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Βία; Ναι
Σεξ; Ναι
Αριθμός Λέξεων: 600+
Σχόλια: Έτσι για την καφρίλα
The pain... I tried everything to get rid of it, yet it persisted, constantly gnawing at my soul, making my life a burden I could not shoulder. It was the outcome of my every action. It was a byproduct of living. Or was it the other way, the living being a byproduct of feeling pain. Just thinking about it pained my all the more. I did not have to meditate on paining. I had to get rid of it.
I tried many methods to: Western psychology, eastern meditation, modern medicine, Alternative therapies. They all failed me. My constant search for a permanent painkiller led my into delving deeper and deeper into the darker and more obscure methods of occultism.
It was during a visit in an old library in Wales I first read about Him. I was skimming a centuries old book on witchhunts, where I stumbled upon the Angel of Pain. A being that would dull to non-existence all of a person's pain.
From then on, all of my efforts were driven towards this goal. Coming upon the grimoire containing the ritual was the toughest part. My agent came upon it in an obscure bookstore in Venice. Some of the ingredients needed were hard to find, but my resources were all but limited. Soon I was ready to perform the invocation.
It was a moonless Sabbath, in a forest. The witching hour has just started and I had just finished scribing the sigils on my skin. The black rooster was by my, tranquilised to be slaughtered much easier. A bonfire was burning in front of my, it's wood from a tree on a witch man has been hanged. I started pouring some of the special oil in it. The drops sizzled as the fell in the flames, filling the air with a sickening smell. I started chanting the summoning words, while I grabbed the rooster with my left and a ritual dagger with my right. First I cut the palm of my right hand and let the blood smear the rooster. Then I cut his throat and threw it in the fire, still chanting. The bird was burned by the fire, now darkening and turning into black tongues of flame. Was it a success? I was wondering.
Then a shadow appeared amidst the flames. It became clearer and clearer, as it spread its leathery wings and walked towards me. It was an apparition both enchanting and gruesome to the eye: A hermaphrodite being, wrapped in leather, bat-like wings, chains rattling behind it, hooked at his flesh. Its hands had no fingers, only talons sharp as razors. It's sexes were swollen and sore and its skin a texture of scar tissue. And its eyes... Its eyes were like the purest diamond, gleaming with both pity and malevolence.
I staggered back as it came closed to me. I was afraid. But I never made it to run away, as I indented to. Its chains came after me rattling, trapping me in their barbed embrace.
What came next is as fragmented in my memory as a feverish dream. An agonizing nightmare to be more precise. I was caught inside a web of chains. They were hooked on my body, face and limbs. The slightest move sent waves of agony all over my body, the spasm it caused making my pain all the harder to bear. Even the shallowest breaths were a torture. And that was the least.
The angel was often coming to treat me in its remedy. Its claws caressed my skin, leaving it scarred and bleeding. It stopped the blood with burning coals. Then it would rip the burn open and lick the wound with its tongue, dripping salt and vinegar. On occasions it would pleasure me, penetrating me every possible way. Less often it would let me inside its female sex. It was sore and smelled of pus, making the experience revolting. Once I belched, the spasm hooking me tighter to my bonds. I remember it gave me a kiss after that. And it was just like the last kiss my ex-wife gave me, before she left me alone and in pain. Yes, the most affectionate gesture of my captor was the most painful one.
The tortures were many and some cannot even be described. I was flayed alive, skinned and ripped apart, then sawn together again. I was burned and bathed both in boiling and frozen water, even showered with acid. What I left of me is but a husk. A shell preserving little of the life it once had. Yet I endured and I shall, hanging almost lifeless from my hooks, like a piece of meat in a butcher's shop. And I feel no pain at all. All my pain has seeped out of me with my blood and sweat and pus and tears. I'm free! Free at last! And happy for it. I wish this would never end.
This post has been edited by Nihilio: 16 September 2005 - 00:40
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- αχ, ήταν πολύ χαριτωμένες και η μία κουκλί...
