The Creators Ch. 10

"Lucilla," Julia smiled companionably to me, her black-rimmed eyes brightening with avarice. I suppressed the chill that ran down my spine.

"Hey Julia," I smiled back. "Great party. It's very... cultic."

"It is hell." Julia surveyed the scene. "I am cleansing them of sin. For them to atone, they must be inundated with their excess. Like force-feeding a child candy until he vomits, these harlots must be force-fed man until they overflow with it."

"That's very poetic of you," I said, trying to keep my smile casual, trying to make it seem like I was totally OK with everything that was going on.

"I suppose there is poetry in divine retribution," Julia mused, looking down at the teary-eyed woman gagging on her cock, "though irony is an adolescent theme I wish to avoid." Jade's eyes rolled back, her wet face flushed with her exertion, her marred mouth gaping wide to fit the girth that stretched the seal of her leaking lips. Though her tones spoke of pain, her swaying hips spoke of deep arousal, and the viscous fluid dripping from between her squatting legs confirmed it. She didn't touch herself, but kept her hands clasped together behind her back, the knuckles white with intensity as the candles burned lower, and lower. Julia pulled out before she came, and Jade cried her objection, which Julia muffled with a pacifying palm over Jade's lips.

"Delayed gratification is an important thing to learn, High Guard," Julia lectured, "but for today, it will only be my test to take. If you wish, you may select some sinners to enjoy for yourself."

"Thank you, Your Holiness," Jade whispered back, her voice shaking with her unconditional devotion. They shared a kiss that reflected their power dynamic, with Jade tilting her head upward in submission, and Julia devouring Jade's mouth with unbridled hedonism. When Julia was done tasting her own cock, she guided the winged-warrior to her feet, extinguished her candles, adjusted her red robe, then sent her to the perimeter, where she selected three men for her own. Astrid, it seemed, had already gotten permission from her god to play, and was reenacting her performance from earlier.

"The righteous few must indulge in the temptations of the many, or they cannot consider themselves righteous," Julia pontificated, then looked at me. "You understand, don't you?"

"Yeah..." I said, shifting uneasily on my feet, "...get a taste of the poison so that you're immune to it. I get it."

"Exercise the demons within, and your soul becomes stronger," Julia smiled, seemingly happy with my answer. Her smile faded when she regarded the writhing mass at the center of the atrium. "But some souls are too weak to fight the demons within. If I can hold the devil's gift within me, why can these harlots not expel the vices of the flesh? Why do they trade their souls for coin and pleasure?"

"Because they have nothing else to sell, and they don't want to starve to death," I answered cautiously.

"The Holy Mother provides to those who are worthy," Julia shook her head as if what I said was the dumbest thing in the world. "These wretched things forsook her. Even after this, they will forsake her again; there is something wrong with them." She looked at me, her corrupted eyes brimming with something dark. "I will save them all, Lucilla. When I have purged their souls of their sin, I will send them all to the Holy Mother, purified and deserving of paradise."

My heart dropped like a stone in my chest. "What?" I hissed.

"If they are allowed to wander the world, they will be lost again," Julia smiled in that kind, motherly way, only with the black rimming her eyes, the smile looked horribly insane. "I will ensure that they do not stray from the Maternal Path again."

"You're going to burn them to death?!" I gasped.

"I am the Flame of God, Lucilla," Julia put her hand on my shoulder. "It is my purpose to shepherd her lost souls into the fires of purification. The revelers, the whores, and the witnesses alike. Everyone here will purge themselves of sin, then I will send them to the next life before they can sully their cleansed souls."

And the twisted nightmare came full-circle. "Julia," I said, no longer able to keep the fear from my voice, "you revealed yourself to me so that you could save Sara and the rest from my father. Now you will do exactly as he would have done?"

"Sara and her kind were innocents," Julia smiled. "Slaves and captives of a life they were forced into. These women chose their sins."

"And what about me?" my voice barely came from me. "Haven't I chosen my sins?"

"You have been touched by God for a higher purpose," Julia said, her fingers running down my arm, trailing the patterns that glowed from my flesh. "To kill you would be a waste. But you are right; you must atone, or we are both hypocrites." Julia's eyes looked hungrily at me from beneath her brow. Strong hands grabbed my wrists, and my dress was torn violently off.

ANGELA

"Holy shit," I whispered. My mind could hardly process the scene presented to me when I walked into The Pussy Palace. Any fool-hearted bravery I'd gained from Brandon's kiss was washed away in the display of religious debauchery.

"Hey Sparkles," Willowbud's snarky voice said from my side. She was watching the action from a secluded alcove. There was something off about the way Corruption moved within her host. The last time I saw Willowbud, Corruption moved limb-for-limb with her, but now there was a delay, an uncertainty, as if she were trying to predict what Willowbud was doing instead of knowing it. She was much more obvious than she'd been before, like a tangible thing instead of the spirit she was; that was probably why Brandon could see her now, if only a trace of her. Contrary to Tera's fears, Julia's methods were working. I just had to make sure she got through this.

"Where are Mom and Aunt Lucilla?" I demanded. Willowbud grinned, and gestured to the front of the atrium. Lucilla was on display, her wrists and ankles bound to an iron cross that splayed her voluptuous form in a nude spread-eagle. Julia was dressed in white robes, the crescent sigil of the Holy Mother embroidered on her cowl, a whip in her right hand. The whip cracked, Lucilla screamed, and Julia laughed, high and sonorous, like my mother's laugh.

"I told her to run, but she wouldn't listen," Willowbud chortled. "Will you listen, or are you going to try to save Mommy?"

"You better hope I can," I said, surveying the scene, "because Mom will kill you, Willowbud. You know she will."

"Eventually, she might," Willowbud smiled, then hopped down from the alcove, and took my hand in hers. "I've been waiting for you, Diamond," Willowbud said as she guided me around the atrium, where leering men stroked themselves in the shadows. "Your mother keeps repeating the same three names. 'Diamond, Lucilla, God.' I want to know what happens when we put the ingredients together."

"I take it your filling God's place?" I snorted.

"Absent the Holy Mother herself, who better?" Willowbud grinned, then tossed her white hair over her shoulder, and tilted her face airily. "Am I not divine?"

"You're certainly—" and I was cut off by the press of Willowbud's lips, and the push of something hot into my lungs. It seeped into my capillaries, flowed through my chest, burned into my mind; heat, exhilaration, life. But it wasn't my body, and the soul who owned it was gone. I felt something within me, not within Diamond, but within me. A feeling in the depths of my ethereal lungs, a fulness that needed to be expired. I grabbed Willowbud, and pressed her closer to me. Then I breathed into her. The world went suddenly black and silent. Willowbud's grip was painfully tight, her hand was cold on mine. Deathly cold. The universe was void of senses; not a glimmer of light, nor the smell of people, nor the sounds of lust. Only the hand grasping my own, the lips growing clammy on mine, the thump of my heart in my ears, and a feeling creeping in the back of my head.

What are you? the voice whispered in my mind. Thump, thump, thump. The drumming in my head felt like it was splitting it open, but the words came through.

You know what I am, I replied. My voice sounded faint in my own mind.

You are not the Untethered One. Thump, thump, thump.

No. Oh god, the pain. My skull was splitting, her breath was death in my mouth, her touch was ice on my flesh.

You are called Silence, Boom, boom, boom. My heart was a drum against my temples, the pressure growing with the tortuous cadence.

I'm Angela! I screamed.

That is not who you will be, Corruption's voice was like a knife through the chaos. I see your realm, Silence. I see rolling hills ornamented with elm trees stretching below towering clouds lit by an eclipsed sun. It is beautiful, and it will be petrified and dead before too long. Now you are Angela, and when Brandon dies, you will be Silence. That is your destiny, girl. I will make sure of it.

The beating in my head grew louder, deafening my thoughts, pounding, smashing, burning through synapses firing into overdrive. I screamed mindlessly, knowing nothing, aware of nothing, only pain, only drums beating. I felt the fire in my lungs, and I blew it all out, back into the mouth from which it came. Silence. Peace. I was floating through a void, weightless, made of air. I had a vision, but the vision was as real to me as the pain had been a second ago. The world began to clarify, blurring into focus. Song birds. I heard song birds. I felt grass beneath my feet, and a gentle wind against my naked flesh. The world brightened, became shape and color, and through my waking vision, I saw rolling fields ornamented with elm trees, stretching below puffy cumulus clouds lit by an eclipsed sun. My eyes traveled across my realm, followed a familiar creek, and fell upon a familiar house. My house. My center.

A memory burst into my mind, a memory I'd avoided since its inception.

Wheels bearing down on me, hooves pounding, oxen bellowing. My bones snap, my body twists, my mouth screams as my mind rages with panic. The pain... oh, the pain, but it's nothing compared to the horror, the instant realization that this is the end, this is the... Brandon's young face watches me. His eyes are wide in shock, his mouth his hanging with horror. The wheel turns, grinding my spine beneath it, leaving me numb with every radial motion until it reaches the base of my skull. Blue light hits me, surrounds me, becomes me. The wheel turns, and I see Brandon's face with my own eyes for the last time.

And I was born. My soul was captured, and my new mind was created by his mind, exactly the same as the mind I had behind living eyes, but for its origin. I was born from an idea, and that idea had been born from a perception; a single word that made up the entity of me in my brother's eyes.

Serenity, Corruption was barely a whisper in the back of my mind. If you are tethered, you will be Serenity. Find a lifeforce with which you have a great affinity, and have the Life Giver tie you to it for eternity; this is your only hope, Angela.

He will bind with me, I replied. I felt oddly sanguine and centered, as though in the midst of meditation. Here, in this place, I was not Angela.

Then you will both die, Corruption's voice became even fainter. I looked to my left, and there she was, barely a wisp of darkness in the ethereal plane. She stared up at the eclipsed sun, and an odd smile stretched across her lips. She didn't even seem to be aware of me anymore. Forever they will live as one, like two lovers in the sun, shining from creation's birth, to hold a tether to the earth.

What? I asked.

It is a poem I heard once, but I cannot remember when, Corruption narrowed her white eyes at the sun. It is a lie. Joy turns to dust, and hatred is born. If you wish to know hell, Angela, then you must know love first. And the pain came roaring back, thundering against the inside of my skull, sending me careening toward insanity. When I thought I'd lose my mind, my senses came surging forward. Sight, sound, smells, taste. I hacked into Willowbud's mouth, and fell backwards against something hard. Her body pressed to mine, hot and sweaty as though she'd been under great stress. I pushed her away, and I gasped. For a moment, the sclera of Willowbud's eyes was light blue; my light blue. Had I passed my gift to her? Did I have a fucking gift?! Then Willowbud's sclera swirled back into blackness, and she toppled against the pylon I was resting on.

"What..." Willowbud gasped, "...what the fuck did you just do to me, Diamond?"

"What the fuck did you just try to do to me?!" I snarled, getting to my feet. Within her, Corruption was staring contemptuously at me.

"I was just trying to make you more fun," Willowbud grinned weakly, pushing herself against the wall for leverage, "But I guess Passion put up safeguards against fun, huh? I should've known."

I stared at her for a moment, searching those black eyes for any signs of blue. A screech of pain interrupted my thoughts, and I whipped my head toward the source. There was the sickening crack of a whip, a high sadistic laugh, and a wail of agony. Lucilla's body arched from the cross she was bound to, her hands balling to quivering fists, her wet face tilting to the ceiling. A grotesque welt had risen from her belly, joining three more that marred her beautiful complexion. Julia withdrew the whip, and said something I couldn't hear, but her tone told me everything. She was enjoying this, and the erection between her legs said she was enjoying it in a very real way. There was no way that I, Angela Sorenson, could help Julia as she was, even if I was in her daughter's body. I needed some help of my own. I turned to my left, and stared at Willowbud. Her white hair was disheveled over her caramel face, which was flushed with the stress of trying to corrupt me, but her black eyes still leered with that evil glint, always ready for more. I grabbed her, pressed my lips to hers, and breathed in. Corruption stared at me, eyes narrowing to slits.

Give it to me, I mentally whispered as Willowbud's tongue navigated my mouth.

You cannot carry it. You have no body. You are a Sentient.

Not yet. Give it to me; I won't fight you.

JULIA

"Diamond, Lucilla, God," I said to myself reflexively as I readjusted the grip of the whip. It was a heinous device, not at all meant for kinky exploits; this was for torture. Lucilla's body was crisscrossed with welts, each raised line dotted with blood that began to trickle down her body. I wanted to do worse. Every time I struck her, every time I heard her agonized wail, a memory swam forth, a memory of blackened faces contorted in agony. Only now, the memory didn't produce waves of regret, but an odd... exciting familiarity. I could do that to people. Not only could I make them feel great pain, but I could change them, mutilate them, disfigure them. I felt the arousal growing between my legs, felt the tightening in my loins, the aching in my nethers... but no; the Holy Mother would not want me to make abstractions of her creations. Lucilla was owed the penance for her crimes, and though her beauty certainly enabled her to sin, disfiguring her would not be a fitting retribution. Her flesh was her weakness, so I would punish the places I knew she enjoyed. Her belly, her breasts, her backside. When that was finished, we would delve into more... intimate places. Despite her cries for mercy, Lucilla's penchant for roughness betrayed her. Her thighs were wet with her want, and her pussy was a swollen red flower that contrasted the paleness of her complexion.

"Julia!" Lucilla screamed, her eyes puffy, her body straining against the binds. "It's me!"

"I am aware of who you are, Lucilla," I chuckled. "You don't need to keep reminding me. Now, was it the wash boy or the stable hand that you had out-of-wedlock intercourse with when you were eighteen?"

"Julia, please stop!" Lucilla sobbed, her chin falling to her chest.

"The wash boy, or the stable hand?" I asked her with a patient smile.

"The wash boy," Lucilla whimpered. One lash across the left breast sent her head reeling back, and her body wrenching into an arch. "It was both!" Lucilla shrieked. I nodded to the Breytan beside Lucilla, and she applied ointment to the fresh strike, rewarding Lucilla for her honesty. Lucilla groaned in relief, and grinded her thighs together. She couldn't help herself, the slut. How had I ever loved this woman? She had no self-control, and no self-respect. What a waste of a bind. Still, she was young. Twenty-one wasn't too old to change. She wasn't as malleable as she would've been if she was younger, which meant brute force would be needed to shape her, but in time, she would become the spouse I needed her to be.

"Say your penance to God, Lucilla, and we will move on," I said, clasping my hands together patiently.

"Forgive me, Good Mother, for the sins of my flesh," Lucilla hissed. "Forgive me for my weakness, and forgive me for my betrayal."

"Amen. Now, when you were nineteen—"

"I've fucked hundreds of men, Julia!" Lucilla screamed at me; the desperation high in her voice. "Are we going to go through each fucking one!"

"Of course not!" I giggled, then reached to the bench beside me, and produced a barb. Lucilla's eyes went even wider, "For every man you've lain with, we will add a barb. You said hundreds, right? Well, obviously we can't do hundreds; we would need a really long whip for that!" I cackled at the absurdity of the idea, but Lucilla was not sharing in my amusement. She was pissing again. I sidestepped the stream before it stained my white robe, and whistled as I added barb after barb to the length of the whip. I could fit twenty on one, and if my estimation was correct, Lucilla had lain with around two-hundred men, so ten lashes would suffice. I bet Lucilla was really regretting confessing all her sins to me over the years. Of course, it wasn't actually 'confessing' for her, more like bragging, but...

"Sparkles, help me!" Lucilla cried. My head whipped to Lucilla. She opened her mouth to cry another plea, but her expression froze. Then, it fell to one of complete hopelessness. "No," she whimpered, fresh tears falling down her cheeks, "no, no, no..." I slowly turned, and saw what had so discouraged my beloved.

"Hi Mommy!" Diamond giggled. She walked hand-in-hand with Night Eyes, and her eyes were completely black. Fury rushed through me, exploding from my hands in white heat.

"Don't look at me; it was her idea!" Night Eyes laughed, undeterred by my wrath.

"I wanted to be like you, Mommy," Diamond said, disengaging from Night Eyes and walking to me. She moved differently than she had before. The athletic grace with which she usually walked was replaced with an odd timidity, like she was putting up a poor veil of coyness over something... dark. She stepped into my radius, and ran her delicate fingers along the lengths of my arms, up my shoulders, and clasping behind my neck. She tilted my head down so that I had to look into those black depths, those pits of lost innocence, of Corruption.

"Diamond..." I hissed, reaching for her, almost afraid to touch her. My hand found her apple cheek, dusted with diamond freckles, and she nestled her face into my palm, humming in contentment. This was my fault.

ANGELA

The blackness swam through every part of me, thrummed through my heart, surged in my veins, but I was still in control. It wasn't my body, but Diamond's, and that degree of separation allowed me to control just how much of the Sentient's gift I let take me, and given the situation, that meant I was letting Corruption take almost everything. Only the smallest rational part me stayed in command, and that outsider's view into my transformation allowed me to look analytically at my 'darkness.' It seemed that Dark-Angela was born from the horror of being bodiless. It was the lack of feeling that had plagued me for so long, so Corruption naturally perverted the trauma, and made Dark-Angela obsessed with pain; both her own, and that of others. Dark-Angela was a sadomasochist, and judging by her arousal at the sight of a bleeding, bound, and crying Lucilla, Dark-Angela's perversions went very, very, deep. It was bizarre to know that this part of me dwelt in the depths of my psyche, but I didn't have time for an existential crisis. Julia was brimming with blackness, but there was still a part of her that resisted, and I needed to cajole that part out. This is your fault, Julia. Your own daughter is corrupted forever because of your actions. Guilt, Julia; feel guilt!