your arrival went largely unnoticed, no fanfare or booming choir to introduce you to the world of man. A rather unceremonious fall into a dingy back alley in fact. Landing in broken glass, spatterings of urine and mud. The second you entered the world the shining aura of heaven began to dim.
It took time to get the strength to stand, tsepping into the street, naked and alone, cold? Is that what this feeling is? Those passing giving you alarmed lookes, unable to see the tattered wings on your back, unable to see the glowing halo hovering above your head, hidden by grace. You spend hours wandering the streets, watching the lights and listening to the strange sounds of your new worlds inhabitants.
The walk is exhausting, this can't be right? Maybe you should rest. Folded neatly into yourself, you rest on the side of the road, too close to traffic, too close to the bustle not realising the blaring sounds from the strange machines passing by were each screaming warnings at you. Your head between your legs, wings folded around to protect your still bloodied body, until.
A heavy impact rocks you from your hiding, ears ringing and eyes unable to focus you can hear muffled sounds between the ringing of your ears. Rough hands grasp at your delicate arms, bruising as they wrestle you up and with just as little effort, despite the flailing and twisting, the writing and panic, invisible feathers strewn all over until your vision is blocked with a fist. The world goes dark.
You wake tied to a small alter, hooded figures surround you as a faint chant eminates from the back of the dingey room. "Finally, finally you're here"
A man speaks, elated, giggling like a child as he does, an inhuman grin pinned to his face as he stares through you, not looking at your face, not looking at your body. His eyes fix to your wings, your halo, darting between the two.
The eyes bear down on you and you need to escape, you know you need to escape. Pulling at the rope fixing you in place, fighting a hopeless battle. Why are you here, who is this man, who are these people, why can they see your wings, your halo how can they sense your grace?
It doesn't matter, it's too late for anything to matter now. While you faught the rope he bagan make his move, a hand against your face, another begins to slide up your leg. You can feel the miasma of sin as it bleeds from his mind, you can see every dream and ever wish and every disgusting fantasy as he stares at you, the contact tearing away the barrier between your mind and his. The chanting continues.
He brings his face close to yours, his tongue moving closer and closer as the gentle hand against your cheek becomes a violent crushing grip against your jaw, holding you in place, holding your mouth open until he makes contact. It feels wrong, disgusting, the cold of his saliva invading your tastebuds, the slimy tounge exploring your mouth. Helpless. The chanting continues.
He pulls his head back with a clumsy drunken joy laughing and clapping his hands together, elated at his opertinity to defile something so pure. He begins to move himself closer to you, his body pressing against yours now, his hands grope and squeeze at you, spreading your ass and forcing the tips of his fingers into your virgin cunt. The chanting continues.
He doesn't hesitate. His fingers push harshly into you, you scream, it hurts. You want it to stop, you need it to stop please make it stop. But it won't. He forces his fingers deeper inside of you, watching with rapt attention each time he moves to enjoy the faces you make, to watch as you whine and cry, cry? A tear running down your cheek? The chanting continues.
You can't think straight anymore, there's a new feeling but you don't want to give in to it, strange stirring, shame, hate, anger, human emotions polluting your mind. Finally he brings his body against yours once more. His robes are gone. His smile remains. Unchanged and unbroken, unlike you. A painted mask of cruel joy witnesses your fall, he presses against you, pushing himself inside of you as he robs you of your grace. The rest is a blur, you can't resist anymore, what would be the point. Broken. Helpless. Defiled.
