A Fantasy Picaresque Ch. 03

After what seemed an eternity, Kali's pain subsided.

"Go forth and walk, so that all may know The Left-Handed One's gift," the fourth man intoned, as if he were a priest. "Cover not your mark or feel the flames of sin."

I was taken aback. Kali stood up: naked, marked by bandits, an outcast, as it were, from all civilized society. Her eyes shone with fire, her breasts quivered, and in that moment I wanted to have her more than I had ever wanted a woman before. Rarely, even in the many amorous escapades between then and now, has a girl so inflamed my passions as she did. The sight of her: frail and vulnerable, yet burning with passionate rage, a mere girl, slender of hip and waist, delicate in features, yet at the same time a survivor of untold torment.

Our eyes locked.

"You told me you were frightened of witches, farmboy," she said to me. "When next you see me, I will be a daughter of Mother Death, and you will know my pain."

Before I could plead with Kali not to become a witch, she turned to Lina.

"Whose whore will you be when I spill their blood?" she thundered. "You will know my vengeance just as they will!"

Kali turned and walked, slowly and purposively into the forest, seemingly undaunted by her nudity or the hideous black spiral above her firm ass. All of us stood in dumbstruck amazement as she slowly disappeared into the forest. Only Lina seemed capable of speaking.

"I didn't take it that well when you all marked me, either," she said nonchalantly, scratching lightly behind her ear. "Now who needs his prick sucked?"