The young woman lay immobile on the sand without the energy to even shiver whenever the freezing cold waves washed over her. She was laying face down and barely conscious on the shoreline, disoriented and in considerable pain. Her whole body ached more then should be humanly possible and her head hurt so badly, she vaguely wondered if she was going to die.
It was no wonder she didn't hear the crunching sound of approaching shoes on the sand…
A skinny, college-age boy stared down at her intently for a few seconds before a lecherous smile spread across his acne scared face.
"Hey, bro! Check this out!" he cawed to his friend, a slightly overweight and nervous looking boy. He wrung his hands looking at the woman's still body.
"Is she dead…?" He asked, voice barely more then a whisper. It was the last thing he needed, being involved in a criminal investigation so close to finals… The skinny boy punched him on the arm.
"Look, dickhead. The bitch is still breathing." He said matter-of-factly. The chubby boy still looked apprehensive.
"Well… Don't you think she might be hurt or something? We should, like, get out of here before something bad happens…" but the other boy was too distracted by the woman's scantily-clad form to pay any real attention. Her clothes were no more then shreds. They clung to her body on a wish and a prayer, just managing to do their duty and keep her intimate parts free from prying eyes.
"Dude! This is our goddamn chance!" The skinny, perverted boy said, kneeling down on the sand next to the woman. The other boy backed away.
"No way, man. No way." He said, shaking his head frantically. His friend looked at him like he was pathetic.
"What the fuck are you, queer? We didn't get any cunt in high school, think about it as… Reparations." He reached out to run his hand down the woman's bruised but well-sculpted body…
Unbeknown to the boys, the woman was actually quite awake now and had spent the last few minutes gathering her strength. As soon as she felt a foreign hand start to molest her backside, she rolled away, surprising the two boys.
"Get… Away… Or I'll kill you…" She rasped, her own voice like sandpaper in her throat. The look in her eyes must have told the boys she was serious because the skinny boy leapt to his feet and backed away.
"Let's get the fuck out of here, dude! This bitch is fuckin' rabid!" The two ran off, stumbling down the beach. A sweater the nervous boy had been wearing tied around his waist fell off but he didn't stop running to retrieve it.
As soon as they were gone, the woman rolled over onto her back with a groan of pain. She stared into the early morning sky wondering if her head had been split in two; it was hurting so badly…
The shock of the pain and cold had begun to wear off though and the woman tried to get her thoughts in order.
What had happened?
Where was she?
Who was she?
Try as she might, the woman was unable to answer any of those questions. What scared her the most was her inability to answer the last one. She tried running through the alphabet, hoping it would help provide her with her identity.
When no letter rang a bell, the young woman lay very still again. A horrible realization that something very bad had happened to her made her skin tingle in fear.
"Just think… Try to remember something… Anything…" She whispered to herself and closed her eyes.
Now think…
A nice house… A woman… Her arms… Warmth and safety…
The flashes of images continued but they were so blurred, she couldn't see the faces of the people in them. And soon enough, they stopped being pleasant.
The woman bleeding… Laughter… Monsters… Pain…
"No!" The scream hurt her throat. She didn't want to see those things anymore. It was too much, she couldn't…
One more image crept into her mind and even in her fear, she desperately grasped at it. It was the image of a man… His slivery white hair and scarlet coat moving in the wind… His eyes a vivid, azure blue alighted with confidence and passion…
The young woman opened her eyes, feeling heat on her cheeks. He was an incredibly handsome man and if his face was the only thing she really remembered…
"Who are you…?" She whispered. Something in her soul, some fiery instinct made her very sure that this man, this mysterious person in her mind was the only one who could help her.
First things first though, she'd have to get up…
She tried hoisting herself up but her arms felt like they'd been bruised to the bone. Groaning, she rolled back onto her stomach and gathered her knees under her. The pain was so much; she stayed that way, tucked into a ball until the pain had subsided to a more manageable level.
Gasping, she moved forward. Every inch she crawled bought fresh agony and it was all she could do not to fall down again. If she did now, she reasoned, she may never get back up.
The sounds of traffic caught her ear and she looked up to see the beach she was on was not far from a road. If she could make it that far, maybe she would be okay…
Her whole body felt incredibly stiff she realized as she crawled. It was as if her muscles were so tight they were squeezing her very bones.
Little by little, she grew closer to the grass growing at the road side. As soon as she could, she reached forward and grabbed a tuft of the grass and pulled herself forward.
She sank gratefully into the dense greenery and smiled weakly.
Made it… She thought and passed out.
"You insolent FOOL!"
The assassin winced as the wine glass the man had thrown collided with his cheek. It smashed and ripped open a small wound from which blood began to ooze from steadily. But the assassin did not do anything, he did not even move. Nor did he question his master's punishment.
Nobody questioned the master.
"I thought I made it perfectly clear! You were supposed to KILL the girl!" the master seethed. The heels of his leather boots snapped against the cold stone floor as he paced.
"My humble apologies master… It was unwise of me to not check she was dead…" the assassin whispered. The master rounded on him, fresh insults already spewing from his mouth…
A dark haired woman in a gown of wine-red velvet placed her hand on the master's shoulder.
"Darling, be calm. Give our servant the chance to eliminate the girl once and for all. Now, she is weakened and cannot possibly fight back…" the woman purred, her small white hands caressing the master's bare chest.
"Assassin." She said and the man snapped to attention.
"Yes, my mistress?" he asked, ready to leave the chamber.
"Go now. Kill the girl. Remember to bring more of her blood, the first lot will no longer do." The mistress commanded, her voice cool. The assassin bowed and turned to leave.
"And assassin…' he looked back to his mistress and gulped at the unforgiving look he saw in her dark blue eyes. " A second failure will not be met with any form of mercy." She said.
The assassin once more bowed and fled the chamber.
"Cassandra… You are far too lenient on the servant. We should have cut the useless cur's throat and sent another one after the girl." The master said in his deep baritone voice. His wife turned to him, a coy smile on her blood-red lips.
"Why Thaddeus my love, now he fears for his own life. It is either the girl's head or his… I doubt he will fail us now…" Thaddeus actually smiled for once.
"Clever as always, my wife." He said, stroking Cassandra's soft cheek. "Soon, we will have that power my love… The power the fool left behind." Thaddeus licked his lips at the fire he saw in his wife's eyes.
"Yes…' she said, kneeling in front of her husband, her hands freeing him from the confines of his pants "And then, nobody will stop us from becoming gods…"
Thaddeus closed his eyes and his hand entwined in Cassandra's hair, pulling her closer as she took him in her mouth.
"Soon…" He whispered.
Gotta love that kind of painful awakening and villainous blowjobs… Yeah…