5… 4… 3… 2…
Your name is Judith and you are the best of my creations.
You are beautiful and strong. Your body is my weapon.
Your name is Holofernes and you are the best of my creations.
You are wise and strong. Your body is my weapon.
Lips bite into lips; she tilts her head back and inhales the scent of lavender, but he pulls her towards him. Clothes fall to the ground, shadow silhouettes dancing in candlelight against the tent’s walls.
She doesn’t want gentle.
She needs this pain.
There is a belt. She screams, and when he’s done, she lets him take her, wraps her hips around his as he pulls on her hair, and it goes on and on and on and she dissolves in pleasure and pain as he explores her every crevice, the belt around her neck, senses dimming and sharpening simultaneously as time ceases to be.
He awakes with a start, sharp steel under his Adam’s apple. Judith, naked, brown eyes and black curls on her shoulders, is holding his own sword at his throat. The slice feels like a papercut, but it opens him up. She raises the sword and brings it down with all the strength God’s given her. His head falls to the tent’s floor.
It takes him twenty seconds to die. There’s no agony or confusion. He’s a warrior. A soldier. He knew this time would come. But like this?
He has time to be sad.
Your name is artist and you are the best of my creations.
You are talented and you never give up.
Your body is my weapon.
You are the cosmos and you are the best of my creations.
You are virile and strong.
Do not let me down.
Inspired by a Jonah Lobe sketch.
Image by GraphicAssets.