The Hunt For Redemption

The Hunt For Redemption

By

Ophelia Mae Hancock

April 4, 2022

He beckons her. He longs for her. He cries out for her. He needs her like never before, as if she were his utter salvation. He eagerly awaits her arrival with bated breath.

He has become stranded within the confines of mortal life, so limited that they cannot contain his mind any longer. The relentless demons of his psyche continually nibble away at those boundaries of sanity. They eat away at him much like a cat eating an iron skillet, one lick at a time. While although in the dark recesses, consistently present. His weary spirit seeks and searches for his beacon in the storm. He can smell the scent of her hair, taste the nectar of her adrenaline filled sweat, feel the heat of her body as it rises under the delicious stresses he puts her through. His mind's eye recalls her expressions of pain, fear, and abandon, ah, the devilish trifecta he has savored so many times before.

She appears, with a bit of a compassionate smile upon her lips. She goes to him. The loving embrace from her buxom body is quite familiar to him, yet is always wild. What an ethereal paradox!

As always, they fall into that old familiar embrace, that tumultuous waltz, falling off the cliff of reality, and neither one giving a good goddamn fuck about it. It is their dark destination, their vacation into the abyss, to come out on the other side into the light. Their souls have found their homes. A heady rush of a welcome back, my most dearest friend.

She sits by his side, draping her arm around his shoulders. She gazes into his eyes with a most intense expression of nurturing, as if to say don't worry my child, mama is here to make it all better, calvary has arrived. He returns her gaze, with eyes as dark as midnight, that pierce directly to her core. It is the key that turns the lock in her mind, the subconscious door she must keep locked, that only he can open. Her motherly expression of compassion shifts into one of passionate primal need. An inaudible click, the lock has been freed. The page has been turned.

It has been so long since he has partaken of her, since he has lovingly violated her, affectionately harmed her. It has been so long since she has graciously sacrificed herself to her dark love. He lunges towards her with an unbridled energy. Such an exceptional show of aggression assures her that sacrifices are to indeed be made. He is all too willing to fulfill that need.

He delves down upon her, his weight being both a compromising force, and a protective force. A loving force and a dominating force. How she loves his multiplicity! The stern fatherly-like hand that guides, the firm disciplinarian that scolds, the coaxing of the inquisitive little girl, the freeing of the wanton woman, the warmth of the kindred spirit. Many are found in one. He completes her, she could never ask for more.

She collapses back onto the bed, a tidal wave of domination has consumed her. At long last, she is once again under his control, moth to the flame. Calloused fingers brush back a tendril of dark hair and tucks it gently behind her delicate ear. His hand slowly slips down and caresses her alabaster cheek. She swoons in delight. His tender caresses pause, cupping her chin in his palm, lightly stroking it as if a newborn kitten. She trembles in anticipation of the gift she is about to receive. Much as Summer storms come quick and intense, she feels the sting of his palm striking her cheek, the eye of the storm. She rewards him with the yielding of her lithe neck, feeling the shock waves of the thunder storm reverberate. A lovely warm tingle lingers, a fever that no drug will relieve. He greedily kisses her, deeper that the deep blue sea. She hungrily returns his passions.

More coddling of the kitten-like chin, as his hand strokes her supple throat. She throws her head back, seeking his blessing. Gentle stroking of her swanlike throat becomes more and more commanding. She yields to his authority. The strength of his grasp upon her throat is as comforting as the weight of a cozy blanket on a cold Winter night. An imperceptable lightness of being. An intoxication of the mind. Light as a feather. He soon has total dominion over her, his very own planet Earth, he her Adam. Blessed are the meek...

Tender bites upon her neck become more and more vicious, his aggressive wolf-like nature taking her over much like a little pup. She whimpers as he dines upon her tender flesh. There is a sense of ambiguity, that one may liken to the “civilized” human peeking into the wilds of nature, is this violence or is this passion?

She feels as if the tender cherry blossom upon the tree in the Spring, clinging onto the steady branch in the Spring rains for shelter and comfort. This same steady branch adores his tender bloom, wishing to shield it from the world, wishing to protect it, wishing to cherish it, wishing for it to be his and his alone. Amongst the imaginary ozone, he gives a gentle lifting of his head, a gasp of breath, a most mischevious chuckle, then dives directly into her ivory shoulder. She cries out under the intense grip of his bite.

Let the games begin!

He very lovingly and generously bestows her with his uncaged force. She can sense the heady muskiness of his eager sweat, and she is compelled to succumb, and oh, how she longs to! Through such the intimate telepathy that only her beast can deliver, he sends her the assurances that, worry not, my precious, for your longings will be fulfilled.

His growling begins to flow more freely, build a tempo, stoke the flames, much as her heart races and her being aches to rise to the next level, to be raked over the coals.

Stairway to heaven!

Mischevious chcukles are overcome by unbridled growls, as the Great Mother Earth is faithfully held from harm from above by St. Michael as she languishes herself downward upon the lips of Lucifer. The spirit of the jackyl delights as the spirit of the cub cowers.

She is completely overcome and overwhelmed by the weight and sinew of his flesh. She exhales softly and deeply in response to this dominating presence, much as one would sigh in relief at being granted a stay of execution. Happiness in slavery. I know why the caged bird sings. Another hearty feast upon her breast. Yes dear, eat of my body and drink of my blood, I will be your salvation.

She becomes as if the last meal for the condemed man. As she is every bit as much tantalizing, yet at the same time, foreboding.

Another impulsive knashing of teeth upon the green pup. So many experiences yet to be had, so much exploring to be done. She howls in delight, and with such intensity, wrapping her arms around his shoulders, her legs around his waist, clinging on for dear life. He says hold on to me if you need. Such an intimate embrace spurs on his aggression, finally finding The One. The devouring upon her becomes much hearty.

She finds herself being tossed about as if a ratty old ragdoll that has seen better days. The ratty old ragdoll that has no true definition, but rather sounds. He guides her to roll about, and she becomes limp under his nudging, following his influence. He nestles himself upon her back, once again claiming dominion. She can feel his fingers tangled into her dark hair, as he twists it about, becoming entwined amongst his fingers, much as a spider web. She is such a precious commodity within his ownership, under his thumb, within his beck and call. Such his precious pet. He has rolled the dice and come out a winner. She is his prize. And she would have it no other way.

He intwines his legs with hers, quite effectively immobilizing her. He reaches up and tangles his fingers within hers, much like two bodies succumbing to the wiles of nature, and pins them down above her head. She totally gives away her will to him, to be his and his alone.

He strikes out with a vicious bite upon her shoulder, one that leaves her whimpering and her body curling up and tensing up, setting her free. Her legs curl up towards her back in response to the barrage of bite upon bite. The bites into her tender flesh flow much like an enemy at war, striking and striking against their adversary, with the goal of bringing them to their knees. How she longs for the man that can put her nose to the ground, and does believe her dark love to be The One. She deeply craves to belong, to be his possession, to be his little pet, to be his little girl, to be collared by him, to be his most prized possession. She craves to be his angelic blessing, she can taste it she wants it so badly.

She is tossed about again, the inquisitive nosing and nudging, investigation leaving no stone unturned, and once again, finds herself to be turned. She is now much like the turtle upon its back, unable to help itself, needing one to reach out to her. She is relying upon her loving Sadist to bring her into balance. Soft pink underbelly exposed. Vulnerable as a newborn kitten, and delightfully so.

His mighty body, once again, envelopes hers from above, deliver me from evil, her feral mind races. He raises up to hover above her. I am monarch of all I survey, his mind assures, my right there is none to dispute. The work-worn paws once again rest upon the gossamer throat, begging the question, who is in control now, never forget you are mine, for I will remind you.

Her breath starts coming in little gasps, like the tiny little hisses of a small kitten, a laughable threat. Yes, little kitten, I see your call to challenge, now see mine. A sudden shift of body, shift of weight, shift of being, shift of connection, shift of bond, and the two shall become one. The most raw and primal of stabs, in the most intimate of primal places. Those who sow in tears shall reap in joy. The cherry tree has ultimately come to bear fruit. And the lion shall lay down with the lamb.

Upon the wings of the snow white dove does her essence float, as from the depths of hell does his will reach out to her. The two shall meet somewhere in the clouds. She must, however, head the warnings of Icarus. The moment is imminent, the culmination of all that has been invested is now to pay its dividends, the day is dawning, the storm is subsiding, the rainbow is glistening.

As the hounds of hell join him in brotherhood, he exhales his most demonic of growls, as he lays the most intimate of claim upon her, deep within her. Her mind swoons with a magical sense of delight, the glee of being sullied by him, the contentment of her corruption, the yang to her yin, the joyful playground that their demons have shared, the see-saws still rocking and the swings still swaying, and the litter scattered about from the fallout, end of the day at the carnival from the careless.

She basks at the thougt of his many minions, of his army of life force, as multiple as the stars within the inky dark night sky, swimming deep within her oasis. Her most primal and intimate of desires as been satisfied. She has met the most desperate need of his releases, both within her suffering and her pleasure. She has become his feast, his sweet sweet wine, his feasting upon the pig. And she has been all but too happy to offer herself up as a most gourmet delicasy.

At final last, the hurricanes within his mind have subsided into mere tropical storms, where they always reside. The coast is never completely clear, that is his albatross, but has been brought into balance. She has quite saved his life. He collapses, catching his breath, recovering from his dirty deeds, the crimes of passion he has committed. He has no fear of imprisonment, sensing every assurance of being harbored by his most gracious victim. A whimper of joy, a sated sigh escapes her rosy lips as she slumps upon him, her head upon his chest.

She can feel and hear his heart racing, his chest rising and falling with rapid breath. She is the most contented she has ever been. She was able to please and satisfy her loving Sadist, and along with that, he has greatly freed her troubled mind with his savage adoration, the most perfect salve. They are in exquisite symbiosis, a marriage of psyches, one made for the other. Her body aches, and her flesh burns from his onslaught. He has quite literally made his mark upon her, planting his flag upon his home land. She has been graced with the fangs of his feasting, the claws of his clinging, the aubergine kisses of his aggression. Welts begin to rise to the surface, a sacred secret being exposed, so deep, so firm, a testament to the solid foundation of thier dark love.

In keeping with all good things must come to an end, and parting is such sweet sorrow, the best is yet to come shall surely also prevail.