Marrin Deserves a Snuff License, Chapter 9 [F/fff, noncon, incest, shooting]

Minute by minute, cultist by cultist, the line crawls forwards, towards my inexorable fate. There's no way I can possibly take part in this, there's no way I could ever willingly do this sort of thing to Lira, my body and mind both refuse to accept what I'm shifting woman by woman closer towards — but there's no way out for me, either. If I run, if I balk, if I try to free her, I'll be found out, and Lira and I will probably both be killed. It's not an option. As I slowly approach the rack she's bound to, I look for how it attaches, for the parts of her body most firmly pinned to the sharp metal edges of the cruel device, for how it operates and where it might be weak. It's the only thing I have to turn my focus to, the only modicum of relief from standing still and patient while I'm forced to listen to my sister sobbing and screaming her voice hoarse, accompanied by the slapping of bodies against her and the sounds of pleasure that differ slightly cultist by cultist. If I can free her from all of this here, somehow, in some way, at least this will have been worth it.

Worth it for me, anyway. I'm afraid for Lira's sake that the person I rescue won't be the same person who was kidnapped — being raped once can do that to a person, let alone the dozens that she's being put through right now. The only tiny way this could be worse is if we weren't wearing masks: if Lira had to know what I'm about to do to her, if she had to stare into my face and me into hers while I was forced to hurt her like that, I don't think either of us would ever be okay again.

Rekeczi, one space ahead of me, is bouncing on the balls of her feet, giddy as we approach the front of the line. My guts are knotted in fear of what's about to happen, but even more at the knowledge that even when the worst of it is over for me, if I don't help her out somehow, Lira will still barely be halfway through.

"Can you believe we're getting a new Daughter so soon after the last one?" Rekeczi whispers over her shoulder to me, her voice cutting through the ceaseless discordant staccato of flesh slapping against flesh and Lira's quiet whimpers of protest and cloying, unwanted pleasure. *"It feels like just the other day that Daughter Jezekh was Purified. I attended that one, too, y'know! This is actually my fourth Purification. Daughter Lunya and Daughter Risza have a little bit of me inside them too." She seems incredibly proud of herself, as if her cumshots were the most important ones in each of the rituals she's boasting about.

"This one's going to be great, too, I can feel it," she continues. "She's got all the makings, no problem: cute face, hot body, doesn't break easy... her heart is kind, her insults are cutting, she's so spiritual — you can tell if you've even spent a minute with her. I wonder what new name she'll choose?"

Both of my hands are fists, the moment I hear that. This woman doesn't fucking know Lira. She doesn't have any right to say what Lira is or isn't. Even if she'd spent time with Lira every one of the four days since her kidnapping, how could she actually expect to understand her? I can't imagine Lira having much to say to these freaks — at least the fact that she's evidently been serving them a lot of insults buoys my spirit a bit, hearing that she's been managing to keep her chin up.

Rekeczi doesn't seem to notice my discomfort, no matter how visible I feel it must be. Whatever she does notice she must be chalking up to simple nerves, but she doesn't know that the cocktail of loud, violent emotions in my chest is surely the most potent one in the whole temple.

I'm almost taken by surprise when the line stops moving forwards, so lost in my own head that I'd barely noticed that it's Rekeczi's turn now. I'm on the three steps that lead to the raised platform the ceremony is happening on, close enough that I can see the sweat beading on Lira's forehead when my vision errs too far from the construction of the contraption she's bound to. My own face is soaked with sweat, hair matted annoyingly to my forehead and my breath a heavy fog inside the metal mask. Rekeczi tosses her cloak off with gusto, and even goes as far as quickly stripping off her pants and boots as well, leaving her in nothing but her cropped jacket as she enters my sister. Rekeczi seems to be having a lot more fun with this than any of the cultists before her, as far as I was taking in details: the others had taken a more pragmatic approach, holding Lira by the hips or shoulders and simply thrusting into her until they finished; Rekeczi presses her body to Lira's as she rapes her, groping Lira's chest and raising her mask far enough to kiss and bite at Lira's neck, jaw, and ear. Lira's reactions grow stronger in response, though I can't tell if she's even more disgusted by this outflowing of passion, or if it's a welcome bit of intimacy in the sea of unfeeling abuse she's been dealing with.

I think I've identified a weakness in her bindings. There's a spot where two beams of metal cross each other on the far side of the device, that's been rocking and straining itself more than anything else as the contraption receives the rhythmic beating it's been taking all this time. If I can loosen that just enough, the whole thing should collapse, free her left hand as the other end of the strap becomes unbound to anything, and if Lira acts fast enough, she should be able to use the resulting loose piece of sharp metal to cut her bonds and we can escape. Gods, if we actually, truly manage to make it out of here somehow...

Rekeczi finishes up with a shuddering whine, gropes Lira once more for good measure, and pulls out, her cock covered in the loads of everyone ahead of her in line. She twirls around to face me as she collects her clothes. "She's a damn good fuck," Rekeczi winkingly tells me as she slaps my ass, giving it a supportive, if leering, squeeze. All it does is make me want to put my fist through her chest cavity.

Her clothes in a bundle in her arm, Rekeczi skips barefoot back to our pew. I feel a powerful buzzing in my head, my vision starts to shake, and I have to suppress the urge to vomit as it hits me that all possible futures have been winnowed down to one lethally fine point. I swallow hard, trying my best to keep Lira's face out of my field of view as I hesitantly shrug off my cloak. I can't be too halting here, no matter how I'm feeling, or it'll all be over, so even as I feel on the verge of fainting, I shimmy my pants and panties down past my hips.

I wasn't hard when I unbuttoned my pants, but the moment my cock is freed from the confines of clothing, it loyally grows to full-mast as if this is any other one-night stand. That must be thanks to the 'stimulant' Rekeczi gave me, which given the other possibility here, I guess I'm thankful for.

The downside of avoiding looking at her face is that I have to look at her body. I've never seen her naked before, not in any way that counts, but the sight confirms some terrible news for me: she's tall, pale, almost lanky, with hairless, porcelain-smooth skin, a small chest, a throat that begs for a hand around it, a better ass than the rest of her build would imply, and beautiful, delicate hands. Her pale skin is slick with blood in a few places where her fresh ritual scars have reopened. In other words... I have two types, and I've just come face to face with the fact that Lira is painfully one of them. Fuck. How the hell did I let that happen?

I screw my eyes shut as I slip into her, forcing down any sorts of noises I might want to make to keep Lira from hearing and recognizing my voice. She's running hot, unsurprisingly, and the dozens of loads already inside her make it incredibly easy to bury myself in her — on reaction, she presses her legs together, trying to force me out, which only makes her warmer and tighter, driving me deeper into her. "No, gods, please, no, you can let me go, I'll be good, I promise, it's been long enough..." she begs me, and the faint, flickering light of hope I can hear in the voice, the desperate idea that just maybe a fresh pair of ears will have a bit of mercy for her despite how many have coldly rebuked her up to this moment... there are instantly tears in my eyes.

I grip her by the shoulder with my left, my right searching sightlessly for the instability I spotted, as I force my hips quaveringly back, and forwards again, slamming into her. Her body is so welcoming, given the circumstances; her hips are a perfect fit for mine, her angles beckon me to hug and caress her... My legs shake as I try to force myself into a steadier rhythm, fingers digging painfully into her shoulder. I feel bad for how much my grip is surely hurting her, but if I let go even the slightest bit, I'm afraid I'll collapse entirely, unable to bear how badly I want this to be over — unable to bear how good it feels.

I can't help but let out a low growl as I speed up, thrusting harder and harder into a body that feels like it was crafted specifically for the way I fuck. Of all the feelings swimming inside me, anger is quickly climbing the ranks to number one, and that just leads me to thrust into Lira harder and harder, hilting myself with some strange mixture of wanting this to be over and wanting as much of her as possible. Even admitting to myself how I feel right now, admitting how much every stroke is unraveling me and the reason I came here at all, feels like a dangerous, sinful, impossible line to cross. Some of this must be the sex pill Rekeczi gave me, some must be the Mother of Petals using her power over sex to mock me — I have to tell myself that, I have to make myself believe it, because if what I'm feeling right now is just unabashedly true, I might as well go ahead and kill myself right here. Of all the women to give me the best sex of my life in the past few days, did one of them really have to be her?

I find the loose connection, and shift as much of my focus as I can towards deftly finding the loose bolt and unscrewing it, letting that task fill my thoughts as I give my body over to an autopilot that I wish could've arrived a hell of a lot sooner.

As the bolt falls, I accidentally catch Lira's face in my line of sight. They gave her a full face of makeup for this ritual, I suspect mostly so she could get to this state, streaks of mascara running down her cheeks. Sweat and tears plaster strands of her hair — navy-blue like mine — to her face, her skin glistening as she sobs. Her eyes are shut tight as she sobs, her mouth perpetually open in some mixture of cries, moans, and pleas for release. She looks so helpless, her body nothing but an unwilling receptacle for the pounding rhythm of mine, her cries doing nothing to lessen the pleasure I'm drawing out from her... A compulsion overtakes me, as undeniable as thirst, and my hand flies back without my permission — my palm cracks loudly against her cheek, she cries out in shock and pain, and as my hand rings with the force of impact, I'm over the event horizon, and before I can process the fact that I just slapped my helpless sister for fun I'm unloading into her, barely able to keep myself standing as my final few thrusts make the device rock and tremble, the same happening to Lira's breasts.

I manage to hold back the urge to moan her name as I rut into her for the final few seconds, every synapse in my brain lit up as I quiver and shake on top of her like a wet animal. As I lay there, recovering, catching the breath to pull out of her, I reach down and grab her left wrist; I pull it just far enough for her to realize it's unbound, not risking a whisper. I don't know if there'd be a worse time for her to realize who I am.

I pull myself out as she whispers a delicate, barely audible "thank you...". I step aside, and as I start to redress myself, I don't fight the tears that had been waiting in the wings since I put on my mask.

I take my time putting my clothes back on, long enough that the next cultist has time to begin. As she's prepping herself, I notice two of the Daughters whispering to one other, one pointing to the device, pointing out how hard it's rocking when the cultist starts up — but before they have time to do anything about it, the structure collapses, Lira and the current cultist collapsing to the floor in a heap of (perfectly real this time) twisted steel.

Everything happens in a flash, next. Lira grabs the loose bit of metal and, before she even frees one of her other limbs, drives the point into the chin of the cultist laying on top of her as she tries to push herself off Lira, which makes me proud to see — as that cultist falls dead and everyone begins to react, I go for my gun, and get it free just in time to put a bullet into one of the Daughters, which stops everyone near Lira in their tracks just long enough for Lira to get her other limbs free. She scrambles to her feet, nothing but a transparent nightgown and bloody length of steel to hold back the crowd; there's a beat where it seems the only noise in the temple is Lira's heavy, feral breathing, everyone's attention split between her and me, the cultist who just shot one of the Daughters with a gun.

Lira breaks for the curtain they brought her out from behind; the moment she starts to move, so does everyone else, but I do too, firing shots at the Daughters and the closest cultists as dozens of people all rush in the same direction, everyone chasing after the same prize. I aim for the Daughters, assuming that taking out a few of them will break the cult's morale enough to give us a chance, and weaken their ability to do any fucked up snuff magic on us. I put about ten shots towards the crowd before I'm behind the curtain, and manage to hit three of the Daughters (counting the one I shot at first), definitely killing at least two of them. To be frank, I'm surprised I landed even one more hit, given my unpracticed aim and the fact that I'm running in heels too small for me at the same time.

But as soon as we're behind the curtain, we're somewhere else. No longer is this the backstage of a temple — metal twists into an endless labyrinth beneath a bleeding sky, and I can't make heads or tails of where to move. Either Lira has dealt with this illusion before, or she just knows the layout of the temple very well, though, because she navigates this dimension like she lives here, and all I have to do is run behind her, careful not to trip, in case these illusory spikes could still run me through. I cast a glance behind us every few seconds, but the cultists don't seem to be giving chase back here. That's odd, given how hard they were running for the curtain just a moment ago... I follow Lira until she finds a door made invisible by the illusion; as she opens it, it looks like a hole opening itself in space, but it reveals a very normal utility room behind, and we tumble inside.

"We're safe here," Lira repeats, and never once have I heard more relief in a person's voice. "We're safe here, we're safe here," she repeats, collapsing onto the floor and draping her arms over her head to breathe more deeply. Lira vomits in the corner, then within moments she's a sobbing heap in the middle of the room; I lock the door for whatever extra good that will do, and immediately pull Lira into a hug.

It's the most important hug I've ever given. Every bit of love, care, intimacy, and safety that I denied everyone I raped and killed over the past few days, I pour into the hug, holding Lira so tight I'm half-sure I'll never let go of her again. She takes a moment to reciprocate, but when she does, she tosses her arms around me with enough force to knock me over, burying her face in my chest as we cry together. I don't know why we're safe in this room, but I'll take it if it means we get to stay like this for as long as we want.

I stroke her hair as she sobs into my chest, threading my fingers through her long hair, giving her as much time as she needs before she speaks. I know we're still in the belly of the beast, still surrounded at every angle by thousands of cultists, still sitting in a small room in the heart of their base, but just being free and alone for this moment, just knowing that we're safe, that she's alive, that I have Lira in my arms...

"Why aren't you saying anything?" She asks, after at least ten minutes of quiet, close sobbing, on both of our parts. "Please, if you can, say something..."

I screw my eyes shut. I was trying to figure out how to do this, what to say, how I could possibly reveal her saviour/rapist to her, but when it comes down to it like this, the simple request of a heartbroken young girl...

I reach up and pull my mask off, setting it aside where the sweat and tears within won't bother us.

"I'm so sorry, Lira," I say, my voice breaking as I hug her tighter. "I'm so fucking sorry. I'm so fucking sorry. I'll get you out of here, Lira, I promise," I assure her, holding her head tight to my chest.

"Marrin...?" She asks, voice muffled by my chest, and all I can do is nod as tears splash down on the top of her head. "You came to save me...?" As if she thought it was impossible. As if all her prayers have been answered.

My heart nearly breaks in two. Thank the heavens, she's happy to see me... I don't even know if she's fully realized what happened, as naive as hoping for that feels.

"I came to save you, Lira," I assure her, rubbing her back gently, careful to avoid brushing my fingers over her scars.

"With a gun?"

"With a gun," I laugh through the tears. "Pretty cool, right?"

"My big sister's an action hero...!" she manages to giggle.

"I'm so sorry I didn't get here sooner, Lira. I'm so sorry it had to happen like that. I'm so sorry that I..." I don't mean to trail off, but my voice catches in my throat, and I can't get the next few words out, as if they're stuck longways in my vocal tract.

"You did what you had to do," she says with a shrug just as shaky as her voice. "There wasn't another way..."

That's definitely what I'm telling myself, too. I nod, and repeat her words. "If there had been any other way, I swear, I..."

She shakes her head. "It's over now. I don't ever, ever, ever want to think about it again, okay? It's over. We move past it."

I laugh once, rueful and bitter, emotions I didn't realize could emerge so strongly through the fog of relief and joy I'm feeling right now. "We don't ever, ever, ever have to think about it again. Sounds like a plan to me."

"At least you enjoyed it, you perv," she says, trying to force a laugh that only halfway makes it off the ground.

"Wh- Lira, no, I—"

She puts a finger to my lips to shut me up.

"I don't care if you saved my life — If you got me pregnant, I'm telling mom."

It was a joke that risked blowing a hole in both of our fragile mental states, I think, but it pays off, and we both laugh as we hold each other tight, until the tears return and our words fall to silence. Outside, there's still more to be done, still more cultists to kill, and every moment we're in here, they're probably strengthening their defenses, but for this long, quiet moment, Lira and I are both in bliss.