Edian moved to kneel again, upon refilling the goblet. Crimson briefly sloshed over the rim of the cup. She set it down on the end-table beside him, purposefully keeping her eyes averted. Her hands were trembling uncontrollably, eyes wide with terror. "Lord Raizel."
Frankenstein leaned against the wall, watching the exchange.
He at last began his work, continuing to tie the strappado to the hook on one of the rafters on the far side of the room.
The pain ripped through her torso like a tidal wave, ligaments straining and tendons compensating for the dislocations in the joints. Her face was frozen, mouth partially agape, her face contorted into an expression of raw agony, too winded to vocalize.
Stars periodically exploded in front of her vision. Her vision was beginning to swim, fading in and out, face frozen into a contortion of utter anguish.
He admired the tears that flowed freely down the sides of her face. It was indescribably intoxicating. He ceased his grinding and unzipped the front of his trousers, taking his pleasure for a second time.
A small sip, and another. Raizel watched the scene with some interest.
Frankenstein eyed the beleaguered form. Pink froth bubbled at her mouth, ran down her chin and neck.
If he waited too long a pulmonary embolism could set in and his fun would be terminated prematurely, and before he could terminate her from his cause of choice. He would not waste the opportunity over a mere oversight.
Forty-five minutes, one day, or three days at most, and only in the most exceptional of cases.
His next actions would either damn or madden him, forever putting him beyond the reach of any kind of divine mercy (unless it was a self-sustaining one). He decided to proceed with it in any case, swallowing back wave upon wave of sickness in favor of the incredible pleasure that was to come.
He punctured clear through the womb with an honed iron rod and eviscerated a great length of intestine, pulling it through to the ground with his left hand.
***Raizel's POV***
Raizel gazed on impassively, enjoying the show. His gaze flitted towards his servant, who was clearly enjoying himself beyond measure, his continuously repressed sadistic urges had come to the fore, clearly aroused beyond his capacity to think clearly.
It ruptured the internal organs in its path, an entire two feet past the womb, impaling his former follower until the stake protruded from the loathsome creature's mouth.
It vaguely reminded him of a pig on-the-spit.
Raizel watched the scene with ill-concealed, passive curiosity. Frankenstein could no longer help himself and began rutting against the side wall, seeing himself to the heights of ecstasies. It was for the best-his servant was long due for a reward and he had been contemplating a legal means to provide it to him. Edian's impending punishment for treason and subsequent execution posed such an opportunity. His fingers interlocked, and he rested his head against the back of the couch.
He rubbed herself to an earth-shattering climax at the unspeakable deliciousness of the sight in front of him, the ongoing cries of agony. Ever since the excessive "last meal" he had so "graciously" provided her with, she had not been allowed to relieve herself.
Feces mixed with the various genital and intestinal fluids and flowed freely from the same gaping, helpless orifice, now deliriously expanded in girth (it was an indescribably heady sight). The repugnant creature's intestines were pulled through the same as the fluids continued to run freely, making the process of transanal disembowlment so much easier.
Her thighs and genitals were slicked with blood from her shredded anus, driving Frankenstein nearly insane with delirious pleasure and visibly quaking with excitement
It had him positively trembling from visual overstimulation, and, truth be told, bordering on the brink of anxiety and palpitations (although he would never admit this to himself, that he could not handle the degree of stimulation that he, himself, had initiated).
This particular thought was forever relegated to some far-flung recess of his subconscious, alongside the overwhelming inherent guilt and weight of the sin.
He fiddled somewhat with the tongs, renewing his grip on the end of the intestine.
His ears were visited by a myriad of guttural sounds (and here Frankenstein laughed). The silent, freely flowing, utterly intoxicating tears were a testament to the raw agony the creature was in. Her vulva was plump and irresistible, creamy flesh reddening, as the creature began to asphyxiate and the blood was pushed downwards. Blood dribbled off the ends of her fingertips and saliva traced a path down her neck.
He rubbed herself to an earth-shattering orgasm as the creature took her final breaths, shuddering from the point of suspension. He caressed the side of the cadaver's face mockingly, "Oh, Edian~". Followed by A brief, satisfied, smirk.
There were few greater carnal and mortal ecstasies greater than the one he had just perpetrated. He allowed himself to sink onto the couch. He repressed a faint wave of nausea and guilt, dismissing it as weakness, in favor of the pleasure. He repeatedly reaffirmed himself in his mind., swallowing back a vague sickness. He eyed the suspended figure, now cooling, determined to commit another.
He was positively reeling from overstimulation. At last, his breath at last began to steady and level-out. It occurred to him that he was now the only remaining still-living being in the room, ever since the creature's demise and his Master had left the room about ten minutes earlier.
Forever torn between pleasure & the courage to sin in equally demented ways, and sickness on the other end of the rope. An unending tug-of-war with himself. Emotional pain was now felt much more acutely. So too, was the heavy, weighty, mortal sorrow intrinsic to sin.
He took on the sin in full, a far, far heavier and awesome one, which went far beyond the inherent guilt (sin) in admiring the particulars of her form, or of the usual mechanics of the activity (which incurred quite enough of a sin, for most). He supposed it made him both more courageous and more (far more) evil (better developed) than most.
The usual kind was quite enough (for so many), but of the kind he had just committed...
He swallowed back another wave of sickness. At last, He smiled.
There was, at the end of the day, only sins and those with the courage to commit them.