|
Morana, the slavic name for Death, was found feasting on the bodies of dying prisoners in a middle aged European
dungeon, one that happened to belong to the man of Belle's fancy at the time. Belle heard the prison gaurds terror filled
reports of a "Demon with the face of hell itself plagueing the punished prisoners by devouring on their rotting corpses."
Naturally, this intrigued the Beautiful Death. Though, she expected to find some rabid dog of some sort. Humans tend to exagerate
from time to time, she had learnt. She sent some of her own personal guards on an arrend, to venture down into the stinking
dungeons after the men had fallen into slumber from an earlier feast. There, with her mouth locked upon a dying mans thigh,
Belle found Morana. She thought she was amazing. The skin on her face looked as if it had been surgically removed, then the
muscels that were left were melted into a bloody ruin dripping over her eyes. It was aparent that the wounds were newly required.
Morana put up a fight for just a moment, backing away from the man untill she hit a wall, but she saw something in Belle's
eyes. Something that told her that this woman was a monster, just as she was. Belle's breath got caught in her throat as she
was now able to see the full view of the woman. Bright red hair fell nearly to her ankles, her entire face was a ruin along
with what bit of her right arm she could see. The rest of her body, what was visiable, was perfect. "Amazing." Was all that
Belle could utter. Morana didnt speak, she didnt even manage a wimper of a sound, but she did start to move towards Belle
in a crawling like movement, it was much animal like. Belle had seen that in beings before. The natural animal beast that
lurks inside the soul, waiting to be let out. It seemed, that this young woman, had released hers ages ago. The Mistress moved,
herself, towards the other untill they were in touching distance. Morana then closed that distnce by gently rubbing the side
of her freshly wounded face against Belle's pale stomach. A sign of true submission. One that didnt happen often. Belle, looking
down at the woman who was on her knees in front of her, who was offering herself to her, placed her hands on each side of
the womans face, and bend down just enough to press her moist lips against the others. Soft. But it would seal them together
for eternity.
It didnt take long for Morana to recover from her injuries after Belle had given her the Darkest Kiss, though she
never did regain her appearance. Belle didnt wish it so. She loved spending hours upon hours tracing over every disfigurment,
running her fingertips over each bump and surface. Though Morana and Belle became very close, there were never intimate in
a sexual way. She began to believe that her butterfly held no sexual interest at all, wich would be a first for Belle. She
settled with having Morana by her side, and not in her bed, but only because she made the girl keep her horrid features. She
had the girl talored a suit, that was completely unique to only her. It consisted of a leather mask, that had the smallest
of holes for air and open spaces for her eyes. With the girls persistance, she let her remove half of her hair. The side that
was still untainted as she saw it, but wouldnt' allow her to rid of all of her beautiful red hair. The girl started wearing
the half high in a pony tail that fell over her shoulders, trailing to her waist. The rest of the suti was small leather straps
that covered the right places but left most of her untouched skin bare, except for a dark cape that she wore to keep her back
and shoulder covered wich Belle learnt had also been ruined. One her still perfected arm, were three attachments. Needle like
tubes that were largely hollow inside. THe ends rested against her fingertips while a smaller tube ran from one end of the
tube into her own viens. These vials always held a different type of liquid. One, dark and thickly red. The middle was pure
and cold to the touch while the last was a greenish color that always seemed to bubble with energy. Now, what these contents
trully were, Belle would never tell her butterfly. Morana trusted her, with all she held, so she never asked.
Morana's name soon grew around middle Europe. She was a creature to fear and became many childrens bedtime
nightmare. Such awful and horid tales left the castle that they so lovingly rested together in. Tales of the "Elustrious Goddess
and her Cannible Bride". The stories grew to such a level that the high Priest of the Church sent one of his most renound
apprentices, Pierre, to investigate these astonashing and most upsetting stories. Pierre, a young man barely 20, ventured
with a pure heart. One to rival even the bravest of men. But his bravery soon diminished as he found himself pinned to an
upright table after he awoke from a forgotten sleep. He was nailed to the board, with thick metal nails. One in each section
of his limbs that bent. Shoulder. Elbow. Wrist. Anything that could allow him movement, was severed with these dull and rusty
objects. Oddly enough, he felt no pain whatsoever.As his senses came back to him he finnaly saw her. A masked woman standing
in front of him. She was the definition of nightmare. Never in his life had he seen anything that had sent more fear into
his very depth, and she just a woman. Unimaginable! As she stepped forward all that could be heard was the heavy breathing
eminating from her, she never spoke a word to him. No explanation or apology. Quickly, the Papillion set to work by thrusting
what looked like any normal vile into his skin. But he felt it, the sharp prick of a needle that was larger than he ever had
witnessed. She placed one of these vials into each of the four veins that she found on his lower leg. Just the one leg. He
didnt realize the true pain that he would be enduring untill he saw her pull out tiny leeches from a jar. They looked starved,
and fairly young. She never glanced at his face, her eyes were locked on the vials. She tenderly let them fall into the tubes.
They set off in their desperation, through the glass chamber untill they reached the soft, warm veins of his leg. There, they
feasted. They drank and moved about in his lower viens untill they reached their limit, a place where she had stopped the
bloodflow by tying a ribbon around his knee. They had taken everything that his veins offered. It took days, nearly a week
for them to accomplish their task, but it only took them two days to die off inside his body. As you could imagine, this process
was very painful. If they got stuck in a certain spot, they would tear through the vein, peircing ligimant and muscle, untill
they found the next sweet and savory section of his meat. He didnt see Morana after that first day that she injected the parasite
into his body, untill they were finished and deceased themselves. He thought that his torture would either be through, or
it would continue the way that it had before, but the look that was in her eyes as she stared at his putred rotting leg, told
him that he was wrong. She lowered herself with the grace that only an animal could acheive, and started to caress his skin.
It moved and sunk under her touch, and that seemed to excite her in a way that no man could excite a woman. She peeled the
lower portion of her mask away and a small scream escaped Pierre's mouth. The scarred reckage of her face frightened him more
than the parasites did. She lowered her face towards his legs, her tounge licking along the rotting flesh. She kissed it once,
then lowered her teeth to graze over and taste the bitter sweetness, roll it along her tounge. Then the sound that came from
her mouth was more terrifying, more discusting, and more painful than anything he had endured yet. The sound was sogging flesh
being bitten.. being eaten.. swallowed. The torture went on for nearly four months. She continued the process.. peice by peice,
slowly, untill all that was left was a torsoe and a head. He was still alive somehow, when she took the last bite out of his
neck that ended his physical pain.
|
