Prayers (for Rizzen)

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Prayers (for Rizzen)

Postby Keaira on Mon May 28, 2012 6:11 am

Keaira fled her meeting with Rizzen with as much grace as she could manage. Once she was out of sight she practically ran to her room, shutting out any servants or temple workers. It was not unusual for her door to be shut. It commonly known to leave her alone, no matter the sounds that might come from her room.

She took a cold bath, hoping it would cool the heat that burned through her body. But it didn’t. She was half surprised that the water in the tub didn’t boil as she sat in it. Finally she couldn’t stand it anymore. She told herself it wasn’t because he’d said for her to pray, but rather because he’d left her such a trembling mess.

Thoughts tumbled through her head as she knelt on the bare, stone floor before the altar she had to Ishtar in her room. Part of her wondered if he’d heard of her in town, and had been playing her like a skilled musician. The other part wondered if he had any idea the truth behind her nature, and her special connection to the gods.

Her wet hair was piled on top of her head, tendrils curling around her neck. Her flaming red hair was almost the color of blood when it was wet, making it look like there were trails of blood down her neck. Her exposed back was to the lone window in the room. On her back was an extensive tattoo of a rose over twisting vines. In the center of her back, a ruby imbedded in her flesh. She bowed her head, praying silently to Ishtar. A light seemed to spark within the gem, flashing around its bloody light. It was a light of its own, the sun through the window not casting light on the priestess’ body.

After an eternity, she picked up the whip before her. She handled it with care, and an ease that spoke of many hours spent with the whip. It had been made specifically for her, weighted for her to use on herself, the tongs of the lash the perfect length to curl around her body with each flip of the wrist.

And that was exactly what she began to do, as she prayed to her goddess. Her prayer was silent, and at the beginning, the only sound in the room was the whistling of the whip as she moved it from side to side, letting it slap against her skin, wrap it in a stinging embrace, only to be torn away and brought to the other side of her body. It didn’t take long for the whiteness of her skin to start turning red under the hard lashes of her masochistic prayer.
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Re: Prayers (for Rizzen)

Postby Rizzen on Mon May 28, 2012 10:18 pm

His path was never one that was direct, even as he walked through temples grounds, always listening always curious always searching he would pause as he heard a faint sound. He looked up at the window where he heard a familiar sound. He hoist himself up and peer through the window careful not to be seen by anyone within. As he watched he would lift a brow. Interesting the Priestess in the throws of flogging herself. He pull himself up fully and sit in the window sill watching her silently.
He watched every move ever beating laid upon herself in the name of pleasure. Mostly curious then enjoying the show. As he starts to loose interest he would clear his throat and speak loud enough to let her acknowledge his presence, "Had I known you were going to come here and merely beat yourself I might have done something much more," paused and searched for the words, "drastic, perhaps." He crossed his arms before his chest and shook his head. "I must say I am slightly disappointed that your goddess would expect that as a form of pleasure." He turn his head and spit out the window, "Broken Toys it seems, everyone has them even a goddess." He kept his eyes train on her and one thing that made him curious was the gem in her back.
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Re: Prayers (for Rizzen)

Postby Keaira on Tue May 29, 2012 12:13 am

Keaira was obviously enjoying the whipping, a light sheen of sweat breaking out over her skin. A soft moan as the pleasure continued to build in her. There was an unexpected sound at her window that made her jump. She twisted as quickly as she could, but it took a moment for her brain to switch from the engulfing pleasure to the fact that the moriel was on her window sill.

She listened to him before carefully turning her back on him, placing the flogger on her small altar. For a moment it seemed like she would ignore him, but finally she turned back to him, her face more like what it had been earlier, the vestiges of pleasure gone. If she was upset at his upsetting her prayers, she didn’t let it show.

Those green eyes studied him for a long time before she answered. “Do you really think me a broken toy? Do I scrap and bow and cringe as if I have no will of my own?” She moved slightly so that she could see him better, crossing her arms over her stomach, but not making any move to cover her nakedness. “Ishtar is the goddess of pleasure. You get pleasure from causing pain. Why would she not create a creature that gets pleasure in receiving that pain? Does she care if you rape a victim? No. As long as it brings you pleasure, and in the end you dedicate that pleasure to her. But how much more powerful would her offerings be if both parties were receiving blinding pleasure?” She doubted he would understand the purpose. Most people didn’t understand, some even went so far as to call her a freak for her desire for pain. But it was as important to her as breathing, something she had no control over.
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