would never harm me, always protect me, do whatever it takes.

Everything I feel right now is real but so wrong. I’ve seen his other side. His dark side. It’s really that, isn’t it? I always believed the scientists saying that there is no such thing as multiple personality disorder. That this mental disease is just something Alfred Hitchcock made up for his famous movie Psycho. People, who have such a vast range in their behavioral patterns and their emotions that they seeming to have completely different personalities are either bipolar, or schizophrenic. Or they have PTSD (post-traumatic stress disorder), which causes them to act extremely violent, or hysterical when a memory of abuse is triggered.

I wanted to become a psychology major in the phases that I felt normal. You know what they say. The crazy ones become shrinks.

 

⌽ Samael ⌽

 

I shouldn’t have fallen asleep. I shouldn’t have stayed. I didn’t know how tired I was, until now.

All I wanted to do was warm her freezing body. At least, that was my official intention. But I am the liar here. I wanted to hold her. I wanted to be drowned by the perfume that is her.

Just once.

Without consequences.

But there are always consequences.

Like her stirring and turning around in my arm. Is she trying to take advantage of this situation, while I am still drunk with sleep? A sleep that was so deep and peaceful, I didn’t even have a nightmare?

I cannot give her the illusion of comfort. This is something she will never have, because my father will never give it to her and I can never risk being caught.

That is the consequence. The painful memory of how it could be if things were different.

The only way I can protect her from the outside world from being cast into hell when judgment day arrives, is to prepare her for the life that is meant for her inside the church. All this pain, and punishment has no other purpose than to prove her worthiness for heaven.

But I can give her other forms of comfort.

I move, using my weight to force Anna onto her back. Her eyes are widened, when she realizes what I am doing. I cannot stop myself from hovering over, when I should continue without hesitation.

Yet, I need to watch her face as the hand that held her brushes across her soft and now warm skin, down her stomach to between her legs. Anna spreads them, without me having to do or say anything.

I can’t remember if she should enjoy this or not. I guess, it’s okay, if it’s my hand sliding over her pussy, between her already wet lips, drawing a circle around her clit, before I start rubbing it.

Anna’s face is flushing visibly. She bites down on her lower lip, moaning softly, as I touch her. Not once does she look away, as if my gaze has her captured. As I use more pressure her mouth opens and her eyelids flutter. She arches her back lightly, eager to meet my fingers.

I can’t help myself. I must watch her give in to my treatment. There is no reluctance, no hesitation, and no defiance, as she gives in to me.

My cock twitches in my pants, demanding to be let out, and I want to. Why couldn’t I give in to this urge again? Because, she’s not mine to take?

Anna doesn’t act like it. With every movement of my fingers, her moans turn louder and less restraint.

I want to kiss her again. I want to kiss these full, plump lips of hers, claim her mouth, and devour it. But I know if I do that, I won’t be able to hold myself back, and I will cross a point of no return.

Again, in my head, a voice asks me why I care? No one would ever find out that it was me who took her virginity, and by the noises she makes, she wants me to. If she would say my name now, I probably would.

It’s all I ever wanted, so why can’t I take it?

A soft moan of hers makes my train of thoughts derails and teases my nerves. She arches her body towards me, and I get distracted by her fully erect nipples. I move down and take one into my mouth.

 

೦ Anna ೦

 

This is a dream. This can’t be anything else. I have no idea how Sam knows to do this so well. His fingers play with me expertly, making me shiver, and tense in delight repeatedly. I can feel his touch everywhere as if his hands are all over me.

This is so perfect.

I tried to look at him, watch him watch me. It was so unbearably hot. But I don’t have any control over my body anymore, as he plays me as if he always knew how. And then he sucks on my left nipple and gently bites down on it.

Every nibble accompanied with a rub of his finger shoves me closer to the edge of an inevitable orgasm. One that makes the others I had appear like a joke.

Sam moves, takes my other bud into his mouth, and repeats this delicious treatment.

The noises I make are uncontrolled and, before I know what I am doing, my hands venture from their resting place at my side to his shoulders, feeling the fabric that is covering his torso.

I barely notice that he flinches as I touch him. All I want is for him to kiss me when I come, but he stops.

A sound of frustration escapes me, and I fear that I just did something to infuriate him. Quickly, I open my eyes the same moment as I feel his Denim brush against the inside of my thigh.

Is he going to do it?

I look down, but he tells me “Up!” and I stare at his pitch-black eyes. Still, I saw the bulge in his pants behind the closed fly, and I do my best to not have disappointment ruin the sensation that has taken over my body.

This is a dream, I remind myself. I don’t want to think of anything else

The cold clawing into my skin, as he moves down further, reminds me that it’s not a dream. It is real.

But the very moment his tongue slides into my pussy, prodding inside me, my mind is lost.

Sam’s thumb presses against my clit, moving it up, and creating an entirely different tension. Just when I try to focus on it his other hand pushes up my leg, slides up my side and pinches my nipple. I arch my back in reflex and lose track of everything. I feel him everywhere, everywhere but inside me, until he pushes first one, then two, then free fingers inside me, not deep enough, but he spreads my pussy open wide, while his tongue speeds up.

I can’t think, and I can’t bear this. Instinctively, my body fights against this overload and bucks, which makes it all worse, worse, and so much better.

I want to tell him to stop.

I want to tell him to continue.

I want him to fuck me for real.

All that comes out of my mouth is his name; over and over again, as if I am singing a song.

Sam. Sam. Sam.

He holds my body down as if it’s merely twitching.

And then the tension breaks, explodes into a wave rolling through my body, drowning me, breathing air into my lungs. My body shakes, with every little twist of his tongue, until I start whining and he stops.

That’s when I realize that I have buried my hands deep into his hair. I’ve probably pulled on it, without knowing what I am doing. But he doesn’t say a word and patiently pries my fingers off him.

 

⌽ Samael ⌽

 

My body is screaming at me, when I retreat from her, and my mouth and tongue are coated with her juices. I never knew an orgasm could taste like this. There are no words to describe it. All I know is that I need to do this again, repeatedly.

And I need to hear my name like Anna chanted it, so full of need, desperation, and rapture.

But I know, I must go, I have already waited too long. My brothers will grow suspicious if I don’t leave now to pretend that I take the girl’s corpse away and get rid of it. Yes, Gabriel will be distracted, but not for long. My brothers are just waiting for me to make a mistake so that they can be the ones to punish me again.

I lick my lips and taste her again. It drives me mad. And I can see in her eyes that it is written all over my face. But despite all the things I already did to her, she does not shy away or is scared by my expression. She sits up and reaches out for me, almost as she wants me to do it.

“I need to go,” I explain her, as I proceed to get up, and finally stand. “I must take care of something, but I will be back. I promise you. Let me get you food and water. You may keep the blanket.”

Those are the words I speak when I leave, and I turn my face away from her on purpose, because she does not want me to go. I do not want to go either.

I must leave her for at least three days, so I grab a six-pack of water, bananas, and several protein bars that I use to eat to get rid of hunger quickly. When I am about to descend into the cellar, I see a shadow far away from the corner of my eye outside.

Someone’s approaching.

I put what I have in my hands on the table and throw the trap door shut, before I take step out of the house and look at the spot where I saw the shadow.

The sun stands deeper than it should be. I’ve slept too long. Anna is making me sloppy.

I want to be angry at her for that, but I am only mad at myself. I allowed this to happen. And now, I have to deal with the consequence of having someone in the direct proximity of my house, despite people being terrified of me.

As I see the shadow again, I jump into a sprint. I leap from the patio and race for my prey.

I reach it.

I grab it.

It squeals in horror.

It’s my niece.

Consequences.

“What are you doing here, Zoë?” I grumble.

“Can I stay with you, uncle Samael?” She begs and starts to sob. “I do not want to go back.”

Zoë hangs in my arms like a ragdoll and I do not know what to do. My first impulse is to drop her. This would be my only impulse, but another part takes over and turns her around, and she instantly buries her face against my neck.

Quickly, I scan my surroundings, to see if this is a trap or a test. I cannot see anyone. It would be wise to retreat into my house where no one can see her, but I cannot risk her finding out what I am doing. So, after I allow her a few seconds of illusions, I pry her off my body and hold her at the shoulders so that she can see me straight in the eyes.

“You cannot stay with me, Zoë,” I tell her, and she begins to bawl.

My stomach churns, my shoulders tense, as I stop my hands from hurting the girl. She is nine. Good Lord. This is not right. She is a child.

I was a child, too.

“Please,” she starts begging again. “Please. You made her go away, please make him go away.”

I need to think. But I cannot think

“Zoë,” I shake her slightly, so that she stops and listens to me. “Listen to me. You cannot say to anyone that I made her go away, or they will make me go away, do you understand?”

Zoë’s eyes become as large as saucers as my words reach her mind and she nods rapidly.

“What I need you to do, is go back into Rowena’s sanctuary, and tell the girl Rowena has chosen, that she told you, you are a chosen one, too,” I look at her intensely, and she nods again. “Tell her, that both you and she are not allowed to be touched, until you have received the light.” Zoë nods again. “Promise me that you will stay together, and stay out of sight, and stay in the house. Never ever come back here again. There will be a new mistress soon and she will protect you, understood?”

I can see that the girl – my niece – is heartbroken and terrified about me sending her back. But she can’t stay with Anna and me.

“There will be a new mistress?” Zoë’s voice is full of hope and I instantly regret telling her.

“She has seen it in her visions,” I lie – I am such a good liar, I should be ashamed of myself, and because I am, I should have known right from the start that Anna did not lie.

I let my wrath control me, but somehow, even now, its influence slowly fades. Slowly, but palpable.

“If they catch you and the other girl,” my mind is racing now. “Tell them about Rowena’s vision. Tell them about a woman in red. She will come and take her rightful place, and that you must wait for her.”

Zoë nods again and her eyes are lighting up. Her new hope squeezes my heart. It will be shattered, I know that. Hope always does. It is too fragile.

I put my niece down gently, and look around once more.

“Now, run quickly, be careful, let no one see you,” I tell her, and before I know it, I stroke her face, and she runs like a hare hunted by a monster.

But that monster is not me.

The consequence for this will be horrible.

 

೦ Anna ೦

 

When Samael finally returns his steps sound different, weary. He left the door open as he went, so I could hear him move around upstairs and I jumped when the trap door fell shut.

I was terrified, scared. Wondered, if they had come for him, to take him away.

I’m only relieved when I see it is really him. But the expression on his face is dark again, pondering. Something has happened and he is not happy about it, not at all.

He puts a six-pack of water, bananas, and candy bars next to my mattress and instantly turns away to leave again.

My heart is in a full gallop.

Is what just happened between us all gone now?

Samael returns after a few moments, and he carries a bucket and something that is wrapped in newspaper and has a ribbon around it.

A ribbon?

Is it a present?

He places the bucket in a far corner and I instantly know it’s meant to be my toilet. Of course, he won’t let me out to use the bathroom. He doesn’t trust me, does he? Or is this to keep me safe?

“I will be gone for three days,” he tells me, and his hands seem to cling to the package he’s holding as if he’s nervous.

Biting down on my lip to prevent me from grinning, as he seems to be at a loss for words.

“Is this for me?” I can’t help but ask, trying to help him.

“I wanted to give you this after,” Samael nods, and that’s when I realize that he hasn’t been looking me in the eyes ever since he came back.

I wonder what exactly ‘after’ is.

“But I did not plan to leave you alone, again, and solitude is a cruel punishment,” he explains, but still does not hands over the present.

It is too large to be a book. What is it? Is it a board game? They are not allowed, as far as I can remember.

After some hesitation, he finally hands it over.

I instinctively weigh it in my hands, it’s exterior is soft, but it is not light. My first impulse is to rip off the paper but Sam’s expressions stops me from doing it. He looks like he wants to tell me something, which is why I fight the urge I put the present next to me on the mattress, and wrap the blanket tighter around me.

“What I did to you,” his voice sounds like he’s confessing his sins. “What I did to you today,” Samael searches for the right words and I realize this is not a confession, not an apology. “I am not supposed to do that to you, or anyone else but one.”

I feel how my face turns pale. Is he married?!

“Only the mistress, is able to receive my light,” he continues and I’m completely lost; this code makes no sense, unless light is equal to an orgasm.

What is he trying to explain to me?

“That is what I am preparing you for, Anna,” he tells me and looks at me again, carefully, reading my face for comprehension. “Reborn as Rachel, you will not only be my father’s third wife, but as Rowena’s daughter you will be next in line as mistress of the church. I made sure of that.”

I try to process what he is trying to tell me.

“The mistress is the healer, remember?” Samael seems to choose his words with care. “She is a chosen one. Do you remember?”

I remember.

These words, I have heard them before. When I was a prisoner of this church. Sam told me this once, when he explained to me that he had to go and see my mother. And I asked him why, because he was not hurt, because I was always the one taking care of his injuries, and not my mother.

I didn’t understand what he meant with that he had to give her his light, so that she could heal others.

My mother told me these words, as well. That she was a chosen one and I was, too. That she was the healer of the church and would soon teach me, too.

When I look up at Samael, he has already moved away and is walking towards the metal door.

“All the things I will have to do to you are not for our enjoyment,” he says, but I barely hear him as his former words slowly sink in.

“You…” These words just don’t want to come out as I want them to. “What you… you mean that you’re only supposed to do that to my mother?”

My own words are heavy with disbelief.

Samael stands in the door as he looks at me and nods.

 

⌽ Samael ⌽

 

It is one syllable, but I cannot bring myself to speak it. So, all I can do is nod and watch Anna’s expression.

I want to say more. To explain more. But there is nothing more to explain. She needs to know the truth, because hope is such a fragile thing, and even crueler. And happiness, happiness is only an illusion that makes you drown when you cling to it.

As I close the door behind me, I hear her scream.

It cuts through my body and lays itself around my heart like a snake. Right before the door is in its frame, I hear a low thud, but think nothing of it.

All of this is just part of her preparation. And now, I must go and make sure that my family does not grow suspicious of my actions.

Consequences of wrongdoings within the sacred lines of this church are relentless, devoid of mercy or remorse. That I know with absolute certainty.

I should have killed Zoë, but instead I gave her hope. Instead now she believes that I am kind, that I will save her, but the only consequence is that she will suffer more, even more should I fail. She is only nine. Children are so prone for hope. Zoë might tell the girl I send her to. I cannot foresee what consequences my mistake will have. And now, I cannot go back to the town and take her.