Urban Temples of Cthulhu - Modern Mythos Anthology

by Khurt Khave

Pain. Pain! PAIN!

  The gag hardly muted her screams, her teeth bit deep into the rubber

  ball. If she could have twisted she would have, but the massive rack and the immovable straps around her arms, legs, waist and head made that impossible. She only could hang and feel.

  And she felt and felt.

  Pain. Sweet pain. Save pain.

  Leon walked to the front and wiped a loose lock of hair from her face.

  Carefully he looked into her eyes. Was she alright? Was she still conscious? “Very good, sweet. The pattern is really beautiful. Are you okay?” She blinked a “yes,” the only kind of movement she could make. Tenderly he cleaned some drool from her chin and he kissed her open

  mouth: rubber, metal, leather and her soft lips. “I love you, sweet. I am going

  to do your buttocks now.”

  Two other branding irons, different patterns, just like the first, oh so

  carefully crafted by Leon. Copied from old manuscripts, forged with special

  instruments, with spells, under specific constellations. Occult, magical, old,

  secret – cursed, damned? Maybe. They were keys of a gate, and she would go

  where he sent her. Everything else was unimportant.

  The second and the third iron hurt even more, if possible. Nathalie

  welcomed wave after wave of pure intense feelings.

  For two months Nathalie slept on her belly; her back and behind were covered with terrible scabs. She dreamed feverish dreams she couldn't remember, but which drained all her energy. She took antibiotics and sleeping pills and slept deeper. When she woke up she still couldn't remember her dreams.

  Finally the last scabs fell off and sharp scarlet patterns emerged; strange lines that seemed to deceive the eye, depth where there was no depth, the suggestion of movement, a landscape of body curves and scarred skin which was not chaos, but where the lay-out was. . .non-human.

  The scarlet would become pinkish silver, Leon assured her, just a little bit lighter then her skin, but that would still take months. For now she could shower again and sleep on her back.

  It was time to do her breasts and stomach.

  There are many ways that lead to other worlds. The way of dreams, the way of death, the way of madness, the way of damnation. . .and other ways.

  The summer was wet and windy, but today it was sunny. Cleaning day! Nathalie decided. The last few months she hadn't done much of that because of the scabs on her belly and breasts. But the wounds were healed now and it was time for some thorough house cleaning. Her love was capable in a lot of things, but not cleaning. Today she was going to do the laundry first, after that the living room and the kitchen, and finally the bathroom.

  Leon had left early this morning. He had a job on some manor, over an hour away, the restoration of a Victorian iron fence. Whole parts needed to be replaced. It would pay the bills the coming month.

  With all the work it was noon in the blink of an eye. After a few tomato and cheese sandwiches and some tea for lunch Nathalie went to the backyard to hang the laundry, it was still sunny outside. Birds sang and far away a passenger jet started its descent for the nearby airport. Hmm, the lawn needs to be mowed. If my love has time this weekend he can take care of that.

  While she was holding the empty laundry basket it hit Nathalie how surrealistic everything was, those household tasks; if it worked out the way Leon had planned, they would be swimming in money. Farewell worries about the car, about groceries, and the hundred and one other little things. They would buy a nice house, would travel abroad, and would live the good life.

  If and would. They weren't there yet. Actually it all seemed a bit like a fanciful fantasy, like winning the lottery, or a surprise inheritance of an unknown aunt. If they were swimming in money it would be great. But until then life went on as usual. Leon earned the money, she took care of the house. They had enough to get by, but sometimes they had to save up for a while to buy things. Not that they had money problems, they needed nobody, together they could manage. That had always been the case, and that was still the case. But the future, who knew?

  Oceans? There are no oceans. It is a lie, a deception. All seas are connected. There is only one sea, one primeval ocean. You do not sail the North Sea, the South Sea or whatever artificial concept. No, you sail every sea at once.

  The clippers sounded like a swarm of angry bees and Nathalie cringed. Hair fell to the floor, silent as black snow flakes.

  Leon never demanded before she would be hairless – yes down there, sure, but she was doing that already for years – and it was a lot worse then she thought it would be. Nathalie bit her lip when again some hair fell down. I'm not gonna cry. Really not! She blinked a few times.

  “Sit still, sweet.” His hand rested on her head, his fingers pressed against her temples, neck and throat, and calmed her, as usual. His hands, those hands could love and hurt, only with what was a more intense form of love.

  The clippers finally were quiet. Nathalie didn't move at all. She knew they weren't ready yet.

  The steel of the sharp razor scraped her skin, searching for the smallest stubble. A volley of shudders ran through her when the molecule thick edge touched her nerve endings.

  Scratch, scratch. His fingers forced her head up, down, sideways. The steel followed her skin from crown to neck, behind her ears, every curve, every dimple. Scratch, scratch.

  And then, no more steel. Only Leon's warm hand touching her smooth head, trusted and protective. Finally Nathalie dared to take a deep breath.

  “Tonight it will happen, sweet.”

  Yes! Tonight! She was ready for it, she was transformed. From the outside and the inside. It all was in balance. Nathalie cuddled in his protective arms. With him she dared anything.

  Apocalyptic cults are as old as religion itself. There seems to be a deep rooted human need to believe one lives in that special End of Times when sinners will be punished and true believers will sit at the table of the Savior God.

  Most of those cults dissolve after a few generations: it is too difficult to believe year after year the end is near. Those cults which survive put the Apocalypse to some undefined time in the far future. The pure religious zeal of the first generation is replaced by the daily struggle of defending the interests of the leaders and the group as a whole: power, wealth, submission and such.

  The dozens of candles provided the only light in the room. In the middle stood the trusted rack with the thick leather straps. Today the contraption was a little bit tilted, to make sure her body was supported when she was strapped in. Leon built it himself and improved it to perfection. It was their favorite piece of furniture. How many hours had she spent strapped to it? Many. Glorious many.

  Standing in front of the rack Nathalie breathed deeply to calm her nerves. These were not the normal sweet jitters before a session (What was he going to do, could she handle it?) No, tonight was the night. This evening they would – she, by his hand – take the big step. Six years ago Leon found the old manuscripts in the floorboard of a 17thcentury parish house he was helping to restore. The papers were written in Latin and included strange, very detailed sketches. Just out of curiosity Leon started to read the papers, Latin had been part of his education and Medieval Latin was a nice challenge. But what started out as something fun, changed into surprise, fascination and a quest for knowledge. And now, after all those years, also the path to riches. If they succeeded. . .

  A chill ran over Nathalie's back. What were they doing? Had they both become insane without realizing it? Other worlds, beings older then humanity, that wasn't possible, was it? It surely was all nonsense?

  Of course it was all nonsense, unless. . .unless it was all true. Her love saw her tremble. Leon took her in his strong, safe arms. “Are you ready, sweet? Be honest. If not, we won't do it.”

  He would throw away six years of work if she asked him, his dreams, his hope, his burning desire to know. She knew that with her whole heart. But she didn't want t
o give up. Not because she was branded and shaven, not because she wanted to be rich, or know the secrets of the universe. No, she wanted it for her love, and for herself. Tonight they would go further than ever before. In the deepest of the deeps they would go, and she desired that. She wanted to float there, to swim. She longed for the emptiness. Nathalie raised her head, looked at him, “I want to do it.”

  Leon held her for one moment more, “I love you,” he said softly. “And I love you,” she whispered back.

  He blindfolded her, strapped her to the rack.

  Pain, sensory deprivation, submission: stimuli and feelings (Why do I

  allow this? and I can bear this, I can!) that influenced and intensified each other. The brain released subtle substances, natural drugs with the effect of warm well being.

  Leon knew exactly how to play Nathalie. He could make her beg for mercy, he could let her hover endlessly – cruelly teasing – on the edge of pleasure, he could make her feel alive, take her to the highest peak and deepest abyss. But tonight there was a different destination. Tonight he wanted Nathalie to surrender to that silent empty place in her core where nothing existed; no time, no responsibilities, no worries. Only endless peaceful emptiness – Zen, nirvana, subspace.

  All the time he monitored his sweet. For Nathalie, surrender was something very difficult, even while she loved and trusted him unconditionally. To surrender yourself to the emptiness. Her body and mind would only take that last step if they were convinced there really was no other option left. If all doors where closed except that last one.

  Little by little he pushed her further. They were one together. Leon saw Nathalie's every shudder, heard her every breath, read her like an open book. Her life depended on him, and nothing was more important than her life.

  Nathalie breathed out slowly. She had felt lightning through her body, biting sharply. She had been part of a volcano, hot and torrid. She felt the massive heartbeat of the world. She had screamed and begged, cried and laughed. Pain, tension, excitement, lust, trust. Nathalie didn't exist anymore, or almost so. There only was a tiny piece of her left, a last few thoughts, a shred of a safety net. The last silk thread of her self-consciousness. She could not let go, no matter how much she wanted to.

  Just one push. Quietly Leon put his hand on the spot where Nathalie's neck supported her skull. He pinched, not even very hard, more like you would pick up a kitten to reprimand her softly. At the same time the nails of his other hand skated down her neck and spine. He blew softly, like the last summer wind.

  It was enough.

  Nathalie surrendered.

  No more safety net.

  . . .

  She swam

  in the red twilight

  deep down in the warm sea

  endless

  without thoughts.

  Slow swimming.

  This was the place she came to if the pain and the pleasure became

  too much and she had to let go. Here, there was no time, no responsibility, no thoughts.

  Warm

  Red

  Sea

  Nathalie floated in the nothingness. This was the Surrender, the sweet emptiness. Her body was somewhere else, she was HERE.

  . . .

  There was, something down in the depths. Something waiting for her. Lazily Nathalie swam on, without a specific direction, because in the Warm Red Sea there were no directions.

  She swam. And swam. How long and how far she swam, she did not know, and maybe those things couldn't be measured. Her body was strapped to a rack, her spirit swam. But whatever the case, finally she felt something. There was something in the Warm Read Sea, a kind of presence, massive, huge and indifferent like a rock was indifferent, or an ancient tree. With the nonchalance of a dreamer, Nathalie nodded. This was why she was here. She swam on.

  One moment there was only the Warm Read Sea, the next moment, down below, was the sunken city. It was a real city. The buildings were covered with seaweed, but even in the red twilight Nathalie could see how big the metropolis was. Crooked towers raised high like broken teeth, domes, pillars, massive blocks of buildings with strange shapes, zigzag streets running Escher-like and ending in deep shadows.

  In the middle of it all was a construction, bigger then all the others put together. A construction? No, a hill, a mountain, dominating the mysterious city. The buildings surrounded the mountain like worshippers kneeling for the gigantic sculpture of their idol.

  Is this a dream?

  There was no sound in the red twilight world, no clue at all, but in her heart Nathalie knew she had to swim to the mountain. That was why she was here, it called her without words, just by its overwhelming presence.

  She swam on.

  Distances were deceiving. She swam on and on, but somehow it was like there appeared more and more buildings. The mountain didn't look much closer to her.

  I am going to take a look down there.

  She descended to the dark shadow city that slept in the red water.

  Swimming down, she started to realize how enormous everything was. What looked from a distance like regular blocks of houses turned out to be a forest of weird skyscrapers. And those were the smaller buildings! Titanic domes reached upwards. Twisted bridges, tilted polyhedrons, towers that looked like serpentine thorny branches. Pyramids, cones, sharp cliffs and deep ravines clothed in a dead blackness.

  Curious, Nathalie looked at the city. This was not why she was here, but these ruins were wonderful! Suddenly she realized she didn't use her hands for swimming. Her body was strong and flexible, like that of a dolphin. She only had to; to move, to glide, with ease. She sliced through the water like she had always lived there. No pathetic struggling like a land creature. Euphoric, Nathalie went deeper and deeper.

  The creatures saw her before she saw them. Maybe they were watching her the whole time. A school came out of the shadows. They were elegant, with big eyes and shining skin that didn't seem to consist of scales. Their head was connected to their body almost without a neck. Sharp spines ran over their back. Like humans they had two arms and legs, but they certainly weren't human. Three of them swam towards Nathalie.

  Nathalie didn't wait for them. Eager and full of curiosity, she went to see the wonderful creatures.

  They greeted her with low rumbling, a bit like the sound of a whale, but much lower. Nathalie smiled her dreamer's smile. Only now was she close enough to see how big they were; two, three meters, although the school appeared to have even bigger ones. Powerful muscles, wide mouths, no nose, with gills at the sides of their throats. The hands and feet were webbed. The creatures circled her, and she swam inbetween. Their big eyes watched her, and one of them extended his enormous hand.

  Shivering with excitement, Nathalie let the creature stroke her body. In the red warmth the hand was cool, electric, rough and smooth at the same time. The brandings on her body came alive where the creature touched her. Hot energy raced along the lines. Nathalie trembled, groaned. It was like Leon touching her, but ten thousand times stronger. Ohhhh, if this is a dream, it's a greeeeeeeeeeat dream.

  Low humming, croaking, other hands touching her, following the lines of her brandings, of her body. The intense wonderful energy was everywhere, on her skin, under her skin, her nerves, her brain. Nathalie convulsed and moaned.

  The creatures seemed to feel the same emotions. They rubbed against Nathalie – goosebumbseverywheeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeere – and a low humming from the deep of their throats.

  Wave after wave went through Nathalie. She didn't control her body anymore, all her strength had evaporated. She could only submit and feel. She was one with the Warm Red Sea, with the creatures, with everything.

  Her body, limp from everything, touched the roof of a building and instinctively she grabbed one of the many pointy spikes. One hand found something solid, under her other hand she felt something breaking; a piece of stone, weakened by the patient eons. Her hand closed around it.

  Hanging on the bed of sharp stone, Na
thalie closed her eyes. All at once she was so tired, so exhausted from the wild ecstasy she had experienced.

  The creatures seemed to sense her mood. Lazily they swam in bigger and bigger circles away from her. Their croaking voices sounded sad. With her last bit of energy Nathalie waved them goodbye.

  The Warm Red Sea

  She wanted to sleep.

  How could she sleep, in a dream?

  She slept, and did not sleep. In her dream she dreamed that she swam. Back, away from the city with the enormous mountain, away from the beautiful creatures. She swam and swam until there was no city anymore, and on she swam.

  Warm water became warm air.

  Thick became thin.

  Low flat sounds became sharp pinpricks.

  With a deep moan Nathalie opened her eyes.

  “Are you okay?” Leon asked, steady as a steel gray sky. Are you safe, sweet? You were unconscious for so long. In him a fire fueled by his worries roared, but he controlled himself. Only if he was tranquil he could be there for Nathalie.

  “Hmmmyessss.” Nathalie looked woozy, but that was always the way after an intense session. Her breath was deep and steady, but whole her face was wet like she had a high fever.

  “What was the name of your first cat?” Leon's voice was quiet, not demanding, but nonetheless an anchor Nathalie could grab.

  “Hmmm? Pooky.”

  Relief. His sweet was at least partly clear of mind. Leon released the straps which bound Nathalie to the rack. Click click click, every strap could be released with one pull. Click click click. When she was completely free, he lifted her. Automatically she flung her arms around him. The bed wasn't even ten paces away, in the next room. He had carried her so many times, his sweet, she was so light.

  Did it work? Is it really. . .? Can it be? His thoughts were a hurricane of hundreds of questions, but he ignored them all. Nathalie was his priority, everything else came later. First she needed to return, to get back step by step, slowly and safely, like they always did after an intense session. That was the most important thing.

  He laid her down in the big bed and put her under a blanket. Bottles with water and soda stood on the nightstand, but that was for later. First she wanted just to be cuddled. Leon laid down beside her and put his arms around her. Nathalie's body was cold, but that was nothing unusual after a session.