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Still Waters » Surfacing » Fanfiction º Extreme
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This story was born after a discussion on the Broken Wings list about the possibility of the Temple of the Fire Dragon King being something like an extremist cult compared with what was known of the other Dragon Kings and their servants based on the Water Dragon King and Milgazia. The knowledge of several religions and the behavior of their extremist sects were used in the creation of this story. Enjoy! ^_~
~ Sat-Isis/Suten Net
Disclaimer: I don't own the Slayers. This story has vivid imagery of abuse, and partial nudity.
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Echoing down the long narrow hallway was the beating of her heart. Or, at least, that is what she thought it was. Flanked on all sides by four guards, she was being lead to the cathedral for her penance. None of the guards acknowledged her as she tried to keep her gaze focused on nothing at all. They were merely a formality.
She knew what would happen, she had been lead down this corridor before. She knew what awaited her at the end.
In a way -- it was almost a relief being lead down this dark tunnel -- sparsely lit with torch lamps. Sometimes she was made to wait in her own cell, completely isolated for months until it was time for her penance. This time it was only a week.
Her relief was slowly being eaten away as they approached the cathedral. Everyone was called to witness penance.
Sometimes, she would not remember what she did to earn her penance, but this time she did. She had said something she should not have. Especially to an elder. Something she should have known better about by now. However, it seemed inevitable that she would always end up doing something wrong, earning her penance time and time again.
O, how her father would be shamed! If only he knew.
They came to a stop at the cathedral's massive closed doors and waited. This was the worst part. She was given time to think about what would happen next.
It seemed a second and an eternity when the doors were finally drawn open from the inside. The four guards lead her in and filed away as three acolytes ushered her to the center of the cathedral.
While this went on, the Supreme Elder's booming voice did not stumble in the slightest as he spoke her name and condemned her before all. The acolytes positioned her so that she faced the Supreme Elder's back. Two acolytes were on each side of her while the third retrieved the implement of penance.
The Supreme Elder ended his diatribe against her and called her forward. She thought she would vomit as all eyes watched her. She was bidden to remove her upper garment from her body. She had not yet been allowed to wear her cloak and headdress since her confinement. She would receive them again after her penance.
As she slipped her thick shoulder sleeves down her arms and pulled down her top to uncover her breasts, back, and a great deal of her belly, she turned an ash white except for the twin red plumes on her checks. Her eyes glazed over when her top hung around her waist and she let her arms dangle lifelessly at her sides.
She did not resist in the slightest as the Supreme Elder made her kneel from behind, placing his bare hands against her bare shoulders and pushing down. The two acolytes on either side of her also kneeled and wrapped their large hands about each of her wrists, holding her arms out.
The Supreme Elder took the cane from the third acolyte and waited as he maneuvered into position. The acolyte knelt in front of her and pulled all of her hair foreword. When he finished, he placed both palms on the top of her head and pushed down so that her forehead almost rested against his lap. He did not remove his hands.
She was in a pleasant daze until the Supreme Elder brought the cane down hard against her back. Mistakenly, she yelped and flinched. The Supreme Elder did not like it when she flinched. Any sign of weakness was intolerable. All the hands that held her tightened.
He brought the cane down harder against her back, but she wisely bit her tongue, clenched her teeth and screwed up her eyes. The only visual sign of her distress as he slammed the cane down with increasing force and frantic timing was the clenching and unclenching of her fingers.
She could hear the Supreme Elder panting and grunting behind her as he laid her low again and again. They were all watching her, even the acolytes who were not supposed to. Tears were dripping from her eyes and she was almost to the point of writhing when he suddenly gave her a final mad thrash that drew up blood against her flesh. The Supreme Elder was almost stooping, his weight on the hand that held the cane, as he regained control of his breath. He let the cane rest against her back where he had let it come down last as blood welled up around it. He finally bade the acolytes let go of her and she slumped a bit under the Supreme Elder's weight. He rose fully and handed the cane to an acolyte and noticed her still kneeling on the floor.
She could feel his hands against her as he bent down to urge her up. She felt him place a hand against her head and his lips against her ear as he whispered urgently for her to rise and that she was not as hurt as she thinks. In the end he had to assist her to her feet. He stepped back as she was to put on her top once more. She felt drunk as she brought it up again, looking at her back and being mindful of the welts, bruises, and blood. She could see the Supreme Elder, sweating and red in the face, a manic gleam in his eyes. She kept her hair to her front so it would not rest against her sore back. Two acolytes presented her with her cloak and headdress. She was obliged to put them on. She winced as the cloak was brought over her shoulders.
She was urged off towards the pews, as she would now have to sit through the sermon. As she passed, their large hands would reach out and rub her back in a kind gesture of comfort that was at its heart a malicious act. She suffered through the long sermon, but did not miss a word. She would have to wait until she was in private before she could heal herself.
After the sermon ended she was one of the first to bolt out of the cathedral to avoid more caring pats on the back. She walked as fast as she could without running through the halls. She was almost hyperventilating by the time she reached her quarters. Her hands tore at the door and she thrust herself inside. She bolted the door behind her and pushed her dresser against it.
She could not breathe and tried to let out a strangled sob. She bit her knuckles and let her cloak fall to the floor as she tried to suck in enough air. She could see blackness swimming at the edge of her vision and she tipped precariously on her feet. Her headdress came tumbling off as she fell to her knees. She did not come up until she could breathe again.
She let her upper garment come down about her waist once more and began to unhook her skirt. When she rose, she let her clothes fall off. When she stepped towards her bed, she let her feet slip out of her white kid boots. Gently, she climbed on her bed, belly down and clad only in her socks. It would be a while before she found the strength to heal herself. She held her pillow over her head and sobbed and sobbed and sobbed.
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