A Witch Hunt

[RavenMaiden]

“Very good Lilliana, very good indeed”

Lillianne felt dizzy as O'Brien took his hand off her. She scolded herself as O'Brien had been looking for any type of weakness, she just gave him one in spades. She felt a slight reprieve as his attention was now on Ned.

She returned to the fireplace beside Susanna, Lillianne spoke softly.

"I hope you found out more of our situation then I have, Goodman O'Brien told me nothing.."

 

[Rockingham]

"You need not make any decision now. Not here in some orchard, admist fruits of both the land and passion."

He helped her to her feet, and then upon a horse which had not been there a moment before. It neighed its disagreement with the rider, but one single brush alongs its back helped ease the laboring pony.

He mounted next to her, holding her tight still. They were Richard's arms, Richard's hands finding her own, holding her tightly. Richard was the one helping to guide her to this mansion.

And there... all things would be settled.

They arrived, a blur of trees and forests arround them. Nothing concrete, nothing too visible, no maps or signs, or landmarks that could be followed if she had wished to leave the same way they rode in on. It was as if they had merely passed an illusion of a forest, created by someone who knew not all the little details to make one, and thus made it bland and unoriginal.

The mansion was anything but. Tall and proud along the hill, with a barn just beyond, a well, and surrounding by the line of trees that was the forest. The forest felt as if it were a slow conquering army, all lined up in a row, ready to attack. These proud warriors of the forest did not move though.

Perhaps they were just waiting for orders.

He helped her down, and then inside. He smiled as he saw the rest of his guest. They had all arrived.

"Oh good, I wanted to be here to welcome all of you personally. I am very happy indeed. This here is Temperance. She is the last guest arriving this evening. Temperance, I would like you to meet Lilliane, Susanna, Mr. O'Brien, and my assistant Ned."

His eyes had passed over them all in knowing and familiarity, but they stopped on Susanna. She sat there, almost defensive, almost prey near the fire. For the moment it shone in her eyes, reflecting in the pools, and a shiver ran up his spine. He bit his lower lip.

"You came," He whispered, only to her. The whisper was half in surprise, half in amazement. No matter what, she was here. And everything would be all right after this.

"I believe dinner is ready. If you will all join me," He smiled, showing them into the dining room.

 

[Rockingham]

Michael

The touch insistant, running along his cock like barbed wire along flesh, ripping and tearing everywhere it could. He did not believe such pleasure could come from simple torture, the thought of seeing her there beneath him, between his legs, her mouth wet and warm, almost eager.

Was it eager? Did he see enthusiasm in her eyes as she sucked on him? It wasn't pride, it wasn't lust, but something. Desperation maybe. Maybe she wanted to see something within him because that might justify all of it. If he held a spark of her, not only her looks but herself. That sweetness inside.

He could feel his cock growing limp at such thoughts. Such thoughts within his mother, a person who by all rights should be dead for what she did to him.

"No, don't do that..." He growled, grabbing her hair, trying to force her onto him, further and further, pushing her hard, making her feel the pain. But, she took it. Her eyes lapsed, her throat gagged but she took it, each time... she took it.

She was his mother...

In the end, his cock was too limp to even be sucked off. A ragged piece of uncooked bacon in her mouth. He pushed her away, pushing her away and lying down. What had she down, how had she ruined such perfect revenge?

What had he done?

He hurt her. Hurt and humiliated her, and loved every minute of it. He had done it with others, almost too many to count, and each time they took on this surrealism that pleased him so. She was different, all he felt in her look at him was his own sadness.

He could not do this to his mother. He could not rape her.

"Just go," He said, lying in his mother's bed, still filled with her blood and juices and stains from previous rapes, from all of those men who treated her just as he did.

"Please... go."

 

[RavenMaiden]

Lillianne turned towards the door as the man who had sent for her had finally arrived.

She rose to her feet, her eyes glittering with curiousity as she took in as much as she could on this man. The one who had taken her, Susanne and the others to this mansion. She felt powerless, between O'Brien and the others, she was trapped here until they allowed her release. She could barely remember the path from the forest much less the way from this mansion.

"I believe dinner is ready. If you will all join me,"

Lillianne followed to the dining room, for a moment, the majesty of the room left her stunned. Everything in this room looked to be of the highest quality, as if money was nothing more then a trivial matter for this man. She knew that right now, she was a pawn in this man's game. She would keep quiet and learn what she could. Then hopefully find a way to get away from here.

 

[Darkness Falls]

Bannon

O’Brien enters the spacious, comfortable room, and his gaze falls onto the large bed at its centre. Illuminated by the dancing flame of several lanterns, and a wash of moonlight from an open window, the crimson quilt sweeps across the feather bed like a spreading pool of freshly spilled blood.

The big hunter nods his satisfaction with the accommodation, and turning to Ned” “Thankyou Ned, and can you please have Lilliane brought me here before our friend arrives. I shall conduct my questioning alone, and leave him alone to inspect that other delightful young lady.”

 

[Darkness Falls]

Bannon

ooc: Sorry, I missed his arrival, and O'Brien will wait for Lillianna and the stranger to do their thing.

 

[Nibbles_n_Tits]

Susanna

Susanna looks up as Lillianne rejoins her by the fire and she smiles warmly to the other girl.

"I hope you found out more then I have, Goodman O'Brien told me nothing.."

Susanna made a slight shake of her head. “No, Mistress Lillianne. He offered me tour of the mansion; he said it would allay my fears of the unknown. I declined, it would not have been proper. I preferred to remain here with you and wait with you for the others.” Seeking courage from her book, she gently ran her finger along the embossed leather cover. “These men have far more experience than we do. Everything we do, everything we say tells something to them. They learn more about us from the questions we ask than they reveal in their answers. You must be careful, please.”

The heavy door opens, Susanna turns, and Lillianne stands. Goodwife, no Widow Temperance Thorpe entered the room accompanied by a stranger, the Stranger; it could only be him. Susanna's eyes moved away from him, unwilling to see him, she was not yet prepared to face him. As she attempted to muster her courage, she tried to catch the eye of the young widow. The Stranger led her into the room to join the others but to Susanna it seemed as if her eyes were somewhere else. She gave herself a shake, deriding her fanciful notion; it was a trick of the light, nothing more.

"Oh good, I wanted to be here to welcome all of you personally. I am very happy indeed. This here is Temperance. She is the last guest arriving this evening. Temperance, I would like you to meet Lillianne, Susanna, Mr. O'Brien, and my assistant Ned." The Stranger’s voice was like fire and ice, Susanna was certain she could feel it burning her skin while it tried to freeze her heart.

She felt his eyes upon her and drew inward, her body smaller and tenser as she clutched the bible in her lap. Hot and cold, were his eyes. The cold eyes of a predator smoldering with something Susanna could not comprehend.

It was the source of her fear.

"You came," She heard his voice whisper for her, only for her. How could he sound so shocked, she wondered, none of them ever were given a choice. They were compelled to answer his siren’s call, forced to dash themselves upon the rocks… She bit her tongue. Not to silence words; she had none to offer, but to still the bizarre folly of her thoughts.

"I believe dinner is ready. If you will all join me," The Stranger smiled at them all, as he led them into the dining room.

Susanna slipped her book back into her pocket as she rose to her feet, and she followed into the dining room. Susanna saw little of the opulence that amazed Lillianne and quietly took a seat. Only the steady weight of her bible made her actions possible, as her thoughts whispered silent prayers; prayers for strength and guidance, prayers that this night would soon end, she bowed her head.

 

[LitShark]

Rev. Smythe

OOC: Sorry for the long delay. I'll join in with the main plot as soon as I get caught up.

The Devil!!!” Smythe’s best sermons began that way, introduce the main character before bringing out bit players. “It is the DEVIL I say that wants your soul. It must be YOU that strives for paradise. The value in your soul may be easily used upon Earth to purchase many things, but only you can preserve your soul long enough to buy a key to the Kingdom of heaven! The path to righteousness lies not in hiding from and avoiding evil, but rather in seeking it out!”

“The Lord tells us this when our crops die! The Lord tells us this when our cows fall over in the fields! The Lord TELLS us this when our ordinarily healthy babies come still-born!” Smythe loved incorporating current gossip into his sermons in a passive way that gave it the illusion of insight. Smythe struggled to suppress a grin as he gazed into the horrified eyes of the Jacobs family. “Yet rather than listen to the Almighty, we turn to our own troubles and BLAME the Lord. I have even heard some in town claiming that the Lord had ABANDONED us! Well I tell you this brothers and sisters, I say it is not the Lord who has abandoned us but US that has abandoned the Lord!!!”

Reverend Smythe adjusted his sizable gut under the alter, truly he was starting to get hungry. The wide eyed, open mouthed onlookers had reminded him of turkeys in a rainstorm so much that he could almost taste the warm flesh. He loved how they huddled together in the tiny church, that so often heated up like one of those savage sweat lodges the natives built. They did as they were told, lined up, moved out, no brains of their own to burden them down with hopes or ambitions. This herd of cattle, ate, slept, fucked and prayed all in the name of the Lord. They were less than cattle, cattle are far too useful to be this dim witted assembly. They were sheep, good and tender only when young, after they grew to maturity all one could do was fleece them regularly and keep what came off. Yes, they were his sheep and he was their shepherd. Smythe was certain this sermon would fleece plenty, he wiped his sweaty brow before continuing.

“We abandon the Lord when we turn a blind eye to the Devil running rampant in our own town. We abandoned the Lord when we allowed our children to fall in council with the Devil and we simply watched. We abandon the Lord each time we watch a witch stroll down our streets hand-in-hand with Lucifer himself.” Smythe’s face was starting to get red as he really threw himself into the last part of his sermon. “When I die, I will walk up to the pearly gates of heaven with my head held high! I will not mumble excuses to St. Peter of how the Devil walked my streets but I managed to hide from him. I will tell all the saints and the Lord that my time on Earth was spent in the pursuit of all things evil and wicked. I hunted the Devil when he came to hunt me and I drove him out. I sought out those he had corrupted and wiped them from Earth. I witnessed the machinery of hell and gave up myself to be the wrench in it!”

“Who’s faces will I see on the other side? Who will applaud my efforts having witnessed them? Who will carry that same courage to their maker and know that they shall be saved?!? Will you Goody Jones? Or you Goody Pratt? Or you Goody Smith?” Smythe loved calling out the women of the village, he knew who controlled the drawstrings of the coin pouches. If he could make the wives cry before the collection plate was passed, he could often make their husbands cry later in the week when it came time to buy bread. “Only you know in your hearts how hard you sought out to defeat the Devil, only you and the Devil. For it doesn’t matter what I know, it matters what the Devil knows. I know enough to know that if you turn a blind eye to the Devil, your soul is already his. An allowed Devil has bred himself in the allowance. You all must decide if it is worth your soul to allow Him!”

The small crowd was now all trembling, most in tears. A complete success, Smythe thought as he pulled down the large polished silver collection tray. He carried it into the front row before closing up with a flourish.

“As this tray passes between you I want each of you to look into your hearts, look deep inside and decide if you have been hunting out the Devil or hiding your soul from him. Those who have stood in the Devil’s face and opposed him, just give as you ordinarily would. Those who look into their souls and find remembrances of oversights, mistakes, or just plain cowardice where you saw the hands of the Devil at work and did nothing, or saw the actions of one in league with the Devil and stayed silent, or watched the Devil holding council over your home I say GIVE WELL. For God may forgive a generous soul, but God has no mercy for the sinful and petty.” Smythe looked at his reflection for a moment before passing the tray. He loved how the mirrored finish made his flock look at themselves before deciding what to give the church.

Smythe returned to his altar as the mindless puritans all dumped their savings onto his plate, once again he’d managed to tap into the collective guilt of the crowd. After the sheep were well fleeced he was certain a sermon like this would purchase him more little lambs to butcher and devour. So long as He allowed it.”

“Come come my children, now is not the time for short arms and deep pockets. You must heap your homage upon the Lord if you ever wish to ascend to the Kingdom!”

 

[brigid_fitch]

Temperance

Temperance looked about her with unseeing eyes. Everything was a blur, every motion as though it were happening to someone else. Except for Richard's arms. They were about her always, protecting her, holding her like they used to. Richard put her astride a horse (hadn't she sold the mare over a month ago?) and they galloped up what she knew must have been the hill, but nothing looked familiar. She couldn't place the landscape. She said nothing as the Stranger/Richard spoke to her or at all during the ride. What could she say? That she was willingly allowing herself to be led into the mansion where unspeakable deeds were done to all girls brought there? And what would happen to her once she got there? Whenever she tried to focus, bring reality swimming back into her shattered mind, Richard's arms held her tighter and she melted into their long-missed embrace. She knew this was wrong, that Richard was dead. She knew now who the Stranger was and what he represented and the thought utterly repulsed and sickened her. But Richard's grasp was strong, the temptation of him even stronger. She was unsure of her role in the Stranger's plan, but, having tasted Richard's lips upon hers for that one brief second was enough for her to abandon everything and join him.

It is a horrible thing indeed to go mad and know you are going mad, she thought.

Why not join him, she thought. After all, what did Elmville have to offer her? Cold shoulders, gossiping whispers, malevolent glares? The Devil take them all she thought and then laughed aloud at her own unintentional joke. But the laugh scared her--it was high-pitched, screeching. Not at all like her voice. She was trembling all over as she approached the mansion, the laughter still in her throat, trying to break free. Temperance stood at a threshold in her mind, uncertain of what to do, trying to fight the temptation to throw caution and caring to the wind and just let the Stranger/Richard guide her. This was wrong, evil, immoral a very weak voice inside her mind tried to tell her. But then the door to the mansion was opened and she was inside.

As the Stranger led her into the room, she instantly recognized Susanna, the Deacon's daughter. Her heart went out to the girl--here was one person in all the village who treated Temperance with any decency. Susanna's father may have delusions of piety as he administered to the daily goings-on of the church, but he was just as much a hypocrite as the rest of Elmville. With the exception of his remarkable little girl, the lone survivor of his family's voyage from England so many years ago. Why was she here, Temperance wondered. But then her thoughts turned to jealousy as she saw the Stranger/Richard look at her with surprise and...affection? She wasn't sure, and her thoughts were soon interrupted by the Stranger introducing her to the rest of the odd assembly.

Temperance was bewildered by them all and couldn't fathom their presence here. Goodman Bunce had not been seen at the smith's for quite some time and she was certain that Lilliane had been at the mercantile only yesterday, picking up yet another delivery for the library. The other man she did not recognize, but his icy stare belied his nonchalant attitude.

"I believe dinner is ready. If you will all join me,"

The Stranger's voice broke her musings and, with nothing left to do, followed it into the dining room of the vast manor.

 

[LitShark]

Reverend Smythe

Reverend Smythe closed the door of his private chamber behind himself as the flock began to disperse itself from the crowded church. Sheltered from those dumbfounded eyes Smythe could be alone with his true convictions. The bolting of the door was followed by the sound of a heavy burgundy curtain being pulled back. The curtain hid a small alter within the church. Countless candles of varying degrees of use lit up the Reverend’s private altar, a large image of Christ, bleeding and screaming, nailed to a large pentagram rather than a cross. The idol’s hands and feet were nailed neatly to the appropriate points of the inverted star, his eyes streamed tears and trails of blood worked from his scalp, surrounded by thorns.

After crossing himself sarcastically, the Reverend knelt before the craven image and prayed. Not to the savior or the devil, he prayed instead to himself. Smythe’s true faith lay only in himself and he regarded himself as God over this small town. Unsure what a soul was good for in practicality, Smythe was glad to hold in his head a silver tongue enchanted with the power to inflict evil upon pious minds.

The gift of gab was Smythe’s power and he knew that his skill with feeble minds greased the wheels of this great machine of deception that kept his sheep well fleeced and little lambs warming his bed.

Smythe was a Satanist, believing himself to be God over his own reality. This belief as well as his unholy gift had allowed him to never lack anything he desired in this “New World”.

God had never given him anything, God had only given him the conviction to get himself thrown out of the English courts. Satan, however, had granted him power over this flock, using the Lord’s name and scripture he slowly had recruited all of their souls for his and the Stranger’s cruel designs.

Though Smythe was unsure if he even believed in a “Devil” as described by the scripture, but if there was the Stranger must have been an extension of His power on this Earth. If Smythe commanded the tongue of the Devil the Stranger surely must have commanded the eyes, ears and mind of the unholy.

As important as Smythe imagined himself he had no delusions of being in charge. He was more than content to be second fiddle and feed upon the Stranger’s delectable scraps.

After his quick prayer to himself the Reverend straightened his thin blonde hair upon his head and stared at his reflection in the mirror above his bed. Though he was admittedly slightly overweight, he still believed himself to be more handsome than anyone. His features were sharp and his green eyes almost glowed in dim light such as this chamber.

Just as Smythe was on the verge of touching himself in Narcissistic pleasure a knock came at his chamber door.

Smythe hissed as he hurried to pull the curtain over his Satanist shrine. “One moment child, I’ll be with you momentarily.”

A wicked knowing smile crossed Smythe’s face as he looked into the bloodshot, frantic, eyes of Goodman Jacobs, tears pouring down his face. The Reverend knew why he was here, and patted himself on the back that his latest sermon had produced fruit so soon.

“Goodman Jacobs? What on Earth could be the matter?” The innocent and ignorant servant of God routine always worked on these mindless sheep.

“Reverend Smythe… I am loathe to disturb you, but I have seen the work of the Devil.” The man spoke purposefully while Smythe feigned shock and horror. “My son and wife… they were murdered at the hands of a witch. We have delivered 8 healthy daughters before this… but my latest son… He was born still, just as you prophesied in your sermon!”

The Reverend gasped to humor the man who imagined that he was telling him a great secret. Truth was that the Reverend had heard all about it and had geared his Sermon toward gaining an accusation from him.

“It was not my prophecy Mister Jacobs… The Lord guides my pen when I write my Sermons, surely he must have felt your pain and guided me to help you.” Smythe imagined Mister Jacobs wriggling on a hook, “I have often heard tales of witches posing an midwifes and stealing the fresh life out of children… but to have such wicked surface in our own town… the Devil’s influence must surely be growing right underneath our noses.”

“That is not all Reverend! My Good Wife as well has since passed on.” Mr. Jacobs was clutching at Smythe’s robes, sobbing like a pig. “The witch grows more powerful by the moment, mocking my very sorrow by parading herself in the town center! You must kill her, burn her, drive her from Earth. The girl surely lies with the Devil!”

‘She will soon enough’ Smythe mused to himself.

“Lead me to her Goodman, I will take her with me to the mansion.” Smythe hated being late for meals, gluttony was his second favorite sin, afterall.

Only one thing could persuade Smythe to be late for a meal and that was pursuit of his #1 favorite sin. He followed Mr. Jacobs to the town square. The girl was wondering aimlessly, seemingly already devoid of hope. This one would be easy… Surely he wouldn’t miss much of dinner at the mansion.

“That’s her Reverend! That witch sucked the life from my son and wife! She took my life from me!! Now she must answer to the LORD!!!”

“Goody Rebecca, you stand accused of the sin of witchcraft!” Smythe announced dramatically as he seized her thin wrist. They had gained an audience from Mr. Jacobs’ outburst, that suited Smythe just fine. “Come along quietly if you have nothing to fear, otherwise you will be brought to the mansion by force. Either way you will answer these charges!”

Just like that the township turned their backs on her, eager to escape the company of one in league with the Devil. It was all so easy… Hail Satan!

 

[save_marla]

A grim smile twisted on Rebecca's thin lips as she set her burlap sack down in the road and straightened up to face Jacobs, the Reverend and his followers. The commotion and her subsequent uprooting from her sister's house had prepared her for this, but she could not stifle a sigh of impatience as she narrowed her eyes at the Reverend. She tried to pull her hand away with a sharp jerk of her arm, but he held her firmly.

"Get your fool hands off me, Reverend, and let me pass. I have no business with you tonight." She attempted to pull away again, but could not match his strength. With a shake of her head, her gaze flickered over his shoulder to Mister Jacobs, who was trembling in his righteous conviction.

"I am no witch. I took no one's life tonight. I am a skilled midwife, as my mother was before me, and I have never done harm to the people of this village." Her face softened in pity as her gaze fell on the Jacobs' daughters, poor, bewildered, motherless creatures. "I did what I could to assist Goody Jacobs, but it was a hard labour, and she had not the strength to carry her through. She rests now with her babe in the kingdom of heaven, where she watches over her little family."

With some effort, Rebecca lifted her chin again to look the Reverend in the eye. She felt tired, drained - but sensed that a careless answer to these charges could be her undoing. Her voice was calm as she addressed him again. "There is no witchery here. Only a sad night for this family. Would not your efforts be better spent consoling them in their time of grief, speaking of the Lord's great plan for us all, Reverend?" She bit her tongue and left off as she heard the note of sarcasm in her own voice - this was not the time or place to criticize the Reverend's methods. She herself had not attended his services in some time, as she found she often left his church feeling dispirited and wretched. But it was obvious that he had great influence over his congregation. Some folks had stopped to witness this confrontation - but many more passed by quickly, without a second glance.

She looked down at his hand on her arm. She would not pull away a third time, but neither did she have any intention to go with him to the mansion.

 

[Darkness Falls]

Taylor

Taylor stands deep in the shadow of a grizzled old elm tree, and watches Reverend Smyth and the woman with interest. Swiping his unruly black hair away from his youthful visage, he considers what best to do, and with a jaunty stride, he steps from concealment

Ice blue eyes dancing with amusement, the tall slimly built youth approaches the couple, and arches one fine eyebrow at the other man “Greetings reverend, is something a miss here?”

Before allowing the man to speak, Taylor turns to the girl, and bows low. Rising, his lips curled into a warm smile “and to you too mistress, all is well I trust?”

 

[LitShark]

“Now now Goody Rebecca, let’s not bicker on the streets like heathens. If what you say is true then you have nothing to fear.” Reverend Smythe’s face grew suddenly solemn and his piercing green eyes narrowed, “But you WILL answer these charges, and you will do so upon the hill.”

Smythe tightened his already sturdy grip upon her arm as a strand of dirty blonde hair drifted over his face. Just then a man strode out from the crowd and interloped into this business.

“This matter is well within hand my boy, your services are not needed.” The Reverend said dismissively, assuming this man was another “hunter” employed by the stranger. “Goody Rebecca was just coming with me. Weren’t you?”

Smythe began dragging her by the arm before awaiting a response from either of them, he could almost smell the delectable dinner growing cold in his absence atop the hill.

 

[Britwitch]

"No, don't do that..."
Amber frowned slightly in confusion at his growled words, feeling his fingers tighten in her hair, dragging her mouth deeper around his shaft, forcing himself further into her mouth. Slipping into her throat, making her gag and her eyes water. Her fingers gripping his thighs slightly as she fought against vomiting. Unsure what she had done to apparently anger him so.

Swiftly she became aware of his arousal fading, the flesh within her mouth growing soft and shrinking in size. He shoved her back onto the floor as he laid down on her bed.
"What...what did...?" Amber began to ask hesitantly, his distress obvious.
"Just go,"
Amber's brow frowned a little more.
"Please... go."

"I can't..." Her heart ached to see him in such a state, clearly upset and she was completely unaware of just how he had become so. She moved closer, kneeling beside the bed, letting her instincts dictate her actions. She laid her head upon his chest, one hand rising to stroke through his hair, the other resting up close to her face. She made quiet soothing sounds with her mouth, all the while stroking his hair, trying to relax him. Lying still for a little while, neither of them speaking.
"What has upset you so...? I...I only did what you wanted...I...I'm sorry..." She whispered, before lifting her head and looking down into his face, almost indentical blue eyes melting into each other's gaze. "Please...please tell me what happened..."

 

[Rockingham]

It is like watching angel's dance upon the still morning lake water, as cool and as still as a mirror. They touch only when they must, willowing and moving around each other in some passion filled physicality that a mere mortal could never understand.

The thoughts were perceived and here, they laid themselves to rest.

He led Temperance to the dining room table. She would sit on his left side, and here Susana came to sit on his right. He looked between them, one and the other. They were soo different, so unique, and yet they had the same strong heart and fear filled conviction.

O'Brien had left them, not wanting to join in on the meal. That would be a shame. He thought it nice for him to know everyone else. It seems as if he had other plans though. Well, then so be it.

Ned and Lillianne were left to themselves as well. He thought they would be around soon enough. Maybe, or maybe not. It hardly mattered anymore. Here... here was what mattered. These two sitting beside him.

One who looked at him bravely, seeing not his eyes, but someone else's, and another who refused to look at him at all.

"I am here now, and you are in comfort. You will ask whatever you wish, and I will answer you, as truthfully as I can."

Food came out. Did it ever. Small girls with simple linens and scared eyes served it. These women seemed familar, they had the hint of people from the village, but they also looked so different now, so unusual. It was as if trying to recall a face from memory, but not getting it quite right.

They set down roasted meats, and potatoes, sides of bread, biscuits and cheese. Everything a stomach hungered for.

"You do not look at me," He spoke to Susanna now. His wholeness was now settled right upon her, looking at her, smelling her, taking her in. All of him, except for one hand, which still held onto Temperance, the hand of Richard comforting her in the forbidden lands where she would now eat.

He brought his other hand to Susanna's chin. He could feel the shivers upon her soft skin as he touched her. It waned, the world seemed to spark at his touch. His first touch, the first touch of such purity, such piety. Even that touch aroused him so.

With almost no strength he led her chin around the table. Away from where she kept her gaze, across such delicious foods, past Temperance and then up to him. His form misleading under simple clothing, his eyes always burning, but refusing to be warm, his face almost featureless, perfect, without a single wrinkle upon it.

"My dear?" When he spoke, it wasn't to her, it was through her. He spoke into his arm, letting it ripple the words across her flesh, and imbed themselves deep inside.

Then he saw her, and she him... and he knew.

He knew she was the one he was waiting for. A small smile, something shared between just them, and he took his hand away from her. It was hard, how he wanted to touch more, to kiss those lips, to take what he wanted, but he didn't. He mustered the strength to end their touch.

It would finally begin.

He helped himself to some food.

"Anything you want to ask?"

 

[Rockingham]

Michael

"I love you," He said it with some difficulty, as if it were something which he had as hard a time articulating as he did admitting it to himself. He helped her to lay with him, their bodies pressed together, almost mirror images of each other. His hands went to her soft limp hair, brushing it from her eyes.

"I love you and hate you at the same time. I just... I just can not find myself within you. My actions, no matter what they are, haunt me. I can't let you go for what you did, because I would always regret it, but I can not punish you so and call myself a son."

Is that what he wanted, to be called son? To find the love of a mother. Yes, that is what he wanted, and that is what he found within her. It is why he pushed her away so, because she acted like a mother would. She was outraged, guilty, but knew she could not stop loving her son, not for anything.

"I can not rape you like my father did, like either of my fathers have. You don't deserve that, but you do deserve something. You do."

He looked down on her, to love and punish her at the same time. What could he do, what possibility could have have over her that would satisfy himself the say he needed to be.

And then he kissed her. He did it because she looked at him with such love, such opening. She looked at him the way no one had looked at him before, as if she were listening, intsead of waiting for something. For that, he kissed her, he brought her cool lips to his mouth, he tasted her with a sweet opening warmth he'd never done with a woman before. He did not kiss to take her taste, to fill it in his own mouth, but to suckle it, and offer his own in return.

"Tell me what to do mother," He broke the kiss, sweaty and breathless, and good, he broke it, smiling down upon her as she lay on him. Her warm thighs pressing against him, bringing his once useless cock back to life in seconds.

"Tell me what to do."

 

[poohlive]

Ned held Lillianne's hand as she wanted to enter the dining room with the others. The smell of wonderfully cooked food reached both of their nostrils, but it did not touch his reserve. He held her with the grip of a blacksmith, and refused to let go.

"He wishes to see you in private," She knew who he was talking about. Servants came to close the doors in front of her, to leave the Stranger with his women, in their own private. That was between them.

"I know you have questions for him, but it will come later. He is otherwise preoccupied at the moment. Come with me."

It was a request. His words soft, his actions formal, everything had the feel of afternoon tea, except for his grip. It was not hard, not going to leave a bruise unless she pulled and pried with all of her might. It was simply unbreakable. It held onto her like an attachment, refusing to be denied.

He brought her to the stairs, down them that led into the darkness. These stairs only went so far, before shadows devoured their destination. A screaming could be heard, but it was faint... almost as if the wind had carried it for many miles. There was no wind though, only a faint chill running up the spine.

Ned moved past the stairs, not down them. No, she would not go down those stairs for some time. She would stay up here to accompany the inquisitors. Many questions to be asked, yes.

He brought Lillianne to the guest room, where O'Brien stood waiting for her. He bowed, moving in beside Lillianne, showing her with pride and honor.

"She is yours..." He said, moving to the back of the room, his eyes wide and curious, his smile only threatening upon those large cracked lips. It would be fun to watch this one be cracked.

"Could I stay... and watch? I will help in any way I can. Sometimes you need a good assistant..."

He said it with the reserve of a man who had done this many times, and still found it fascinating.

 

[Nibbles_n_Tits]

Susanna

"I am here now, and you are in comfort. You will ask whatever you wish, and I will answer you, as truthfully as I can." She heard the Stranger’s voice worm its way into her silent thoughts but she did not look up from her neatly folded fingers. Her gaze remained locked on her hands as they rested on her lap. Like Susanna, those hands were fair and small, fine-boned and delicate but showing the signs of strength that comes with the usage of work. She felt the outline of her bible beneath her hands, and pressed her fingers into the binding of the book, as she considered his words.

…as truthfully as I can…those words qualified the offer and she saw they effectively they made the words meaningless. As I can, as he decides. Only the truths he sees fit to reveal, she can take no comfort in that, as she finds no comfort in his presence.

Nothing has altered with his arrival yet everything has changed. The air that the fills the empty spaces is different, not warmer nor colder but harder, feeling like a tangible thing that she could pull near or push away. It pressed against her, touching her skin making her feel smaller and weaker. It is just another fanciful notion filling her head, she chides herself and she looks up from her hands to see the serving girls enter with the meals and begins a soft prayer of Thanks.

Prudence? No, surely, she cannot be here. She was in town this morning; she cannot be here bearing a platter of roast. The resemblance to her friend was strong but only the girl’s beautiful brown eyes were exact, everything else was… off, the nose too long, the chin too rounded. As if someone who had seen the lovely girl only once remade her from memory, perfecting only the girl’s striking eyes and dark curling lashes. Despite her hunger and the abundance of food, Susanna looked away from the servants and the arriving meal. It was too confusing, too bizarre, she did not want to see anymore.

"You do not look at me," His voice again and the statement was true. She would not look at him; she would turn her gaze back upon every confusing vision in the dining room before she would look at him. Though she wished she could see the young widow, her eye would not even glance at Temperance, for fear of falling upon him, the Stranger without a name.

She felt his attention. Like the air, it weighed into her skin, but less so than the effortless pressure of his fingers on her chin as he drew her eyes around the room and on to him. She tried the catch Temperance’s gaze as the Stranger hand drew her past but the beautiful widow’s eyes seemed elsewhere and Susanna’s effort was wasted.

She did not want to see, but she could not fail to notice the perfect and frightening beauty of the Stranger. It was a beauty so without character that it defied description as there was no way to compare to anything else. His countenance simply existed as beauty. However, it lacked the familiarity or the warmth that gave true beauty its appeal and that made it more frightening.

"My dear?" She did not hear his questioning prompt; she felt it flow out of his fingers and across her skin, like a hundred spider moving through her until they rested the words in her head. Within the light grasp of his fingers, she shook her head, not to break free but to negate the truths that revealed themselves without out words.

Oh, Lord, please be with me, and may I find Thy Grace sufficient for all my needs.

"Anything you want to ask?" He withdrew his hand and spoke for all to hear.

Susanna wanted to shake her head and remain silent. No question she asked the Stranger would help her, he would reveal nothing, but what he wanted them to know. She could think of no way to play his game and win, perhaps the sharper Temperance would know of a way but Susanna saw only the dangerous pitfalls of playing a master’s game. She could not play but she knew she must speak, there would be time for silence but not yet.

Her voice was soft but her words carried her convictions into the air, and supported by her faith she dared to speak, “There are many questions I would like answered honestly; but you deal in lies. You make lies palatable by twisting them with truths and feeding us confusion. So, I will seek my answers from the source of Truth and simply enquire of you – what do you wish to be called?”

 

[Britwitch]

"I love you,"
The words hung in the silent air of the cell as he helped her up off her knees beside the bed and moved her to lie beside him. She trembled to lie with him as they were, so close, only the barrier of clothing between them, keeping them apart. She could feel the firmness of his chest against he own as he lent a little closer.
"I love you and hate you at the same time. I just... I just can not find myself within you. My actions, no matter what they are, haunt me. I can't let you go for what you did, because I would always regret it, but I can not punish you so and call myself a son."

"I...I hate myself..." Amber replied softly, her blue eyed gaze blending with the identical one that looked back at her. "You and I...we...we are not the ones who brought this upon us..."
"I can not rape you like my father did, like either of my fathers have. You don't deserve that, but you do deserve something. You do."
"You...you deserve so much more than this...this existence..." She could see his eyes searching her own, looking for answers she doubted he would find but that she so wanted to give him.

This kiss was different, there was an undeniable hunger but it was not the ravenous kind of before, the kind she had felt at the hands of the other men who had abused her. It was a gentle hunger, almost tentative. Amber felt her hands rise to hold his face, returning the kiss. Feeling his breathing as well as her own growing heavier as their bodies pressed forwards.
"Tell me what to do mother," She could feel his arousal returning as he looked down at her, his face covered in a light sheen of sweat, eyes bright with obvious desire. "Tell me what to do."
"Let...let me love you..." She whispered before pulled him down towards her and pressing her lips against his. Her fingers curling in his hair, her back arching to press her chest against his. Sighing into his mouth as their bodies shifted ever so slightly, his body laying almost across her own. The kiss was slow but with a steadily burning need at it's core. A need within Amber to love him, to give him all that she should have from the moment he was born.

 

[Rockingham]

Michael

To feel those lips those passionate lips upon him just once sent the most daring chills upon his skin. He had never imagined it to be this way, never dreamed such wonders could be felt for this.

It was always about control, about posession. But he did not posess her, he did not control her. She kissed of her own will, she stayed next to him for her own pleasure, or her own torture.

It didn't not matter. The choice to stay was her own, the choice to please him a logical one within her own mind.

He kissed her back. He did so in a different way than before, kissing as if for the first time. He did it by learning from her. Her lips on his helped him to find what kissing really meant, how to please, how to enjoy. When he captured her kisses, he did in small little gasps.

He removed the last of the clothing between them. Naked, writhing against her. Oh, to feel such warmth surrounding him. To feel her body writhing in pleasure. Pleasure, the thoughts were daring, triumphant. He needed this, he wanted it.

Where could one find such love, such devotion? He did not know it existed, he could not know something like this ever happened.

"Oh god... Mother," He touched her. His hands exploring her body. They wanted to explore, this very need of exploration so brilliant in his mind. Fingertips brushing along her breasts, the fine contours of her body, those perky brown tipped nipples, and further down. He felt her legs part, those soft deep thighs running and parting just as his fingers as they played along her body.

And that's what he was doing. He played with her body. He played like some boy, a virgin on his wedding night, sharing their bodies, playing with the senses, the touches, the feeling.

"Mother... " He smiled, happy, pulling her closer for his stolen kisses.

 

[RavenMaiden]

Lillianne was about ready to speak to this mysterious stranger about why she was drug to this mansion in the middle of nowhere. Why she was accosted by men like O'Brien, and what was her charge. She felt a heavy hand rest on her shoulder.

"He wishes to see you in private,

Lillianne felt her blood run cold as any voice she could muster to resist vaished. Ned then lead her away from the dinner, leaving Susanne alone with this monster. Lillianne promised herself she would get back to the young woman and try to get her out of this. She tried to resist against his grip, however the smith was stronger then she was. Leaving her with no other option but to follow his directions.

As they proceeded towards the room, Lillianne noticed no servant would make eye contact with her, they were either afraid of her, or felt remorse at her fate. As they entered the room with O'Brien she felt herself being nudged foward.

"She is yours..."

Lillianne stared at O'Brien with defiance, she knew she had to hang on. To try and help Susanne at the very least. She pushed a strand of raven black hair away from her eyes. She knew O'Brien had the upper hand at this time, unless she thought fast, there was not much she could accomplish at this point.

 

[Britwitch]

Amber curled her arms about his neck as the kiss gradually deepened, their lips parting, tongue meeting tentatively, stroking and slowly dancing back and forth between their mouths. Him taking her lead, following her example, mimicking her mouths actions.

Soon their bodies pressed even closer together, bare skin stroking across bare skin. Sharing the warmth, the heat of their flesh as they drew ever nearer to one another.
"Oh god... Mother,"
Amber whimpered softly as his fingers trailed down her body, following every curve, rising to circle her hardened nipples, throbbing and aching for his touch. Trails of tingling flesh were left in the wake of his hand as he explored and played with her body.

She in turn ran her hands over his skin, covering the broadness of his chest, rising to stroke along his shoulders and down his arms. Running fingertips down his spine, while her lips grazed his shoulder and neck, teasing and caressing his flesh.

This was how it should have been, this was how Amber imagined things in her mind when she had dreamt of being taken for the first time. Sharing intimate secrets with another whilst discovering their secrets at the same time.
"Mother... "
His smile sent a thrill through her, seeing what she knew was genuine happiness shining in his eyes. And knowing she had put it there, she who had let him down in the worst way. She returned his kiss, arching her back to keep their bodies in constant contact.
"Please...please call me Amber..." She whispered gently, kissing his cheek, his jaw, trailing butterfly like kisses down across his chest.

"Let me show you...how love can feel..." Her words danced over his skin, as she moved her lips back to his, kissing him once more while her hand reached down between their bodies to take hold of his firm shaft. Stroking him gently, slowly caressing him with her palm, increasing the pressure around him with each upwards stroke while she surrendered her mouth to his.

 

[save_marla]

One of the little girls had begun to cry, out of fear of this looming angry man with his cat-green eyes, and Rebecca shook her head again in irritation. “I have answered your charges - you have half a dozen witnesses here, heard me do it. But I will go with you, as not to terrorize these children any further.”

She turned her head as the Reverend’s strong grip pulled her along, and snapped at the onlookers, “And the rest of you’ll have to find some other diversion to fuel the rest of the week’s gossip!”

Quieting herself at the young man’s tentative inquiry, and the Reverend’s confident response, she answered him with a roll of her eyes. “Aye, this fool matter is in very capable and experienced hands, as you can see.”

But as they left the small gathering of villagers further and further behind, Rebecca found herself growing tactfully silent. Whatever rubbish this man’s head was filled with, he had proven himself physically stronger, and quite determined to take her along with him. She’d heard the rumors concerning the manor on the hill, had heard enough to be afraid, but as her only family had turned their backs on her, she saw little choice but to go without further protest.

She hoped the owner, at least, had some sense.

 

[LitShark]

“Come come my children, be you not afraid!” Smythe was no longer addressing Rebecca but rather the onlookers watching him lead her away, “The Lord says that if your right eye offends you, you must cut it out and cast it aside. For it is better to lose one part of your body than to have the entirety of your soul thrust into hell. If your right hand offends you, cut it off, and cast it away. For it is better to lose one part of yourself than to have the entirety of your soul thrust into hell. So I say to you that when your neighbors and daughters offend you, we must cut them out and send them to the mansion. For it is far better to lose one girl, rather than to have the entirety of our town thrust into hell.”

The girl was coming willingly and the flock was even applauding his speech. It was almost too easy. As they neared the church the Reverend saw the black carriage waiting for him there.

“Thank you for waiting… I had to pick up a new guest.” Smythe said to the driver.

Reverend Smythe smiled at Rebecca as he helped her into the carriage, not resisting his impulse to inspect her backside gratuitously. He was going to enjoy fucking a confession out of this one, his tongue had brought her to him and now his cock would keep her.

 

[Rockingham]

Her voice was soft but her words carried her convictions into the air, and supported by her faith she dared to speak, “There are many questions I would like answered honestly; but you deal in lies. You make lies palatable by twisting them with truths and feeding us confusion. So, I will seek my answers from the source of Truth and simply enquire of you – what do you wish to be called?”

He looked hurt, if nothing else. As if her question so much as slapped him across the face. Those coal burned eyes concentrated upon her, running through her like some cold rake of the flames. They reach higher for only an instant, and then returned to their embers.

"I would never lie to you. I do not know who told you that. Why would I want to lie to you? The truth, they say, is much more painful than a lie could ever do."

She knew him. She knew too much of him. No other girl understood before coming into his presence who or what he truly was. But, there was no girl he wanted more, none he wished as pleasingly as dear sweet Susanna here.

"I suppose I could threaten you and lie, make you feel weak and misunderstood. Twist and play with your words and phrases until even you are not sure anymore, but what would the point be? I don't want that over us, I do not want this to be some game of my faith versus your own."

He smiled over at Temperance. The girl seemed lost in her own world, Richard's world, with his hand still holding hers. She got comfort from it, and held onto it. For her there were not questions, only answers in that touch.

"You may call me whatever you wish... but if you truly need a name," His eyes sparkled at Temperance a moment, "Call me Richard."

He returned to Susanna.

"Would you like a promise? I could promise for you, promise to tell you the truth. I would even promise on that book of yours."

He reached into her pocket, his arm snaking around her body. For a brief moment it touched her skin, and chills ran all the way through him. Leaning in close, he lingered, taking in all of her.

"Here," The bible on the table. He rested his hand upon it, "I swear all of the questions you ask I will answer in the truth. Not twists lies or partial truths, no myths or speculations. It will be the complete truth, nothing more."

A small sigh escaped him as he said that. Smoke rose from the book beneat his fingertips. It seemed to glide along his skin, crackling and gripping as it went. He closed his eyes a moment, and found those chains inside of his body.

Now he was bound to the oath. Even he could not go back on the good book.

"Does that satisfy you, Susanna?"