Trails and Tribulations - Prologue

Prologue: Hallelujah

The room smelled of vanilla flowers and almonds. More or less the same as when you open an old book and the aroma of the crinkled pages captivate your nose. It was simple yet sweet. The delicate scent amounted to nothing compared to the cold, dark grey stone walls and floors. There was no source of light except for the small ray that shone on the floor from the sun beaming through the barred window. Even then, the room was devastatingly black.

The back of a dark wooden chair sat in the sun's rays. The warmth of the sun toasted the surface yet the frigidness of the room casted a piercing cold sensation to the touch. Rough deep scratches coated the seat and the sides of the chair. Each engraved mark having meaning. Every nun that sat in that exact seat implemented their horrified thoughts by the scratch of their fingernails on the wood. Mental torture scribbled on the surface as if it was secret language for the tormented souls to share.

A tall slim woman of deep brown melaninated skin sat across from the agonizing sight of the sorrowful chair. She wore the traditional clothing of a nun. The black and white attire and the headdress that framed the face. As well as the long skirt which covered the tip of the feet. The clothing masked her curvaceous physique. Plump breasts and thick thighs enclosed by the black fabric. Her woolly hair formed into small twists. Her head like a jungle. Just like the untold mysteries of her mind, her hair was full of secrets. This mystical woman goes by the name of Zeta Darkest.

"Hello."

Her tongue brushed the roof of her slick mouth. The dept of her deep cream voice was the perfect pair to her posh British accent. Her thick lips pressed ever so gently against each other at the end of her speech.

Dinah scanned her figure, she couldn't bring herself to utter a single word. Her body laid helplessly in the chair across from Zeta. She rubbed her hands against the side of the seat. Her index and middle fingers feeling the grooves, a silent scream of the victimized echoing through her mind. The fibers of her black skirt slightly slid against the side of her thumb.

"Well," Zeta fixed her hands to where her fingers intertwined with each other, sitting flawlessly upon her crossed legs.

"I have come to ask you a few questions."

The same silkened tongue placing a coat of glossy wetness on the surface of her lips, "Intimate questions."

The silence of Dinah's voice might have taken over the room, but the ravaging fire took over her mind, setting aflame her thoughts.

At last Dinah broke the silence, "We can't keep doing this." Her lips trembled as she dared to utter this phrase. Her hot breath escaped the warmth of her lungs, but slowly died by the numbing coldness of the chamber.

"Doing what exactly, Miss Moore?" Zeta cocked her head to the side. A puzzling look plastered on her face.

"What we do isn't-," Dinah's brain was in complete shambles. Something about this woman made her feel vulnerable. Powerless. Sweat began to perspire from the softness of her hands.

"Speak child!" Zeta's words possessed her soul.

"What we do isn't right. It isn't holy!" Finally, words she felt for years escaped the prison of her fear.

"What is it we're doing?" The sharpness of her tone spit wildfire at Dinah's face.

She let out an audible sigh. The mayhem of Dinah's thoughts electrified her tongue, forcing it to say words she was destined to regret, "I hate feeling this way-" Hesitation possessed her impulsive bravery.  The longer she looked into her eyes the more her body yearned to feel her skin upon hers.

"I hate feeling this way for you."

Dinah knew her words stung Zeta's heart. Just by the slight change of expression on her face. Sadly, the same sternness reappeared.

"Dinah, we have been through this millions of times. You. Belong. To. Me," the deep lush of her voice encased the room.

Something about how her lips moved. The way her far too familiar British accent jazzed in her ear. Cream started to flood Dinah's underwear and the heat in her core rose with intensity.

Zeta stood up from her seat. The creak in the wooden chair's legs broke the silence of the room, but not the chaos of Dinah's thoughts.

The squeak of Zeta shoes against the stone floor echoed through the dark chamber. Every step her large rubber boots took made Dinah's heart beat a little faster. A swift cool breeze flew past her face as she walked behind her chair. The small amount of warmth she had from the sun on her back was now deminished by Zeta's body.

Zeta placed her rough hand on Dinah's shoulder. Her thick fingers travelled to the side of her neck and slowly tilted her head. Her cold skin sizzled Dinah's. Coiled strings of her hair brushed against the side of Zeta's face as she inched down to her ear. Her hand tightened around her neck and at that moment she understood the meaning of those scratches.

Dinah's hands wrapped around the rim of the seat and her fingernails dug into the wood. The powdered grains rubbed beneath her fingertips. Now, her terror signed in permanent ink.

The steam of Zeta's breath was felt at the tip of her ear. Dinah's clit twitched and she could feel her nipples harden underneath the thick black dress she wore. She squeezed her legs tighter to relieve the pressure of her core, only for it to intensify. She closed her eyes shut, but a low deep sound of her expressed pleasure left her mouth without her even parting her lips.

"Tell me. Who do you belong to?" Zeta asked before nibbling at Dinah's ear.

When she didn't respond, the grip she had around her neck, tightened.

"Answer me," Zeta growled. Manipulatively knowing what she was doing and was she going to stop? Never.

"Zeta Darkest. I belong to you, Miss." Dinah fell helpless to her trap. Though the chamber was cold, she was getting hot, in more ways than none.

Zeta's passionate kisses on her neck and large hands around her inner thigh was too much for Dinah's body to handle. As pleasure coursed through her body, in between moans, Dinah muttered a question she was bound to ask herself for the rest of her life...

"What have I done?"