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theeangeleudaku · 2 years

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Thunder and Death

Rating: 18+ Nasty ass Halloween inspired smutty smut. Happy Kinktober everyone! 🔮💫

Kinks: Cuckhold/Double Penetration/Humiliation/Blood Play/Creampie

Paring: Erik Killmonger x Reader/OC

NOTE: This is written in first person from Erik’s perspective. (Testing out something new)

“Do you really think it’s smart to test my patience right now, Josephine?”

“Do you really think I give a fuck, Erik?”

I slid my hand down my face as I listened to Josephine raise her voice to a dangerous octave that bordered the line of getting her point across and being disrespectful. It had been three hours. Three long and draining hours of arguing with this woman. What were we arguing about? If I could remember I would tell you. At this point we were past our initial disagreement and diving head first into seeing who would be the bigger person and stop all this madness, and at this point we were both comfortable being childish.

“Malcolm would never treat me like this!”

Oh, a light attempt at a low blow. One thing about my wife, she was well aware of exactly what to say and do to get under my skin. I had never met Malcolm and yet I knew everything about this nigga all thanks to her bringing him up every time our arguments went into attack mode. Usually I would indulge in the toxicity and go on a rampage about how that nigga ain’t shit and how I’d kill that nigga if I ever see him, blah, blah, blah. But tonight, I didn’t feel like feeding into that side of my ego. Tonight, I wanted a special Halloween treat that was sweeter than candy. My body yearned and ached for it.

I analyzed Josephine’s scarcely dressed body as she hovered over me and repeatedly shoved her index finger against my temple while spewing bullshit. A small chuckle left my lips before I bit down on my bottom one and tightened my grip on the armrest of the chair I was sitting in. Her auburn eyes were full of anger and hatred, yet her body told a different story. From the way her hardened nipples played peek-a-boo behind her thin white t-shirt to the way the heat that generated between her thighs caused her ruby red thong to stick to her like a second skin. Her words were saying “fuck me”, yet her body was saying “fuck me”.

“Since Malcolm is all you want to talk about tonight, instead of watching Scream and eating hella candy, why don’t you call him up. Let me finally meet the guy who’s supposed to be “better” than me.” I watched as Josephine’s energy shifted to something unknown as she took a step back from hovering over me and scowled with her hands on her hip dips. This was quite an interesting reaction. Did I call her out on a check her ass couldn’t cash?

“Are you sure that’s what you want?” There was a sudden airiness to Josephine’s voice I wasn’t familiar with. I wouldn’t exactly call it fear, but something along those lines. What was she suddenly afraid of? All I wanted to do was meet this high and mighty man she had the boldness to freely bring up in my muthafuckin house.

I peered my eyes at Josephine and walked over to where she stood awkwardly in the middle of the living room. As we stood facing each other I reached out and grabbed her chin forcing our eyes to lock while I let my other hand explore her body until it found a resting place on the cuff of her succulent ass. “That’s exactly what I want. Call him up right now, sweetheart.” I watched as Josephine’s eyes shifted from mahogany brown to their iconic violet hue before blinking twice and mumbling some chant in her native tongue. While Josephine chanted to herself I tightened my grip on her body as I watched the lights and TV flicker on and off before feeling the ground slightly rumble underneath my feet. Who the fuck was she summoning?

Thankfully the summoning didn’t take long, and before I knew it the presence of a third being was in the room with us. “How can I be of service to you, Empress?” Without a warning, Josephine unclasped my hands from around her body and temptingly waltzed over to where a 6’8 high yellow nigga sat a little too fucking comfortable on my leather couch with his arms and legs sprawled out like he paid bills in this bitch.

I watched as Josephine seductively snuggled up in the seat next to him, making sure she put extra emphasis on pressing her body up against his. If this was any other day and if I was in any other mood both of them would be lying dead in a pool of their own blood. But thankfully tonight I was in the mood for some tricks and treats.

Malcolm kept his eyes on me while Josephine caressed the side of his bearded face and shifted her voice to that seductive monotone shit that could get me hard on demand. “Long time no see Malcolm. My husband, Erik, wanted to meet you.” She paused and shot a deliberate look over at me before bashfully blinking her eyelids and guiding her attention back to Malcolm. “Malcolm, this is Erik. Erik, this is Malcolm.”

It was obvious that Malcolm was in defensive mode and ready to attack. Guess he really lived up to that guard dog title. “Aye man, it’s finally nice to meet you. My lovely, wonderful, and extraordinary wife has said such amazing things about you.” Malcolm furrowed his eyebrows together in confusion. Guess sarcasm isn’t something that was used in Sudan culture.

Malcolm sized me up once more before shifting his attention to Josephine. Did this man not see me as a threat in my own fucking house? The way he gazed into Josephine’s eyes and licked his lips before opening them to speak, was this really the man she had the audacity to bring up in our arguments? “What exactly have you called me here for, Empress?”

Josephine’s eyes flickered between me and Drake 2.0. “I want you to show my loving husband, Erik, how I like to be fucked.” Oh, another jab. I wasn’t quite sure why I was allowing this interaction to happen in front of me, but Josephine’s boldness had me intrigued. She wanted to prove to me that this nigga was a better man than me, and my interest was peaked.

A mixture of a nervous laugh and cough tried to escape Malcolm’s mouth. Although he was no stranger to Josephine’s brashness, it was still a lot to process since he still viewed her as his superior. “My Empress, um, that is quite the request. What… What exactly…Um… In front of Erik… Right now?”

I snickered to myself as I watched Josephine discreetly roll her eyes at Malcolm’s response. If she told me she wanted me to prove that my dick was better than another man’s I would immediately leap into action. No question, no hesitation, just straight to the point. There was no way this is the same great and mighty Malcolm she mentioned earlier. “Aye bruh, don’t get performance anxiety. You heard your Empress. Show ME how she likes to be fucked… Like I didn’t have her spoiled ass begging on her knees for me last night.” I made my way over to a chair that faced the couch my wife and her lapdog seated on. As I plopped down into my front row seat to the bullshit, I let out a sigh of comfort. Let the show begin.

_____________________________________

Now, the kissing between Josephine and Malcolm was child’s play and didn’t faze me. Josephine fondling with this niggas dick, and getting finger fucked to completion didn’t bother me… that much. But as soon as this bitch ass nigga had my wife laying on her back as he devoured her pussy like a 5 star Michelin meal I started feeling waves of jealousy course through my body. Every time she would thrash her head against the couch cushions and moan out in delight, grab his hair from pleasure, or let her legs shake from satisfaction I felt my bloodlust grow inside of me. I watched this all transpire in front of me as my chest heaved up and down in anger and my nails began digging into the armrest of my chair. I could kill this nigga right now and carry on with my night like nothing happened. I had weapons secretly stashed around the estate and with one quick movement I could grab a specialized gun or knife and remove my only “competition” from the world.

“S..stop thinking like that… E-Erik… s-s-shit!” I shot daggers at Josephine as I locked eyes with my amethyst eyed wife. Was she really reading my mind while cumming in another man’s mouth? A mixture of pleasure and concern washed over her as she reached her peak for the third time tonight. I scoffed at her orgasm. It had been approximately 40 minutes and Malcolm was only on his third orgasm with her. In 40 minutes I would have had Josephine crying from an orgasm overload and counting down the seconds until she reached her 10th orgasm. Seeing this man have access to my honey pot and not doing the needed work to get her honey pouring out like Niagara Falls had me beyond irritated.

Another 20 minutes had passed and they were finally moving on to penetration. At this point I was no longer jealous of Malcolm. Instead, I was offended that Josephine would compare me to this man. Did his beard connect? Yes. Was he taller than me? Yes. Could he fuck my wife better than me? Fuck no. I must’ve started dissociating out of boredom from their performance because now Josephine was seated on Malcolm in a reverse cowgirl position facing me and was gliding his hardened dick up and down her drenched slit. “Aye, make sure you wrap that shit up before fucking my wife. I’m the only one allowed raw inside of her.”

A sly smile spread across Josephine’s face as she snapped her fingers and a condom covered Malcolm’s hardened member. “Is there anything else you would like for me to do, my King?” Once again, Josephine knew exactly what to say and do to push my buttons to the point of no return. Regardless of the fact that this bitch made “loyal to the throne” minion kept throwing me knowing looks every time he made my wife shake with pleasure, or the fact that she could read minds and knew I wasn’t completely thrilled about what was going on, the sarcasm that dripped off her tongue when calling me “King” had me at my limit. As the King of my household I had to remind everyone in this room who ran shit around here.

I grabbed onto my semi-erect dick through my sweatpants and strutted over to where she was positioned and let my free hand trace circles on her plump lips. She wanted to test my patience, so let’s test it. My voice was barely above a husky whisper as I pressed my thumb between Josephine’s lips and instructed her to open her mouth. “Show Malcolm how good of a slut you are and ride his dick.” The soft moan that escaped my wife’s mouth as she slowly slid every inch of Malcolm inside of her while I shoved two fingers down her throat was almost enough to make me combust right there. Things were FINALLY getting interesting. “That’s a good girl… that’s a good little slut… show ya guard dog how much of a slutty bitch you are for your King.” Malcolm shut his eyes and threw his head back against the couch as he groaned from bliss at the feeling of Josephine’s walls clenching tightly around his dick, while drool began seeping out of her mouth as I finger fucked her throat.

“Do you want this royal dick in your mouth while you fuck the help?” Seeing Josephine nod her head in eagerness had my dick twitching with excitement. It didn’t take long for me to discard my sweatpants and place my swollen tip on her tongue. Small dribbles of pre-cum coated her tongue as a slight shudder of excitement traveled down my spine while I slowly slid my dick down her throat. Even though her pussy was one of my favorite places to dwell, her head was exceptional. I groaned with pleasure as I shoved my dick deep down her esophagus until she was gagging and clawing at my thighs gasping for air. Every time I would lift her head back up for a quick relief, a trail of spit connected my dick to her mouth. Besides watching her sleep, seeing Josephine crumble into nothing more than a vessel of pleasure for me was one of my favorite sights to see. “Look at you taking these two dicks so well… Who taught you how to be a good bitch for her King?… Who knew the Empress of Sudan was nothing more than my personal cum bucket.” Between me fucking Josephine’s face and Malcolm hitting her g-spot, my wife was finally reaching her orgasm overload mode as tears of pleasure and pain swelled up in her eyes while the sound of her pussy mimicking ocean waves signaled to everyone she was about to squirt.

A mixture of the sloshing sound that echoed from Josephine’s walls, the puddle of spit in her mouth and gagging from her throat, and the sound of her plump ass slamming against Malcolm’s hips while he had the audacity to grunt in pleasure as he grew closer to his own orgasm was all that was needed to finally push me over the edge. I swiftly extracted my dick from Josephine’s mouth and discreetly motioned my way to behind the couch where Malcolm’s head dangled over as he had his eyes shut and mouth slightly agape in ecstasy. In one swift motion I grabbed a hidden vibranium katana and dismembered Malcolm’s head from his body. My eyes danced with excitement as I watched Malcolm’s dismembered head leave a trail of blood and roll across my marble floor until it settled into a corner of the living room. The sound of blood dripping onto my floor filled the air as Josephine sat motionless on Malcolm’s now mutilated body. It had been a couple of months since I killed anyone, and this was the first time I had ever killed while in the heat of the moment. My dick twitched awaiting release as I remembered that I was close to nutting. Was this a new kink I just unlocked? I wasn’t sure and made a mental note to explore it later.

No words were exchanged as I made my way back in front of Josephine and picked her up in my arms. We shared a look of love and longing before allowing our tongues to twist together with passion. The feeling of warmth from Malcolm’s blood covered our bodies as I planted my feet in a steady position and locked my arms tightly around Josephine before fucking her while standing up. I buried my head in the crevasse of her neck and harshly bit down as I thrusted my hips and slid in and out of her tunnel of love. The taste of Josephine’s blood began to fill my mouth as I sighed with glee and quickened my pace. I could feel myself reaching my orgasm and she wasn’t far behind as her pussy pulsed repeatedly over my dick. Squeeze. Release. Squeeze. Release. Squeeze. Release. The contractions from her pussy on my dick quickened and her whimpers grew louder and sporadic as her legs shook, while she dug her nails into my shoulders. My baby was close, and I wasn’t going to stop fucking her until I brought her over the finish line. “Cum on this dick for your King… Cum on this dick… show me how a fucktoy shows her gratitude to her King…” And with those final words, a wave of pleasure washed over Josephine as she yelled out in elation and twitched in my arms. “Let it out… Daddy’s got you. I got you.” The feeling of her walls still rapidly constricting let me know she wasn’t done with this climax. I quickly laid her body down next to the headless Malcolm and continued to thrust into her as I placed my hand on her clit and rapidly rubbed my hand over her sensitive bud. As a natural reflex to the intense pleasure, Josephine tried to close her trembling thighs together and grab at my wrist, but I wasn’t having that tonight. “Open those legs back up and take this dick… move your hand… Move. Your. Fucking. Hand…” I made another mental note, and this time it was of Josephine’s disobedience. I watched as her face flushed with pleasure and her titties bounced all over the place. “You know what happens… when I have to ask you three times… move that hand… NOW!” The feeling of her pussy tightening and gushing out her clear hot juices over me evoked a shiver of gratification to shoot through my nervous system. I let out a raspy sigh as I picked up the pace of my strokes and plopped my body down onto hers while gripping the back of her neck and biting her ear. “I dare you to say another nigga can fuck you like this… I dare you to say another nigga can make you cum like this… Ah… FUCK!…Bring up another nigga again and he’ll end up just like your friend over there… Don’t play with me… Shit!” I began to feel my own body convulse as I was close, and even though I didn’t want the moment to end, all good things must come to an end. I planted a couple soft and tender kisses along Josephine’s neck, and a few more bites that would leave scars in the morning before letting out an animalistic grunt and diving balls deep into her womb before releasing all of my cum. “Yeah… That’s a good cum-bucket… Such a good girl.” I huffed a few more times as my dick twitched inside of her and the last few dribbles were drained out of me.

I laid with my face cozy in Josephine’s neck for a few minutes before completely sliding out of her and remembering I now had a headless corpse and blood splatter to clean up. “Look at me, Erik.” Before I could verbally start complaining about cleaning up, Josephine blinked her eyes and chanted something in her native tongue. Next thing I knew, I was sitting in the living room eating candy watching corny slasher movies and waiting for the trick or treaters to come knocking on my door.

“Erik! Can you get the hell up and go get dressed?! Everyone is waiting for you at the Halloween party!”

A Halloween party? I told all my wives I just wanted to stay in and enjoy this Halloween at home. Why would they plan a damn party? “I’m not going to a Halloween party. Y’all can either bring your asses home and watch these movies with me or have fun at the party without me.”

“What kind of husband are you supposed to be, N’Jadaka? Maybe I should have given Malcolm a chance and ended up with him!”

Here she goes, bringing up this Malcolm guy. “Do you really think it’s smart to test my patience right now, Josephine?”

“Do you really think I give a fuck, Erik?”

💫💫🔮🔮🔮💫💫🔮🔮🔮💫💫

Check out more of Josephine Cartiér-Udaku x Malcolm x Erik Killmonger HERE

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theeangeleudaku · 2 years

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Verboten Passion

A very loose interpretation of Hero & Leander, a Greek myth, but make it Cult. Original character Quin x Chris Evans. Surprise! This is my 2nd Chris Evans fic.

Chapter 1: Blood on the Altar

“Black clover, black as night. Black sand. Pure honey, sweet and earthy. Rose petals. Quil of a snowy peacock, white as the fresh snow, dipped in the blood of a young owl. Halved and displayed.”

Carefully Quin submerged the feather into the crystal chalice and pulled it out soaked with blood, laying it on the large table of smooth granite with the other offerings.

“Fresh placenta, less than 24 hours old. One round, smooth pearl.” The items sat in an artful display. “Lastly, a lock of hair.” In a swift movement, she cut a healthy, long, black curl from her own head and placed it among the other items, her supple and manicured hands raising in worship. “Please, honored goddess, accept these as gifts from the depths of our hearts. Honored goddess, look upon your priestess and see to this clear heart, that I come with love and no regret. I offer myself freely to you, withholding nothing. if you should see fit to bestow us with your protection, fertility, fairness, and long life, we will honor us.”

With her head and arms raised, Quin tarried until sweat seeped into her eyes and soaked her skin and her ceremonial black robe. Her body trembled, exhausted and drained of all energy. She hadn’t eaten solid food for a week, consuming only fluids and jello. For the past 24 hours, she’d had nothing at all. Accompanied by only large statues of Raysha and marbled pillars in the vast, cold, and ornate temple, she writhed on the cold marbled sheets of tile with no one to witness, not even her attendant who was waiting outside of the guarded door. She was trembling and weak. Tears rolled down Quin’s cheeks and she continued to pray, for if the goddess Raysha were to reject her offering, the Celestial Order would be in grave danger of her wrath. She rocked and removed her robe, standing naked before the altar. Her fingertips dipped into the blood and slid down her face, down her body as she prayed and covered herself.

“Give me wisdom, honored goddess, to serve you more completely so that you may find favor with your priestess.”

Only she, as the priestess, was considered clean enough to touch these offerings. As the priestess, she longed for the goddess’ approval more than her own life. She prayed until she received a sign. Mental Clarity. She could feel her mind becoming one with the goddess.

“Now to my goddess of beauty, please bless these candles,” she prayed touching each black candle left displayed for her, 20 in total. “Now to my goddess of fertility, please bless the oil,” she prayed hand-filling each glass bottle with a special mix approved by Raysha. She drizzled in bits of the black sand.

Satisfied, she took a sip from the chalice of blood and closed her eyes to dissociate from the taste. She followed up with a second chalice of red wine, taking a sip and said her thanks, leaving the blessed items arranged on their respective shelves. She fixed her robe onto her body once more. She covered her face and head and hair with a holy mask of black fabric, covered in cream pearls.

Pushing open the double doors of the large open temple, she emerged and looked left and right at her two guards who were also dressed in black robes adorned in gold symbols as a display of their title. Unlike Quin’s, their robes didn’t have a train. Only quin had a train. Only Quin wore a mask of pearls to represent the infinite stars. Like the stars, The Celestial Order of Raysha was infinite, their power and influence widespread all due to the honored goddess. They had the secrets of long life, bragging of members who were over 130 years of age in perfectly good health. They had the secrets of beauty, which were highly sought after by the rest of the free world. Prayer candles for beauty, blessed by the priestess’s hand, sold for thousands a piece and paid for the beautification of the temple and the entire Church of the Celestial Order of Raysha. Fertility oils blessed by the priestess sold for even more than the prayer candles.

As two young, only a few months ago inducted, members of the celestial order arrived bussing the corner in their black scrubs, they quickly slowed to a respectable pace and posture. They still needed training on punctuality and respect for the temple and its practices. “Had this been a more time-sensitive matter, we’d all be dead,” Quin spoke with great irritation, standing straight as they bowed for her forgiveness and release, not daring to look up. Here she was tarrying on behalf of them all and they couldn’t even arrive on time. “What are your names?”

“Jasmine,” said the one to her left. “Katrina,” said the other. Quin frowned in near disgust, though they could not see her face through the mask. They were more afraid of her than offending Raysha.

“Clean up the mess in the temple before it attracts flies."

"Yes, priestess."

"Did I say stand here and kiss my ass? Move.”

“Yes, high priestess.”

“One more thing,” she said, giving them pause. “Be late again and you don’t want to know the consequences, this is your only warning. There’d better not be a remnant of blood or dirt left on that altar."

"Yes, p-"

"I'm not finished. Sanitize like your life depends on it. It does.”

A snap of her fingers brought her attendant, Fayth, to attention, a cue to follow at Quin’s side.

Clacking through the hall in her Versace black booties, her train flowed following her as she was escorted to her room of the past 10 years. Instantly she pulled off her mask and began to strip, Fayth gathering her robe to launder. Only in the privacy of her room could she show her face in full comfort.

"Fayth, where is my dinner," Quin demanded, still weak and shaky.

"My apologies, priestess, your steak was rare. I had it sent back and cooked to medium-well, new kitchen staff."

Quin sighed, choosing to take a shower while she waited. She cleansed her body of the blood and dirt and sweat, using a custom blended soap, scrub, and skin butters made by her mother's aesthetician, another high ranking member in the Celestial Order. Quin’s parents, Angela and Gregory, were Council Members, two out of 9 elites who determined the laws of conduct, carried out punishments, allocated funds, and managed the care of the church.

Angela and Gregory Bledell, like the other council members, were bluebloods born and raised in the Celestial Order as were their parents, both sets, and their parents, both sets. And so on. The Bledell line had a library of ancient scrolls, tablets, tomes, and books thought to have been lost to civilization. Just a page of each book was worth more than a millionaire could offer.. and they had offered, but the library was off limits and practically nonexistent to anyone who wasn't a Bledell.

When Quin wasn't praying, she was reading.

She knew the gospel of Raysha as well as she knew her own name.

"Finally," she sank naked into her chair at her private table, in front of the food. She moaned at the deliciousness. The steak was seasoned to perfection. "Ugh!" The taste was orgasmic.

"You lead prayer in fifteen minutes," Fayth recalled regretfully cutting into Quin’s simple joy. Quin ate quickly and silently for the next few minutes, wiping her mouth and leaving the remainder of her food behind to redress in a new black robe, still with her signature train and pearl mask covering all. Emerging from the room to stride down the long sprawling halls and staircases to the public shrine located on the main floor of the church. This floor was public and at any given time, women could wander the concourse, read from the sacred public library, or sit at the shrine. She was still weakened but maintaining the air of a respectable priestess as she passed the female church custodians. A crowd of approximately 30 women of mixed ages awaited her arrival, bowed on their knees on the black carpet before the shrine.

"Raise thy head toward the infinite stars for what you see is an illusion. Be blinded to the world as in thinking only of how you might please our honored goddess. Raysha is love, beauty, longevity, fertility. As a woman, you must submit your body to beauty and Motherhood. Submit your womb to birth as it is intended to do. Clean yourselves twice per day as I've instructed you, with prayers on your lips. When you make love, hold nothing back."

Women in the Celestial Order were servants to their household, meant to birth and keep things peaceful and tidy. They were seen and not heard. It was the way things were. Men were the head and the driving power. They worshiped Raysha's stern male counterpart, Gamba. Gamba required them to be responsible men of solid upbringing. Gamba required his own sacrifices from them. They worshiped on their faces and tore their skin with blades in his temple. Raysha approved of this order.

Quin turned to the stone statue of Raysha with long curls covering her bare breasts, pearls on her head, and roses in her hands. Her baby, Pran, sat at her ankle. Quin led a prayer that lasted five minutes, turning back to bless each woman with a gentle hand. "Serve your husbands well and raise your children with respect for the goddess."

"Bless you, priestess," they spoke in unison. Quin made her exit, hearing her name in the concourse. Only two people could use her name.

"Mom," she turned, finding the woman draped elegantly in a black hooded robe and heels, a white mask on her face. The emblem on her robe demanded respect.

"You performed the sacrifice of recompense, you must be exhausted."

"I am," Quin admitted, following her mother to the office which hosted council meetings when the council visited. The council was mostly men. Her eyes searched the masked and hooded room trying to determine which was her father.

"High priestess," she was greeted and offered a seat at the table. She nodded and her mother's black gloved hand guided her to the open seat next to her. For 10 years, Quin had been high priestess, but she'd only been invited to council meetings a handful of times. She listened as they discussed an upcoming festival which was to be hosted in the two churches simultaneously. The public would be allowed in to intermingle and celebrate Gamba and Raysha at the same time. The hope was for more marriages and more babies born into the Celestial Order.

"So average people from the city would pay pennies in entrance fees," Quin spoke up in dissent. "It's a slap in Raysha's face."

"Raysha would love the dancing, live urban music, and an endless buffet of food," a male member rebutted.

"Dancing to please the deities is the only worthwhile dancing," her father spoke up in her favor.

"The allure of the church draws enough skeptics. The public doesn't have a proper reverence of the goddess," Quin argued.

"It would be less about celebration and more of a common, tasteless, block party," her mom offered.

"What's next, a circus? Canned spray cheese? Why not turn the concourse into a motel?"

"Is that what you all want? Common street trash breeding in the holy temple?"

Those in favor looked at each other, set on hosting the festival. Quin and her parents' conservative opinions were outnumbered.

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theeangeleudaku · 2 years

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Verboten Passion

A very loose interpretation of Hero & Leander, a Greek myth, but make it Cult. Original character Quin x Chris Evans. Surprise! This is my 2nd Chris Evans fic.

Chapter 2: Seed on the Tile

Disappointed in her elite leaders' unethical decision making, Quin chose to remain in her room reading an ancient text full of secrets that the crowd beneath her would riot and burn the country down if they'd read. Quin simply turned the page.

"Priestess," Fayth stepped forward, not praying but watching. "It's been requested that you mingle and scout new members from the crowd."

"Requested by who," she licked her finger to turn the page, determined to remain at peace within herself and faithful to her practice. It was a honed skill to be so unbothered.

"The Council."

With a deep sigh full of the irritation in her soul, Quin closed the old book and locked it in her private book locker, away from prying eyes. The key to it along with the keys to all rooms of the church remained with her at all times.This book was a Bledell family heirloom not to be touched by the lesser of the race or the impoverished or the white. There were no white people in the Celestial Order as all members were black, but today all races were in the church. The bottom of the barrel were just downstairs and, against her will and better judgment, she now had to join them. She stepped to her wardrobe to pull another fresh black robe, feeling the silken fabric in her fingers, but Fayth spoke again.

"Priestess, the council has requested that you don't wear the ceremonial robe or face covering, so as to appeal to the crowd. It might freak them out.. All sacred items have been concealed and locked away. They ask that you be careful in what you reveal."

Quin’s eye twitched the slightest amount at Fayth’s nonchalance. Fayth was still in casual clothes, as were Quin’s two male guards. The ceremonial robes served a purpose which seemed to have been forgotten by all of the Celestial Order for the sake of a half-assed mass orgy. As if they didn't have regularly scheduled and guided ceremonial orgies in honor of Raysha. Ceremonial orgies always resulted in multiple pregnancies for the Celestial Order. The afterbirths were to be used in sacred rituals or encapsulated and consumed by order members. Common births by common women who had not been initiated were of no use or worth. Still, she could see her fellow Celestial Order members were itching to mix with the heathens. Since they’d heard about the festival, they were chomping at the bit to create children who would receive no preference. Children who would not be allowed to know the secrets of the church unless they were educated under Quin and initiated.

"Et tu, Fayth," Quin stared deep into her attendant’s eyes, looking for the last shred of respect that fled her in that instant. "That's fine, you're beneath serving me anyway." Fayth could be replaced as could her guards and anyone else she didn’t care for. Turning sharply, she left the room exactly as she was with no primping. "Take me to Hell," she demanded, leading the descent down the spiraling stairs into madness. It was a circus as she'd expected.

There were wide couches and mattress-like cushions scattered about with men on men, men on women, women on women, and women on men. No one had yet prayed and the sex was not sanctified unto the goddess, it was just baseless sex. She could hear the loud booming music and the shrieking screams of laughter and pleasure in the once peaceful concourse. Human sacrifices didn't scream this loudly.

It seemed half the city was fucking and leaving their bodily fluids on the main floor of the church which was advertised to the public. The floors had to be mopped and dried in intervals. The women did not know their places. The men were weak and when they spoke, it was utter nonsense. The people who weren’t fucking like mindless rabbits danced, ate and drank to excess, puked on the floor, and smoked bowls of weed served by temple servants who were dressed as common waiters. They were running, cleaning, and serving while the guests had no respect for themselves or each other. It was an abomination, but she and her parents were the only ones who seemed to think so. Unfortunately the council was not in attendance to see what they'd created, if so they might have stopped it. They were so out of touch.

"Oh look, The GAP," Quin’s eyes rolled, spotting tags in dresses.

As the priestess of Raysha, Quin’s was highly disappointed. There was no glamor or beauty or order. The festival was a disgrace in her eyes. Still, as the high priestess, her duty was to be present at all events, not just the ones she agreed with.

Ignoring the spewed blasphemy surrounding her, she stood among the crowd and walked a straight line through the hoard with a guard in front and behind.

"Clear the way for the priestess of Raysha," a member in plain clothes announced from the temporarily placed stage where a woman was getting fucked in a handstand under the ceiling paiting of Raysha, which was very disrespectful in Quin’s opinion. If the council had not set this event in motion, Quin would have surely ended it.

The people parted, moving out of her way, gawking at her as she clacked through the marbled concourse in her black Tom Ford stilettos and black pantsuit with her curly hair wild. She stood quietly on stage before the multitude knowin Gamba's concourse was just as full and the orgies were likely worse.

After a brief welcome speech, the speaker, drunk on overripe wine, stuttered a detailed order of events which included a concert. Apparently the higher tax bracket, which included the talent, sat on the second floor which was blocked off to all but Quin and her guards. He waved his hands to quiet the attendees and regain order which he struggled to do, to Quin’s sober annoyance.

"First," he struggled to retain their attention. "Wait-wait.. Guys.. Guys! First! The food. Our menu! We have food catered by BBQ Pit, black owned. So get with BBQ Pit for all your BBQ needs! Also, we have a concert. Who is it,” he looked to another member who pronounced the name for him. “It’s.. it’s.. Solange.”

They went wild when they heard Solange would be performing. Liquor poured over their bodies soaking the floor and they rolled in it like hogs in mud. Quin couldn't care less. Between their excitement, drunkenness, and fascination with staring at her, the speaker had his work cut out for him.

Grabbing the mic in her gloved hand, Quin took control.

"Silence, please," she stood in place, not begging but demanding.

Within seconds she could hear the squeaking of shoes and whispers. The moans came to hushes with hands over mouths. The attention was on Quin, but the silence wasn't in respect to Raysha, it was in awe of Quin’s good looks. For the moment, she would take it.

"Thank you. Now, we have some rules of conduct. I know, upsetting. Try to remember this is a holy place. It may not be your church, but it is ours. Please act accordingly. If you will. Clean your own damn fluids! Now.. Raise your head and your arms with me in honor of our esteemed goddess Raysha and her counterpart, Gamba, the true purpose of this festival and the reason you’ve been granted access."

And it was done. A sea of arms raised for the full five minutes that she took to pray and dedicate the event to her goddess, but cameras also flashed and she felt lustful eyes on her bare face and roaming her body.

"Thank you," she turned, handing off the mic to exit the stage.

"Priestess," a man stopped, blocked by her security before he could get far. His fully erect penis was in his hand as he jerked it and he was flashing her with not much to show. She looked him up and down. He was in her way, as were the other men who gathered around her panting like puppies to be kicked. She gestured for them to move, walking around them. "Priestess," more voices called as cameras snapped. She kept her eyes forward. "Priestess," a man lunged, landing a kiss on her gloved hand before she snatched it and he hit the ground with a smile. "I love you priestess," he yelled after her, rousing her anger. "I'd drink your bathwater," another got close enough to say with an obscene tongue motion." The men were making all manner of crass comments as if she weren't a holy woman. "You're so beautiful," a man swooned, offering her a flower that she ignored. This is what she got for mingling. The women weren't any better. The amount of breasts in her face reminded her of a brothel. In her mind, they were all as the excrement on a servant's shoe, behaving as feverishly and foolishly as one would expect. They were drunken, loud, and raucous.

"Get me out of here," she groaned, forcing the guards to stop chatting and making out with random women so that they could escort her to the blocked off second floor where those with money and influence partied separately. The taste level was exponentially better and it was a welcome break from the unwashed and uneducated. She only accepted a glass of wine from a temple servant who averted her gaze in respect. She’d found her new attendant.

"You're the priestess," a woman smiled in her direction. "I heard you were beautiful but," her eyes widened.

"All honor to goddess Raysha..," Quin leaned hinting for her name.

"Gaga."

"Pleasure."

"Excuse me, you are radiant," another woman cut in with respect to Gaga. "May I ask what makeup brands you use?"

"With proper skin care and diet you don't need makeup," Quin countered. "I don't wear makeup."

It was always difficult for people to believe considering her long natural lashes, flawless and dewy skin, lack of pores, and full even colored lips. She was fully aware of the fact that she looked airbrushed. Her true secret was in her custom blended skincare, rigid daily workout and sleep schedule, placenta consumption, blood rituals, and prayers.

She moved away with her wine to a corner on her own to self-reflect but the distance was short-lived. She was continuously approached.

"You are stunning," gasped another man who slithered beside her with his drink. "All of this is amazing,” he gestured to the sculptures, “How exactly does it work in your congregation? Women are submissive?"

This is what drew most men to the temple. She'd constantly have to educate them and explain to them the parts they misunderstood until they realized the Celestial Order wasn't for them. They didn't want to hear her minister, pray all day, or worship Raysha or Gamba, they wanted a sex slave in which case they could simply go find one..

"To men, yes, it's only right."

"And they have to do anything a man tells them?"

"Is this a difficult concept," Quin cocked her head to ask, her irritation flaring briefly before she could check it.

"So if I told you right now to get on your knees and-,” he smiled. “You would have to-"

"Be submissive?" She smiled wryly, leaning to whisper into his ear. "My title supersedes most men in power, which is why I'm allowed to tell you to go straight to Hell."

One signal to her guard had Mr. James Franco removed from her general area. She stared at her guards in irritation when yet another man approached her unblocked. They seemed amused.

"What is it," she snapped.

"I've never seen someone as beautiful as you."

"You're surrounded by beautiful women everyday, stop it." She walked away only to be followed.

"Please wait, beautiful. I just wanna chat to you. Just a moment of your time." With bowed head and folded hands he begged until she turned around. "I'd really like to make you my wife.. Hear me out now, I'm worth $40 million--"

"I wipe my ass with $50 million," she whispered in his ear. She knew his face and unfortunately it encouraged him.

"You ain't never experienced nothing like-"

"I'd rather choke on blood. Guard," she gestured for him to be removed as well.

She could hear the concert downstairs. Solange was singing. Then the music changed and the crowd went wild once more seeing the secret special guest.

"Say heeeey Ms. Carter," made the entire church attendance go feral. Even some of the rich and the celebrities braved the crowd to go down and watch the performance. Quin remained where she stood.

"Not again," she mumbled as another man confessed his deep attraction. “You’re radiant,” complimented another. “You smell so good.”

The men were gathering to ogle as a group and the familiar energy of an orgy could be felt. She continued to sip her wine ignoring the leering and the advances until she simply could not tolerate any more.

She walked to the bathrooms on the floor spotting a brown-haired man of the causcasion persuasion staring intently at a painting of Raysha with her newborn. He didn’t seem to notice her until she turned the corner into plain sight. He did a double-take, staring as she approached but stayed silent as she came to a stop at his side looking at the painting alongside him. She was imagining what an outsider would see in these representations of the goddess. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a mini packet of M&Ms of all things, opening them quietly, pouring himself a few in his smooth palm, and handing her the pack.

She hadn’t eaten, determined not to delight in any of the council’s bullshit. M&M’s weren’t ideal, but they did taste good. Her guard came for her just then and she dismissed him since he seemed more interested in making her squirm which in any other circumstance would have landed him in big trouble on the spot.

“Your service is no longer required,” she told him, turning back to admire the painting as she had been.

The white man smiled a soft and warm white smile at the painting and she wondered if he knew who she was before the guard came and practically announced it for her. She thought he’d speak, but he continued to eat M&M’s.

“Priestess, I must insist that you return with me.”

Before Quin could form a retort, the white stranger had taken her hand and was guiding her away with no clear destination, just away.

They ended up at a shrine and rather than capitalizing on the moment with her, he turned his attention to looking around, folding his hands in respect. What truly surprised Quin was when he raised his arms and his head and said his thanks aloud to the goddess. He stated that he was coming to her with an open heart and a mind without judgment.

Quin approached him wondering where he’d learned how to pray to her. How did he understand the goddess’ heart? Her own heart began to flutter as she found herself attracted to him. Instead of asking and adding noise to a pure moment, she kneeled and began to pray alongside him, wishing there were a way he could be initiated. If only the council would receive him. Openly she prayed with no thought to censor a thing and when she was done, they took a deep breath together.

“Priestess,” Fayth called from behind at the shrine room’s entrance.

“Priestess. Priestess,” Quin mocked. “We’ll all be lucky if Raysha does not strike us down tonight in our sleep.”

“But Priestess-”

“Call me one more time, Fayth. One more. Go tell the others not to bother me or I will pray against them.”

Spooked, Fayth took her leave.

“You don’t approve of the festivals,” the white man stated the obvious, earning her side-eye. “I get it, they’re messy.. And a little much.”

He moved away, looking about at the replications of spiritual figures. He was fishing for her response and she smiled, purposely taking the bait. It was a good time to do what she was trained to do.. educate him in the ways of Raysha and her history. He seemed to know a little already, which was already more than most.

She explained what she tried to explain in her teachings at the temple. Raysha liked order and respect. Raysha was a goddess of beauty, protection, longevity, and love, but she could be vengeful.

“Raysha does enjoy celebrations, does she not?”

“Of course, what God doesn’t.”

“She enjoys orgies and free love. Unsrestrained sex and procreation, holding nothing back,” he stated repeating the exact words she’d used with her members.

“How do you know so much about Raysha?”

“I read. I may not have access to all these books,” he looked around the public section of the library, “Doesn’t Raysha enjoy wine and hallucinogens? Canonically? If I recall there was a chapter where she became very drunk and slept with a different God, didn’t it lead to more open orgies between Raysha, Gamba, and other deities? ..Didn’t Gamba himself get sick and throw up in the sand?”

“What are you getting at?”

“Isn’t it true?”

“Why are you saying this?”

“Why do you hate it so much? Why does.. the priestess.. abstain from all the orgies when her very own god and goddess do not? Raysha takes no pleasure in virgins..”

And there it was. Quin stood determining how she should respond. A lot of it was upbringing. He wouldn’t understand.

“It’s not appropriate for a priestess to engage,” she lied, turning away to leave.

“A priestess? ..Or you?”

She turned slowly with her eyes cast on his mouth.

“Watch the next words that come from those lips,” she warned, her eyes flickering up for the briefest of moments to see those blues burning bright with an intense passion that moved her to an uncomfortable degree.

“..I want to kiss you.”

The sudden admission made her check the door to ensure no one heard. She didn’t know whether to leave quickly or approach him to ask him to stop looking at her with those too blue eyes. She kissed him before she realized, stepping back when she realized her blunder.

“I can’t do this..”

“Because I’m not initiated..”

“Because you’re WHITE.. And you’re not initiated. Are you rich?”

“80 Million?”

“Shit, you’re poor,” she gasped in panic. He was holding her waist when she responded from her racing thoughts. “This really can’t happen,” she fell into his eyes again and onto his lips, pulling away. “I don’t even know your name,” she stressed as he dropped silently to one knee gazing up with her hands in his.

“Chris.”

“My parents would kill you.” It was a literal statement. With no second thought, they would.

“And I would accept instant death if it meant that for one day, I could be at your side.”

“Don’t say that,” she warned, feeling butterflies for the first time in her 28 years.

“Look, I’d tell you how beautiful you are, but you've heard it all. There aren’t any words that could penetrate your ears as well as your beauty has penetrated my soul.”

“Don’t say penetrate-”

“Penetrate. I’d sacrifice my life on your altar if it meant I’d- (penetrate that pussy),” he mouthed, “-become something you once loved.”

“Don’t say that,” Quin dropped with a humored sigh, weak to his words.

His gentle touch on her chin and arm spoke what words couldn’t. Words were only words. His kisses were like fire on her cheek and to her neck and as he trailed with gentle dominance to her chest, sweeping his hands down her body she felt the temptation to succumb to an orgy full of the different versions of herself and this one man. She was a high priestess, but she was also a woman.

“Raysha spoke no law against free love.. and sex.. you deserve.. to feel.. love,” he continued with his kisses, his strong hands gripping her in places that hadn’t been touched before. He could sense it, she was fully sure.

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theeangeleudaku · 2 years

Text

Verboten Passion

A very loose interpretation of Hero & Leander, a Greek myth, but make it Cult. Original character Quin x Chris Evans. Surprise! This is my 2nd Chris Evans fic.

Chapter 3: The Virgin

The truth to date was that there were very little limits to a high priestess of Raysha's participation in festivities or sacred sex rituals. As it was Raysha, these things had even become expected of her priestess, to a degree. It was acceptable for her to drink and be merry, to smoke and enjoy it, to spread her love within the Celestial Order. Consistent birthing, servitude, and unquestioned obedience was a woman’s purpose, but as Raysha’s priestess, Quin was afforded privileges unavailable to women in her faith. She could say ‘no’ and abstain outside of ritual. She could make the decision of where and when outside of ritual. The ‘who’ was more limited.

Three young and determined women were deemed as acceptable choices to become the next high priestess of Raysha. They were each ‘blood in’, meaning they were born into the faith with both parents and all grandparents also born into the faith. They had exceptional intelligence and wit. They had exceptional beauty. They were each put through rigid testing of their religious knowledge, life of practice, and overall ability to communicate. Only the most wealthy and old of families could provide their daughters with the proper beauty rituals and education acceptable of a high priestess. Council members Angela and Gregory Bledell pushed their daughter to her limits.. to the brink of physical, mental, and spiritual exhaustion with intense prayers that she would rise above her set role as a woman into a role of unwavering and unquestionable power so that she could control herself. “As I did,” Angela would say.

For this purpose, Quin’s faith in Raysha was cruelly tested. She could not have an ounce of doubt. Her senses were deprived to strengthen her will and starve her own desires. Her beauty was constantly judged for what could be improved. Whoever was the most beautiful had been determined the most graced, chosen by Raysha herself. Quin had to be flawless.

As a new high priestess at 18, Quin was taught by her own experiences to fear the loss of her position more than the loss of her life. If she were to fail in carrying out her duties, tragically lose her beauty, choose to have any sort of relations outside of the order, or lose the general respect of her people, she would be replaced and fall back into the role birth had bestowed. As a decade in the role passed, Quin’s biggest concern had been remaining sharp and beautiful to keep Raysha pleased and her congregation satisfied.

Quin was in dangerous territory kissing this white man.

“You don’t understand,” she breathed as he lifted her shirt for better access to her breasts to suck, favoring her right nipple. “I may be the priestess, but the council has rules,” she whispered, her hand on his heart to slow his intensity. His head popped back up.

“I’d take a god’s rules over a human council, wouldn’t you think?”

“I could lose everything.”

“Then you’d walk outside and get it back, look at you,” he gestured in admiration.

“You still don’t get it.. I CAN’T,” she stood to pace, smooth her hair, and get her priorities back on track.

He found her face in his hand bringing her in, nose to nose, his eyes piercing hers in hopes that she’d feel him past the words, “Hey,” he consoled, “Hey, I won’t tell a soul. No one will ever know if you don’t want them too, I swear on it.. Okay?” His fear was palpable despite his words. Quin shook her head from his hands in disbelief of the position she’d been placed in.

“Why did I have to like white boys,” she groaned looking at his pouting face. She grabbed his hands to pull him toward the stairs. She walked first alone to ensure the path was clear and he followed her up, looking back to ensure they weren’t seen. “Only the priestess, her attendant, and her guards are allowed at the top. It’s the most sacred area of the church.”

She pulled him into her room and swallowed his thin pink lips in hers, her hands running through his thick sideburns and his short cropped hair. She popped his hands as they attempted to tangle in hers. “Noted,” he muttered, too caught up in kissing to care. Her aggression was triggered when he grabbed her ass and stripped her of her pants which got tangled in her heels. She bit his ear, snatching his shirt over his head and licking his reddening neck.

He threw her onto her bed, falling with her to roll and tussle as her hand slid between his pants and ass separating them. He pushed and kicked them off while sucking the skin of her neck and she paused him with a slight push to his neck. “No marks,” she reminded him, freeing his hard erection to her stomach. “I don’t imagine you brought protection?”

“To a music festival orgy in a church?” He revealed two condoms. “..but isn’t it against..?”

“It is,” she panted, kissing him to distract from the panic. He did the same, kissing further south, her thighs on his ears as his tongue rolled expressing his utter bliss.

She watched his eyes go love drunk as he ate at her, licking all that came until she grabbed his hair and said, "Fuck me."

After rolling on the condom, he didn't hesitate. "I'll take it slow, breathe with me," he guided by example, deep breaths in and out. "On 3." She counted and on 3 felt the head of his dick thrust inside. Breathing with him as it sat marinating, she squeezed.

He came almost instantly, breathing to catch his own breath. "Shit.. I can do that again."

"It's fine," Quin stared, watching him flounder. He was embarrassed, but she didn't mind. She had more pressing thoughts. "I'm sure you're aware.. I don't have much experience myself.." She smiled when his eyes flashed at her subtle shade.

"Hey," he pouted with a teasing poke to her flat tummy.

"What's it like outside of here? What do you people do?"

"You people," he smirked.

"Commoners."

"Ah," he nodded, "Well.. I could probably show you better than I could tell you. Through that window, for example," he walked naked, “Is one of the best cities in the world to visit.. and I’m currently staying in a hotel right about.. there," he pointed.

“So where are you from?”

“Boston,” he spoke with an overemphasized accent that made Quin look upon him in amusement.

She knew everything of historical importance that could be gathered into a textbook, but culturally she hadn’t experienced any of these well-known places. It’d been considered unnecessary and beneath her to mix with the common population, or so she’d thought until the last meeting with the council. Only her parents had objected to such a mix. Suddenly she had even more concerns and questions, but nothing that Chris could possibly answer.

“Tell me more,” she encouraged, fascinated by his facial features as he spoke about his childhood days and even his adult days in Boston with fondness. She was starting a get a better feel for the kind of person he was. He talked about his family and his friends. She asked about his first lovers and he’d blushed, disguising it as humor as was his way. His maturity was refreshing. Quin started to ask about his hobbies when a knock came at her door.

“Priestess.”

Quin threw Chris his clothing, shoes, and he ran into the bathroom ensuring no trace of himself was left behind while she snatched open the door, fully nude and appearing unbothered.

“What now?”

“M-my apologies, priestess. You’re needed for the closing prayer and blessings.”

“I have a mind to go like this, what’s the point in decorum,” Quin muttered snatching up her pantsuit and redressing as Fayth looked on. “Enjoy while you can, you sure won’t see anything this perfect in your reflection.”

Snapping on her heels, she stomped down the hall once more with Fayth in towe. First floor first. Down the spiraling staircase she descended, without the pretense of objectivity. She demanded the fucking cease instantly and the floors be cleaned for the final time.

“You lack sense, I’m aware! Act like you have it.”

She signaled for the wine to be taken and replaced with fountain drinks as they deserved, since they were adult children. When that was done, she strutted to the stage, climbing the stairs, and snatching the mic.

“Get him some water,” she directed to a few nearby men of the ministry.

She could see in their eyes they did not like listening to a lowly woman, but they had no choice but to obey a priestess.

“NOW,” she ordered, staring them down as they obeyed with venom in their eyes.

What was Chris doing upstairs, she wondered. She didn’t feel her keys. Did he have them? Was that why he’d appeared to her, to distract her?

“Wait,” she stalled them. “Kiss the floor in praise of your goddess.. and with gratefulness toward her merciful priestess.” She fought her smirk as they dropped.

“Marry me, priestess,” a voice shouted, followed by an outburst of others.

“I’ll be your slave!” “Look over here!” “Priestess!”

“Now then, the rest of you,” she continued, speaking over the drunken crowd. “Raise your head and raise your arms in gracious thanks-”

“Fuck Raysha, I worship the priestess!” Followed by clapping and shrieking laughter.

“-and worship for Raysha and Gamba, the true-”

“I’m gonna cum just looking at her!”

“-purpose of this Celebration! May they bless us with power, strength, and vitality.” Her prayer still lasted for five minutes, as was her custom, despite the remarks.

When she finished, she left the stage, finding the man who had ejeculated on the clean floor in the crowd and slapping him with the strength of a grown man. He looked bewildered, as did the crowd, though some laughed. Not only had he disrespected the prayer, but he’d disrespected the women who consistently and painstakingly slaved as custodians, all in honor of the goddess of the church.

“Throw me your rags,” she demanded to the nearest cleaning woman who bowed her head, presenting her rag as if it were also sacred. “Clean it up,” Quin demanded watching the naked man get on his knees to wipe and disinfect his own mess of DNA. She stormed away, through the crowd which split giving her a path.

Again, she wondered about Chris and those church keys. They unlocked sacred rooms of sensitive information and private practices. What if he was roaming now or taking artifacts? She wouldn’t be able to do or say anything about it lest it come back on her for breaking spiritual laws. She’d rather die than lose her power, the respect of the congregation, or the honor of her parents.

Stressed, she made her way to the second floor where the rich were in the midst of cheers with their wine glasses. The surfaces looked to have just been cleaned, and the people remained in various stages of dress.

“Seems your bodies have been well used,” she joked. They seemed proud of themselves. “Very well. Thank you for coming, I hope you each enjoyed yourselves today. Let us all raise our arms and our heads to the stars where the gods reside.” Again, Quin said a prayer which lasted five minutes, ending with, “Thanks be to the honored goddess Raysha and her counterpart Gamba.”

Forced to mingle in politeness, her mind was still with Chris. She hoped that he would not betray her trust as she entertained the “rich” and the famous.

“Enjoy these candles blessed by Raysha as a token of the temple. Be protected on your journey.”

She watched as they filtered out, escorted to their cars by security. Her job was to ensure that every soul has left the church before she locked each door and prayed over every room the crowd had been in. She splashed rose water and burned incense which filled the church with the smell of sage, rosehip, and cinnamon. The windows remained open.

She called the council for an update, explaining the events that had occurred and approving the return of sacred ritual artifacts to the shrines and church. They were to return everything that had been removed for the public.

“Take a rest,” she ordered her guards who were nearly passed out drunk and naked in the concourse. Their heads dropped and they fell asleep. “I don’t want to see you again tonight,” she told Fayth who stepped back, suddenly aware of her place once more.

Quin graciously took the stairs, walking faster as she reached the top. She looked briefly into each open door in the corridor on the way to her room searching for where Chris might be. When she didn’t immediately see him, she hurriedly searched the room finding her keys where she left them. Nothing was moved. Nothing seemed to be missing, but where was Chris?

In her bathroom the shower was running. She found him under the stream covered in suds, washing with her products. When she opened the glass door, he started singing with a smile that welcomed her back. His hair was also sudsy and when she leaned to sniff it, holding his shoulder, it smelled like her custom blended shampoo.

“If I keep using this do you think I could get hair like yours?”

Quin nearly snorted with relief, stripping her clothes for another much needed shower and hugging him near, allowing him to wash her as she absorbed the intimacy, knowing she’d never experience anything like it again.

He took her back to the window when they were dried and properly moisturized, with his having been impressed with the endless steps in her routine.

“There’s so much to do in town, I bet you’ve never been out,” he assessed accurately. “I don’t get to follow my own script as much as I’d like either.”

“Oh? Do tell.”

He regaled her with stories of his experiences as an actor and the demand that it placed on him. “You’re speaking my language,” she smirked as he detailed what it was like on set.. Everything about working in Hollywood as an actor.

“You have an interesting laugh,” he teased, getting another smile from her. “It’s funny we’d meet. You know, shit like this doesn’t just happen. Not in reality.. I heard about a wild church orgy with the higher ups, $10,000 entry, and said yep.. I know what I’m doing this week. Who knew..”

“Speaking of,” Quin spoke with regret in her tone that he could hear before she even finished. “You realize we can never meet again..” She watched his quick deflation as he looked briefly at the bed and back before sitting.

“I know.”

She sat beside him in silence resisting the desire to hold his soft hand in hers and play with it, rubbing circles over his lily white skin. She wasn’t quite ready for him to leave her to herself. “Wait until it’s the middle of the night and go.” That way everyone would be asleep, including her. He stroked her arm with the back of his fingers.

“Any.. ideas.. Of what we could do until then?”

She looked at his muscular forearms and chest, his Adam's apple, his chin line, his ears. His lips. She was on him instantly rolling on top and pulling off her clothes.

“The door,” he reminded as concerned about her worries as she was. She leaped to lock it and fell back onto him with him grunting in happy pain.

“Don’t cum,” she commanded as she kissed his neck, mounting him on her own and finding her own pace and comfort. She held his face as he again left his body with her threatening him quietly, “Don’t you dare. Look at me,” she panted.

“That’s the problem.” His hands cupped her ass instead of gripping, careful not to leave traces of her having been touched, but it meant she had full control over her own sensual movements and she was hungry for him. He was on the edge of eruption and she refused to let him.

She wasn’t done and they still had the night. She sucked his neck leaving a trail of red marks and biting him while he continued to restrain himself.

“Here, how about this,” he flipped her over to keep his nut inside. He returned to the land of bliss between her thighs where a buffet laid out in wait. He ate her from the back, content to spend the rest of the night that way. By the sounds of her, she didn’t mind either.

17 notes · View notes

theeangeleudaku · 2 years

Text

Verboten Passion

A very loose interpretation of Hero & Leander, a Greek myth, but make it Cult. Original character Quin x Chris Evans. Surprise! This is my 2nd Chris Evans fic.

Chapter 4: Dissent in the Council

"I could talk to you forever, you're easy to talk to," Chris shared from Quin’s side as she stared up at the ceiling. "To be honest, I could go for some of that bbq they were handing out downstairs. You didn't eat. What're you gonna do? Shit, it's already late."

"Time flies when you're having fun," Quin sighed sitting up from the bed and gathering Chris' clothes from the bathroom. "Don't make too much noise when you go down, the doors are unlocked. Go straight out."

"Priestess.."

"Quin," she corrected watching his eyes widen with wonder.

"Quin," he repeated. "Quin.."

"Yes?" She asked once more as he'd been struck silent. "What is it?"

"I can't. I can't go."

"Of course you can. Why do you mean?"

"No, I can’t. Not without making sure you know exactly how I feel about you. I don't want you to wonder. Quin," he grabbed her hand placing it over his quick-beating heart. "I want to be with you. This isn't a fly by night thing for me, I'll do anything you need me to."

"I need you to go," Quin pressed, but she didn't mean it and he pushed until she wavered.

"..Why can't you just go," she sighed exhausted

"I can't do that," he repeated catching her in another embrace. "If there was a way to show you how serious I am.."

"I know you're serious," her heart cried because it didn't matter. Her feelings didn't matter. She had too much to lose, even in her relationship with the goddess which came first and foremost. She couldn't turn her back.

He kneeled on both knees in prayer with his head and arms raised.

"Goddess Raysha, please," he begged, "Take pity on my desire for your priestess. I am at her feet gunned down by love. She is my goddess. She can take anything she likes. Please..," he looked up to Quin who was stricken with uncertainty in her decision. "Have mercy on a man in love.."

"Dammit Chris, get up." She pulled him up and leaned against his chest unsure of what to do next. "The Council wouldn't approve, I'd be stripped on my position and then I'd be a temple servant. I can't let that happen."

"I won't let it happen, I'll coke when it's dark and everyone's asleep.. I'll be out before daybreak. No one will ever know.

"They'll know. I get the feeling you suck at hiding your feelings."

"Quin, I swear." He held her eyes until again, she caved.

"It's those blues," she touched his cheek with a sigh. "Those beautiful ocean eyes.. Okay. I'll leave one door open, but you better not get caught or I'll say you broke in. He kissed her without a word and opened the door to disappear quickly. She shut it, leaning against it in a high level of stress, praying he didn't get caught.

The new day came with the usual responsibilities. Leading regular prayer in increments throughout the day, educating newer Celestial Order members from the holy text, guiding them in their enlightenment.

To her surprise, the council arrived at the church once more as items were being returned and placed where they should've stayed.

"Anything could've happened to the sacred journals," she whispered in irritation as she passed her mother in the concourse. "They're old, they need special care not to be mismanaged in a-" she had to hold her head she was getting so angry.

"Agreed," her mother sneered raising her nose at the newer membership who meekly walked by with their heads lowered in respect. "It's an abomination what passes for a member these days."

"They're actually very dedicated," Quin said to her own surprise. It was true. They showed promise. Angela scoffed in disgust.

"They're not us, my dear, they'll never be. The sooner they realize it, the sooner we'll have our next batch of willing sacrifices. Their lives for the greater good, I think it's a good trade don't you think?"

The arrival of Quin’s father, Gregory, kept her from a reply. He was calling her to a meeting.

"Wait. The festival. Please bring up the disrespect, I don't think they'll ever see it so long as they're focused on new members, and mom?"

"Yes, dear.."

"The orgies weren't honorable. Even previous priestesses would be appalled, and the council required I mingle? Say a past priestess had relations with someone outside of the Celestial Order, they'd riot."

"It's unthinkable, an instant disgrace and let me tell you," she pointed, "That priestess would be out on her ass quicker than she could spell fired."

"Especially if he were white, there were so many of them."

"God no! Raysha no!"

"White," Gregory spoke in disbelief. Be couldn't fathom a priestess with an uncultured white. He pulled Angela away quickly, the mere thought too much.

"Enough of this bullshit, I'm setting them straight," Angela muttered. "Talk later hun."

Quin watched them disappear into the meeting room. It was as she thought, She and Chris could never exist together openly. Still, she waited subtly for the meeting to end approaching a different masked council member, inquiring about their thoughts on the festival.

"Quin, try to understand. Mixing is not a taboo, we could use the numbers a d opposed to your parents' outdated beliefs," she could hear his eyeroll through the mask. "Initiated members do have value.. More members mean more worshippers, more money, more sacrifices, more babies."

"And this order for me, the priestess, to mingle with filth. What if they'd landed a hand on me and I wound up pregnant?"

"Then PRAISE RAYSHA," his arms raised in irritation. Quin was holding him up.

It surprised her, the difference in responses depended on who she asked. On the one hand there was hope and on the other..

"Priestess," her name was called.

During her duties and her prayers, she was distracted, still attempting to figure out a route to happiness. It felt selfish and sinful, but she couldn't gelp herself. She was in love. Hiding wasn't enough. She needed to find a way to have the cake and eat it too.

Chris came into her room that night as silent as a gentle wind, joining her in bed and for a while they laid their wondering together, what they would do. How would they make this work?

"As long as it takes, I'll scale this building to get to you if I have to," he ensured. He wasn't backing down, scaring easily, or going away. He was committed for the long haul.

"I might have to cut you up in little pieces and store you in my lockbox," she joked hearing his breathing stall. It made her laugh. He wanted to know more about the sacrifices and offerings she made to Raysha.

"Something you love," she told him as he already knew. "Something you love, something you want, something she lives, and the life of something precious.. "

"What does that do?"

"It protects the order. It gives us long life and beauty and energy. Fertility."

Quin wanted children. She didn't want the men in her ministry, but she'd wanted children. She'd pray especially hard for the women who wished to conceive.

Chris's kisses across her back and fingers tracing her spine gave her more images of a life that eluded her.

"Tell me again what it's like outside of here.. for people like us.."

His kisses dropped to her asscheeks and her hips. "No one cares who you're with or how much they're worth.. if they're black or white. Love is love. You can go anywhere, do anything."

"Sounds like a dream," she admitted thankful that he didn't pounce with a suggestion to leave the Celestial Order. It was her home and where she felt she belonged. She couldn't just leave.

She laid on her back as he gave being on top a shot, loving her gently with her smiling up with her eyes, her hands wandering his chest and abs. He looked at her like she was the other other person who existed. His attention to detail made her feel like she was the only one whose body he cared to study.

The sex only got better. It lasted longer with stronger orgasms. Night after night he'd come by to show her true love, making love and talking all night. They'd laugh and lie awake then get serious wondering about their future together. At times he'd watch her drift off and she'd awake to his gaze and smile of admiration. He was always gone before daybreak.

"Priestess," Fayth whispered coming to Quin’s side in the corridor one afternoon. "You haven't been getting enough sleep, it's starting to show."

Quin wanted to be outraged, but instead she was fearful. Looking tired was nothing she could afford. Besides, the look in Fayth’s expression said she knew something but would not say. Quin began to wear her ceremonial mask more, but while the order noticed tiny flaws.. Chris did not. It comforted her to know that in his eyes she was still flawless. Still. She feared losing her title. She couldn't handle the way things seemed to be panning out. Days passed and she was 99% positive that Fayth knew what was going on though she didn't say a word about it.

She didn't say it, but Quin felt the judgment radiating from her when they were in private. As much as she hated it, Quin was judging herself just as harshly.

She decided to seek an opinion that mattered.

Gathering ingredients for the next offering, she went into the temple alone and clothed in her mask and black robe to bless the elements. Again, she tarried on her own until tears came and everything she suppressed came to the surface in woeful, sorrowful bursts. She poured her heart out and what she heard from her goddess brought on another sweat.

According to the goddess herself, the festival orgies were not to her honor nor were they to her satisfaction as Quin had feared. The goddess had hated the way it occurred. The motive wasn't pure and therefore it was a disrespect to her church. The worst part was Quin. Quin nearly fainted when she received the revelation. She heard the rebuke in her heart clearly.

"Married at night but your husband runs off before the sun making you single by day. An abomination."

It was Quin’s worst nightmare come to life. She rocked and cried and pleaded and tarried uncaring of her nose dripping and her eyes reddening.

"I beg you please," she sobbed with her face to the sky, arms raised and sore. "Please have mercy Goddess. Forgive me! Forgive us all!"

The items on the altar suddenly seemed lacking. There were rose petals, fresh berries, cinnamon and clove, black cohosh, a gold coin, and a dove split in half with its blood in a golden chalice. She took a blade and sliced a chunk of her hair arranging it with tear-blurred eyes. She pricked her index with the blade and dripped her own blood onto the altar.

"I give you my blood, sweat, and tears. I give you my life, everything I hold dear. See my transpheart heart, goddess," she pleaded going into chants that repeated until they no longer sounded like words. She danced and continue to chant and plead to the goddess to take mercy with incense waving. She dipped her fingered in the Dave's blood and rubbed it all over herself, praying to be seen as pure once more until she finally heard an answer.

She knew what she had to do.

Redressing, she pulled herself together and pushed the double doors open to find two temple servants waiting quietly to clean. They'd come early.

"Don't touch it," she ordered heading to the bell that, once rang, would draw all members of the Celestial Order of Raysha to the church. She waited with resolute stillness as they all arrived. Husbands and wives with their children. "Take the children to the nursery," she ordered waiting until only men and women were left, all dressed in their ceremonial black robes as required by the ringing of the bell.

"Raysba has spoken and she is displeased with us all," she announced listening to the horror. "You a should know, by your despicable acts you deserve death today! But our goddess has taken mercy. She has given us instructions to right what has been twisted. Our goddess requires.. our coming together in binding rites. An orgy in her honor that will punish and renew us all.

Before the shrine of Raysha, Quin disrobed keeping on only her mask. As they could all see, her naked body was covered in blood. Never had she atoned for the order with her own body. They all felt the fear that this was something serious and they fell on their knees to cry out in mighty wails to the goddess for forgiveness.

"Each of you husbands, arise," she ordered watching them climb to their feet. "One at a time, come forward."

The first husband looked to his wife as she looked away and he stepped forward looking to Quin as if he could see through her mask. He didn't want to do this. Still, he laid on the tile before Raysba for his punishment. Quin straddled him and before everyone, rode him as ceremonial drums pounded rhythmically matching her motions. She rode him into his orgasm with his seed spilling inside of her as the wives all chanted. She held her emotions inside and called for the next husband.

Averting eyes with his wife as she rode his dick until he too had an orgasm, she remained silent. The drums and chanting went on.

Down the congregation she went, having sex with each husband. Some were thrilled and willing, crying out their pleasure and thrusting back. Some were in pain having disappointed the goddess. They couldn't bear it. Some were hurt to do this in front of their wives. Some were indifferent. Quin did not comment, she merely did as Raysha had instructed with the nut of approximately 40 men dripping from her pussy.

"Step forward," she continued until there were no more. She had fused with them all.

"Now the wives," she demanded gaining the shock of the room. "Men. Turn away and pray to Gamba for you've disappointed him in ways that could surely spell your destruction. Make amends."

The men all faced away as Quin tribbed and fingered the wives of the Celestial Order one by one leaking their squirts and juices on the tile as men cut their faces in deep repentance.

Quin was covered in fluids and full of them too. She had attoned for the sins of the bunch, omitting that it was mostly her punishment for her wrongs. Order had been restored and the members were free to go except for the temple servants who were to clean up the mess at the shrine and in the upper temple.

When the church emptied, Quin returned to her quarters and cried hysterically, with no clear thoughts coming through. She was deeply sorry to Raysha from the depth of her heart. She fasted to punish herself further, falling asleep and waking to the gentle touch of a hand.

"Chris," she turned seeing him watch her, his hand on her in concern. She hadn't the heart to explain the blood, the tears, or what had happened. "Please go," she begged fully serious this time. He brought over a soapy cloth instead, cleansing the dried blood from her skin until it was all gone.

With no words he laid behind her and wrapped her in strong heavy arms, letting her cry as she was only upset with herself and what she was still willing to do despite the ordeal she had just been through.

She placed a finger over his lips and gave way to forbidden passion, falling under his body's love spell and succumbing to the love she could only receive after midnight. She rode him as if she could overwrite the night, the very thought a sin against her most honored goddess.

She rode herself further and further into physical exhaustion and Chris took over, touching her soul through her cervix to distract her from whatever pain she was feeling in her soul. He watched her fall into a deep sleep and when she awoke the next morning, he was gone.

She waited up the next night on edge for for her fix of him and to her disappointment, he didn't come. Instantly she knew something was wrong. Through the day, no one acknowledged having seen anyone or anything strange. Fayth still said nothing. Quin began to wonder if Chris was turned around due to nearly being caught. Maybe he couldn't get in without being seen.

Napping during the day, she laid awake at night, exhausted from her prayers and her duties. Her eyelids continuef to droop as she jolted awake every so often, fighting sleep. For the second night, Chris had not shown. She felt a strong sense of panic, like she'd fucked up more than previously imagined. She couldn't sleep. She had to know where he was and what he was doing. She needed to know he was okay and still coming to her.

The next day, she swallowed all pride and fear to flat out ask Fayth if she had seen a white man, 6 foot, strong, brunette.. creeping around the church.

"Priestess," Fayth spoke with an odd tone.

Quin was ready for the judgment and the vitriol. She would take it all for an answer.

"Priestess," Fayth said again, this time with regret.

"No," Quin whispered, feeling as though she'd been punched in the chest. Fayth’s tone spoke what had been creeping in the back of Quin’s mind since Chris' first absence.

"I'm sorry.. He's dead," Fayth whispered as if she hated to say it as much as Quin hated to hear it. "He died two nights ago. I heard about it through some of the temple servants."

Quin backed away, running outside for air to breathe. Goddess Raysha had her revenge and she blamed herself for being such a disgraceful priestess. If only she had sent him home that last night, he'd still be alive but she couldn't let him go. Crying, she began to hiccup with the tears. She had multiple chances and chose her own happiness every time. She chose her title over true love and she chose her selfish, lustful desires over true repentance and obedience to Raysha.

She deserved whatever she got.

Running in her heels, she clacked up the spiral staircase and ran straight into the upper sacred temple of Raysha, clacking to the clean altar.

"I know you hear me," she cried to the ceiling. "I know you're there.. and I deserve everything you've dished. I deserve it!"

Owning up to her sins, she confessed it all soberly, wiping her face clean. She'd reached a state of accepting it all.

"He's dead," she stated putting it behind her. She wouldn't do any rituals to bring him back, she'd done enough.

"I can't ask you anymore," she shrugged smiling up though her heart was broken.

"I can't be mad at you Raysha.. I-," she laughed dryly.

"Well… Just one more thing. Please," she begged, having never wanted anything more than to live her truth without restraint or barriers in this exact moment. "Please. If I've ever pleased you with anything in my 10 years as your priestess, grant me this last wish. Allow my sound to rest with his wherever it may be for eternity."

She grabbed the ornate ceremonial blade jabbing herself in the stomach before she could chicken out of the pain. Embracing it, she climbed on the altar and drove the blade into herself once more, feeling Raysha's sweet release, her life an acceptable sacrifice.

"Please," she pleaded once more as life left her quickly. "Give me.. the chance.. to apologize.. to.. him."

The ceing of the temple was the last thing she saw before the transition came and carried her so into the afterlife.

Quin died on the altar that day, her sacrifice atoning for her own transgressions as well as the Celestial Order's. Unfortunately, the Celestial Order of Raysha did not tighten up. The new priestess had to pay the price, in a ritual orgy with all the husbands and wives, this time the men were pegged and the council themselves were forced to join in to secure Raysha's message.

As for Quin and Chris..

Well no one ever found out, with the exception of Fayth and a couple of temple servants and they never told a soul.

If you were to ask them, they'd say Quin and Chris still stay together, as one soul in the sky. You can see it if you look up at night shining brighter than the others.

The End.

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