Luxuria and castitas

by ArdillitaD

Written for the Swan Queen Week (7 deadly sins) - Day one: Lust. This fic takes a look on the other, more dark meaning of the word Lust.

Big thank you to Erin for the editing. You rock, buddy! :)

"But I tell you that anyone who looks at a woman lustfully has already committed adultery with her in his heart" (Matthew 5:28).

The sky had took on a dim, dove-coloured shade and the heavy air had enveloped his body like a thick bedding and it seemed as if any moment the rain would come pouring out. He felt that he had already experienced this day, his senses were as strained as a violin string, and his thoughts were jostling between his own and the demons before him.

He stood at a distance from the others, still considering what was said earlier. Everything seemed so impossible, but that was irrelevant here. He was sent on a mission and, whatever it would take, he was going to completed it.

"It's time!" the quiet whisper of the Guardian touched him.

He exhaled loudly, only now realizing the useless oxygen had been filling his lungs as he was lost in thought. Although he did not have to comply with the need to breath, it had become a habit, due to his daily work with the human beings.

"Who's next on the list?" he asked with a monotone voice, burying himself once again in the mask of apathy.

"E.S and R.M" came the recited answer.

The moment when his thoughts linked with the owners of the initials, the presumed peace was again threatened. Knitting his brow he turned to the Guardian, "Again?"

Looking down, sensing the change in the demeanor of his master the Guardian said, "It is a new millennium, Asmodians."

- SQ –

The rain was falling on the dirty streets of the city. Due to the bumps and fractures on the asphalt, with every two steps the man was running into deep puddles, and if he was not careful enough, collapsing into some big mud pit was a definite possibility. And yet no man, especially not him, wanted to be drowned in mud in the first minutes of the working day.

It was a little bit after breakfast, if a slice of stale bread and a piece of cheese can be called that, when the children of the orphanage were given boxes of matches and the daily working instructions.

Who is going to be looking to buy a box of matches when it's pouring rain outside Emma thought while she was listening with mock attention to the orders of Mrs. Blue. The only thing the little girl knew better than her working obligations (the rules of selling boxes of matches) was the evening prayer. Perhaps because both were forcefully drilled into her little blond head after multiple strokes behind the neck.

And she was quite right. At seven o'clock in the morning on a Tuesday, when the rain was coming down in torrents, hardly anyone would have thought about buying anything, least of all a box of matches. Well, maybe a box of cigarettes would have sold, but after the case in which the Mad Hatter (as he was called by everyone in the neighborhood) attacked little Mary and stole all the boxes with the disgusting brown grass poison, threatening that he would beat her if she dares to even make a sound, Mrs. Blue put a stop to selling them. The fear that the other orphans could be easily robbed, the precious cigarette lost without a profit, (and not the fact that the children could be injured or god forbid killed) was what lead her to the not so profitable, but more relaxed business of selling matches instead.

"Swan, I suggest you start moving your ass before I stir it with the rod!" whispered a fierce voice, close to the face of the orphan. The breath, a mix of stale beer and salted fish, made her shiver and threw her belly into a rising nausea. Leroy, the faithful dog of Mrs. Blue was, as always, in a bad mood.

"I apologize, Mr. L." muttered Emma turning her back on him and rushing through the door to get outside. Her ears were roaring and her face was scarlet red while she was trying to keep in her breakfast from rushing out. She was sure that later she would be punished for her reaction, but a dirt on the new carpet of Mrs. Blue meant at least three days without breakfast and ten strokes behind the neck. Disrespecting Leroy would brought her only two or three lashes, nothing that her back couldn't take.

She was just reached the corner of the street when the not quite digested food made its way back through the respiratory pipeline out of her mouth, mixing with the water in the gutter, running down the street.

It's good that it's raining Emma thought, trying to clear her throat from the unpleasant taste left there, while coughing once or twice. Then she turned her face towards the sky, opening her mouth wide in anticipation. Her long blonde hair done up in a ponytail, was so soaked from the rain that it had stuck to her neck like a leech.

"That's disgusting!" noted an unknown child's voice somewhere behind Emma. Startled by the invasion, rather than spitting out the collected water the orphan swallow it, which led to a new series of coughing.

"Jesus, you scared me to death." Emma swore, addressing the source of her surprise slightly hoarsely.

"Haven't you been told that it's not polite to swear?" asked the voice again, showing slightly from its hiding place beneath one of the niches on the steps of a nearby house. It was a girl, maybe a few years older than Emma, in black from head to toe, an interesting addition to the dark and cold morning. Her hair, also black, was in a ponytail or somehow piled into the hat she was wearing. For some reason, her face was black as if she had covered it with soot. The only thing that was pulling her away from the name "demon" in Emma's mind were her eyes. They reminded her of the colors of the trees and soil in the summer when was warm and cozy outside. But it also reminded her of the color of the cinnamon, which Emma has not had the good fortune to taste as of yet, but at a bakery in the city, the owner – Granny, had shown her the sandy brown stick a few weeks ago and she had loved the scent of the spice.

"And haven't you been told that you shouldn't talk with strangers?" said the orphan with a warmer tone, approaching the dark shadow. "And why is your face black? Are you hiding from someone?"

"You ask a lot of questions, do you know that?" the girl asked in return, causing a sad grimace on Emma's face and just a simple nod in response. Yes, she knew she has a bad habit of asking too many questions. More than once this gift of hers had drawn her into trouble, ending with a beating.

As if sensing her threads of thought the dark-haired girl began to dissipate the rumpled lines on the forehead of her new acquaintance, "Why are you actually out in the rain?"

"I am selling boxes of matches." The moment the words were out of her mouth, Emma realized she had forgotten the bag with the boxes in the orphanage. Instantly her eyes filled with fear, and she felt her body started to tremble. The wounds on her shoulders had just begun to heal and now her carelessness and thoughtlessness had earned her another dose of pain.

"Selling matches, in such a weather?" the rhetorical question asked with a puzzled tone, tore Emma out of the thoughts of what was awaiting her. "I thought that only the cemetery workers work in this weather."

Only then did Emma look at the dark shadow beside her, somehow the distance between the two was shorter than ever, and the orphan had not moved a muscle in the last few minutes. The drops falling from the sky had washed away the soot in places from the girl's face and now Emma could see her better. Although she had learned to look down, even when it was not necessary, something in this unknown girl was strangely familiar and welcoming, which made Emma feel safe.

A black hand touched her knuckles, making her shiver again, but this time not from fear but from something she didn't know how to name. Their eyes met and somehow inexplicably, sounds of a chuckle were mingled with those of the quiet rippling of the rain.

"There you are, you bloody orphan!" came a man's voice, like the growling of a furious dog, startling them both. Emma turned her body, looking fearfully over her shoulder, recognizing the wet trunk.

"Have you started talking to yourself now?" shouted Leroy, approaching the orphan.

To myself? Is he blind? Confused Emma looked next to herself and saw that she was in fact alone. The dark shadow was gone, had vanished as if by magic.

"Bloody rain!" cursed the man, grabbing the girl by the arm, pulling her roughly. "Move your ass! He is waiting for you!"

His rough fingers were digging into her shoulder like the jaws of a trap ripped into the flesh of an animal. It was amazing how there was so much brute force hiding in such a small looking man.

They had reached the street corner when his words registered in her mind. "How ... who's waiting for me?" asked Emma with fright. How come someone was waiting for her? She had no one and no one was interested in her.

"Your new daddy!" said Leroy roughly, with mockery, spitting loudly, as if to purify his mouth after just committing a sin.

My new daddy… Emma could not believe her ears. This was probably one of Leroy's latest cruel jokes, which he used to torture the orphans.

But ... if it were true, it could only mean that someone had come to adopt her.

Emma suddenly felt lighter than a feather, her face, though wet, lit up as if it was illuminated by the rays of the morning Spring day sun. She couldn't feel the wounds on her body, nor the still poking fingers on her shoulder. Her thoughts turned timidly to the orphanage where maybe luck had finally smiled on her and there was a new, better life waiting for her.

- SQ –

6 Years Later

She was already familiar with the procedure, this was her second burial. The day was again Tuesday – coincidence or faith, she couldn't say. Surprisingly, there weren't many people considering that her mother was one of the most famous women in this city. Well, famous for her house for special services where the regular customers were some of the biggest fishes among the local society. Yet around her grave there were only a handful of people with seemingly sad faces and mock sorrow. A lot of things could be said for her mother, everyone had a different view of the woman – for some she was beautiful, elegant and smart. Others saw her as calculating, heartless, cruel and still others consider her to be greedy, envious and arrogant and a lot of other stuff.

In the eyes of Regina, she was simply hell, a name that came from Cora's own "house for special services" which was called Inferno.

Flashback

"What do you mean you're going? Where?Why?" Regina felt somethingin her chesttighten, she shot thequestionsone after the otherwithout taking abreath.

"I can't stay here, Regina" he said, looking to the side. It was the only thing that was helping him tokeephis voiceeven.

"But why?" she askedagain.She didn't knowhow much longer she could playthis game.Her feignedcalmnesswasabout tobreak.

"This…. Thing betweenuscan't go on! saidDaniel. His thoughts were wanderingfranticallyin search ofa betterexcuse, in search ofa better argument whichwas going totear her away from him forever.

"Please don't," she saidpleadingly, shortening the distance between them, covering his facewith her hands, forcing him to look her in theeye. Her calmfacadehadcracked. Her eyeswerefilledwith tearsthreatening topour out any second.

He despised himself for being the cause of her pain. He wished he could turn back time, that things could be different. They could figure out a plan to run away somewhere, far away where no one knows them andwhere they couldlive happilyandpeacefully.Butit was too late now, even if he wantedtodelude himselfwith thoughts of a fantasy, the presentwas pressing into him likeroaringwaves.He had tothink about the futureandhowhis departurewasthe only way out.The only wayfor it to work out for everyone.

"Tell me what to do and I will do it. I will do anything. I'll go with you," sobbed Regina. Her heartwassinking, as if at any momentit was goingto stopbeating.

"You don't understand", he had to be strong,for her, forhis family andfor himself. On the dayhe found out thathe had no choice, his worldhad turned upside down.Their life up until then wasan assembled puzzle, framedandhung on the wall. Butnow, the glass frame wasbrokenand the pieces of the puzzle were scattered, only one part remainedintact, stillsealed, at the end.The end, which was shattering both of their hearts.

"Let's forget about everythingand start over," Reginatriedwithone last effortto get himnot toleave. "We'll go somewhere onlyyou and me... only you and me"

"I have to go," he interrupted herwith a serious, almost ice cold voice. He saw howshe jumped, startled. It took him all he had to get himself under control, so he wouldn't lock herin his armsandnever let her go. He grabbedher hands, stillholdinghis facein a stronggripandremoved them. He inhaled deeply, trying to absorbas muchofher scent as possible fromtheir lastsecondstogether.The momenthad come, now or never.

Danielsilentlysteppedback, turned and with a harsh movement opened the door,rushingto the road. The nightenvelopedhis bodylike a blackcape, hiding himafter a fewsteps.

"Don't go," saidReginabrokenly, extending a trembling handforward, closing her eyes.Maybeif she keptthem closed long enough, everything would turn out to bejust a dream. Anightmarefrom whichshe wouldwake upthe moment thelightcaressedhercorneas. And perhaps the spacein front of her, whichuntil asecondagowas representing her wholeworld,would not besoemptynow.

…

"Regina, dear, what's wrong?" hermother'svoice, coming fromsomewherebehind her, frightened her.The girlhad not moveda millimeterfromthe momentDanielhad left. Her legs werenumb, she felt like a millionsmall needles werediggingintoherfeet and tears were still streaking down her face.

"Daniel," she said in ahoarsevoice, turning to the woman, "he ...he left."

"Oh, dear," sighedCora,huggingher daughter andhidingher own smileinher hair."It is for the best, my child."

The words, utteredwith such ease, startledRegina. "What?" she saidincredulously, pullingbacksharply.

"He wasn't for you." Cora said sternly, showing the harsh features of her face.

"But mother.." tried thegirl.

"No buts, Regina!" Cora cut her off, her voicequiet, almost gentle, "He was distracting you and that's not good."

"It's not good for whom, mother? she asked incredulously, starting to see the plan of the woman had for her "For you? For your business?" Regina shouted furiously.

"Don't ever raise your voice at me, Regina." The slapthat followedwasunexpected butwell known. More than onceCorahadused similarmethodsto bringorder in,althoughZelenafellunder the blows oftheir mothermore oftenthanRegina. "I'm your mother andonly Iknow what isgood for you."

No, no you don't. Regina had to get out of there.

She had only made it two stepswhen Cora's longbonyfingerscoveredher wrist. "Where are you going, Regina?"

"I'm going to find Danielandgo with him," said the girlfirmlycoveringher mother's handwithhersin an attempt to escapefrom her grip.

"If you do that, his parents will losewhat littlethey have.You know theyowe memoney," Cora saidquietly, almost disinterested, as if announcingthatit was raining outside.

It was like she had justsuffereda secondslap, Regina was staringin disbeliefatthe womanin front of her"You wouldn't!" she saidfearfully.

"Oh, dear ..." began Cora with an adder, sinister smile, "... you know well that I will."

"But I love him," she triedagaintoprovokesympathyin her.The happiness of their childrenis supposed to be the most important thing to a parent. Or soshehad been toldby her fatherwhen he wasaliveand theywere walkingthrough the quietmorningstreets,withfacesdrowninginsoot,so no one wouldrecognize them.

"Ah, youfoolishgirl," laughed Cora, "Don'tyouknow, loveisweakness!"

"I hate you, mother… I hate you!" screamed Regina from the bottom of her lungs, eyes sick with misery.

Coracrossed the room, opening thecloset nextto the front door, "I told you not toraise your voiceat me!" she hissed through clenched teeth. "Disobedience leads toharshmeasures, daughter."

Reginastarednumbly. A few seconds laterher motherwasbeside her, turning her against herself, running her handthrough the openingofher shirtandpulling itsharply–tearing thefabric.In the nextmoment,her skinfeltburning pain.

"I will teach you everything you need to know, my child." Cora was whispering in a sweet tone, as if her words were lyrics from a lullaby. And the faint hiss of the whip before each strike collide with Regina's flesh was part of the melody, complementing the implementation of this ritual. Silent tears were running down on the girl's face. She was biting her lower lip in an attempt to stop any sound escaping out of her mouth. She wouldn't give her mother the pleasure of hearing her pain. Regina grieved not because of the beating she felt, but because of her lost love, her unfair life and for the future that was awaiting her.

End of flashback

"Come on, sister" Zelena's voice startled her, filled with misplaced playfulness. It was as if the death of Cora was her winning card for a game of bridge.

And wasn't it really just that? Now they were free. But what is freedom when you can't share it with the person you love.

A week before her mother died, Daniel was back in town. She met him accidentally in the street on the way to the doctor. He was still the same as Regina remembered him and she felt her heart quickened its course and drops of hope watered her drained soul. Alas, that feeling lasted only a few seconds before a little boy grabbed Daniel's leg with the words "Daddy, Daddy ... Mommy is ready." and her illusory oasis became just a desert again.

- SQ –

The man's coat had been soaked, the cold raindrops were hitting his face like a whip and the metallic taste of his fake teeth was even stronger and bitterer now. His patience was running out while he was waiting at the docks for his last client. It was a little bit after 8:00 PM, seven minutes after, if we were to be exact, at least that's what his pocket watch was showing. The man had a fascination (or better to say an addiction of sorts) to be at least ten minutes early for whatever business he had. The time helped him to look around at his surroundings and to prepare himself for any possible misfortune. In his job these kind of incidents were not very common, but he liked to be prepared. He never left anything to the chance. Years and years of selling unwholesome moralities and fulfilling depraved thoughts and desires of any sort had made him a soulless, suspicious creature.

The perverted irony was that while he was teaching his girls how to become virtues, he was the absolute opposite of that word.

"Is she pure?" a deep voice came from behind, drawing his attention.

"She is Mr. Jones." deadpanned the old man, turning slowly facing his client. Although it was dark he distinguished the devilish smile that was covering the other man's face.

"Then do all the preparations, I'm about to be married."

- SQ –

A few years later

The place was full, soaked with the smell of alcohol, sweat and a strange sweet smell that Emma couldn't identify. Everything around her screamed lust, desire and sin. The frivolously playful laughter of the girls sitting in the laps of the men around the tables could be heard over the sound of the music. It seemed they were having fun, but was it true? Were they enjoying the constantly probing hands, the dirty words that poured from the mouths of the clients or the fetid breath kissing their faces? Was this the life they had imagined they would have, or were their dreams scattered somewhere along the way, leaving them alone. Were they performing through the night, the roles of temptress and during the day feeding other mouths? Were they at night soulless bodies, and during the day broken hearts? Had they ever been virtuous women, depraved of the cruelty of life?

Had they ever experienced love or, just like Emma, were they mixing the meaning of this word with several other?

The bandage wrapped tightly around her chest was interrupting her every attempt to breathe more deeply and the fake mustache made of horse tail was constantly tickling her nose. Her hair was slicked back and tied in a strong bun. The pants and the shirt that Ruby had given her were scraping her tender skin. She definitely didn't like pretending to be a man. And it was certainly better that all the girls were perched on someone else's laps, and not hers. She was not sure that she could last even a minute under the fire of those women.

It was costing her every effort to stay calm and to not run away when a gentle hand wrapped itself around her neck, shielding her eyes with a scarf, leading her God knows where. This was definitely not a part of her plan when she stepped into the bar to get a few free "lessons" or as Ruby had described it - Operation "Satisfying my husband's needs." But it was too late, there was no turning back, with the luck of a beginner at cards she had won a one-hour meeting with the pearl of "Inferno", whatever that even meant.

Regina, the pearl or as she preferred to be called "The Evil Devil of Inferno", had become the most expensive and sought after girl in the bar. Nobody knew what she was doing to make them so crazy for her, but the men were empting their pockets on her each week. She was not like the other girls, she wasn't keeping the company of clients in the bar, she wasn't serving them, she wasn't addressing them with cute words and false tenderness. No, her methods were caused by her own needs. Everything that Cora had taught her was being used skillfully. She was sure that somewhere from above the cruel woman was looking at her and was proud of her creation.

Ultimately Regina had learned her lesson, love (that stupid word) was a banality sense, inherent only to the young populace, a toy for their small, unsculptured minds. Power on the other hand that was the ambrosia of the Gods, from which she was now drawing handfuls. Regina had power over men, here between these walls, no one was above her and nobody would even dare to touch her without her permission. Here she was a goddess and men choose voluntarily to bow at her feet. Repentant sinners she was calling them in her mind. Penitents walking within flames to purge themselves of bad thoughts. They were receiving their punishment, returning for more and more. Lust ... depraved lust were pouring from their eyes, and hers were sparkling, elating with each blow to their sweaty bodies.

And here it had come again, her moment of eternity. Before her on the burgundy lounge was sitting motionlessly with a scarf wrapped around his eyes, just another sinner who expected her forgiveness.

Without wasting unnecessary time she approached him and with a sharp movement loosened and removed the fabric wrapped around the face of the client, allowing his eyes to open and examine the surrounding environment. To her astonishment (and she was rarely be surprised) instead of looking at her, the stranger instantly stared at the floor. That intrigued her.

"Look at me," she said with a slick and composed voice that came out rougher than intended. "Don't be shy," was added next, more softly this time.

Emma hesitated, considering her options. She was used to follow orders, but here she wasn't just Emma – the orphan, the adopted sweet daughter, the obeying wife. No, here she was someone else, which made her feel bolder.

"And if I don't?" Asked the blonde daringly in a low deep voice.

Arching her eyebrows disapprovingly, Regina closed the two feet distance between herself and her client and caught his chin between her fingers pulling his head so she could look him in the eyes. Again she found herself surprised when she saw that the man's eyes were tightly shut.

In other circumstances Regina would have taken rougher measures for that kind of disobedience to her orders, but inexplicable even to herself, she wasn't feeling annoyance but only curiosity and a bit of a challenge. Something that she hasn't felt in a long, long time. So she decided on a different tactic.

She released the man's chin and instead of pulling back she traced with butterfly touches the space from his cheek to his lips with the fingers of her right hand, while the other one was gently placed on his left hip. She releshed in the quickening of his breath against her face. The man's breath was somehow sweet, quite the change from the heavy alcohol mixed stench that she was used to. (Not that she allowed men that close to her face often.) The softness of the skin under her own filled her with desire to explore some more.

Emma was feeling like a volcano of emotions, ready to explode at any moment. No one had ever touched her like that.

The next spot that Regina had decided to attack was Emma's mouth. She retracted her fingers, bringing them to her own mouth and lubricating them with her tongue. After that slowly and very gently she started a wet path over the curves of the blonde's lips, enjoying the tremors of the stranger's body that the action brought.

Imagine that in a dense impenetrable forest, there was just a single place where the sun's rays touch the grass, a single place where green turns to yellow, where the celestial heat warms the bowels of the earth. That was the exact feeling Emma was getting from each touch of the woman's fingers onto her skin.

The strong, heady scent coming from Regina was clouding the blonde's mind. Giving up one sense by keeping her eyes closed, Emma had strengthen the capabilities of the other four to unseen heights.

In the moment when Regina blew cold air towards Emma's damped lips, the blonde felt an unknown warmth tightening in her lower belly. What was happening to her? What was this woman doing to her? Never in her life had she experienced such a strong need for another person's affections, neither man nor woman. And here she was ready to surrender her body and even her soul to a complete stranger that she had yet to actually see with her own eyes.

The next touch she felt on the crock of her neck, where her shirt was a little pushed aside and a nail was now digging into her skin.

It felt as if heaven and hell were waging a fierce battle in her body. Every new touch was elevating her to heaven, and every moment stuck in anticipation of the next caused her to fall right into hellfire.

Regina was enjoying herself immensly. She had forgotten what is was like to touch someone like that, to have someone under the mercy of the simplicity, expectation and gentleness. To have this kind of control but not in an abusive way.

Wearingamaskisadangerousthing. Atsomepoint we all become what we pretend to be. Her father had told Cora that, in a defeated voice, one cold night a long time ago, while they were arguing for the hundreth time. The recent years of her life had become a faulty compass, lossing its north, causing her to wander between hatred, rage and cruelty, wearing the daily mask of indifference. But here in this moment, she felt strangely calm, as if the pointer of the device had stopped for a few seconds in their constant search, allowing her deeply buried true self to come out.

Love is weakness… Her mother's wrath filler her mind, immediately snapping her out of her trance.

It was like a calm before the storm. Reminded of her past, Regina's thoughts were flowing with a vengeance. She stood up and pulled out from under the bed one of her favorite toys.

"Open your eyes!" she ordered harshly, while taking her previous position close to the man, cursing herself for letting herself be distracted by this worthless human being.

Startled by the tone of the woman's voice and only now realizing the change in the air and the rearranging of their closeness, Emma raised her head and looked at the figure before her. It didn't take her long to conclude that the woman before her was beautiful, she was as beautiful as flames dancing around paper, consuming it with vigor. But these thoughts were quickly replaced by another emotion at the sight of the whip, standing in the woman's hand. Her eyes widened and stinging fear tipped on the surface of her calm facade.

Regina, who was fluent in the people's body language, stopped for a second, drawn in by the eyes of the stranger below her. The emerald irises filled with fear were strangly familier.

Cinnamon. Whispered a voice in Emma's mind before everything changed.

- SQ –

"Some people are meant to be together Master," Asmodians calmly, looking down at the humans.

"Maybe you forget that I am the one who decides who is meant for whom," the light tone of the man didn't matching his serious face.

"How can I forget, Master," said Asmodians simply, "After all you are the one who chose these two in the first place. You must've know that they would be different."

"I might have had my suspicions," came the expected answer.

"May I ask you a question, Master?"

The man looked at Asmodians with hard but understanding eyes, he had waited for his question for quite some time already.

"Why would you allow them to meet for the second time?"

"I didn't," the man spoke quietly, standing from the cold chair on the terrace and going towards the inside of his chambers. Asmodians's eyes followed his every move without blinking. Just before his whole body was out of site, swallowed by the shadows of the dark room, he turn around. "They are destined to be together," a small smile visible on the corner of his lips. "Just not in this life".

They will be Beelzebub's business soon thought the demon, before disappearing into the night.

I hope you enjoyed the story. If anyone have questions I am here to answer them, if not thank you for reading and every comment will be appreciated :)
I left my end open, because I might continue this fiction. I have the whole idea in my head, but unfortunately (like always) the free time is lacking.