Part Five:
Danse Macabre
The palace where the Monsignor was staying was epic in proportions. She'd seen
stadiums smaller than this. Everything was done in white marble and red velvet.
Religious paintings, and not so religious Greek pastoral paintings all in gilt
frames decorated all the walls. Frescos were painted directly on the plaster in
some places. Tall marble nude statues of plump women sat in niches everywhere.
'What a little hedonist!' Cassandra thought to herself as she followed the guard
to the very end of a long corridor. A pair of two-story, heavily gilded oak
doors was opened for her and a red curtain was pushed aside.
Cassandra ducked within and the guard closed the doors behind her. The room was
dark, huge and empty of all furnishings. The floors were china smooth and done
in white marble. Two massive white marble fireplaces warmed the room on opposing
walls. Heavily curtained windows that reached from floor to ceiling covered the
entire back wall. The room was lit with several braziers and not a few standing
candelabras but shadows swamped the far corners.
In one corner sat three musicians. Together they rose and approached. One of
them was the Gypsy she had kissed for her last performance. He grinned in feral
greeting, his eyes still alive with the hellfire she had given him with her
kiss.
"Well met, my Lady," bowed the possessed Gypsy.
"You seem to be popular around town," quipped Cassandra with a smile.
"Everywhere I go, there you are," she said to the Gypsy then flinched. Every
word she'd uttered had come out garbled. 'Damn.'
"I count myself blessed to be in your presence once again and I have indeed
grown popular about town lately. Especially since our last encounter." He was
smiling but his eyes held a strangely possessive heat
"You can understand me?" Cassandra asked in some surprise.
"Of course. It is your power that lives within me, I hear you in here." He
tapped his brow. "My ears hear nonsense, but I understand you. It seems that I
have reaped many benefits since you touched me with the gift of your kiss. I
have a sense of someplace called North America, and music called Rock and Roll
that whispers through my soul." He finished in barely a whisper.
"I'm, pleased," Cassandra said. Actually she was seriously creeped the fuck out.
"Speaking of gifts, I would like to present my two brothers and I ask that you
bestow your kiss upon them as well." Beside him stood two other musicians, one
with a round frame drum and the other held an odd-looking violin-type
instrument. Both of the other musicians appeared to be scared to death.
Cassandra stepped toward the two brothers. They practically shook with terror.
"Are you sure I need to? They don't look too happy about being kissed."
"They must have your gift or they will not survive the evening." He leveled his
blazing eyes at the pair, promising retribution in their flaming depths. "They
will not be able to accompany me without it. They will accept your kiss or they
will be dragged away by the Holy Inquisition where their deaths will be painful
and slow."
'So much for brotherly love,' Cassandra thought with a flinch.
He motioned to the brothers. A large man with a balding head and a huge
mustache came forward first. "Kneel," he was ordered by the Gypsy. The huge man
dropped to his knees.
The power whispered up from her inner sea and lapped at the very edge of her
thoughts. Gently Cassandra cupped his not so clean chin in her palm and looked
into his terrified eyes. Mouth open she kissed him. He opened his mouth under
hers, his tongue reaching out to stroke hers gently. Cassandra felt the warm
wave of power crest to the surface then pour into the captive Gypsy.
He fell back stunned and blinking. His eyes glazed then blazed forth with a look
of vicious triumph. Sitting up he grabbed the last one by his slender arm and
shoved him to his knees before Cassandra.
The slender boy, no more than eighteen, gulped in fear but bravely tilted his
chin up for his kiss and closed his eyes. Cassandra touched her lips gently to
his then felt the power arc and slam into his young frame.
He collapsed back onto the floor stunned for a moment. After shaking himself
like a wet dog, he rose with an ugly laugh then stalked over to his brothers to
slap them on the back. All three stood in a half circle by Cassandra and smiled
in ways their human mouths had never intended.
"You may call me Andre," bowed the first Gypsy, the gold coins glittering on his
coat in the candlelight. "And I am completely at your service my Lady. He is
called Balthazar," Andre continued as he gestured toward the larger mustachioed
Gypsy.
"I am at your service, Lady," the large Gypsy with the bristling mustache bowed.
"And I am Nickos," bowed the smallest of the three. "I am also at your service.
"We are all at your service," they said in unison. All three sets of black eyes
glittered with unholy light as they smiled in a completely inhuman manner. They
all dipped into another bow then turned as one and strode away. In a far corner,
they settled onto cushions thrown on the marble floor, under a lit candelabrum,
to tune their instruments. They watched her with hunger glittering in their
eyes.
'Okay, so that was just a bit too weird, even for me,' she thought to herself.
'I wonder if that was a smart thing to do?' Nonplussed, Cassandra moved away
from them and started doing leg-stretching exercises. Not an easy thing in the
bulky gown.
An army of servants suddenly poured silently from doors she hadn't realized were
there. Thick carpets were rolled out and laid on the marble floor. A throne-like
red velvet chair was carried in and a small table was set beside it with an
exquisite decanter of dark red wine. A single crystal goblet was set beside the
decanter.
A rope from the ceiling lowered a huge crystal chandelier. Candles were lit and
the chandelier was raised, glowing like a captive star and filling the room with
a blaze of light. Both fires were built up in the fireplaces to raging bonfires,
filling the room with heat. Just as suddenly, the servants rushed out in a
sudden tide of rustling fabric and withdrawing bodies. In minutes, Cassandra was
alone again with only the three musicians.
Only moments later, the tinkling of bells announced the main doors being opened.
Cassandra noticed the red hood and golden mane of the Monsignor as the curtain
was lifted for him.
Cassandra dropped into a graceful bow. 'I simply must remember how to do this
once I'm home!'
The Monsignor seated himself in the velvet throne with two hulking, blank-faced
guards at his back. One of the guards filled the glass from the decanter and
handed it to him. The Monsignor sipped the red wine reflectively then gestured
with two fingers.
"You may begin," he announced into the echoing silence.
The musicians struck a chord. In that instant she knew exactly what they were
going to play. The modern rock music translated strangely through their medieval
instruments, but the pounding tune was unmistakable. In response to their music,
Cassandra's Power surged to the surface, from every pore of her skin to wrap her
in a heated blanket. Cassandra felt a veil dropping over her eyes and thoughts.
'No!' she protested to the rising flood of demonic possession. 'I want to see
this!' The veil obligingly dropped away but her body was no longer hers to
command. The power inundated her completely and her possession was absolute. She
abruptly whirled in a circle cavorting to the smoky strains of the infernal
stripper music played by the possessed Gypsies.
The bejeweled pins flew from her flaming curls to scatter across the floor. The
golden ribbon in her hair slithered out, her deep red mane cascading about her
as she danced a raw mixture of Jazz steps with unbelievable ballet leaps. Her
slippers were lost on a pair of highflying kicks. The ties across her bodice
came undone during a twirl and she froze, poised for a leap as the red velvet
gown swirled around her to puddle on the floor in a rich crimson heap.
The music shifted to a slow sensuous piece. Revealed in her sheer golden
chemise, she dropped to the floor and tiger walked, crawling with a slow feral
slink to the foot of the velvet throne. Gracefully, she rose to her knees, arms
lifted above her head, lips parted, and eyes slitted as though in carnal
delight. Arching backward she touched her hands to the floor then raised her
hips and spread her knees wide in invitation, showing her shaved mound and damp
inner lips peeking through the part of the golden slip.
Like a coiling snake, she slowly, slowly undulated her body then rolled over her
head and under. Kicking her feet over her head she lay face down on the floor,
legs spread wide. In true stripper form, she rolled to her side then bent her
knee and raised one leg smoothly. Her scarlet nails trailed red lines across the
tender skin of her inner thigh as she scored them aggressively. With an
acrobatic roll she twisted sharply then stood upright.
Glancing from beneath lowered lashes, Cassandra watched as the Monsignor's mouth
dropped open. As though unable to help himself, he sat forward on the edge of
his throne. Taking this for an invitation, Cassandra's possessed body swayed
toward the young man to stand before him, her hips swaying and torso rolling
hypnotically from side to side. She raised her arms and exquisitely undulated
her entire body slowly before him, tempting him to reach out and undo the tiny
bows that held her golden chemise together.
She purred as he reached out his soft fingers and pulled the golden ribbon ties.
The chemise fell in a whisper of silk, revealing her pointed nipples and pouting
breasts. Her muscular stomach rolled under his warm fingers as he touched her
heated flesh. Slowly she turned to present her rounded buttocks, shaking them,
the flesh jiggling invitingly. She dropped her hands to the floor as she stood,
straight legged, presenting him with a close view of her most feminine flesh,
the folds parting to his hungry eyes.
"Not a mark on you," he said in wonder. "Not a single imperfection anywhere," he
sighed.
The music whirled her away and she danced as only naked flesh could, without
bindings or restraints. Her hair flying and muscles straining, she leapt and
rolled, shivered and displayed herself to the Monsignor's hungry gaze. And she
danced, and she danced.
"Enough!" the Monsignor suddenly shouted.
The music crashed to a halt and Cassandra fell in a graceful obeisance centered
on the carpet.
"Leave us!" he roared. The Gypsies rushed out but the guards were hesitant.
"Do you think I can't defend myself against one naked girl?" he shouted angrily.
The guards fled.
'Goody! Goody! Goody!' ran in hysterical circles through Cassandra's mind.
'Alone at last!'
"And now my sweet, come here," the Monsignor commanded.
She approached the throne creeping across the rug, eyes demurely lowered,
veiling her intent. On her hands and toes like a languorous cat advancing on the
poor unsuspecting pigeon.
Still wrapped in a warm sheet of demonic power, Cassandra's body slithered up
the throne without touching a single fold of his robes. Shyly, she gripped the
arms of the heavy wooden chair then leaned toward the seated Monsignor,
presenting her body for his perusal.
The Monsignor's palm touched the fine silk of her hair and he ran his fingers
through her soft tresses. His fingers trailed to the very ends of her curls
where they rested against her breast. His fingers continued across the softness
of her skin then cupped her fullness in his cool dry palm.
"You are exquisite, like a fine sculpture Serena," he whispered. His fingers
found and explored a dusky pink nipple. Little jolts of pleasure streaked
straight to her greedy pussy, making it contract hungrily. "I have never seen a
woman as fine as you. Where did you come from?"
"I'm from Canada," she whispered as she knelt before the velvet throne.
Naturally, the spell that the Magister placed on her scrambled her speech, not
that the Monsignor would have known where Canada was anyway.
"What a lovely voice," the Monsignor mused as his other hand reached out to cup
her other breast. "But, Lord Chevalier le Duc did tell me that you could not
speak our language although you would understand what was said."
Cassandra nodded, purring as he played with her nipples, exploring them then
gently tugging on them.
"And so, because you cannot speak, you cannot share secrets. Is that not so, my
little morsel?" His breath deepened to pants. His crystalline blue eyes were
dilated with restrained desire. He licked his full pink lips.
Cassandra nodded again.
"Good," the Monsignor growled in satisfaction then dipped his head to her breast
and took a nipple into his hungry mouth.
Cassandra moaned and turned her face carefully away. She could feel the blaze of
hell-fire heating her eyes.
He sucked hard on her sensitive nipple, cupping her breast and nursing as though
starved. A trembling hand slid down her lightly curved belly to touch her
trimmed mound. His fingers tugged at the short pelt sharply. A tiny whimper was
surprised out of her, which seemed to please him. His fingers dipped lower, to
her wet folds then he abruptly slid two fingers up into her. Cassandra hissed
as he spread his fingers wide, scissoring them in her damp heat. She moaned in
pleasure and rocked against his hand like a cat seeking to be stroked.
"I have never touched a one as fine as you, Serena" he sighed. "You seem to be
enjoying it too. No whimpering refusals of piety from your red lips?"
Cassandra answered with a moan.
"No declarations of love either? Not that I would understand your gibberish," he
mused aloud in curiosity. "You are a carnal little thing, aren't you?" His voice
was low and hoarse, betraying his own rising carnal needs. "Down!" he commanded,
his voice harsh whisper. "Get on the floor."
