Hey Guys, so my back story is a bit longer and more complicated than my dear friend Skylar’s so bear with me. Okay, so my name was Piper Pierce, and you are not gonna believe how I ended up making a deal with the actual devil. Seriously.
So, I grew up in this super normal house right outside Salt Lake. Every Sunday, it was the same drill: pile into the minivan, Dad driving, Mom doing the hair check thing, my little sis and bro always fighting in the back, and off to church. I’m a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. And honestly? I loved it. The way the hymns kinda echoed in the chapel? So peaceful. And the cultural hall always smelled like these super fake but still nice flowers. Plus, the way my dad would put his hand on Mom’s back during sacrament meeting? Total goals. I always had my scriptures in my bag, you know? Thumbed through ’em at seminary every day before school. That’s where they drill into you that serving others is the best way to live your faith.
Weekdays were packed. School, then youth group. I sang in the choir, soprano, helped organize Activity Days for the younger girls (glitter glue everywhere, always), and took turns teaching Sunday School. Charity, kindness, being a better you, that was the constant theme. My friends and I? Total study buddies. And after school, sports! Cross country was my jam, kept me in shape for tennis season. Even at sixteen, I totally dreamed about serving a mission. I know, I know, girls don’t have to, but I really wanted to. My faith? It was everything. Solid, you know? Like the mountains I could see from my bedroom window.
Home was just… home. Simple, warm. We’d eat dinner around this round wooden table: roast chicken Mondays, spaghetti Wednesdays, and Mom’s famous cinnamon rolls on Saturdays. Heaven. We’d just laugh, telling stories about our day. Dad coached my brother’s soccer team, and I’d help my little sis with piano. Totally hummed hymns during practice, drove her nuts. My parents? Sweetest ever. Tucked us in with prayers every night, little kisses on our foreheads. They wouldn’t stop even when I was a teenager. I said I hated it, but I actually liked it. We were just… happy. Totally bonded by laughter and, you know, love.
Then, junior year, right before graduation? The headaches started. At first, I was like, “Ugh, stress. Too many late-night texts.” Friends liked texting me because I’m such a talker, I even helped a couple through some dark nights. But then I started forgetting things—names, history facts, verses during scripture study. And waking up, totally gagging, from the nausea? Mom freaked and made me see a doctor. Turns out? Brain tumor. Super bad kind. Terminal. My whole world? Shattered. My faith, the one that promised hope? And this totally brutal reality of dying. I knew God had a plan. And if it was my time? Okay, fine. But seriously? I felt like I could change so many more lives. Bring people the truth of the gospel, you know?
My last days? Total blur. Hospital rooms, the smell of antiseptic, whispered prayers. I was just… there. In this way-too-bright room, and a not-so-comfy bed. My family’s tears? Constant ache. “I love you all so much, make sure you have a good day for me,” I’d say every morning, trying to sound strong. They’d hug me so tight, their voices all choked up, telling me how proud they were. Then, one quiet night? The monitor just… flatlined. I felt my heart slow down, then just… stop. The world just kinda dissolved into this peaceful nothingness. And my mind? Just faded. All the people I loved? Just flickered through my head. “Goodbye, family,” I thought. “See you soon.”
Then I woke up. Not in a hospital bed. But wrapped in these blankets that smelled all woodsy and kinda like warm honey. My head felt… light. And the first thing I saw? This super kind lady with silver hair and the gentlest eyes ever. “Welcome, Lady Sakura Riversong,” she said, holding me all snug against her chest. Her voice was so soft, and the walls around us? All polished wood and glowing. Totally new place.
Then, two seconds later? These two strangers knelt down by this fancy cradle I was in. A dude in super fancy clothes, and a woman with blonde hair in this silk gown that shimmered like moonlight. They smiled at me. This total, real smile. The kind my parents gave my baby brother when he was born. “Our daughter,” they whispered, all together. Kissing my tiny forehead. I could hear distant hammering. Someone building stuff. And the soft sounds of servants bustling around in these huge hallways. “Daughter?” I thought.
Yep, apparently I was reborn. I wasn’t Piper Pierce anymore. I was Sakura Riversong. Born into this rich, aristocratic family. With a mansion and tons of money. This wasn’t right. Not at all. Life after death? Not supposed to be another life. It’s supposed to be heaven, right? Waiting for the Second Coming? Then, coming back to Earth for a million years to give everyone a chance to accept the gospel? Before we get our eternal glories? I was wrong? No way. That can’t be it.
But it totally was. After suffering through being a baby again (ugh, so boring and gross), I kinda realized maybe my whole life before was a lie. Or at least? This is some totally unknown part of God’s plan. I just can’t wrap my head around it. So, we believe that death isn’t the end, it’s just a step in our Heavenly Father’s plan for us. When we die, our spirit separates from our body. Our spirit goes to the spirit world, which has two parts: paradise and spirit prison. Paradise is a place of peace and rest for those who followed Jesus Christ in this life. Spirit prison is more like a waiting place where people who didn’t have the chance to learn about Christ (or didn’t follow Him yet) can still learn the gospel.
While we’re in the spirit world, we’re still alive as spirits. We can learn, grow, and even accept the gospel if we didn’t get the chance on Earth. That’s a big part of God’s fairness and love.
Then, after Christ returns and there’s a final judgment, we’ll all be resurrected. That means our spirits will be reunited with perfect, immortal bodies. After that, we’ll be judged based on our faith, our choices, our desires, how close our wills are to God’s, and what we’ve done with what we’ve learned.
Based on that, we believe we’ll go to one of three kingdoms of glory: the Celestial Kingdom (the highest, where we can live with God and our families forever), the Terrestrial Kingdom, or the Telestial Kingdom. Each is a degree of glory and happiness, but the Celestial is the one we strive for because that’s where we can truly be with our Heavenly Father and become like Him.
But now, I don’t know. Could my entire religion be a lie? It can’t be. But if it is… who am I?
Well, here, apparently my new name is Sakura Riversong. Felt so weird on my tongue. All soft and flowy compared to my old, solid name. It had this melody to it, you know? This gentle lute music I’d overheard somewhere in this giant house. Still, though? Didn’t feel right. Not at all. The hymns, the scripture study, that total certainty about God’s plan? It all felt like this super distant dream, fading away. Heaven wasn’t supposed to be a fancy crib and these strangers gazing at me all adoringly and calling themselves my parents. It was supposed to be… different. Waiting. A totally awesome reunion. Had I been wrong? Was my faith, the main thing in my life for sixteen years, just a story I told myself?
The days just kinda blurred into weeks. Silk sheets against my skin? So soft. The smell of these flowers I couldn’t even name? Super sweet. And servants? Everywhere. Always anticipating what I needed. My new mom? Her smile was as bright as the twin moons I saw out my nursery window. She’d hum these ancient lullabies while she brushed my hair. My new dad? His hands were kinda rough, even though he wore these super fancy robes. He’d tell me stories about our family, the Riversongs. Brave warriors, smart scholars. They were nice, totally. But still? This knot of weirdness in my chest? It wouldn’t go away. This wasn’t my life. These weren’t my real parents.
But as I turned 18? This weird curiosity started to bloom, right alongside the confusion. The clothes they put me in? Super sheer and light. Totally hinted at my own skin underneath. Not very modest. The servants who gave me baths? They moved all practiced. Intimate, almost. Made my cheeks get all hot in a way I’d never felt before. Their eyes would linger, not in a creepy way, but with this strange respect. Like my baby body was super alluring or something.
Then came the lessons. Not about scriptures or helping people. But art, music, and something I was not prepared for pleasure. My tutors talked about bodies in this totally blunt way that would have made my seminary teachers faint. They’d describe feelings, desires, all that stuff, with this super open curiosity that was both shocking and, okay, kind of interesting. It was like a woman on this world, yes, I found out I am definitely not on Earth, had duties to either be a sex slave or be a queen. No in between. Many times the maids spoke of how my father uses them very thoroughly. So my innocent mind was completely shattered. At first, my modest outlook surprised everyone, but they eventually began to look down on me and offer to teach me stuff. I refused.
One afternoon? This handmaiden, Hana, was helping me get dressed. Her fingers? As soft as flower petals. They brushed against my bare skin while she tied the silk cords of my tunic. This weird shiver went through me. Totally new feeling, but not bad? Her eyes met mine, this soft little smile on her lips. And for a sec? The air in the room felt all charged. I think she was a lesbian and I have a feeling she was attracted to me. I tried to smile and shrug it off. I am definitely not into girls.
As I turned 19, those moments? They happened more. And they were way more intense. A touch that lasted a second too long. A look that said way more than words. A whisper in the shadows of these giant hallways. My body—once just this vessel for my faith—started waking up in ways I never could have imagined. The stuff I learned in my old life? It was totally clashing with all these new sensations. Charity, kindness, being a good person? Where did that fit in a world that seemed all about feeling good?
Maybe this was the test. Not about believing in God the way I used to. But about being able to deal with all this new stuff. To learn. To experience everything. If this was some totally secret part of God’s plan? Wouldn’t I have to go all in? Explore all the weirdness of this totally crazy world? No, that’s insane. Am I insane? Should I try sex? Maybe being with a woman is okay?
The memories of Salt Lake? The hymns, the scripture verses? They started to feel like echoes. Getting fainter every day. My mom’s face, the sound of my dad’s laugh, the feel of my scriptures in my hand? Still there, but kinda covered up by all this new stuff. The fancy clothes, the weird smells, the way people touched me? It was becoming my new normal. I felt like two people split. Until I was.
It began when I turned 20. I just felt like during the day I had two people in my head. I thought and did two different things. Like, I am great at multi-tasking, but I felt like sometimes I would look at Hana and I would be turned on and I wanted to try having lesbian sex with her. But then another part of me screamed inside and said it was gross. Anyway, I just feel like I’m somebody else.
One step and suddenly gone.
I screamed. Loud. But nobody heard.
The fall wasn’t long, but it wasn’t short either. My body slammed against roots and rocks, tumbling like a broken doll. By the time I hit bottom, everything ached. Scrapes lined my arms and thighs, blood trickling down in thin, glowing lines. I blinked against the strange light.
Crystals. Everywhere.
Towering violet formations jutted from the walls, pulsing with a dim, inner glow. They hummed like they were alive. The floor was slick with mineral dust, and it glimmered like powdered stars. Beautiful. Haunting. Alien.
Then I felt it.
A slow, cold squirming against my skin.
I looked down. They were clinging to me—small, translucent leech-like creatures, each with tiny jagged spines of crystal curling out from their backs. They pulsed faintly with bluish light, sucking at my skin. Feeding on me.
I completely lost it.
“GET OFF ME!” I screamed, frantically clawing at them. My nails ripped them free, tearing skin with them. They dropped with wet little splats, wriggling before curling up and dying. I kept ripping, sobbing and shaking and gasping for air.
“That was gross,” a voice said.
I froze.
“Hello?” My voice was a whisper.
Silence.
I turned slowly. There was a massive crystal jutting out of the ground, taller than me, its face polished smooth like glass. And in it… I saw myself.
But not how I expected.
My face was angular, delicate, but sharp at the cheekbones, almost elven. My skin was pale with a faint pinkish glow beneath the surface, the same hue as rose quartz, marred now by blood and bruises. My lips were full and stained with red, some natural tint I didn’t understand. My hair, which I never thought much about, flowed over my shoulders like a waterfall of gold, tangled now with bits of crystal dust and blood. And my eyes… they weren’t brown anymore. They were like opals swirling with soft gold, storm gray, and flashes of blue that moved when I blinked.
I looked older. Wiser. Dangerous.
But then my lips in the reflection moved.
And I hadn’t said anything.
“Hi,” the reflection said, blinking.
I backed up so fast I nearly fell over again. “What the—who—?!”
The reflection tilted her head. Same confusion. Same panic. “I… I think I was… Piper? Sorry, you were gonna ask who am I. I could tell.”
My stomach dropped.
In the mirror I… well she looked around, her voice shaky. “Where am I? What happened? Am I dead? I remember the hospital… my parents… everything went white and then… nothing.”
My throat tightened. “Yeah,” I said softly. “You died. A long time ago girl.”
She flinched, hand flying to her mouth. “I thought I was gone. I… I don’t remember anything after that.”
“I do,” I whispered.
Her eyes locked with mine. “You remember… Do you know me?”
“Um I am you. And I remember all of it,” I said, swallowing. “The scriptures. Seminary. The cinnamon rolls. Your family. That last night. I remember being you.”
Her eyes welled up, and her voice went soft. “That’s so weird. You don’t look like me… but you’re me? Is this a joke?”
“No. But technically I’m not totally you,” I said. “I’m… Sakura Riversong now. But I’m still you. And you’re still here.”
She blinked again, trying to wrap her ghost-brain around it. “So… I’m not a ghost?”
“No,” I said. “You’re in my head. Somehow. Part of me. Separate, but still me.”
She leaned forward in the mirror, squinting. “Wait, am I like your conscience? Like the snarky voice in your head?”
“More like a shoulder angel,” I said, wiping my face. “Except you can talk. Clearly.”
She laughed, then winced. “Well, that’s terrifying.”
Then, softer, more vulnerable: “How long has it been?”
I hesitated. “Years. Twenty, technically.”
She blinked, stunned. “Twenty years? Oh my gosh, I’ve been… gone? For that long? I don’t even remember anything. It’s like I closed my eyes and then bam, I’m in some freaky magic mirror covered in blood and glitter slime.”
I nodded slowly. “Yeah. You missed… a lot. Wait, so you weren’t yelling at me or anything in my mind these past couple months?”
“No… I feel like I just, well, we just died. I guess.”
“So that was really me? Or us?”
Piper bit her lip, glancing down. “I guess… So if I’m not you and you’re me… are you like 36?”
“Um, technically,” I confirmed. “But I feel 20. Probably brain chemistry. So are we stuck like this?”
She gave this sad little smile. “I guess… we’re roommates.”
“Pretty much.”
Then she blinked. “Remember Studio C? I’m totally your shoulder angel. LOL.”
“Yeah,” I said. “You kinda… are loud though. I still feel you. But I drive.”
Her mouth dropped open. “So wait, you control everything? Does that mean I’m basically watching a movie I can yell at? This heaven is so weird. Wait… why are we not in heaven?”
“I know,” I said. “It’s a long story.”
We both fell quiet. The crystal light pulsed around me, soft and steady. I sat there in the dirt, cut up, bleeding, and somehow laughing a little.
“Dibs on the window seat,” she said finally.
The days continued and Piper became almost a nuisance. Weird to say about my past self, but yeah. She was so innocent. My clothes, the maids, everything was so immodest to her. But I got used to it. Well… until one day.
Then I turned Twenty-One.
Hana had been my constant companion—more than just a handmaiden. Her touch was gentle when she helped me dress, her smile warm when she brought me jasmine tea. But lately, there was something else in her eyes. A lingering softness when our hands brushed. A quiet understanding that seemed to bypass words.
The heavy oak door shut behind us, muffling the noise from the celebration. I leaned against it, the cool wood grounding me. The excuse of a headache got me out of the banquet, but really, I just wanted to be alone. Alone… with her.
Hana gathered my hair and began brushing it. The motion was soothing, but when her fingers paused at the nape of my neck, something shifted. A different kind of shiver ran down my spine. My breath caught. My cheeks warmed.
“Sakura-sama,” she whispered, her voice low and rough. “You are so beautiful.”
My reflection caught my flushed face, wide eyes, parted lips. I looked… vulnerable. Exposed. Alive.
“Hana…” I breathed.
She set the brush down. Her fingers trembled slightly as she turned me to face her. Her hands rested on my shoulders, then slid slowly down my arms, stopping at my wrists. She laced our fingers together and pressed a soft kiss to my palm.
The sensation sent a shockwave through me.
“No. No no no no no—what are you doing?! That’s Hana! That’s a girl! This is wrong. This is so wrong.”
Piper’s voice rang in my head, panicked and loud.
“I can’t watch this. What is happening?! I didn’t—this isn’t—STOP.”
But I couldn’t stop. Not really. My breath hitched. My knees weakened. The kiss on my palm felt like fire spreading up my arm, blooming in my chest, my stomach.
Another part of me, the part that wasn’t Piper. was leaning into it. Curious. Wanting. Confused, yeah. But not afraid.
“You’re supposed to save yourself for a husband. This…this is sin. Please stop.”
I flinched. Just a little. But Hana didn’t notice.
And I didn’t pull away.
“Hana,” I breathed again, my voice trembling, barely audible. I felt so… needy.
She looked at me, her eyes filled with a tenderness that both thrilled and terrified me. “You are so innocent, Sakura-sama,” she whispered, her voice thick with a longing that mirrored my own. “There is so much pleasure… so much joy you deserve to know.”
And then she leaned closer, her lips brushing against my ear, her breath hot and intoxicating. “May I show you?” Her breath tickled! No! Don’t let her! This is wrong!
Another nod, smaller, more hesitant than the last. But it was there. A surrender. A yielding to the unknown. My heart hammered against my ribs, a frantic rhythm that echoed the growing urgency within me. I felt like I was about to burst. What are you doing? Stop! This isn’t you!
What followed was a slow, deliberate unveiling. Hana’s hands became my guides, mapping the landscape of my body with a reverence that both humbled and aroused me. She traced the curve of my collarbone, the delicate hollow of my throat, the sensitive skin behind my ear. Her touch was light, exploratory, yet firm in its intent. It was as if she were rediscovering me, and in doing so, helping me rediscover myself. It was like she was painting me with her touch. Her hands are on your body! This is a sin! A woman’s body is sacred!
Her lips followed, soft kisses that bloomed into something more. They trailed down my neck, each press sending a shiver of delight down my spine. The air crackled with a tension that was both terrifying and exhilarating. The scent of jasmine from the garden mingled with the sweet, musky scent of our arousal, creating an intoxicating aroma that filled the room. It smelled like… desire. Oh God, she’s kissing you! This is unnatural! Disgusting!
Hana’s fingers worked at the fastenings of my tunic, her movements deft and sure. The cool air against my bared skin made me gasp, but not from cold. It was the shock of exposure, the thrill of vulnerability. Her gaze lingered on me, her eyes tracing the gentle swell of my breasts. I felt a blush rise to my cheeks, but it wasn’t shame. It was a heady mix of anticipation and desire. My chest felt tight, and my nipples were… perky. Her eyes! She’s looking at your chest! Cover yourself! This is immodest!
“You’re beautiful,” she murmured, her voice thick with admiration.
Her words, her gaze, made me feel… seen. Truly seen, perhaps for the first time in my life. Not as a lady, not as a pawn in a political game, but as a woman. A real, desirable woman. Don’t listen to her lies! This isn’t right! You’re supposed to save yourself!
Her hands cupped my breasts, her thumbs gently stroking my nipples. The sensation was exquisite, a sharp, focused pleasure that made me arch into her touch. Another moan escaped my lips, this one louder, more demanding. My breath hitched, and my body thrummed with a growing heat. It was like a delicious ache. No! No, no, no! This feels… wrong! So wrong! Don’t let her touch you there! Are you even listening to me! Hello!
“Tell me if this feels good,” she whispered, her eyes searching mine.
“Yes,” I gasped, the word barely audible. “Oh, yes.” It feels so good. It shouldn’t! It’s a perversion! Stop it!
Hana’s touch intensified, her fingers teasing and stroking, drawing out the pleasure, building the pressure. I tangled my fingers in her hair, holding her close, desperate for more. I wanted to be as close to her as humanly possible. Get away from her! This is lust! This is wicked!
I reached out, my own hands finding the soft fabric of her tunic, then slipping beneath it, exploring the smooth warmth of her back. Her skin was like silk beneath my touch, and I could feel the tension in her muscles, the subtle tremors that mirrored my own. I traced the line of her spine, feeling the heat radiating from her body, the frantic beat of her heart. It was like holding a live wire. Don’t touch her! Her body is not for you! This is a sacred vessel!
She shifted, kneeling before me, her gaze locked with mine. Her eyes were dark with desire, but there was also a tenderness, a vulnerability that mirrored my own. It was like looking into a mirror, but seeing a more intense version of myself. She’s kneeling? What’s she doing? This is going too far! This is depraved!
“Let me show you,” she whispered, her voice husky with longing.
And then, with infinite gentleness, she eased my trousers down my hips. The cool air against my most intimate place made me draw in a sharp breath. A flicker of shame, a remnant of the teachings of my youth, threatened to surface. But the intensity of the moment, the undeniable pull I felt towards Hana, quickly overwhelmed it. My core throbbed. No! No! No! She’s touching you there! That’s private! That’s for your husband!
Her fingers were gentle as they explored, tracing the delicate folds, the sensitive nub hidden within. Each touch sent a jolt of sensation through me, a building pressure that was both unfamiliar and incredibly arousing. My head fell back, and I moaned, my body arching into her touch. It was like being electrocuted, but in the best way possible. Oh God! Oh God! What is she doing? This feels… sinful! So sinful!
“Hana…” I whimpered, my voice pleading. I was so close.
“Easy, Sakura-sama,” she murmured, her voice soothing and firm. “Let me guide you.”
And she did. Her fingers moved with a practiced grace, finding a rhythm that made my breath hitch and my pulse race. She explored me thoroughly, her touch both tender and demanding. I felt like a flower, slowly opening under her touch. This is wrong! So deeply wrong! A woman should not touch another woman like this!
“Like this?” she asked, her voice a low purr. As her fingers entered my cunt.
“Yes,” I gasped. “There.” Right there. No! No! No! She’s inside you! This is an abomination! An abomination!
The pressure built, coiling tighter and tighter within me. My senses narrowed, focusing on the exquisite sensations. I could barely see, barely hear. You’re going to hell! You’re going to hell for this! Repent! Repent now!
Then, she guided my hand to her own body, showing me the slick heat between her legs. The shared intimacy, the feeling of our bodies mirroring each other’s arousal, was incredibly potent. It deepened the connection between us, blurring the lines between mistress and servant, between self and other. It was like merging souls. Don’t touch her there! That’s her private place! This is perverse!
We explored each other, learning the language of touch and sensation. Soft moans, whispered words, the frantic rhythm of our breathing filled the room. We shifted positions, experimenting, discovering new ways to pleasure each other. It was a dance, a beautiful, forbidden dance. This is a mockery of the sacred union between a man and a woman! Stop it! Stop it now!
Hana moved between my legs, her tongue tracing patterns on my folds. I shuddered, my hands gripping her hair. I felt her warmth, her breath, and then the slickness of her tongue as she delved deeper, seeking out my most sensitive point. My hips bucked involuntarily, and I cried out, the pleasure intense and unfamiliar. It was like being reborn. Her tongue! There! Oh God! This is filthy! Unclean!
“Hana,” I panted, “I can’t” I’m going to…
“Yes, you can,” she encouraged, her voice low and urgent. “Let go, Sakura-sama. Trust me.”
I did. I surrendered to the sensations, letting them wash over me in a tidal wave of pleasure. My body convulsed, my vision blurred, and a cry tore from my throat. It was like nothing I had ever experienced before – a release so complete, so shattering, it left me trembling and breathless. I felt… emptied, in the best way. No! No! No! You’ve defiled yourself! This is a sin against God! Please… Dear Heavenly Father. I Don’t know what to do… please help me. Help Sakura. I Feel So helpless….
Hana held me close, her own body shuddering. We lay entwined, our skin slick with sweat, our breaths mingling in the quiet aftermath. It was like coming home. Sakura… Please. If theres any part if me. Please help me. Stop this. No more. It’s was momentary pleasure. Thats all this was.
“Did you enjoy that, Sakura-sama?” she asked softly, her fingers tracing the curve of my cheek.
“Enjoy?” I whispered, my voice hoarse. “That was… I don’t have words. I really did enjoy it. Though Piper screaming in my head made it hard to focus” It was… transcendent.” Enjoy? How can you even ask that? This was a betrayal of everything you believe in!
She smiled, a small, intimate smile that reached her eyes. “There’s no need for words,” she said. “Just feel.”
And I did. I felt the lingering aftershocks of pleasure, the deep connection with Hana, the burgeoning sense of freedom that bloomed within me. I felt… whole. Whole? You feel whole after that? You should feel shame! Repent!
Later, as we lay side by side, our bodies still intertwined, the conversation drifted to the past. Her hand is still on you! Get away from her!
“Hana,” I began hesitantly, “back home… where I grew up… things were very different.”
“Different how, Sakura-sama?” she asked, her voice gentle.
I hesitated, unsure how to explain the deeply ingrained beliefs that had shaped my understanding of relationships, of myself, for so long. It was hard to put into words. How can you explain the truth to someone who embraces such wickedness?
“There was a… a strong emphasis on tradition,” I said, choosing my words carefully. “On family. On duty. And… and certain things were considered… wrong.”
“Wrong?” Hana prompted, her brow furrowed slightly.
“Relationships between women,” I finally said, the words feeling heavy and forbidden on my tongue. “It was… it was seen as an abomination. A sin.” My voice cracked. Say it! Tell her how wrong this is! How it goes against God’s commandments! Please Sakura I can’t do this, why are you okay with this?!
Hana was silent for a moment, her gaze thoughtful. “And you were taught this from a young age?”
I nodded. “From childhood. In church, in school, at home… it was a constant message. That those feelings… those desires… were unnatural, sinful. That I was broken or flawed for even thinking such things.” I felt a tear slip. They were right! It is a sin! Why won’t you listen!
“And did you believe it?” she asked, her voice soft but direct.
I looked away, shame washing over me. “I… I tried to. I wanted to be good, to be accepted. But…” I know the truth. You knew the truth! And you still did this! You’ve stained yourself!
“Your heart knows better?” Hana finished, her fingers tracing a gentle pattern on my arm.
I met her gaze again, my eyes searching hers. “Yes,” I whispered. “My heart… it never felt wrong. It felt… right. But I was so afraid. Of being rejected, of being condemned.” I was so, so scared. Your heart is deceiving you! This is the path to damnation!
Hana’s eyes softened. “Sakura-sama,” she said, her voice filled with a deep tenderness, “you are not broken. You are not flawed. You are beautiful, and your desires are natural and good. Those who told you otherwise were wrong.” They were liars. No! They spoke the truth! You’re the one who’s twisted!
Her words were like a balm to my soul, a soothing ointment on a wound that had festered for years. I felt a tear slip down my cheek, a tear of relief, of release. It was like a weight being lifted. Relief? How can you feel relief after such a vile act?
“Thank you, Hana,” I said, my voice thick with emotion.
She leaned in closer, her lips brushing against mine. “There is nothing to thank me for,” she murmured. “Only to accept yourself. To embrace who you truly are.” Accept this perversion? Embrace this sin? Never!
The warmth of her body was a siren’s call, pulling me closer. I shifted, my body aligning with hers, and a new wave of desire washed over me. I wanted her again. No! Stop! Don’t go back there!
“Hana,” I whispered, my voice thick with renewed longing. I need you. You need to repent! You need forgiveness! Not more of this!
“Yes, Sakura-sama?” she responded, her eyes mirroring my own desire.
I hesitated for a moment, unsure how to express the yearning that consumed me. Then, I found my voice. “I want to be closer to you,” I confessed, my cheeks flushing. “Every part of you.” I want to be with you. This is wrong! So wrong! But… the feeling…
A soft smile graced her lips. “Show me,” she whispered.
And so I did. I moved closer, positioning myself so that our bodies were intimately connected. I felt her breath on my skin, her heat enveloping mine. The world narrowed to the space between us, the feel of her against me, the intoxicating scent of our arousal. It was like being in a dream. This feels… good. Too good. You’re selling your soul!
My hands found her waist, pulling her in even tighter, feeling the soft give of her flesh against my own. I moved rhythmically against her, the friction building a delicious pressure. I could feel her moaning softly, her body moving in harmony with mine. It was the most beautiful sound I’d ever heard. Her moans… they’re… seductive. Don’t listen! Resist!
“Yes, yes,” Hana groaned, her voice thick with lust. “That’s it, Sakura-sama. Right there.” Don’t stop. Don’t listen to her! This is the devil’s work!
The sensation was both grounding and exhilarating. It was a primal connection, a merging of two into one. There was no shame, no fear, only the pure, unadulterated pleasure of being this close to another person, of sharing this intimacy with Hana. It was like coming home, but also like exploring a new world. Shame! There should be so much shame! You’ve defiled your body!
We continued like this for a while, exploring the nuances of our bodies, the subtle shifts in pressure and rhythm that sent waves of pleasure through us. I lost myself in the sensation, the world outside fading away. I wanted to taste her, to devour her. I wanted to consume her. No! No! No! Don’t do it! That’s unspeakable!
“Your snatch is driving me wild,” I choked out, my lust going through the roof. “I gotta eat you out.” Your mouth? There? No! That’s disgusting! Unnatural!
Hana’s breath hitched. “Sakura-sama,” she whispered, her eyes widening with a mixture of surprise and intense arousal. Her dark eyes smoldered with an intensity that mirrored my own.
“Are you sure?” Sure? No! This is an abomination!
“Yes,” I said, my voice firm, my resolve hardening with each passing second. “More than sure. I need to be as close to you as possible.” I’m begging you. Don’t beg for this! Beg for forgiveness! Beg for salvation!
I shifted, positioning myself so that I could fully explore her body with my mouth. The scent of her was intoxicating, a heady mix of musk and sweetness, like a heady perfume and raw desire. I pressed my lips against her, my tongue tracing the delicate folds of her vulva, savoring the taste of her arousal. She tasted like heaven. Her taste… it’s… perverted! Wrong!
Hana cried out, her back arching off the bed in a spasm of pure ecstasy. “Oh, my goodness! Sakura-sama!” Her voice was raw, guttural, a sound that both thrilled and aroused me. It was like music. Her cries… they’re cries of sin! You’re leading her astray!
Her cries fueled my desire, urging me on. I lapped at her, tasting her essence, feeling her body tremble beneath my ministrations. Her clit was hard and swollen, and I paid special attention to it, flicking my tongue against it, teasing it mercilessly until she was practically screaming my name. I wanted to make her mine. You’re defiling her! You’re defiling yourself! This is a sacrilege!
“Don’t stop! Please!” she begged, her hands gripping my hair, her fingers digging into my scalp. Her hips bucked against my mouth, offering herself to me completely. She was so open, so vulnerable. She wants this? How can she want this? This is an act of darkness!
The sounds of our pleasure filled the room – moans, gasps, wet, sucking noises. It was a symphony of lust, a celebration of our bodies and our desires. Every nerve ending in my body was focused on the woman beneath me, on the taste and feel of her, on the power I had to bring her such intense pleasure. I was obsessed. This is a descent into hell! You’re dragging both of you down!
And I didn’t pull away.
When the release came, it was like a tidal wave. My whole body trembled, arching into her touch. I cried out, overwhelmed, every nerve ending raw and lit up. Hana held me close, her fingernails digging gently into my back as her own breath caught in little gasps. We moved together in rhythm, and it felt like something was cracking open inside me, something I didn’t even know was buried.
“You,” I managed, breathless, voice thick with emotion. “You’re incredible. You’re the most amazing thing I’ve ever tasted.” The words felt dangerous. Freeing. Real.
“Oh my gosh! Sakura! What did you just say?! Tasted?!”
Piper’s voice screeched through my mind like someone slamming on a piano. “I’m literally dying again! This is not what we are!”
I could hear the sound of crying, but Hana wasn’t crying. Piper was. I ignored her. Or tried to.
Afterward, we laid tangled together, slick with sweat, our breath slowly returning to normal. There was peace. Real, aching peace. And a hunger for more. Every stolen moment with Hana after that felt like I was rewriting my story.
But Piper? She was always there.
“This is wrong. It’s not what we were taught. You’re not even married let alone her being a girl. You don’t even love her, do you? Please tell me this isn’t just about… us dying a virgin.”
I didn’t answer her. I didn’t know what the answer was.
For months it continued. Secret touches in shadowed corners. Hana teaching me my own body like it was an instrument only she could play. Our moans were music. Our silences were confessions. And every time I shuddered with release, Piper flinched.
“I can’t believe you’re doing this again. Every night? Sakura… we used to be good. We use to have a crushes on boys.”
I’d roll my eyes, wrap my arms tighter around Hana, and let myself drown in warmth.
Time passed and I turned Twenty-Two.
My father announced my betrothal like it was a feast. “The age of blossoming!” he declared, lifting his goblet. “To my Sakura! May her beauty bring honor to House Riversong!”
I smiled. Because I was supposed to. Because the dress was perfect and the guests were rich. But inside? I was unraveling.
“And now,” he said, louder, more serious, “a future. We’ve arranged a union with Baron Elmsworth’s son. Lucian.”
“No. Not him. Please, not him.”
That was me. Not Piper.
Piper just whispered, “Good a man. Serves you right now you will have straight married sex. And you will see it’s better.”
I met Lucian a week later. He was worse than I thought. Handsy. Smirking. Eyes like a predator.
One night he came to my chambers, He locked the door behind him. The things he said. The way he pushed. I fell into the bed and couldn’t move. Couldn’t speak. All I remember was his weight and the sound of my own heart and tears.
“Get up. Fight. Please, Sakura, don’t let him-“
The deed was irreversible I sat in my room in the corner in silence, piper silent as well. I wanted to cry but nothing came out. I wanted him to be arrested, but he was my fiancé, no one would do anything. I wanted him dead.
The next morning, Lucian was found dead in his room. A hole in his heart from his back resembling a letter opener. No one saw me leave. I traded my jewelry for a horse. I wore stolen clothes and rode into the mist.
Piper didn’t speak for a long time.
Then finally, softly: “Good. I hated him too.”
Now, I’m riding on a horse into the distance trying to put as much land between me and this home. The silk is gone. The servants are gone. It’s just me. And Piper. The air was crisp against my skin beneath the roughspun fabric. The rhythmic clop of the horse’s hooves was a steady beat against the silence.
“Are we going to be able to survive on our own in this world?”
I didn’t answer. I just wrapped the rough blanket tighter and held on to the pommel of the strap for the horse. The rising sun cast long shadows across the unfamiliar landscape.
Tomorrow, I’d walk into the guild and say I was a swordmaiden. Just some girl with a blade and a bad past. Nothing more. The thought was a fragile shield against the vast unknown.
But Piper? She never let me forget.
“You used to believe in heaven. Now you’re kissing girls and stabbing grooms. What even are we now?”
Someone free, I thought. The wind whipped through my unbound hair, a tangible sensation of that newfound liberty.
And that was enough.
I sat up in the scratchy bed of a grimy roadside inn, feeling all stiff and gross, every muscle in my body protesting the abuse I’d put it through. Three days on the run, sleeping in stables and under leaky wagons, hadn’t exactly done wonders for my back. The stale air hung heavy with the mingled scents of sweat and cheap ale.
We used to have memory foam, Piper grumbled in my head. This place smells like expired cheese and broken dreams.
She wasn’t wrong. The blanket was thin and scratchy, the straw poking through the mattress like tiny knives. I swung my legs over the side of the bed, the rough wood cool against my bare feet. Standing, I stretched, my spine cracking in protest. The stolen tunic and trousers lay folded on a rickety stool. As I reached for them, the dim morning light filtering through the grimy window traced the contours of my naked body. My breasts, small B-cups, felt surprisingly unconfined after years of restrictive corsets, their weight a gentle pressure. Below my navel, a neat triangle of dark hair marked the juncture of my thighs, a patch of natural femininity I’d been taught to ignore, even despise. Now, it felt simply like a part of me. The curve of my hips flared slightly before leading to the lean muscle of my legs, toned from years of more ladylike pursuits that had unexpectedly lent themselves to flight. I pulled on the roughspun tunic, the coarse fabric a stark contrast to the silk that had once been my second skin. It hung loosely, concealing the lines of my body. The ill-fitting trousers followed, cinched at the waist with a piece of scavenged rope.
It had been a month since Lucian. Since the letter opener. Since I bailed on my whole life. The memory was a cold, hard knot in my chest.
“Since you murdered someone,” Piper said softly.
I sighed. “Yeah. That too.” The sounds of the inn slowly waking, the clatter of dishes, muffled voices, drifted through the thin walls.
Running away wasn’t glamorous. It was stale bread and cold nights and checking every face to make sure it wasn’t one of Father’s spies. I’d crossed into some neighboring country whose name I didn’t even know. It didn’t matter. All that mattered was that it wasn’t Riversong. The unfamiliar architecture visible through the window was a constant reminder of my new, precarious reality.
I miss real soap, Piper whined. And real food. And not smelling like barn.
I stood up, stretching out my sore limbs, and cracked my neck. “Same.” The rough fabric of the stolen clothes chafed against my skin.
I still had my sword. Well, the fancy letter opener. But after a few weeks of cutting fruit and stabbing at bushes, I was starting to think I might actually know how to use it. The weight of it at my hip was a small comfort.
Today, I’d find the local adventurer guild. I was done running. Time to live. The sounds of the town square – the cries of vendors, the laughter of children – carried on the morning air.
You sound like a poster. Time to live your truth. Ew.
I rolled my eyes.
The guild hall was chaos. Exactly the kind of chaos I could lose myself in. Brawny mercs, tall elves, sneering dwarves, and even a hulking orc polishing a blade the size of my torso. The air smelled like sweat and wet iron. The sheer diversity of the crowd was a stark contrast to the rigid hierarchy of my former life.
I feel like we’re about to catch tetanus just standing here, Piper mumbled.
At the front desk was a woman who looked like she chewed nails for breakfast. She glared up from her scrolls. “Name and profession.” Her voice was sharp and impatient.
“Sakura. Swordmaiden.” The words felt both foreign and empowering.
Wow. Dramatic.
I ignored her and added, “I believe my skills only would get me E-rank?” I tried to project an air of confidence I didn’t entirely possess.
The woman shoved a form toward me. “Sign here. Don’t die.” Her expression remained impassive.
I signed. Piper sighed. And just like that, I was part of something again. A small, tentative step into an unknown future.
My first job? Escort duty. Some spice trader who smelled like feet and arrogance. I was grouped with a bunch of other E-ranks and a couple of higher-levels who looked way too happy to be here. The merchant’s incessant haggling with passersby was already testing my limited patience.
There was Borin, a loud dwarf with a bigger axe than personality. Elara, a smug elven mage who probably set things on fire for fun. And Liam and Lyra, twin human archers who thought they were hilarious. The last was Grubble, a goblin rogue who had a weird obsession with shiny rocks and kept stuffing them in his cheeks like a squirrel.
At first, I kept my distance. Head down. Don’t get attached.
Then we got rained on.
“Seriously?” Elara groaned, tugging her soaked hood tighter. “Was this on the flyer? Because I didn’t sign up for trench foot.”
“We’ll make camp under those trees,” Borin grunted, water dripping from his beard. “Liam, Lyra, scout for dry wood.”
The twins saluted dramatically and vanished into the trees.
We huddled together under a ragged canvas tarp. Borin passed around a flask that smelled like it could melt metal. Elara cast a tiny fire spell that gave off more smoke than heat.
I was shivering.
“You look like a drowned kitten,” Elara said, tossing me her cloak. “Put that on before you freeze to death.”
I blinked. “Thanks.”
Later, around the campfire, Liam returned with a half-broken lute and played something vaguely resembling music. Lyra sang along, horribly off-key on purpose.
Even Piper cracked a smile. They’re kind of adorable. In a smelly, chaotic way.
They weren’t just teammates. They were people. Borin told stories about his days as a guard captain and how he’d once punched a troll in the face. Elara talked about burning down her old academy “by accident,” which nobody quite believed. Grubble napped in a tree, snoring with a shiny rock clutched in his tiny hands.
I found myself laughing. Actually laughing.
“What’s your story?” Lyra asked me one night as we all lounged around a low fire. Her eyes were curious but kind. “You don’t talk much.”
“Not much to say,” I murmured. “Ran away. Trying to start over.”
Liam tossed a stick into the fire. “Fair enough. Most of us are running from something.”
“Or toward something,” Elara added, eyes glinting. “See my Daddy was a blacksmith. Was really surprised when I had an aptitude for Magic. So he sent me to school to become a mage. Shortly after that he fell ill. I never knew my mom. My dad is all I’ve got. And this job is what is paying for the medicine keeping him on his feet. He can still work and smelt things away because of that medicine. So I’m hoping I can become an even greater Hero one day and be able to provide that medicine or anything else my dad needs until he safely passed away.”
They’re opening up, Piper said softly. Maybe… maybe we can too.
I shook my head. “Maybe.”
Over the next week, we fought off a few bandits, scared off some wolves, and nearly got crushed when Borin misread a map and led us through an avalanche-prone ravine.
“Oops,” he said cheerfully as a boulder rolled past our feet. “Character-building moment!”
We’re all gonna die because of this idiot, Piper muttered. But at least we’ll die laughing.
I started to care. I remembered their quirks. Elara always braided her hair before battle. Borin carried a locket with a faded picture inside. Liam and Lyra had a system of hand signs they used in combat. Grubble whispered to his daggers like they were old friends.
Then came the forest.
It was too quiet. No birds. No bugs. The trees bent inward, branches like claws.
“I’ve got a bad feeling,” Elara murmured, fingers twitching with arcane energy.
“Don’t jinx it,” Liam muttered.
We pressed on.
And then the shadows moved.
They came without sound. Black, rippling things that looked like smoke and bone. Eyes like burning coals.
“Hostiles!” Borin roared.
Everything was chaos.
Elara hurled fire that passed straight through them. Liam’s arrows shattered against empty air. Grubble vanished into the trees, only to scream moments later. I slashed at one and felt my blade hit something solid but it reformed.
“They’re constructs!” Elara yelled. “Magical! We need light!”
But there was no time. Borin vanished mid-swing. One second there, the next gone. Just gone.
“Borin!” Elara screamed.
A shadow slammed into her. She burst into flame, flailing and shrieking, but they dragged her down.
Lyra screamed and rushed forward, but another caught her leg. Liam shot arrow after arrow, eyes wide with panic.
They held hands as the shadows swarmed them.
“No!” I screamed, running toward them, only to be tackled from behind.
The last thing I saw was Liam’s hand slipping from his sister’s.
Then darkness.
I woke upside down. Rope bit into my ankles. Below me, green acid hissed and bubbled, the heat making my skin prickle.
Around me, the others dangled. Elara was still. Borin limp. Liam and Lyra swayed gently, fingers outstretched but not touching.
“Gods,” I whispered.
We have to get out of here, Piper gasped. We have to move. Think, Sakura, think!
Then the cultists came. Robes made of flesh and bone. Faces hidden behind grotesque masks. They chanted, low and guttural.
One by one, they lowered my friends.
Borin first. His scream still haunts me. The way his beard caught fire. The way he reached for his axe even as his skin melted.
Elara was next. Her final words were a spell—but it fizzled. Nothing but smoke. Her dream gone. In acid. Now I was angry. I tried to pull my self up but it was no use. I could only hang there only a couple feet above an intoxicating pit of acid. Watching the friends I only just met die.
Liam and Lyra went next. Still holding hands until Liam couldn’t hold on and Lyra followed her chain into the acid. Liam could only cry for so long until he joined her.
Grubble begged. Screamed for his mother. I wanted to close my eyes. I couldn’t.
Please do something, Piper whispered. Please. I can’t die again.
Then it was my turn.
They began lowering me.
The chanting rose.
And then the circle below cracked open.
The earth split. Acid hissed and sunk into the fissure created by the split. Leaving behind charred rock and what seemed like bits of bones…
A figure rose.
Not a god.
A demon.
Massive. Wreathed in flame. Horns twisting into the sky. Eyes like pits of hell.
The cultists fell to their knees.
“My queen,” one whispered. “The vessel is ready.”
She stepped forward more smoke than flesh. Her wings whispered like dead leaves. Her voice was silk soaked in blood.
“Faithful,” she said. “You will be remembered.”
She opened her mouth and swallowed them whole. Screams cut short.
Then she turned to me.
Still dangling. Still helpless.
She smiled.
“You,” she said. “Are interesting.”
She floated up, inches from my face.
“I feel the fracture. Two souls. One vessel. Delicious.”
She ran a claw down my cheek. It burned.
“Join me. Become what you are meant to be.”
Don’t you dare, Piper hissed. Don’t you dare make a deal with literally Satan.
“I…Okay”