Bilal and Mistress Octavia Pt. 02

Inside the forest, Marguerite gasped and moaned, she seemed barely aware of what was going on around here. She muttered frantic prayers under her breath almost constantly and her voice was hoarse and weak.

We finally came to the rock shrine, which made Marguerite mad with fear again. She ran and strained against the manacles, almost tearing them from my hands. I dragged her back, her mouth filled with incoherent screams. "Tie her to the tree, Bilal." Octavia was already starting to disrobe. Even with the horrors surrounding me I felt a prick of heat in my ram and lamented that I would never touch her soft curves again.

"No!" Marguerite shouted, hey eyes cast to the dark forest canopy, "Please God, help your servant! Please..." but her voice trailed off into screams and whimpers. She wouldn't hold still to be tied up. And she was resisting with a great deal of her strength. It was too much for me.

"Damnation, Bilal, just tie her up!" She looked at me struggling with the screaming Marguerite. "I suppose I'll do it then." I heard the same muttered incantation as before and Marguerite fell silent and still. I tied her stiff body to the tree. When Octavia dropped the spell, Marguerite squirmed and cried, but could not escape.

Octavia was gasping and covered in sweat. "Bilal, come. I have a task for you." She brought out several jars and a scroll. "You must paint my body as before, and remember you must be precise."

The scroll detailed a different pattern for Octavia's skin, and this time it was much more intricate. I feared it would be beyond my skill level, but what choice did I have? A small corner of my mind was thrilled to be touching her smooth flesh again. My ram took note, and began to stand at attention. I had never been more ashamed of my lust. The jars had a viscous, red liquid. There was no doubt in my mind that this was some kind of mixture containing blood. I shuddered to think whose it might be.

I did all this amid Marguerite's hysterical cries. I felt her fear had to be real by now. No one was this good. I painted on Octavia's skin, touching her tits, her arse, her jade gate. I even had to spread her arse and stripe the crack with the mixture. The fear couldn't hold my lust back. In the dark Octavia had become a frightful creature. Her blood covered skin radiated in the light of the lamp.

"Now it is the hour of my triumph, Bilal. This is a ritual I must perform every forty nine years. I may appear as a middle aged woman now, but in truth I am old as the grandparents of the tallest trees in this forest. My lord keeps me alive to do his will on earth." She turned to Marguerite, "We are not so different, vestal. Except that your god is weak and cowardly. Mine commands mortals and makes his potency manifest in our magic." The stone behind us began to glow faintly, and I heard the sound of heavy breathing all around. "My lord is here, you wretched slave." Octavia's mouth split her head in a red curve.

And indeed the presence of something was painfully strong here. The air felt heavy, and the wind seemed to pulsate like the breathing of a giant beast. My fear was multiplied, but something kept me here, like a strong hand around my ankle. Now she had a flame bladed knife in her hand and she stood with arms and legs spread. She began speaking in the dark tongue. I understood little, but she did say "Iblis," "master," "sacrifice," and "virgin." A booming, diabolic voice called out in the same dark tongue, and I was shaken to my core. It seemed to come from all around us. It ended with a smug laugh.

The stone was glowing now, and I could feel the damned heat radiating from it. The whole world seemed blood red now in its light. Octavia approached Marguerite. She stood before her for just a moment, the predatory smile on her face. She wasn't the red death spider or even the wildcat. In this moment she was something unspeakable, monstrous. She raised the knife slowly and Marguerite's face was frozen in a mask of terror. I thought she would die from just her fear. Gently, she ran the knife across Marguerite's cheek and a red line of blood bubbled out of her skin. Octavia hungrily kissed the blood, and when she drew away her lips and chin were red and dripping. Then she sliced the other cheek, her passionate kiss smearing the blood so that the entire lower half of her face was red. Marguerite's tears washed trails in her blood.

Then an expression of ecstasy came over Octavia's face. Her back arched and her arms shot out at her sides in a single violent motion. I stared in her face in the bloody light of the stone. The wrinkles disappeared from around her eyes. Her tits and belly tightened up. She looked twenty years younger in a matter of seconds.

"Now, Bilal! Now" Marguerite's strained voice boomed out, strained but potent. Despite all the chaos around me I forced my mind to concentrate. St. Salah began his prayer by identifying and condemning Ibils. The prayer shot from my mouth, like the ball from a cannon. The first reaction was a howl of rage from the dark master, Iblis. His voice cursed St. Salah, and from it poured every manner of filth imaginable. Octavia's eyes were wide and full of anger, but she was held enraptured by the dark spell restoring her youth and could only silently rage.

The prayer continued with the sanctification of the Holy Land, and a call on the faith's ancient prophets. Iblis's infernal voice only raged louder and his roars echoed throughout the marsh. I felt my fear abate just a little. We had almost done it! I felt the invigorating spirit of God and St. Salah flowing through my body. I had never felt such a holy sensation before.

But from the water came a splash. Colette burst forth from the shadows, her dreadful form dashing between Octavia and Marguerite. How could an enormous, lazy beast move so quickly? Were it not for the holy spirit inside me, I would have shit myself. But Marguerite was just as fast as the alligator. Unbeknownst to all of us, she had slipped her bonds and her hands had been free since the beginning of the ritual. Her hand flashed with steel as she jumped on the dashing monster's back.

Colette stopped just a few feet from me, and twisted and turned in rage, snapping her powerful jaws as Marguerite held on to her back for dear life. In the next part of St. Salah's prayer he called out the nine times nine times nine demons that had possessed the foreign army. He implored God to slaughter them like pigs. Marguerite's dagger flashed again in the flickering light and she stabbed the flailing monster once, twice, three times in its side.

Colette bucked and twisted and snapped. In the chaos, Marguerite's leg was thrown forward, and the alligator snapped down on it, bringing an agonized cry from Marguerite. The dark voice commanded "Cut her open!" To Octavia and her nude form dashed forward, free from the spell, her body renewed and spry.

I had come to the last part of the prayer, and I thought I heard an edge of fear in the demonic voice. Marguerite was thrown to the side by Colette, and blood sprayed from her bitten leg. Octavia lept on her, and swung her flame dagger. Though Octavia had had some of her strength restored, Marguerite was formidable, and they struggled in the mud. Now that she was free of Marguerite, Colette turned her eyes on me.

The last part of the prayer was St. Salah praising God's eternal glory and proclaiming his kingdom in the mortal realm for ten thousand years. His words came from my mouth, and I condemned the unholy abomination Iblis and commanded him to fall down into the pit of hell. It was done.

There was a great crash, louder than a clap of thunder. The standing stone had been broken in two, and its remains smoked and glowed in the night. Even through my ringing ears, I could hear Iblis's savage rage, but his voice rapidly faded, replaced by the animalistic bustle of the swamp's natural sounds. Colette was stunned, and lay confused with her mouth wide open.

I heard a scream. It wasn't Marguerite this time. Octavia sat on her knees, her head thrown back and wailing in agony. Her body began to change. She went from the handsome middle aged woman to the pleasantly mature woman I remembered. But it didn't stop there. Soon she was an old crone, withered and toothless and still wailing. Then I was horrified to see her eyeballs collapse into empty sockets and her skin wither and sink into her bones. Now the skin flew off as blowing dust and her skeleton, still screaming, became visible. Within a few seconds she was no more than a pile of dry bones on the ground.

All the screams had agitated Colette, and she lunged at the pile of bones. She snapped at them, and did the same bizarre and terrifying roll she did with the severed pig's head. Octavia's ribcage snapped in the monster's mouth. I could have sworn I could see the disappointment in Colette's face when she found the bones old and dry. With one last hiss, she lumbered into the dark and splashed into the river.

As soon as the alligator was gone, I ran to Marguerite. Her face was bloody and her breaths were shallow and frantic. Her blue eyes flicked up to me. "Bilal. She's gone."

I tore my shirt off, fashioning a bandage from the scraps. Her leg was torn from the knee almost to the ankle, and the cut was jagged and deep. As she gasped, I saw a bit of bone poke through. I swallowed, praying that I wouldn't vomit, but I kept my composure. "You're safe now, Marguerite. Don't be afraid, Octavia is dead." I wrapped the shirt around her leg, seeing blood soak through the priceless silk.

"I wasn't..." but her voice trailed off and her eyelids fluttered. Just my shirt would not be enough, so I tore off my trousers and cut them into strips, hoping, praying that I could bind her wound. She let out a little gasp and opened her eyes wide, "Bilal, thank you. Listen. If I don't make it..."

"Be still, Marguerite! None of that talk." I was naked now except for my shoes and hat. The trousers seemed to have done the trick, and her bleeding slowed to a trickle. "God won't let you die! I won't let you die." Now that I had tied the bandage on her leg, I took both her hands and looked her in the eye. "We're getting out of here." I thought of the rowboat we had taken to the island. We had to get to it, although I had no idea where we would go.

I prayed, and hoped that God would find it in his heart to save us. "Bilal, leave me. I have done my work. My leg... I can't walk. You have to escape. My work is done, God is ready to call me home." She lay flat on her back, not expending the energy to get up.

"No," I simply said, and pulled her up. I did the only thing I could do, and hoisted her up on my shoulders. She was heavy in her stoutness, but I suppose without the strength of her physique, we wouldn't have survived this long.

"Bilal, don't" she muttered. I felt her hands grasping weakly at the slick skin of my back. She rolled her hands into fists, and I felt a few feeble raps on my back. But her will was weak along with her body. She had been eager to come in here, though now she didn't want to leave. I'm not a strong man, in fact they used to call me a weakling in the army. Even so, I somehow found the strength to trudge forward in the muck.

Over the sounds of the animals in the teeming forest, I heard something else. It was the rushing of water. By the time I got out of the forest with Marguerite, my feet were splashing in an inch or two of water. Why would the estate flood now? I knew this area was prone to floods. Then it hit me. I was Octavia's magic keeping the flood waters back. Just as I realized this, I felt a tickling on my arm, and spied a mosquito, feasting on my blood.

Marguerite mumbled incoherently, I could hear a prayer or two, but I could tell her mind was shocked from the wound she had received. I would have expected a hard woman like her to retain her strength, but then I remembered her cries when we were heading to the forest. There had to be something else here.

My feet splashed through the water, and by the time we made it to the crop fields, I was swarming with mosquitoes. Fear's icy hand gripped my heart as thought of swamp fever came to my mind, but there was nothing I could do now. There was shouting, and I heard a whip crack twice. I said a prayer for the other slaves, hoping they could make it out safely. And hoping they would give Erasmus what was coming to him. By now the water was halfway up my calf.

In the dark I could see lantern light in the direction of the mansion. Our boat would be right beside it, tied to the pier. Hopefully the other slaves didn't take it. I could hear frantic splashing, and men shouting to each other. It was impossible to tell who was who. The water was up to my knees now and the river's current pushed against me. How long until the river monsters would come this way?

I was raw with exhaustion, and I felt as I had when I had fled from Ghostface's cavalry years before. Marguerite was still muttering to herself, but she had stopped fighting me. My breath heaved, and my whole body ached from how hard I pushed myself. But stopping was impossible now.

I spotted something ahead in the water and felt fresh fear well up within me. But it was a person floating in the water, a corpse. As it floated closer I saw who it was. Erasmus stared at me. His mouth moved, but nothing came out. His face was full of rage, but had been beaten into a purple, bleeding mess. I could see his whip arm had been torn clean off, and even in the muddy waters saw the deep red trail he left behind. His remaining hand grasped for me, his mouth making silent curses. Good riddance.

By the time I reached the pier the water was up to my waist. I didn't actually see the pier, but we had just come past the mansion and our boat was bobbing in the water, still moored. The water raged against the mansion itself, as if God's power were washing away its evil from the land. The lower level had already flooded, and I managed a weak smile at the destruction of all the ill-gotten treasures inside.

I dropped Marguerite into the boat. Tears of relief slid down my face. I don't know if I was happier that I had saved Marguerite, or myself, or that I was happy to have cut out this spot of corruption on the earth. Marguerite's eyelids were heavy, but it seemed her breathing was a little closer to normal. Her mouth silently formed words.

I saw the barge, ponderous and tipping out on the river. It was overloaded with slaves, and I prayed it would not capsize. On the deck I could see a tall, skinny man and a glint of spectacles. Another man held him by the collar, and was giving him quite the beating. I wondered what had happened to Julian.

I had no strength left, but I somehow rowed us away from the estate far enough that the current of the river could just take us now. I heard a mighty groan and a snap behind me. The mansion was tilting, and sliding in the mud. Within a few seconds, it crashed down and floated, capsized down the river. I thanked the Lord.

Marguerite lay in front of me. I felt the tears well up anew in my eyes upon seeing her. My fine silk clothing had turned completely crimson on her leg. I realized in the rush that I had forgotten to clean her wound before bandaging it. I took out my knife and sliced the bandage off. I felt dizzy seeing her wound, but I knew I would have to stay strong for her. In my pack I carried a little bottle of Shaitan's water for this kind of thing. It was no beverage, but just the pure substance. I could be thrown in the dungeon if I was caught with this in the empire, and even now I begged God to forgive me for using it.

Her bandages off, I flushed the wound. She cried out when the liquid hit her wound, and seemed to awaken a little. I needed a clean bandage, and the only cloth was the cloth of Marguerite's habit. Surely God wouldn't mind me shredding a holy garment to save the life of one of his servants. I am sorry to say that I would have committed any sin in the Good Book anyway to save this valiant woman's life.

I cut a section from the top of her dress, and pulled off enough cloth for a bandage. It would be harder to see the blood in the black cloth, but it was all I had. And, God help me, as her dress came away I felt a surge of excitement to finally see her tits. They were as beautiful as I had imagined. They were round and firm, and pointed to her sides. Her nipples were large and pink. But there was something else. A massive scar started from just below her collarbone and ended just beside her navel. It started at her right and ran diagonally across her body, until it terminated on her left side. It had sliced through her right breast, and left it lopsided and wrinkled around the scar.

What sorrow this poor creature must have gone through. I didn't know anyone could even live through a wound like that. My stomach swam thinking of what the carnage must have looked like. All this went through my head as I wound the makeshift bandage around Marguerite's leg. I tied it and made sure it was as tight as I could get it. She would need more than this, but, if God was merciful, this would be enough for now.

"Here, Marguerite, drink. I held my canteen up to her lips, and she thirstily accepted the water. I poured out every last drop.

--

The river carried us. I had an opportunity to rest my aching body, and I knew I would be wickedly sore tomorrow. Marguerite slept, her scarred chest rising and falling peacefully. The blood on her face had dried, and I had used a scrap of her dress to wipe it off. She had kept her habit on while we made love. I thought it was to tease me, but now the truth was revealed. It made me sad. Her body was still beautiful and I was used to the scar even just having seen it for an hour or so. I winced at the pain it must have caused her. I supposed she considered it a wound of war.

Marguerite stirred, and her eyes slowly opened. I heard her take in a few deep breaths. "Bilal, where are we?"

"We are safe, Marguerite. The estate is destroyed and is far behind us. We're on the river."

A weak smile touched her lips, "Then Octavia's spells are broken."

"Indeed. It turns out that her magic protected the island from the flood of the river and the mosquitoes."

There was a pause, and Marguerite smiled a bit more broadly. "God is pleased now, Bilal. I feel the holy spirit around us." She furrowed her brow. "Why are you naked?"

"I had to use my clothes to bandage your wound. You do remember the alligator, yes?" She nodded and looked down.

"Those aren't your clothes-" suddenly her eyes widened and her hands shot up to cover her chest. "You pervert!"

"I'm sorry, Marguerite! I had to bandage you again." I crossed my arms, "I thought you would rather have your tits out than your jade gate."

The anger quickly vanished from her face, but was replaced with something else. "Yes... of course Bilal. You did well. How bad was it?"

"Colette slit you from the knee to the ankle. I cleaned it as best I could."

Her eyes dropped, "And you carried me out. Heavens, Bilal..."

I held up my hand. "What choice did I have, Marguerite? I'm a coward, yes, but not cruel."

"Thank you," she smiled. "Did the slaves make it out?"

"I think most of them did. They took the barge."

There was a moment of silence, and we could only hear the rushing water of the river. "I don't talk about it." Marguerite said, "The scar I mean. No one sees it. I'm sorry you had to..." her voice broke.

I stammered, "Marguerite no... you're very beautiful, still. It mean it's not so bad..." I gulped and took a breath. "I have my secrets too, scars inside." I fingered my fang necklace. "You don't have to tell. But as I say, you look just as lovely to me." This time I gave a little grin. "I must say, I would have loved to have seen all of you, scars and all, when we made love."