Categories > Anime/Manga > Naruto > The Oracle
The Means To An End
Small hands worked the latch on the door to the wine cellar; it pulls open after a few frantic tries. She had cut herself and can only hope she has not left blood on the outside of the door as she ...
?Blocked
The Oracle
Chapter Nineteen
The Means To An End
There are things, and there are not things. And there are words, and there are not words. The adults say it is for the children, but it is not, it is not, it is not. And they do not know the turmoil. They do not see the pain. The adults say it is for the children, but it is not, it is not, it is not…
The girl’s green eyes flashed with panic, as she ran. This was wrong, she knew. She would be punished, she knew, but she just had to hide. She had to try at least, because if she did not try there would be no hope. Small hands worked the latch on the door to the wine cellar; it pulls open after a few frantic tries. She had cut herself and can only hope she has not left blood on the outside of the door as she shut it behind her, dragging her cut left hand across her face to wipe away the tears that threaten her vision.
She stumbles down the stairs that are so very long, making her footsteps as soft as possible. She tries not to scream at the oppressive darkness as she keeps going down the stairs, it only gets darker and she cannot see to know when to stop. There were not only wine casks down here, she knew. She had been told about that monster. Her hand brushed against something unexpectedly and only her fear overcame her desire to scream. She noted the object carefully, and feeling around in the dark, she managed to figure out that it was only an empty candelabra. She continued down the stairs swiftly, as silently as she could manage, trying to regulate her breath. A small light lower down did not assuage her fears, but she traveled closer to it, if only to gain her bearings.
She did not know how she had the strength to run at all. Her entire body burned with the searing gaze of those men, she could feel their desire as burning tendrils of lust eating away at her sanity, stroking as though trying to soothe, but the resultant effect was only the same as throwing a newborn into a pot of boiling water. Excruciating pain wracked her body now that she had thought about it, and she nearly fell down the stairs. Her hand caught onto the railing and it splintered in her grasp, the wood long since having rotted away. She let it go out of her grasp, putting her hands out and letting them connect with the cold stone stair.
She could feel the bones in her lower left arm break, and she swallowed down tears and any noise. The wood falling down the stairs had made a rather loud racket, at least to her. She rested more of her weight on her right arm and cautiously let herself stand again. She didn’t hear anything from below, but whatever was below would most certainly be able to hear her rasping breaths that she tried to stifle, the screaming pain she felt that her mind was overtaken by, and the loud, rapid drumming of her heart. Tears threatened in her eyes, but she willed them away, focusing ferociously on what she was there to do.
She makes it to the light, it is a lamp set on a ledge, before a startlingly clear mirror. In it, she can see herself, the flickering of the lamplight making her orange hair more flame-like than usual. Her lips and cheeks were red from her own blood, and she almost lifted her injured hand to use the back of it to wipe the blood away again. It was always the left hand, she thought, and almost gave a smile to her reflection. The cute outfit she wore was ruined, cut and stained- likely irrevocably- with blood and dirt and that white liquid that the men had spurted onto her- they called it cum, she called it nasty- and the sight of it made her want to cry. Her eyes flashed blue in the mirror, and she had to blink to make sure she was not seeing things. Leaning inwards, she drew a curious kind of calmness from them and the pain seemed to go away.
The blouse was a dark blue, with holes cut out over her nonexistent breasts that revealed her nipples. There were other holes in her shirt as it was torn when she had attempted to run away, her skirt had tears from being caught on branches and such. She had no underwear; the men would not let her wear such things, and she had always and would always likely be uncomfortable that way. She could feel the bones knitting back together and wondered if bones could get scars the way her skin could get scars from damage. Her eyes shut slowly and she leaned against the ledge with her good arm, allowing herself to sleep, to let her demonic heritage do its work and heal the wounds she had sustained.
She dreamed of their insults. Her body pushed open, her legs spread apart and fingers, faces, and things pushed inside of her. She felt the pain of her asshole as it was fingered, licked, probed, and vibrated and countless other things.
================== ==================
She was a beautiful, adorable child. They were men. It was only natural.
Kuroki licked his lips as he watched the girl go.
“We should cleanse the demon child of sin again today.” The high priest said to him, and the other male readily agreed. There was an unholy kind of hunger in the man’s eyes that the older priest thought should be reprimanded, but it was gone much too quickly for him to truly be sure it had existed at all.
“Yes, of course sir… as you will it…”
She was taken to the podium in the center of the monastery. She struggled in their grasp, already knowing what they would do to ‘cleanse’ her. The high priest was not there, he was never a witness to their unique form of cleansing. Despite her struggles, the six-year-old girl was subdued easily and tied to the podium, as was customary, first, with her back to the stand. Her lips pressed shut as a stiff cock presented itself to her. A hard tug of hair and a pinch to her nose later, her mouth had opened for breath and the thick vessel pushed inside her mouth. She sucked on it, as she had no other choice. She no longer choked; they had ended her gag reflex by much training from the time she had arrived. From the age of two, they had been slipping the head of their cocks into her lips and teaching her to suck. Kuroki thrust into her mouth with abandon, fucking her mouth as one would a trained whore, with no regard for her safety or well-being. And as he buried himself through to the bottom of his shaft, he held her head forward and did not allow her to move, moaning at the peristalsis action of her throat constricting around the head of his cock. He ground against her, regardless of her struggles, of the tears. He held her close until the pleasure had coaxed him to cum into her throat. He pulled out slowly and she gasped for breath. Scissors were summoned forth, and her shirt was cut open to reveal her nipples. Kuroki allowed another to take his place.
Soon enough, she was adjusted to be on top of the podium, bent over, with her ass high in the air. She squirmed as she tried to get away, crying shamefully. A finger touched her pussy and tried to worm its way inside. Another of the men pushed the one with the probing finger away, sliding his tongue over the immature folds, slicking them with saliva, and working its way inside. Her tears went unheeded; they cared not for her pain. Moving her around, they adjusted the height of the podium. Now one man stood on the stairs and the other in front of her and pushed his penis inside. She squirmed and cried, tears stinging her face like acid as on the other side, a tongue rimmed her asshole. When two fingers tried to spread her apart, she squirmed more, the movement arousing to the man behind her. He pushed his tongue in after his fingers and moved them away. They held her for hours. Hours and hours upon end- in reality, only five. After they had all been satiated, they blamed her for their lustful actions and, tying her with her chest to the podium, they whipped her, enjoying her tears and cries. Her mind worked quickly. They coated her body in that slimy, slippery substance that came from them. She knew from experience it would be as hard as glue to remove once it dried. But right now… she wormed her hands out as slowly as she could afford to, letting the heavy chains fall and shift slowly. Finally, she managed to let them go, and she pushed herself away from the podium, freeing herself from the ones around her waist simultaneously.
The men gasped, unable to comprehend how she had worked free. Their moment of amazement gave way to anger when she used their hesitation to run.
================== =====================
Her eyes opened when the light failed. She shivered in cold. Having no clue how long she had been out for, all she knew was it had been long enough to heal her arm. Her back was no longer sore, nor was any other part of her body, save her throat. That always hurt the longest. She shivered again, feeling eyes on her in the dark. She began to turn, but a voice made her freeze. It filled the atmosphere around her, reminding her of the feel of a snake sliding on her skin. It was not near to her, the airy voice. She found herself oddly soothed by such a voice and by such a man, as that voice must exit.
“Are you afraid, my dear?” She stayed silent, not turning around to look at him. Her head shook from side to side, short orange hair striking her face with each movement. A snake slithered at her feet and she knelt to pick it up. It coiled around her, hissing as though contented. She could feel the man’s smile at her back. “Are you fond of snakes?”
“Yes, I am. They seem to come to me, because I am like them, misunderstood.”
“I can help you, if you let me.” Her eyes closed and her arms wrapped around her waist. She leaned against the wall more, tired of straining her eyes to se in the darkness. “I can teach you all you need to know to be able to defend yourself.” Her head lifted with a modicum of pride that she had somehow managed to salvage. She spoke like a queen, her mother’s influence coming through in her in her regal bearing and tone.
“If you keep your face to the sun you can never see the shadow that lies upon the ground. But I am not one for watching the skies, day or nighttime.” Her words were odd for one so young. She spent her time reading, mostly, or working on the manuals, teaching herself things. The older priests, and the less lewd ones, the ones that did not spend their time with her had been of the philosophy that teaching her and ritual cleansings, would free her mind and soul of her mother’s bad blood. She was only half-demonic... why not teach her to be human? Why not teach her to embrace humanity? And she had advanced quickly, absorbing new information like a sponge and purging everything that was unnecessary. Her blood thrummed in her veins to the beat of her heart. Accepting whatever this man had to offer would be dangerous, she knew. But she turned around anyway. Her eyes opened and gleamed red, as his own amber serpentine eyes caught light and shone. Her voice was set. “I accept. I invite you to teach me what I need to know to defend myself.” Her words, so cautiously worded, amused the man.
“Does this not concern you? A snake is always a snake, after all; one proffered kindness to it only for it to turn around and bite the hand that shelters it. It is foolish to invite thus into your home.” Her lips curved into a smirk, and the snake on her arm hissed, slithering up her hair. It laid itself on her forehead, arching upwards at the crown chakra to gaze into the steady amber eyes directed at Lyanvis.
“Male and female snakes of the same species have naught to fear from the other.” She responded quietly.
“Tch. Such Arrogance comes only from the young. Who says that we are of the same species, hmm?” To her credit, she did not flinch. She did not as much as blink.
“I am.” She said, with a –somehow indisputable- finality to her voice. He sighed and began the trek back down the stairs; she heard his footsteps and reached out her hand for his. Her lips curved when she felt his surprise as her small, hot hand slid into his lukewarm palm. She looked up and sent him a smile when he held her hand in silence. Lips pressed to her forehead.
“My dear child…” the other hand stroked her head for a moment before he came to a decision, pulling her up into his arms. She allowed this, burying her head into his shoulder and holding tightly. He did not feel her lips curve into a smile as sinister as he was. She hated men, but this one would help her escape. “You have much to learn.” She would never look at him, would forget his voice when he finished teaching her, and remember only the lessons. The means to the end is unimportant. “Salvation comes to demons differently…” he murmured, and she smiled more in assent.
Chapter Nineteen
The Means To An End
There are things, and there are not things. And there are words, and there are not words. The adults say it is for the children, but it is not, it is not, it is not. And they do not know the turmoil. They do not see the pain. The adults say it is for the children, but it is not, it is not, it is not…
The girl’s green eyes flashed with panic, as she ran. This was wrong, she knew. She would be punished, she knew, but she just had to hide. She had to try at least, because if she did not try there would be no hope. Small hands worked the latch on the door to the wine cellar; it pulls open after a few frantic tries. She had cut herself and can only hope she has not left blood on the outside of the door as she shut it behind her, dragging her cut left hand across her face to wipe away the tears that threaten her vision.
She stumbles down the stairs that are so very long, making her footsteps as soft as possible. She tries not to scream at the oppressive darkness as she keeps going down the stairs, it only gets darker and she cannot see to know when to stop. There were not only wine casks down here, she knew. She had been told about that monster. Her hand brushed against something unexpectedly and only her fear overcame her desire to scream. She noted the object carefully, and feeling around in the dark, she managed to figure out that it was only an empty candelabra. She continued down the stairs swiftly, as silently as she could manage, trying to regulate her breath. A small light lower down did not assuage her fears, but she traveled closer to it, if only to gain her bearings.
She did not know how she had the strength to run at all. Her entire body burned with the searing gaze of those men, she could feel their desire as burning tendrils of lust eating away at her sanity, stroking as though trying to soothe, but the resultant effect was only the same as throwing a newborn into a pot of boiling water. Excruciating pain wracked her body now that she had thought about it, and she nearly fell down the stairs. Her hand caught onto the railing and it splintered in her grasp, the wood long since having rotted away. She let it go out of her grasp, putting her hands out and letting them connect with the cold stone stair.
She could feel the bones in her lower left arm break, and she swallowed down tears and any noise. The wood falling down the stairs had made a rather loud racket, at least to her. She rested more of her weight on her right arm and cautiously let herself stand again. She didn’t hear anything from below, but whatever was below would most certainly be able to hear her rasping breaths that she tried to stifle, the screaming pain she felt that her mind was overtaken by, and the loud, rapid drumming of her heart. Tears threatened in her eyes, but she willed them away, focusing ferociously on what she was there to do.
She makes it to the light, it is a lamp set on a ledge, before a startlingly clear mirror. In it, she can see herself, the flickering of the lamplight making her orange hair more flame-like than usual. Her lips and cheeks were red from her own blood, and she almost lifted her injured hand to use the back of it to wipe the blood away again. It was always the left hand, she thought, and almost gave a smile to her reflection. The cute outfit she wore was ruined, cut and stained- likely irrevocably- with blood and dirt and that white liquid that the men had spurted onto her- they called it cum, she called it nasty- and the sight of it made her want to cry. Her eyes flashed blue in the mirror, and she had to blink to make sure she was not seeing things. Leaning inwards, she drew a curious kind of calmness from them and the pain seemed to go away.
The blouse was a dark blue, with holes cut out over her nonexistent breasts that revealed her nipples. There were other holes in her shirt as it was torn when she had attempted to run away, her skirt had tears from being caught on branches and such. She had no underwear; the men would not let her wear such things, and she had always and would always likely be uncomfortable that way. She could feel the bones knitting back together and wondered if bones could get scars the way her skin could get scars from damage. Her eyes shut slowly and she leaned against the ledge with her good arm, allowing herself to sleep, to let her demonic heritage do its work and heal the wounds she had sustained.
She dreamed of their insults. Her body pushed open, her legs spread apart and fingers, faces, and things pushed inside of her. She felt the pain of her asshole as it was fingered, licked, probed, and vibrated and countless other things.
================== ==================
She was a beautiful, adorable child. They were men. It was only natural.
Kuroki licked his lips as he watched the girl go.
“We should cleanse the demon child of sin again today.” The high priest said to him, and the other male readily agreed. There was an unholy kind of hunger in the man’s eyes that the older priest thought should be reprimanded, but it was gone much too quickly for him to truly be sure it had existed at all.
“Yes, of course sir… as you will it…”
She was taken to the podium in the center of the monastery. She struggled in their grasp, already knowing what they would do to ‘cleanse’ her. The high priest was not there, he was never a witness to their unique form of cleansing. Despite her struggles, the six-year-old girl was subdued easily and tied to the podium, as was customary, first, with her back to the stand. Her lips pressed shut as a stiff cock presented itself to her. A hard tug of hair and a pinch to her nose later, her mouth had opened for breath and the thick vessel pushed inside her mouth. She sucked on it, as she had no other choice. She no longer choked; they had ended her gag reflex by much training from the time she had arrived. From the age of two, they had been slipping the head of their cocks into her lips and teaching her to suck. Kuroki thrust into her mouth with abandon, fucking her mouth as one would a trained whore, with no regard for her safety or well-being. And as he buried himself through to the bottom of his shaft, he held her head forward and did not allow her to move, moaning at the peristalsis action of her throat constricting around the head of his cock. He ground against her, regardless of her struggles, of the tears. He held her close until the pleasure had coaxed him to cum into her throat. He pulled out slowly and she gasped for breath. Scissors were summoned forth, and her shirt was cut open to reveal her nipples. Kuroki allowed another to take his place.
Soon enough, she was adjusted to be on top of the podium, bent over, with her ass high in the air. She squirmed as she tried to get away, crying shamefully. A finger touched her pussy and tried to worm its way inside. Another of the men pushed the one with the probing finger away, sliding his tongue over the immature folds, slicking them with saliva, and working its way inside. Her tears went unheeded; they cared not for her pain. Moving her around, they adjusted the height of the podium. Now one man stood on the stairs and the other in front of her and pushed his penis inside. She squirmed and cried, tears stinging her face like acid as on the other side, a tongue rimmed her asshole. When two fingers tried to spread her apart, she squirmed more, the movement arousing to the man behind her. He pushed his tongue in after his fingers and moved them away. They held her for hours. Hours and hours upon end- in reality, only five. After they had all been satiated, they blamed her for their lustful actions and, tying her with her chest to the podium, they whipped her, enjoying her tears and cries. Her mind worked quickly. They coated her body in that slimy, slippery substance that came from them. She knew from experience it would be as hard as glue to remove once it dried. But right now… she wormed her hands out as slowly as she could afford to, letting the heavy chains fall and shift slowly. Finally, she managed to let them go, and she pushed herself away from the podium, freeing herself from the ones around her waist simultaneously.
The men gasped, unable to comprehend how she had worked free. Their moment of amazement gave way to anger when she used their hesitation to run.
================== =====================
Her eyes opened when the light failed. She shivered in cold. Having no clue how long she had been out for, all she knew was it had been long enough to heal her arm. Her back was no longer sore, nor was any other part of her body, save her throat. That always hurt the longest. She shivered again, feeling eyes on her in the dark. She began to turn, but a voice made her freeze. It filled the atmosphere around her, reminding her of the feel of a snake sliding on her skin. It was not near to her, the airy voice. She found herself oddly soothed by such a voice and by such a man, as that voice must exit.
“Are you afraid, my dear?” She stayed silent, not turning around to look at him. Her head shook from side to side, short orange hair striking her face with each movement. A snake slithered at her feet and she knelt to pick it up. It coiled around her, hissing as though contented. She could feel the man’s smile at her back. “Are you fond of snakes?”
“Yes, I am. They seem to come to me, because I am like them, misunderstood.”
“I can help you, if you let me.” Her eyes closed and her arms wrapped around her waist. She leaned against the wall more, tired of straining her eyes to se in the darkness. “I can teach you all you need to know to be able to defend yourself.” Her head lifted with a modicum of pride that she had somehow managed to salvage. She spoke like a queen, her mother’s influence coming through in her in her regal bearing and tone.
“If you keep your face to the sun you can never see the shadow that lies upon the ground. But I am not one for watching the skies, day or nighttime.” Her words were odd for one so young. She spent her time reading, mostly, or working on the manuals, teaching herself things. The older priests, and the less lewd ones, the ones that did not spend their time with her had been of the philosophy that teaching her and ritual cleansings, would free her mind and soul of her mother’s bad blood. She was only half-demonic... why not teach her to be human? Why not teach her to embrace humanity? And she had advanced quickly, absorbing new information like a sponge and purging everything that was unnecessary. Her blood thrummed in her veins to the beat of her heart. Accepting whatever this man had to offer would be dangerous, she knew. But she turned around anyway. Her eyes opened and gleamed red, as his own amber serpentine eyes caught light and shone. Her voice was set. “I accept. I invite you to teach me what I need to know to defend myself.” Her words, so cautiously worded, amused the man.
“Does this not concern you? A snake is always a snake, after all; one proffered kindness to it only for it to turn around and bite the hand that shelters it. It is foolish to invite thus into your home.” Her lips curved into a smirk, and the snake on her arm hissed, slithering up her hair. It laid itself on her forehead, arching upwards at the crown chakra to gaze into the steady amber eyes directed at Lyanvis.
“Male and female snakes of the same species have naught to fear from the other.” She responded quietly.
“Tch. Such Arrogance comes only from the young. Who says that we are of the same species, hmm?” To her credit, she did not flinch. She did not as much as blink.
“I am.” She said, with a –somehow indisputable- finality to her voice. He sighed and began the trek back down the stairs; she heard his footsteps and reached out her hand for his. Her lips curved when she felt his surprise as her small, hot hand slid into his lukewarm palm. She looked up and sent him a smile when he held her hand in silence. Lips pressed to her forehead.
“My dear child…” the other hand stroked her head for a moment before he came to a decision, pulling her up into his arms. She allowed this, burying her head into his shoulder and holding tightly. He did not feel her lips curve into a smile as sinister as he was. She hated men, but this one would help her escape. “You have much to learn.” She would never look at him, would forget his voice when he finished teaching her, and remember only the lessons. The means to the end is unimportant. “Salvation comes to demons differently…” he murmured, and she smiled more in assent.
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