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The designated room for worship in the Mint Eye headquarters was known as the “ritual room.”
It was set up in a manner that was similar to many churches, decorated with pews, altars, and stained glass windows, all stamped with the Mint Eye symbol. The savior would use the room to deliver sermons every other day, determined to cleanse her disciple’s souls by preaching the truth.
On one certain day, the ritual room was packed with Mint Eye members. Some sat on the wooden pews, leaning forward in anticipation of the sermon to come; some, however, were standing up, although they too were also eager to hear the words of their savior.
And ah, there she was! With her glorious robes and her golden hair, she was reminiscent of an angel from heaven. She held a heavy-looking bible in her arms, though her posture was as stiff and rigid as usual.
The savior took her place behind the altar and set the bible down on it. She gave a brief glance at the tapestries that hung from the wall, as if she was checking to make sure the fabric was still there.
It was.
Satisfied by what she saw, she turned back to the congregation in front of her. She gazed at her disciples, her eyes as blank and lifeless as the expression on her face. It was almost as if she didn't actually see the bodies in front of her, merely looking through the flesh and bone like they were vapor. Nevertheless, her disciples looked at her with the reverence one would show a god.
The savior raised her arms, and began to lead her followers in the daily prayers. Her soft chanting was the sweetest music her disciples ever heard, and they clung to every word she uttered. After all, her words shall lead them to salvation someday—ignoring her would make them the most ungrateful wenches indeed!
Occasionally, the savior’s eyes would flicker over to the tapestries, creasing her brow slightly before she turned back to the audience in front of her. None of her disciples seemed to notice—or, more likely, they just didn't care.
When the prayers were done, the savior opened the bible. She cleared her throat.
“My children, you all know I wish the best for you," the savior said. Her voice was still soft, but her tone was laced with the slightest bit of agitation. “We have all suffered in our lives, mocked and abandoned by those whom ought to have cared for us. I wish for my beloved lambs to be happy; therefore, I nurture you all, watch over you like a mother would, feed you with the fruit of my knowledge.”
There was a chorus of “amen!” that rose from the pews. The savior smiled slightly before her expression turned grave again.
“As your savior—as your mother—I feel the need to warn you of any wolves that try to enter my flock. It is the only way to keep my lambs safe.”
As soon as the savior finished her sentence, there was a quick, muffled sound. However, the savior paid it no heed.
“And therefore, I need to warn you of the foul serpents that whisper tempting words in your ear, the beasts disguised as humans—the false prophets!”
There was another noise, slightly louder than it was the first time. It seemed to come from the direction of the tapestries, the sound leaking through the walls.
“They’re beautiful—oh, they are beautiful, so beautiful it makes you want to cry. But their beauty is merely a façade; once you scratch their golden surface, they are nothing more than cheap, wooden statues, trying to pass themselves off as something they’re not!”
Another noise, and it was clearly a male voice bawling in pain. The savior lit up at the sound, her lips twisting into a parody of a happy smile.
“My children, do you understand the danger you’re in?” The savior asked gently.
Her disciples exchanged glances and whispers. No, they weren’t aware that they were in danger at all! See, that’s why the savior was so amazing—she could detect threats from a mile away, all for the sole purpose of protecting her lambs!
There was another cry, much louder than the first few. The disciples paid it no mind, with the exception of a white-haired man sitting in one of the pews. Said man grinned, his mint-colored eyes twinkling in amusement.
He recognized that voice.
“They’re slick and clever, like the snake in the garden of Eden! They’ll try to tempt you with beguiling lies, promising that they can lead you to a paradise that’s better than our Magenta—as if that’s possible!”
A few disciples cried out in fear, overlapping with a string of shouts from the phantom male voice. The white-haired man, for his part, merely giggled.
“My lambs, do you know of the false prophet in the Book of Revelations?”
There was another yell. “Please!”
No one acknowledged the voice, too focused on the woman giving the sermon. The savior's eyes were wide, her pupils’ mere pinpricks in her green irises.
“The Book of Revelations speaks of a future that’s ruled by Satan. The False Prophet is in cahoots with the ruler of Hell, sent to deceive the poor, lost lambs by convincing the world that he’s the second coming of Jesus Christ!” The savior’s voice sounded rough with excitement.
She continued to speak. As she did so, there was another series of cries, accompanied by the sound of a whip cracking.
“The False Prophet performs miracles—oh, but they’re not divine miracles, my lambs! They’re miracles sanctioned by the devil himself, and the cursed False Prophet knows of his deception!”
Crack!
“AGH!”
“The False Prophet causes fire to rain down from the heavens! He chants with a demonic tongue!”
Crack!
“PLEASE!”
The savior started to tremble as her face flushed.
“His purpose is to cause God’s lambs to stray! He wishes for others to worship Satan as he does!”
CRACK!
“Forgive me!”
“He will not rest until all turn to his false idol! Only then will he reveal his true, demonic nature as he drags humanity into the fiery pits of HELL!”
CRACK! CRACK! CRACK!
“Please! Forgive me! PLEASE!”
The savior’s breathing became raspy.
“But we’ll expose him, won’t we!? We know of his lying tongue! He is blind to our goodness and humility! We shall overpower him with our strength, with the holiness of our purpose! And soon… oh, soon…! We shall cast him back to the devil, into the lake of fire and BRIMSTONE!”
The savior’s sermon mingled with the cries for mercy, her face contorting with ecstasy.
“Wait for that day, my lambs! Wait for the day when we can banish the False Prophet! Wait for the day when the whole world learns of our mission!”
The savior finished her sermon with a howl, as if she was experiencing the most divine form of pleasure. As she did so, the phantom screams of agony trailed off into pitiful sobs.
“F-forgive me...forgive me, please…”
Rika waited until the service was over, her face resuming its usual blank expression. She watched as the final stragglers exited the ritual room, all of them expressing their gratitude towards her.
One man lingered behind, his white hair immediately attracting her attention. She sighed wearily and shooed him out with a wave of her hand.
“Service is over, Saeran. Resume your duties.”
The man grinned, bowing lowly before he ran off. Rika watched him to make sure he was really gone. Sighing yet again, she walked towards the tapestries and pulled the fabric aside, revealing the door behind it. She knocked on the wood, two short raps announcing her presence.
The door opened. A group of three men and two women stepped out, all wearing matching grins. One of the men was in the middle of adjusting his pants, while a woman was patting her sweaty face with a towel. On the whole, the group looked quite satisfied.
“Did we do alright, my savior?” A man asked. “We did what you told us to do… we made sure the liar screamed real loud…”
The rest of the group laughed at the man’s innuendo. Rika did not.
“Yes, thank you.” Rika nodded curtly. “Your help is most appreciated.”
The group members beamed, as if they were dogs receiving praise from their master.
“We’re honored, my savior,” one woman said. She leaned forward with an eager expression on her face. “Hey… if he keeps on being mouthy, will ya let us punish him again? He was a lot of fun!”
The group laughed again.
“You’re right!” One man chortled. “He looks so cute when he’s tied up and crying like th—grk!”
Something grabbed the man's crotch, and he trailed off with a choked noise. Looking up, he saw Rika staring at him blankly, her expression contradicting the iron grip she had on his testicles.
“You will only do it if I order you to," Rika said quietly. She twisted his balls with a flick of her wrist, causing him to squeal in pain. “You should be honored that I let you touch the man I used to sleep with, even if he turned into a traitor. Am I understood?”
The man nodded as he wheezed out his agreement. Abruptly, Rika released her hold and turned to the rest of the group, who all looked terrified at the events that had played out.
Rika jerked her head to the side. “Go.”
None of them argued with her, too busy dashing away like they were being chased by a pack of hounds. With a sneer, Rika entered the room, shutting the door behind her.
Her gaze fell upon the bound, trembling man lying on the wooden floor. She took a few steps closer, surveying him like he was a piece of meat.
His head was bowed with his chin resting against his chest. Thanks to his position, his long bangs hid his eyes from her sharp leer, but she knew he had probably been sobbing only a few minutes before. A ball-gag was in his mouth, the strap buckled behind his head and ruffling some of the man’s teal hair. His wrists were tied in front of him, tightly bound with rope; the marks on his ankles suggested that they had been in a similar state, which was supported by how his legs laid limply on the ground, as if they were unable to move. He was naked, his pale skin bared to Rika’s eyes—and oh, wasn’t he such a pretty, filthy creature like that, with his back striped with red lash marks and semen splashed onto his thighs and face?
Rika’s lip curled. She kicked him harshly, which earned her a weak groan.
“On your back,” she said coldly. She watched as he followed her orders, his face marred with a pained grimace. His ruined eyes stared up at her, tears leaking from the corners.
Rika felt nothing.
“The whole congregation heard you during my sermon, V,” she said. He gave a pitiful whimper. “You were screaming like a little whore. Did you have a cock up your ass, or do you just like to get whipped?”
V mumbled something—knowing him, it was probably an apology. Rika had no use for his lies at the moment.
“Shut up.” She nudged him with her foot, causing him to quiet instantly. “Being a sex toy is all you’re good for. It’s not like you have any other talents, you worthless rat.”
She lifted her robe, spreading her legs to brace herself. Reaching underneath her skirt, she gripped the base of the dildo sheathed in her cunt and pulled it out with a soft moan. She knelt down next to V and held the toy up to his face.
“Do you see this, V?” She asked. He gave a little nod. “This is what you are. No, wait… you’re even less than this. At least this made me cum.”
V whimpered, his cheeks turning red in humiliation. Rika rubbed the tip of the dildo against his face, smearing her juices onto his pretty skin. “I had this in when I was preaching to my lambs. Are you imagining it, you pervert? Are you imagining this dildo in my cunt? I was so wet, you know; hearing you scream made me drip all over the floor.”
V groaned weakly, saliva leaking out from behind his gag.
“Do you want me, sweetheart?” She sneered out the last word, changing its meaning to something entirely different. “Do you want to lick my cunt? Do you want to taste it, smell it?”
V hesitated. Rika growled with impatience and slapped him across the face.
“Maybe you want to get whipped again? Hmmm? Do you want to have your ass fucked by another group of men you don’t know? Do you want those sluts to rub their pussies in your face again?”
V flinched as he whimpered, shaking his head.
“So, you’ll let me fuck you?”
He nodded quickly, squeezing his eyes shut. Rika giggled and kissed his forehead, the action too tender for the situation they were in.
“Good boy. Do what I want, and I might forgive you.”