"No!" Venus found her inner strength again and shrugged off the muddled sensations the touch of ghostly lips had caused.
Flinging herself from the old bed she hit the floor with a thump, bruising her knees as she reached for her blades. The pommel of her sword was just within reach when the Shadow Hunter felt herself being dragged backwards.
This time the touch was no gentle caress of a ghost. She felt the dusty, torn, bedsheets twist around her midriff. Venus felt herself being lifted from the ground.
The Shadow Hunter flailed as best she could, trying to twist and turn, trying to reach the ground even as the ghostly mist swirled around her. She could not. Venus sighed, recognising that she was suspended in the air by the possessed sheets, her arms and and legs dangling towards the ground without quite touching.
"Sweet life, " whispered a deathly voice into her ear. Her body shuddered as she felt the ghost kiss the nape of her neck, then her back and then her backside. Once again she found herself drifting off into the bliss promised by the unearthly touch.
Her vision began to swim. She could see the ghostly figure, the male ghost that had her trapped in the knotted sheets and held in the air and for a brief second she felt the call to let her conscience drift into his and perceive the world as the ghost could see. The Shadow Hunter could almost imagine she could see her self, suspended in the air, butts raised, breasts exposed and hair flung forward as she swayed in the sheets.
Venus' mind swayed. It was like dreaming a memory. Was it the ghosts? A figure that reminded her of the ghost strolled through the broken remains of a farm house door. Venus could see the farmer's wife trying to hide behind the table. Venus could see the farmer's daughter trying to hide in the corner of the room. She could see the farmer sprawled on the floor and trying to get up.
Venus knew she wasn't alone. The ghostly memory conjured up the image of a beastman warrior, another member of the bandit pack. She remembered how it advanced on the farmer's wife.
The Shadow Warrior recalled the dark elf assassin who made up the third member of the bandits. She hated men. They were toys, servants and playthings.
She found herself stalking towards the farmer, slicing his clothes open with her wicked blade. Venus could remember tapping the poison coated finger blade into the farmer's chest; poison that would fill his blood with such fire that he would be driven to mate with his entire family and perhaps the pack of wool-beasts outside before calmness took him. Venus-as-the-dark-elf enjoyed a smile as she slid into position on top of the farmer, wondering to herself whether she would let any of that happen or just ride him all herself.
Venus looked up; the human bandit and the beastman had grabbed the women. This might not be a profitable raid. This was all for the pleasure. Venus watched as the bandit, as the ghost, tore off the farmer's wife apron, spilling her breasts.
Focus. And for a second her mind, the memory, began to drift as the ghostly vision began to tease her thoughts into recalling the scene from another perspective. |