Black Black the Raven

Black, Black the Raven- Norman A. Rubin
"Craaak, craak," cawed the black winged raven as it circled the now
empty inn; an abode of a onetime scene of wretched debauchery and sweet
retribution. The throaty call told of its secret; one which described
the wilting of the flower of maidenhood by a coarse fiend with its
resultant misery. The called secret ended with a note of deserved
suffering to the cursed brute through loins burting with the seeds of
desire.
Jacques, the gray-haired innkeeper staggered on his veined swollen feet
through the angry stares of the womenfolk of the village as he made his
way from the day's marketing. He dodged clumps of mud and manure thrown
by the frustrated women on his accusing form; they knew of his
dastardly act, which brought shame in their eyes. The innkeeper was a
known lechor whose pawing hands had torn away, once again, the virtue
of a young maiden. The patrons of his tavern, mostly farmers and
tradesmen, only laughed at the spectacle which was an act which had
repeated itself in the past. A parade of absurdity lorded by the past
edicts of man over woman.
She was a young virgin, orphaned in an early age, that was on the run
from the ruinous troubles that beset her land. There in her ravaged
country revolt was in the air. The downtrown bourgeois had sounded
revolution and blood flowed; armies of landless peasants were also on
the march and they meted out their justice to the landowners. The
King's men at arms had been alerted and they unleashed the terror of
their weapons in the protection of property. The maiden, like many
innocent souls, was on the long road seeking a safe haven from the
rapacious hordes.
She had stumbled into the town, meager in possessions, and in need to
earn her bread. The girl was taken into the employ of inkeeper as
scullery maid in the inn's larder. But, instead of finding refuge and
honest work, the maiden entered into a world of endless miseries. She
had to endure the cursed foul words ejected from his mouth and his
shameful touching on her virginal body. Her nights were spent in the
cleansing of her soul in tearful prayer.
After a time through a stupefying threat to her position, she yielded
to the innkeeper's sexual advances; the meager wages were needed. The
maiden allowed his coarse hands to cup her breasts and finger her rosey
nipples; and at times felt the coolness of the air on her breasts as
they were shed of clothing. The maiden cried as she endured the pull of
his coarse lips on her teats and she felt biting pain. The thrust of
his stubby cock was painful as the blood of her maidenhead broke; tears
flowed with the blood when the joys of her virginal youth was
broken.
The innkeper assumed in wrongful thought that it was his right to use
her youthful body for his sexual craving. After all, he craftily
reckoned, "paying her good money for her worth." The bestial fellow
knew rightly that the streets of the town were filled with others
seeking refuge. He bragged coarsely to his patrons of his sexual
exploits with the young maiden and they silently approved with a
doubtful nod. And at the inn's closing hours, Jacques when his drunken
body was able would drag the poor girl from her bed to his chambers and
spew his seed in his sensual desire.
Shame came with a filled belly. The law was usually on his side, as the
right to justice was not meted out to strangers. Money in the right
hands and the pregnant lass was turned away to the mercy of the nuns of
the nearby convent to bear the sin of her womb. The birthing was hard
and callous hands offered little solace. Her salvation came with the
reunion of her body with the earth and her soul with the spirit.
Jacques growled as a stone-filled clump of mud hit him hard on the back
of his thick neck. He turned on his stubby feet, fisted his rough hands
and with foul words cursed the thrower. He was met with derisive
sneers, mixed with an additional thrown missile, forcing him to turn
his corpulent body towards his inn. The innkeeper staggered quickly
along the path to the tavern; and in rage opened its door with a heavy
hand. Then closing it with a resounding slam.
Drink was on his mind as he staggered through the darkening confines of
the kitchen. He cursed the scullery maid, not noting her smiling
features and her known bountiful body formed in the wan light. His
pawing hands were avoided as she retreated from the room on downy
steps. Jacques' clumsy feet stumbled as he made his way to the pantry
with its locked liquor cupboard.
The heavy-set man cursed as he fumbled with a clumsy hand as he tried
to turn the heavy iron key in the locked kitchen cupboard. His unshaven
coarse features turned beet-red in anger as the key did not turn to his
efforts. He called out his frustration from thick lips. Then with a
maddened push he finally set the key in place and slowly turned it till
the lock opened.
He looked within with blurry eyes and selected a handy flask of
absinthe, a drink flavoured to his taste. Anger gripped him when he
noticed it was the last bottle and he cursed fouly. A rough hand
grasped the bottle tightly as he fumbled with his free hand to pull the
cork. The flask opened and the foul creature upturned the opening to
his mouth, sloshing the liquor into his parched throat.
A burning sensation gripped his throat. Poison was screamed! Jacques
clawed at the skin trying to tear away the agony. His body weaved about
crashing into obstacles that impeded his desparation of relief. The
innkeeper turned in circles and fell in his misery to the floor. He
gasped in breath and only retched in his effort. Jacques crawled on his
corpulent body, a torture in his efforts. He ceased in his attempt and
lay panting in the misery of the stabbing pain.
"Craaak, craak," the raven cawed. Jacques looked up through misty eyes
and he saw a black winged creature circling him. His eyes through the
hallucination of his crazed mind saw the form of a large black bird,
which changed in form as it, swooped over him. Fear gripped him as he
felt the touch of feathered black wings.
"Craaak, craak," the raven cawed out in an accusing tone. Her harsh
throaty call sounded out a crime of the recent past. Its wings pointed
a guilty sign towards the innkeeper. The raven called out her name and
the innkeeper screamed in whispered terror as it was a name he once
knew. It was a combination of letters, which spelled out a known
innocent one that sought refuge and found shame.
"Craaak, craak," the raven cawed as she alighted close to Jacques' foul
body, turning into an angelic display of a tempting flesh. The creature
ran slim hands over her voluptuous finely boned body; she carressed and
played her hands on the sculpted curve of her shapely bountiful form.
Lust was in the eyes of the innkeeper as he attempted to grasp the
nubile creature; his loins enlarged in its craving as the object of his
desire pivoted erotically from his stretched fingers.
"Craaak, craak," cawed the raven as she spread her feathers and flew
away from the near reach of the innkeeper. The black winged bird flew
over the innkeeper in a slow glide. A shining iron key was on one wing
tip, which she dropped near the tortured body; from the other wingtip,
powder, ground from the toadstool of the night, was sprayed into the
gasping mouth and on the foul features of the innkeeper. The white of
the poison choked his very breath as he lay in the anguish, which
rumbled in thought.
"Craaak, craak," cawed the raven, as she swooped with darkened wings
over the dying man. Jacques looked at the hovering creature and he saw
her feathers being thrust aside, revealing the nude figure of a once
innocent maiden. "Craaak, craak" cawed the raven as she displayed the
fullness of her ample breasts in the sight of temptation. Jacques arms
were paralyzed unable to reach out and the raven cawed in derision. His
eyes visioned forms of nipples swelling in the roselike offer of
virginity; the flesh swelled in size as it nearly brushed his parched
lips and the raven called out another note of derision.
The innkeeper moaned at the sight and the ache in his loins coupled
with the painful thrust of the poisoned liquor. His head whirled as he
begged for mercy on the derisive display offered in his eyes; but there
was no relief in his sight as the temptation of flesh increased in the
need of fullfillment. Jacques suffered the torments of hell in each
passing moment.
"Craaak, craak!" cawed the raven as her feathers hid the fullness of
her ample figure.
The winged creature spread her wings and flew about the room, cawing
out a call of vengeful doom. Then she flew down on his anguished body
and her claws held tight to his painful badge of manhood. Again the
feathers were thrust aside and in the innkeeper's view was a flowery
garden of Eden, opened to the moist passage to the richness of the
region of delight. The cushion of love pulsated in erotic movement;
each thrust caused additional pain to the inkeeper's extended prica, as
it demanded entrance.
"Craaak, craak," cawed the raven laughingly in derision as her feathers
covered her sensual delight. The raven spread her wings and flew about
the room, calling out her sweet retribution. The innkeeper eyes were
filled with tears of pain as he felt the torture of his swollen loins.
Only when the King of Death neared his corrupt body did the white of
fluid flowed, but not with the joy of coupling.
"Craaak, craak," called the raven as she vanished to her abode in the
mercy of the heaven's grace.