Legacy of Judas - Book One

by Aragon, Christian

  “That’s a dark shade of red. You're a brunette; you trying to be Goth or something?” She suddenly blurted with snide inflections made tackier by her accent. You should wear more of a fuck-me red so the guys will notice you more. It'll make you look more inviting.”

  “You should try actually being an intelligent, eloquent, and confident woman rather than pretending to be such by putting down others.” Vic picked up on this woman’s game without any help from us. The Brit was shocked her guise was so easily seen through and that she was taken to task for it so blatantly. She stood from her seat abruptly and excused herself in an obnoxious tone while stomping off to the lavatory with her nose in the air.

  We thought maybe we could ease some more of the tension Vic was feeling by having some fun with the bitchy Brit. All the souls within the book got it into their heads that maybe they could also bring her a new sense of humility and respect for others. I suspected that was going to be a very big maybe, at least until the Brit provided an opportunity.

  We followed the Brit into the lavatory and sat back to watch her for a moment to see what might come about. She primped her hair a bit, and then moved her face closer to the small mirror to check her skin for any blemishes and her makeup for any needed touchups. She produced her lipstick; it was fuck-me red, and she refreshed the color on her lips. It was glossy and stood out a bit too dramatically against her pale British flesh. She puckered up, blew her reflection a kiss, and winked at herself. With most conceited people that sort of self-admiration would've been as far as it went, but not with this little bird. While her face was close to the mirror, she could see the rather low décolletage of her top in the reflection, and she proceeded to look at her own cleavage for a few moments. Her eyes glanced back up so she was looking herself in the eye; that's when our opportunity was about to be presenting itself.

  “Like what you see, don't you?” She was speaking to her reflection as it were another person admiring her physical beauty.

  “Well, were all alone here and more than a mile up in the air. Wanna take advantage of it?” The Brit’s voice was deep, breathy, as her respiration became slightly erratic as she looked to her reflection with an inviting grin. She started feeling her breasts through the fabric of her top with one hand while her other hand started roaming down her belly to her groin through her designer jeans. Suddenly we heard someone enter the lavatory across from this one, and the Brit realized she probably didn't have a lot of time before a flight attendant checked in on her. Quickly she removed her top and strapless bra, and then slid her jeans down to her ankles, and of course she wasn't wearing any undies. She then sat down on the lid of the tiny commode.

  Quickly, frantically, the Brit started diddling her fleshy little bead with one hand while inserting the fingers of the other into her already wet ostium. She leaned her head back, which happened place her noggin right into the crotch of our human-ish form. She closed her eyes. Unconsciously one of her feet escapes its black stiletto, freed itself from the leg of her jeans, and then braced against the door of her claustrophobic enclosure. This gave her the better position to open herself further and let her fingers impale deeper.

  Mortals have no idea how much power rests in their sex. The creative sex of their minds. The biological sex of their genitalia. The infinite sex of their souls. But this one was about to get an idea of that power.

  We changed the contortions of the pages making up the hands of this form. Gently we laid them flatly against the skin of her arms almost immediately causing thousands of little goose bumps to rise. Our own digits split by the hundreds and extended our reach down to her hands and fingers, tracing the pathways of her nerves, and enhancing the tactile sensations from her own fingertips. She’s never felt herself like this while feeling herself like this.

  With her head in our lap our form again accommodated the creation of thousands of tiny new tendrils tracing the nervous system within the Brit’s mortal mind and engaging with her immortal core. As fast as her blood was now coursing through her veins we were reaching throughout her body and soul, and into the most intimate of the pleasure centers of each making them as one. Not unlike Vic’s Unity Command, the Brit now had unprecedented access to all the pleasures she could ever be capable of while alone. It was now her choice to act upon it, and act upon it she did.

  Let the fun begin.

  With her fingers inside her, and our fingers inside her as well, we accentuated and amplified those digits within her soul in an attempt to thoroughly stimulate her from within. The Brit’s body actually picked up on it very quickly! Her breathing became yet more erratic as her skin suddenly sprouted goose bumps all over from the electricity sparking between her flesh and soul. We peeked into her memories for more stimulus to feed her and found she had experimented sexually with other women in her past, and this time her aroused state was because Vic. This was too good to pass up!

  We started projecting flashes of Vic in provocative clothing and various states of undress into the Brit’s thoughts from our own memories. Just flashes though as it wasn't our intention to violate Vic by exposing her. All those times seeing her after a shower with a towel wrapped around her, or doing schoolwork in a sheer flannel on her bed. We even threw in a little of Vic atop Vin silhouetted against the evening’s lights from outside. The images in the Brit’s head excited her more, but we were now dampening her ability to actually climax while still heightening all of the other sensations she was experiencing. We knew this could go so much further and weren't about to let her off so easily.

  She started having small muscle spasms, one of which caused her foot to jerk wildly unlocking the door to the lavatory and throwing it open from the pressure she held against it. Suddenly the Brit stood and exited the tiny room while still pleasuring herself and basically nude. Her jeans were still wrapped around her ankle and a stiletto still adorned her foot beneath the jeans. We were riding her shoulders with our legs crossed on her chest. This gave yet more of us access to her soul within her chest and the nerves of her breasts. Her nipples, and the whole of her breasts, were now reacting and sending an overflow of pleasurable sensations to her brain and throughout her body. Her wanton desire was well vocalized as she also whimpered and cooed in elation of electric ecstasies enveloping her every part and portion. The pleasure centers of her soul and mortal body were firing wildly and simultaneously as she staggered and stumbled back through the aisle of the plane, towards Vic. Clearly her mind was now on a single track and her engine actuating towards just one goal.

  Passengers were standing, gasping, and screaming in shock. Others were yelling at the Brit to cover her shame and calm herself. Still just a few attempted to grab her and forcibly restrain her, but her skin is so slicked with a combination of her own sweat, and the body oils she had applied that morning, she easily wriggles from their grips and threatens rape charges upon landing if anyone else touches her. Victoria is now the Brit’s obsession, and relief from her prolonged bliss is to be her reward at any cost.

  Ahead, at the front of the aisle, Vic steps out from her seat to see what the commotion is all about. Others are stepping out from their seats, but the Brit can now see the cause of her impassioned delirium, and the effect of seeing Vic caused her legs to weaken and force her to her knees. Every single square inch of the Brit’s body is tingling and begging for rapturous glory, while her very soul burns for but a moment of Vic’s enthusiastic affection, or even just the sweet touch of her hand.

  It only took a moment for the others who'd abandoned their seats to realize the Brit was staring at Vic. They all looked to Vic as if she could somehow quench this woman’s thirst, and so she did.

  Tall, beautiful, and statuesque, Vic seemed to step down the aisle in slow motion. The Brit was still fervently abusing her right as a sexual woman to feel pleasure, and we fervently exercised our ability to let her body and mind know more of it than she knew possible. The crowd parted to let Vic into the Brit’s immediate accompaniment.

  Vic k
nelt. She and the Brit stared into one another's eyes and Vic’s dark red lips smiled sweetly as she tilted her head slightly in empathy. Vic reached out gently and placed her hand to the Brit’s cheek lovingly, and with that touch we removed all blocks from the Brit’s glory! A cry exploded from the core of her core as her mind, body and soul shivered, shook, quaked, and convulsed in a beautiful and violent release. The Brit’s thighs suddenly drenched in liquid lust splashing a bit on nearby passengers, and upon Vic. But whereas the passengers jerked back and reacted in disgust and confusion, Vic only continued letting the Brit nestle her face into Vic’s palm as they stared into one another’s eyes.

  Several minutes passed before the Brit’s peak calmed and her sex acquiesced and submitted itself to serenity. We had climbed off her to help facilitate her recovery as Vic and a flight attendant presented towels and a blanket. Vic seemed to be the only one able to approach and touch the Brit at the moment, so everyone simply gave Vic, and the attendant in tow, room to assist her back to her seat.

  Once back in their seats, as was everyone else, one of the passengers asked Vic if she knew what happened to cause this episode. Vic was faster with her answer than I could've expected.

  “She suffers from Tourette's-nymphomania. It's rare. Our apologies for the outburst.” And with that Vic simply smiled till the passenger went away.

  Well now! That went farther than we could’ve hoped!

  We glanced around the cabin and saw that most of the people were trying to decipher what was happening, while others, in particular a conservatively-dressed woman who was holding her hand over the eyes of a little boy, were well aware of what the woman was experiencing. Though they obviously had no clue as to why, they'll no doubt have fun telling their relatives about this flight.

  Vic was holding the Brit in her arms as they sat calmly in their first class seats. At first the Brit was incredibly embarrassed. After all, we left her conscious of every single sensation she experienced, as well as where she was and by whom she was surrounded. But due to our amplification of all of her body’s responses to what she was doing to herself, curiosities and epiphanies soon overcame her shame.

  Vic’s words were soft and reassuring. She did not scold the Brit nor did she make any fun of her for the experience she just went through. Vic did ask her an interesting question though…

  “How are you feeling after all that?” Seemed a simple enough question…

  “Oh my GAWD!!! It was like the very essence of my being was trying to show me something about myself! I've been such a horrible person to so many others! But now that I've not only humiliated myself in front of all these people, but at the same time I felt so indescribably complete as a person, not to mention the pleasures saturating me so thoroughly, I feel like I haven't been the person I should be in any way. I feel like I should be more… well… I feel like life might be more pleasing if I correct the way I've acted and treated others.” She was so sincere, animated, and shaken in such a good way. It wasn't what we intended. We were looking for a bit of mischief and inadvertently bridged a chasm in her being.

  “Looking to catch more fuzzy bumblebees with honey rather than vinegar?”

  “Exactly!” The Brit’s face lit up and she smiled broadly. She was entirely, sincerely humble as it seemed all her previous mannerisms of snooty, feigned nobility had completely exited the plane while in-flight. Though we intended to let her experience some humility, we certainly didn't expect a full transformation of any sort.

  Soon the captain announced the beginning of the descent. So many hours on this flight because Vic hasn’t caught on to tearing open passages within the mortal realm to other places in the same realm. But let's face it — this flight turned into a great experience unintended!

  The flight attendant, who is also British, came by to check on our Brit, Persephone, and asked if she was feeling better after her ordeal.

  “Quite well now, thank you!” Our flabbergasted flight companion responded with an enthusiasm she certainly didn't board this plane with. Then the flight attendant nervously handed Persephone a folded piece of paper and went on her rounds checking on the other passengers. We peeked at it, of course.

  “Thank you for flying with us today, and I hope you enjoyed your flight. Sincerely, Margaret Smithee, Flight Attendant Supervisor, Flight 771.” Ms. Smithee also went on to leave what appeared to be her personal phone number in Cambridge. Well, I guess this flight turned out particularly well for this young lady, and I’m glad I had something to help pass the time and write about.

  For her own peace of mind Vic asked if we initiated what happened — raped her — in short, which was a touch insulting due to my own past, which Vic is privy to, but I understand why she asked. We are sinners after all; some within the book were rapists. Our response was simple and completely truthful.

  “Persephone initiated the act and we made it all it could be for her. That is all. She had free will to stop any time she wanted.” Vic smiled and even laughed just a little. Unfortunately this lighter mood all but vanished as we disembarked the plane.

  Cambridge was just as it should be; a steady drizzle, thoroughly overcast and gloomy. It seemed that once Victoria was on the ground again her capacity for jocularity was quickly washed away by the moisture in the air. The atmosphere was palpably heavier with our situation being such as it was as we stepped off the plane.

  Victoria’s London Fog seemed to catch every breeze and draped upon the air in her wake in long, fluid folds. Vic's long, dark hair moved just as gracefully as everything around her seemed to be moving at a hundred miles an hour. There's such a power to her grace and elegance, something not typically seen in others of similar youth. There's an energy about her, and perhaps that's what the Mexican and Lucifer have seen in her.

  At this moment, on the way to her destination of a who more so than a where, perhaps Victoria was the most important person on Earth, though completely unbeknownst to all others. But, perhaps, it could be we were seeing her this way because somewhere deep in our minds and hearts we suspected this was the last time we would see Victoria as she is now. Perhaps before we’re done here, she will be truly a changed woman, but for the better or the worse we simply do not know.

  Journal entry LIV

  Vic collected the one piece of luggage she brought for the trip, obviously not knowing how long she’d be staying for, but with plenty of resources at her fingertips to stay as long as necessary. We were heading out to hale a taxi when we caught notice of a chauffeur holding up a handwritten card with “Victoria N” printed on it. We’re fairly certain Vincent didn’t quite have the resources to throw around for this, so it must be a setup of some sort.

  “Victoria N…?” Vic said to the driver.

  “Miss Nyles, we have your transportation waiting out front. May I take your bag?”

  “Who sent you for me?”

  “My apologies, Miss Nyles, but I’ve been given very explicit instructions to say as little as possible, nor may I engage in even simple conversation. Even the weather is off limits.” His accent was thick and stately with careful pronunciations of even the simplest words. With those words he gently reached out to take Vic’s bag and she hesitantly let it go.

  The limo was a beautiful old Bentley with tinted windows, suicide doors, stocked bar and leather interior. Vincent definitely did not send this car. Despite the chauffeur having said we have your transportation, Vic and the chauffeur were the only two people in the car.

  From the airport we were taken out to the country to a rather large house with a very long driveway. No one would hear anything out here should things go awry for Vic, but then again, no one would hear anything should anything go awry for Vic’s hosts either. Though it was nearly dark we could see the grounds were well maintained, which brought us to the conclusion this wasn’t just some abandoned home we were approaching. The outside lights were already turned on showing a beautiful, red-brick and stone country estate home. It was smaller than many of the wealth
ier homes in the area with perhaps only ten bedrooms and the exterior of the home had what must’ve been a hundred years of ivy growth climbing the walls. The ridiculously long driveway was edged on each side with a gauntlet of very tall trees, which encircled the home with roughly a fifty foot buffer between them and the house all the way around. Here the car made its way around a large pool with what appeared to be a granite exterior tall enough to sit upon comfortably. In the center of the pool was a statue depicting a classically-styled feather-winged angel wielding a claymore against a classically-styled devil with the typical proportionate bat’s wings so common to this type of artistry. The angel is lighted in white from two directions while the devil is lighted in red from below the water in the pool.