An Evil Presence [Fiction]

[interesting]

I have an idea for a story which I want to develop. As it will deal with highly sensitive and mature themes and contain graphic depictions of violence and sexuality, I felt it was better to be included in this section.

As opposed to my other works (like Sexual Zombies or DareGirls) which contain some level of humor to supplement the story, this one is not intended along that fashion.

Just wanted to issue this advisory. I will write a beginning to this story; if it generates interest, I'll see how far I can take it.

[Zeromus]

Join the dark side Interesting... We have a Jacuzzi.

That is to say, there are those who CAN do R-Rated, and those who CANNOT. You are the former. I anticipate this upcoming entry. (side note, did you even intend for S.Z to be taken seriously?)

[CheshireCat_13]

While I don't think I've ever posted a comment on one of your stories, I have read most of them. I did enjoy the Daregirl Epic and I am still reading the Trial of Friends. Please post the beginning of the story and continue it no matter what people say, as I think that it'll turn out amazing anyway.

[interesting]

It did not have a name, at least not one as understood by normal standards. It had existed since the beginning of time and would only be terminated upon the finality of the universe. It dwelled in its existence for only one purpose: to serve the will of corruption. It would do so incessantly over eons and would never deviate from its purpose. It had no choice but to be what it is: an agent of evil and corruption.

It did, however, have many faces. These faces were not known to anyone but the truly devout, and even they only knew one of its face, perhaps two if they had the opportunity to dwell within more than one lifetime. Each face was unique, a reflection of something dark within each devotee. Each face carried its own seed of corruption and tainted the very existence of the universe, making men and women fall into the abyss of their own decadence.

Humanity held no secrets for it. It could peer the masks that humanity chose to wear to hide its indecency and its vilainy. It could strip the bones off the still living and bring anguish and agony to the dead. There were no forces in the world strong enough to resist it at length, and all those who tried eventually succumbed to its inevitable conclusion.

Its servants were many, though most did not even know they served it. Its presence had been carried along the soul of the world since the dawn of creation, part of every living thing, incarnate in every non-living being as well. It did not discriminate in its influence over the entirety of the cosmos. All were equally perverted by its malevolence, and all took delight in the dark and demented designs it weaved into their hearts and souls. Those few servants who were aware of its dark presence worshipped out of blind fear, for they knew the depths of depravity which it could push them towards.

Every act of kindness is always balanced by an equal of selfishness. Such is the law of equivalence. Such was the law that its followers adhered to. For each moment of joy there had to be a moment of sadness; each moment of pleasure demanded an equal moment of pain. Their duties were to provide these when the universe failed to acknowledge the need.

Thus were born the Breeders, dispensers of balance across the realms of man.

[Zeromus]

Intriguing as always. Keep up the good work.

[CheshireCat_13]

Ooooh.....Such purdy writing! I'm writhing in joy.....
I'm going to finally comment on one of your stories and tell you that there amazing.
I loved how you have good vocabulary, your sentences flow, the grammatical stuff is near perfect, and your use of description in wonderful.
Carry on.....

By the way, is this story going to be about the conscience and morality of people? As in, will that be a theme?

[interesting]

Thank you all for your comments. They are much appreciated.

Cheshire Cat, the story will deal with 'perversions' of humanity. Conscience and morality will of course be part of the whole.

Thanks for support.

[Officelover]

Hmm...

Don't really know what to think. I like the fantasy-like (or in other words, fantastic) feel to it. I do not, however, subscribe to the philosophies etched into your story, but as implied it is just a story.

Please, go on. I've noticed that there are more and more fantasy, sci-fi, and other types of stories in these forums. I'm excited.

[CleverGirl]

This should not be something published on a GD site, this should be the beginning of a published novel. Exceptional work. I haven't read any of your stories yet, but I am loving this! Good work!

[interesting]

It's so hard, nowadays, to get anything published through standard means. Editing houses literally have hundreds if not thousands of manuscripts coming through each month and they usually have the money to print one or two. Making your mark is very difficult; it's all about getting your name thrown into the ring. Usually, once you're in, you have it made. Think of people like Dan Brown, Stephen King or J.K. Rowling. Some deserve it, some don't, it's strictly a matter of opinion.

And for those who are interested in reading more of my stories, if you haven't done so yet, I have several on the site:

- After Classes Are Over
http://www.getdare.com/bbs/showthread.php?t=15859
- Sarah's Flirtations (the prequel to ACAO)
http://www.getdare.com/bbs/showthread.php?t=15912
- Trials of Friends (the sequel to ACAO, almost complete)
http://www.getdare.com/bbs/showthread.php?t=16368
- Trials: Past Experiences (an upcoming follow-up to Trials of Friends)
http://www.getdare.com/bbs/showthread.php?t=19647

I also have a few that are set in a different tone:

- Sexual Zombies (horror and zombie satire; ongoing)
http://www.getdare.com/bbs/showthread.php?t=16691
- DareGirl and Friends: A Super Epic (super hero sexy satire)
http://www.getdare.com/bbs/showthread.php?t=16991
- Video Chat Dating (an ongoing online writing experiment)
http://www.getdare.com/bbs/showthread.php?t=19727
- An Evil Presence (this one here)
http://www.getdare.com/bbs/showthread.php?t=19684

Thank you for the comments, CleverGirl, they are very much appreciated.

[molten man]

professional writing i should say!!!

[interesting]

And the woman was arrayed in purple and scarlet colour, and decked with gold and precious stones and pearls, having a golden cup in her hand full of abominations and filthiness of her fornication:
And upon her forehead was a name written, MYSTERY, BABYLON THE GREAT, THE MOTHER OF HARLOTS AND ABOMINATIONS OF THE EARTH.
And I saw the woman drunken with the blood of the saints, and with the blood of the martyrs of Jesus: and when I saw her, I wondered with great admiration.
And here is the mind which hath wisdom. The seven heads are seven mountains, on which the woman sitteth
And there are seven kings: five are fallen, and one is, and the other is not yet come; and when he cometh, he must continue a short space.
And the beast that was, and is not, even he is the eighth, and is of the seven, and goeth into perdition.
And the ten horns which thou saw are ten kings, which have received no kingdom as yet; but receive power as kings one hour with the beast.
And he saith unto me, The waters which thou sawest, where the whore sitteth, are peoples, and multitudes, and nations, and tongues.
And the woman which thou sawest is that great city, which reigneth over the kings of the earth.

--- Book of Revelation, chapters 17-18

Her name was Amnet. She lived in the times before Hammurabi. Her world was a glorious one, confused with lust, desire, envy and hatred. She lived passionately and died violently.

She had a cohort of slaves, both male and female, with whom she was said to hold carnal activities. Her feasts were things of legend. The mead and the food from these gatherings could sustain armies; the exposed flesh only served to enrapture her guests into the welcoming arms of pleasure. She was rumored to have slept with more than fifty men in the same day.

She was also cruel with her lovers. If they failed to perform to her liking, she often had the men castrated, and the women's breasts were chopped off. She often tied her servants down into a secluded room, away from prying eyes, where she would prod them in their various holes with sharp instruments. She enjoyed the screams; she was said to pleasure herself to the sound of her entourage being tortured for her benefit.

She would often walk naked in the halls of the temple, or in the streets of the city. She would invite men to rape her in the city streets, to exact their vengeance upon her body; it was unclear how she went about this and still remained alive after the ordeals. She was often whipped and beaten when she went about town; in her home, she was the mistress and everyone's life hung in her hands. She seldom had anyone killed.

It is told that one day, she brought a young girl who had just reached the age of womanhood. She had the girl stripped in front of her. She challenged the girl to a game of pleasure; they would pleasure each other until one of them could no longer take it. If the girl won, Amnet would place herself at her mercy. If Amnet won, however, then the girl would belong to Amnet, body, mind and soul. The girl's name was Unat and she was from the lands beyond Egypt, a dark-skinned girl, the most precious creature the world had wrought to that day. Unat did not have a choice.

The older woman and the young girl first proceeded to touch the other in their private places; Amnet drew blood from the young girl's virgin body, but Unat did not let that sensation break her. She brought Amnet to the brink of pleasure many times, yet never quite achieving her goal. The women then proceeded to hold on to the other, placing their private places against each other, hoping to outdo the other in physical stimulation. Despite her inexperience and youth, Unat managed to hold her own as the two of them gave each other as much pleasure as they would while holding back the screams.

The two women then proceeded to place their mouths on the other's private place, and perform cunnilingus. To everyone's surprise, Unat's youth wore out, as she finally drew screams of ecstasy from Amnet. But Unat was not finished. She continued pressing Amnet on into the throes of more pleasure, pleasure so intense that Amnet felt her body starting to break apart. Unat was using abilities the likes of which Amnet had never imagined. Amnet could only submit to the pleasure, which was turning to pain.

Although Amnet had never intended to honour her word, when Unat finally moved away, it became obvious that the entire court would hold her to her word.

Unat had Amnet tied to a column and invited every soul in the city, man or women, to come and take advantage of her. They came in the hundreds, each letting their hatred and lust for this, their malicious queen, succumb them as they took turns raping her. The men used their natural tools; the women were more imaginative.

When they were done, Amnet remained only the shell of a woman. Bereft of dignity, having lost all sanity, she wandered into the desert, where she was captured as a slave and sold away, never to be seen again in the kingdom of Babylon.

As for Unat, she became the Nubian Queen; she rose to power and became an even greater tyrant than Amnet had ever been, killing mercilessly anyone who refused her sexual advances.

Let that be a lesson to you: the hero you acclaim is often also the villain you despise.

[molten man]

wow!! Nice story!!

[interesting]

[Warning: this story contains elements of a highly sensitive and provocative nature, and deals with mature themes. You have been warned, again.]

Sister Clara was running as fast as she could down the hall. She slowed down as she neared the corner, returning to a walking pace, steadying herself in case somehow was around the bend. No one was. She sped up as she made the corner, racing towards the ledge. A few of the other sisters were already there, in their black robes, heads covered, staring down into the courtyard. She came up to them but they barely looked at her. She looked down to see the show.

His name was Father Paol. He was said to of greek descent, but no one really knew. The sisters all stared at him from the balcony, as he spoke with the Mother superior. They could not make out the words, but the simple sight of his lips moving was enough to make them blush.

By any standard, Paol was a handsome man. He had the knowledge of culture and education, the health of a constant traveler and the chiseled features of an angel. Just because the sisters had taken a vow of chastity did not mean they could not enjoy the sight. And truth be told, Paol had a certain charm with the ladies. Everything was always kept 'above the waist', Clara had heard one of the elder sisters say. Still, at only 15, Clara was still very young and inexperienced in the ways of life.

That night, in the comfort of her bed, under the drapes, Clara absent-mindedly let her hands wander across her body; in her mind, those hands belonged to Father Paol. She barely moaned as her fingers teased her forbidden area. She immediately felt remorse.

She got up to wash herself and expunge her sin. She made her way across the halls and into the refectory where she drew some water. She splashed her feet first, then started moving up along her thighs. The creaking of the old convent was nothing new, so Clara paid no mind to the sounds around her. As the cloth neared her private area so she could cleanse it, a solid hand gripped her by the arm and swung her to the floor. She fell face first, half stunned, and felt the presence on top of her. She felt her night gown being pulled up and something soft yet hard against her thigh; the panic set in but a hand wrapped against her mouth before she could scream.

That night, she felt the vile embrace of man for the first time. But it would not be her last.

That morning, sister Clara awoke with a feeling of shame, resentment and betrayal. She knew who had done it. There could be no one else. There were no other men in the sisterhood. Yet she could not bring herself to say it. Who would believe her? Her word was nothing against that of a man of the cloth. She went about her day as if nothing had happened; she cleaned the blood from herself and her blankets without anyone realizing it.

The next night, he visited her in her bed. She simply waited for him to mount her, take her, gagging her all the while. When he left, she huddled against her pillow and cried softly. Every night for the remainder of his visit, the dark figure, which she could never clearly identify but always recognized, came to her bedside. The darkness concealed the evil being perpetrated. No lights ever shone on their illicit actions, and not once did Clara ever open her eyes. She was the guilty one. He was the powerful one - she was being punished for her sins through this one.

For several years, after that, every time father Paol came to visit, the nightly encounters resumed. Every time, Clara kept quiet. She had grown accustomed to it, accustomed to the sensations; she wanted to resist but wanted to give in at the same time.

There came a day when Clara reached the age of thirty-five. The night before, father Paol, no longer as young nor as good-looking as he had been twenty years ago, had visited her in the night. Once again she had taken it without a word. But on the next morning, it was told that father Paol had passed away silently in the night. Clara felt all the accumulated weight of the world pass over her and experienced liberation.

That night, she allowed herself to rest easy. And that's when he visited her again. That night, she screamed in terror as her agressor crawled into her bed and tried to take advantage of her. That night, the entire convent heard and rushed to the scene - only to find one of their own, sister Karen, in bed with sister Clara. The shock was unbelievable. Clara broke down and never recovered, decaying into madness.

As for sister Karen, it was discovered that she was actually a man posing as a nun. He had been doing this not only to sister Clara but to many others. How he had gone unnoticed for all those years remained a mystery. Why he had broken his pattern of assaulting sister Clara while father Paol was visiting was never revealed.

Karen's tale was removed from all literature; his subterfuge in a house of the ladies of the Lord could not be exposed.

It is said that somewhere in the Vatican, all that remains of Karen lies in a jar somewhere, a reminder of the cost of silence and sin. Perhaps if those remains were exposed and explained, the people might not feel such shame over becoming the victims. But that is how the Breeders want it. We are victims to their games.

[molten man]

wow!! amazing!!

speechless!!!