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December 21st, 2005, 04:22 PM
Here's a small chapter and prologue of my newest escapade. it's NOT for the weak minded, so BEWARE!


King Muramuki stood in the center of his large palace gardens, surrounded by the beauty of it all; he inhaled a desperate breath and surveyed his surroundings.
In addition to trees and shrubs, the Ekeruman garden palace made artistic use of rocks, sand, artificial hills, ponds, and flowing water. In contrast to the geometrically arranged trees and rocks of other palace gardens, the Ekeruman palace garden traditionally created a scenic composition that, as artlessly as possible, mimicked nature.

Garden designers had followed three basic principles when composing the palace scene. They used reduced scale, symbolization, and "borrowed views". The first refers to the miniaturization of natural views of mountains and rivers so as to reunite them in a confined area. This could mean the creation of idealized scenes of a mountain village, even within a city. Symbolization involves abstraction, an example being the use of white sand to suggest the sea. Designers of the palace garden "borrowed views" when they used background views that were outside and beyond the garden, such as a mountain or the ocean, and had they become an integral part of the scenic composition.
The basic framework of the palace garden was provided by rocks and the way they are grouped. Ancient Ekeruman folk believe that an area surrounded by rocks was inhabited by gods, thus naming it amatsu iwasaka (heavenly barrier) or amatsu iwakura (heavenly seat). Likewise, a dense cluster of trees was called himorogi (divine hedge); moats and streams, thought to enclose sacred ground, were referred to as mizugaki (water fences).

The tea garden, imbued with a quiet spirituality, was developed in conjunction with the tea ceremony, as taught by one of the ancient elders, centuries ago. It was through the tea garden, which avoided artificiality and was created so as to retain a highly natural appearance, that one approached the teahouse. Today's Ekeruman garden incorporates a number of elements inherited from the tea garden, such as stepping stones, stone lanterns, and clusters of trees. The simply designed gazebos in which guests are served tea also have their origin in the tea garden.

Muramuki stepped over towards one Himorogi, sipping one of the ancient Ekeruman teas and pondering what his next move against the Inkalelm court would be. He’d been in contact with the Inkalelm King for some months now and planned to marry a young virgin girl from the small sea-side town. The town of Inkalelm was full of virgins, all ripe for the picking, but King Muramuki had been recommended one girl in particular - Mamu from the town of Imochime in the North. The King has seen various pictures of the gorgeous young girl, sent to him by her own Father, and some of them even in the most delicate and explicit of poses.

One photograph the King remembered well was of the young girl spread-eagle on a lavish golden framed bed, completely naked, her father’s member manhood clutched tightly in her hand, and a beautiful crystal-clear tear rolling down her left cheek towards the pillow under her head. Her Father had promised the King that she was a virgin, that he had not broken that sacred flower from deep inside her, never penetrating her womb with his warm seed.

‘So sweet and innocent, like a freshly picked rose,’ the father had noted in one of his many letters to the King.

‘Oh, she had better be, for your sake...’ King Muramuki’s mind reeled.

The girl must be a true virgin, or else Ratemu would be extremely angry with him, for not completing his task to the Dark Lord. King Muramuki took another long sip of the slightly bitter tea and swallowed hard, letting his mind empty of all thoughts. He was particularly good at this, especially when rested, he was able to awaken to a brand new morning, clear his head of all thoughts and begin the new day afresh with no trouble at all. King Muramuki walked over to stand next to one of the gorgeously presented amatsu iwasaka, plucking a large green and yellow leaf from one of the shrubs next to it and rolling it up in the palm of his hand. He opened his hand to reveal the powdered leaf remains and took a long breath, blowing them up into the air.

The leaves disappeared, leaving behind a thin trail of golden colored mist in front of the King. He smiled at his accomplishment and sipped again heavily on his tea, inhaling the flavors deep into his mind and envisioning them. He was able to see each individual tea leaf in its full form, both before and after it had been produced. He let the image of the tea float from his mind and watched as it left a long trail of steam behind him. Smiling again, he walked up towards the palace entrance doors and smoothed out his exquisite red and gold-trimmed robe. The two palace guards who waited at the door to greet the King were dressed in full body armor, including large Kabuto Helmets which covered their whole heads, a large Menpo which acted as a mouthpiece, Kote arm guards, Tekko hand gloves, Kusazuri leg plates, and finally - Suneate metallic boots. All of their armor was a rich dark blue in color. The King nodded to the two men who stood straight as arrows, not moving muscle, as was their custom to do so.

‘Fukusumi. Shisaka.’ He greeted the guards in turn with a soft smile and a tilt of his head.

Fukusumi and Shisaka both made their best attempt at a bow, and continued to stand rock solid against the sides of the palace entrance. Fukusumi, the guard to the right of the door leaned forward and with a soft grunt opened the door for the King.

‘I thank you both. You do such a wonderful job for me. Let me just inform you both that you’ll be rewarded kindly for your honor and dignity in good time. Yes, all in good time,’ he exclaimed, patting Fukusumi’s breastplate lightly with the palm of his hand.

Fukusumi nodded slightly once more before motioning for the King to enter his palace.

The palace door slammed shut, making the King shudder a little as he stood inside the main entrance, feeling the warmth of the palace fires embracing his bones like a warm blanket. Smiling to himself, he rubbed his hands together and took off forward towards the palace staircase, leading to the main chambers. Climbing the staircase, King Muramuki clasped his hands upon the gold railing and felt the coolness slide up his hands. Something was bothering him, yet he could not say what it was exactly. There will be tremendous suffering among these palace walls, there will be tremendous suffering in Inkalelm, and that tremendous suffering shall bring about my happiness, the King thought, smiling as he reached the top of the staircase.

He reached inside his pocket and produced the large golden key which unlocked the door to his private chambers (and a number of other chambers amongst the palace). Unlocking his door with a loud clack, King Muramuki stepped inside the fire-warmed room and shut the door, locking it behind him and placing the key upon his large wooden bedside cabinet.

He removed his clothing until he stood naked in the warmth of the room and grinned softly. Opening the bedside cabinet, the King withdrew a large wooden box from within, and a key which was stuck to the inside top of the cabinet, fixed with a large portion of red wax. Wiping the key clean with his bed sheets, the King unlocked the wooden box and peered inside, his mind flickering back and forth through stages of pleasure and guilt at the photographs which lay inside.

In the back of his mind he envisioned himself in those photographs with Mamu, he wished that it were him, yet it soon would be, and he needn't worry at all.

One photograph which the King picked up showed the beautiful golden-haired Mamu naked, spread-eagle on the bed, two fingers shoved deep inside her vaginal depths. Her eyes were closed and her mouth was open just a gap, as her other hand held onto a flower, a beautiful purple and white flower, the thorny stem cutting into the side of her milky white hand, which fascinated the King, as he'd never seen such a flower in Ekeruma. A few of the flowers fallen petals lay scattered next to Mamu's golden braids, and this (for the King) set the scene perfectly.

He had written to the girl's father, asking about the purple flower, yet he had not received any response yet. Most of Inkalelm's mail to Ekeruma was delivered by ship, if not - it was delivered personally, and that did not happen very often at all. Come on man, what are these beautiful flowers that your daughter seems to love so much. I see the love in her eyes as she holds onto the thorny stem, her hand bleeding just at the corner.
They are very special to her indeed.

He would have himself a gardenful of those pretty purple and white flowers surrounding his exquisite palace. Choosing another of the photos, King Muramuki's smile suddenly faded. This was the one photo that he did not enjoy looking at repeatedly, yet he could not stop himself from looking at it all of the time.

It showed Mamu standing naked in the corner of her room next to a beautiful golden-trimmed full length mirror. The creatures etched into the top of the mirror on both sides looked to the King to be some kind of demons or perhaps evil angels.


King Muramuki thrashed both fists into the side of his skull in order to remove the name from his thoughts. I cannot think of him right now, it is not safe!

Mamu's face was streaked with tears, which sprinkled her breasts like water droplets on a piece of pure white silk.

She cries - that is good. She will cry when I have her here too.
Muramuki opened his fists which were still clenched and placed the photograph back into the box underneath the cabinet, locked the cabinet door and then sat himself down on the edge of the bed. These chambers were not shared with anyone else - Well, not permanently anyway. Sometimes, King Muramuki would force one of the serving girls to stay in his chambers with him for a night or two, where he would proceed to rape and violate her beyond redemption. He did not see his actions as wrong; they were just his actions, plain and simple. King Muramuki answered to nobody and was his own boss. He followed nobody's rules and lived by a set of his own which allowed him to do basically anything he liked to anyone he pleased.

The last Queen of Ekeruma - Rifusa, had been murdered by somebody at the palace. Her throat had been sliced clean open and her entrails torn from within her, and partially chewed on. Allot of people suspected an animal, perhaps one of the wild dogs from the forests surrounding outer Ekeruma, yet those dogs had never been seen in these parts before. Many people suspected King Muramuki of murdering his wife - yet this was one terrible sin that the King had not committed. He'd felt very badly about it in fact, and was quite upset at the time, even though after he had visited his wife's corpse he had gone straight to his bedchamber and masturbated vigorously with the image of his dead wife's half-eaten entrails running thick in his mind. It had been one of the most mind blowing ejaculations that the King could remember. He remembered the orgasm as though he was still having it now. The strength and power of those few seconds when his penis had leapt forward and splurged its thick milky treat were truly unlike any that the King had ever experienced before, and he longed for those few seconds again.

Truthfully, it must be violence which brings out the sexual side of King Muramuki, and he accepted this and adopted it into his life. He had always been keen on younger girls, some even as young as ten (and even including his own sister who was now deceased). His own sister, who he’d truly loved so very much, was 19 when he slaughtered her in her bed, stuffing a large rag into her mouth and then slicing through her tough esophagus and into throat with his sword. Muramuki remembered lapping at her neck as the blood sprayed his face gently in its warm embrace. He recalled the way it spattered against his naked chest and ran down his muscular torso, painting him crimson.


That was indeed what Muramuki had referred to it as after that first fateful experience, and he’d been trying to relive it ever since. The feeling of being overpowered and having complete control of the person and their flow of blood excited the King to no end. He’d even tried cutting himself on the upper arm or lower torso, yet he never received the same feeling of joy and no sexual pleasure at all. King Muramuki needed that kind of feeling once again, it made him feel complete and secure within himself. Everything he’d experienced throughout his life came down to that one feeling of ultimate ecstasy from within. He remembered the pulsing within his pelvis, the surging through his veins, the pumping of his heart, and finally – the release. This release was almost ceremonial to the King; he treated it almost as if it were some kind of a strange religious act which was performed (and in a way, it was religious to him).

King Muramuki began to weep, the tears streaming down his face, the lump growing tight in his throat so that it hurt. His eyes burned from the sting. His mind reeled back and forth, his thoughts becoming a maze with no exit. The reason he wept was unbeknownst to the King, he could not understand it, yet he imagined that it had something to do with Mamu, perhaps even his Sister, pretty little Cenela. With her long black hair and beautiful up-turned brown eyes, she was a delicate woman who he’d killed for the pleasure of his own bloodlust. Selfishness ran through the king like hot waves of molten lava, cascading down his insides until it burned him like the very pits of the underworld.

A loud knock at the door…

The king stood up, grabbing his robe from the bed and quickly wrapping it around himself, tying it in place. He dried his eyes on the back of his hand and smoothed his long hair down in place.

‘Who is it?’ he called from behind the door as he picked up the key and placed it into the lock.

‘King, it is I – Dimelau. I have come with clean sheets for your bed, King,’ came the soft spoken reply.

Dimelau was one of the palace’s youngest serving girls, recruited just three months previously from the small town of Menewei in Ekeruma. She was a gorgeous young golden-skinned thirteen year old girl with beautiful long black hair.

‘Oh yes, Dimelau. One second please, let me just ready myself,’ he replied, smiling to himself.

‘Yes King Muramuki,’ was the softest of replies.

King Muramuki had not engorged himself within the pleasures of Dimelau as of yet, nor would he ever. Dimelau had become like the daughter he never had, someone he protected from all at the Palace, and someone also that he used to gather information from about different areas of the palace. Because Dimelau was allowed into most of the upper palace chambers, she had knowledge of quite a lot of things which she shouldn’t have knowledge about. She was useful to the King, and he would never jeopardize that in a million years.

He finished adjusting himself, putting the pillows on his bed correctly and making sure that the bed sheets were straightened, and then turned the key in the lock, opening the door to reveal a smiling young Dimelau.
‘Hello dear Dimelau, how are you this afternoon?’ he smiled, placing a warm hand upon her quivering shoulder.

Why does she quiver whenever I touch her, does she know my thoughts, does she know what I have done, what I plan to do?
‘Excuse me, King. I must get to my work, Kimela has issued me a warning that if I am not up to standard and quickness today she’ll see me out on my ear,’ Dimelau exclaimed with a frown.

King Muramuki sucked in a breath, ushering Dimelau into his chamber and shutting the door.

‘No,’ he spoke, locking the door behind him and standing in front of the young girl, ‘you shall never be fired from my palace. Never in a million years. You have given me such joy and are an exceptional pleasure while speaking to…and you’ve helped me to no end with your information regarding various palace members, Dimelau.’

Dimelau smiled and placed her cleaning bucket down on the floor next to the fire and the bed sheets down on top of the bed.
‘May I, King?’ she motioned towards the bed.

‘But of course, dear,’ he smiled, reaching out to touch Dimelau with a bony finger.

She flinched away, the way she always did, and sat down on the edge of King Muramuki’s bed.

‘What news do you have for me this week, Dimelau – do tell all, please. I await your news with baited breath at the beginning of every new week since you arrived.’

King Muramuki’s heart began to flutter as he watched Dimelau smooth down her dress and adjust her top nervously.

‘My King. I have some very delicate news regarding the girl,’ she spoke in her soft tone, lowering her face to stare at her shoes.

‘Yes, go on. I hope this is good news as I don’t think I could bare anything happening to my poor future wife.’

He forced a frown and tried to bring back the memories of his sister, forcing a few tears to come streaming down his cheeks again.

‘Oh King. I am so sorry to have upset you! I did not mean to make you weep. The news I have regarding the future Queen is not that important, and it is just gossip. I have heard that she may not be a true virgin, King Muramuki.’

Muramuki forced his tears to stop straight away and straightened his back.

He clenched his left hand into a fist and struck a tremendous blow to Dimelau’s face, knocking her from his bed and onto the floor with a thump!

She lay there, curled in a ball and crying. Her face was reddened from the blow and blood seeped from her mouth and onto her top.

‘You ****ing whore!’ he spat at her.

Dimelau stared up into the King’s violent fiery eyes, tear streaking her face with the blood from her mouth.

‘Please spare me, King Muramuki. I will do anything you ask. I only repeat what I have heard, and be it just kitchen room gossip!’ she shrieked, her whole body trembling with fear.

‘You resentful little scab-whore. If you repeat a single word of what has gone on inside this chamber today, I shall see to it that your throat is slit from ear to ear. Do you understand me, you sniveling whore?’

The King’s voice was an enraged whisper, yet Dimelau felt every painful consonant hit her in waves as she picked herself off the floor and stood next to the King.

‘You may punish me, my King. I deserve it. I should not have ran my mouth so fast, this will all be just gossip, trust me. Of course the young bride-to-be is a virgin, she must be,’ she spoke softly.

He grinned at her and reached a hand towards her bloodied face.

‘Don’t shrink from me, Dimelau. That is all I ask of you, don’t shrink away from me, it’s an obvious weakness of yours.'

Dimelau sobbed and nodded, putting her arms out in front of the king in a sign of offering.

‘Take me, my King. I will not deny you again,’ she whispered softly.

December 27th, 2005, 06:34 AM
All right Mortiis, I'll take the front pew.

This is heavy stuff. Let me preface it by saying that I do not object to mindless sex and violence, even if it is gratuitous. But I require consistency, and your narrative itself (what's happening) as well as the style it's written is not. The effect is to make your characters hard to believe. The emotional stages they are going through are not recognisable.

What you have going for you is an emotional power to the scenes. Those are sock-in-the-stomach type scenarios. However, in this situation you need to pay even more attention to the believability of your characters. Otherwise, the readers are going to find good old King M. simply ludicrous.

My best friend said (about GRR Martin): "I could just see him sitting there, getting a hard on. 'Oooh, what can I do to make them evil. Yes, I know, I'll have incest! And they kill someone! Oh, and yes, they insult his mother, too!'"
If you're not careful, people will think the same about you.

Now, to the details:
The garden descriptions sound like we're being shown around by a tourguide. At the same time, this is supposed to be Muramuki walking around, we're piggybacking along. The effect being, why is M. telling himself all this stuff he ought to know already???

You need to decide whether we're following M's train of thoughts or an omniscent narrator. Don't jump back and forth.
For instance, you overexplain some things the characters should know "ancient Ekeruman tea" and in other scenes you don't explain the pidgin Japanese words you use at all, probably because the characters should know. Either explain or don't (I prefer the latter, just drop the reader into the story).

Who is sipping the tea? Unclear sentence structure.

Muramuki, I'm sorry, sounds like a simpleton for most of the story. He sounds...I don't know what the polite word for this is (sorry, Americans), but he sounds what we used to call retarded. He draws intellectual connections like a kindergarten kid.

Now M's states are getting really hard to follow. I know he's supposed to be a psychopath, but even psychopaths have an internal consistency.
For instance:
Why is his mind reeling? The term signifies merely confusion. If he is angry, horny or frightened (is he?), you need to elaborate.

I gathered eventually that he picks the leaf to clear his mind, but it would bear clarification too. Otherwise readers think: Hang on, first there was this sacrificial thing and now he's talking about leaves? What's going on?

Also, it is bloody impossible to powder a freshly plucked and therefore moist leaf. Is it a magic leaf? Does the whole envisioning tea sequence signifiy a particularly active imagination/meditation or is it magic? Or do you want to keep that ambiguous?

The dialogue with the guards does not ring true.
"You do such a wonderful job for me"? Why's he going maudlin on them? In a stiff, Japanese type society he'd be far more likely to say something like "Your diligence is exemplary."
Also, you waver a lot between modern sounding stuff "Wonderful job", "fired", "not in a million years" and archaic dialogue. Be consistent! Choose one or the other.
Then he smiles and taps the breastplate. Is he always that jocular?
Even less believable is the behaviour of the guards.
"best attempts at a bow"? Are they so unused to bowing that they bungle it? And would he laud them the way he does if they were?
Then Fukusumi nods and motions him through. Is he so familiar with his King that he nods instead of falling flat on his face and thanking him abjectly? This is a King who is rumoured to slaughter and rape his employees at a whim. And Fukusumi merely nods ?
And then he motions him through, in effect telling his King what to do? Is Fukusumi suicidal?

Muramuki then does a lot of shuddering and smiling, none of it explained. Is he cold?
Why, if something is "bothering him" does he smile? And no, the fact that he is a psychopath does not explain random smilings and shudderings.

They have colour photography? Do they have cellphones and satellite TV, biogas cars and atomic reactors too?

"rape and violate beyond redemption.", "Didn't see it as wrong". Don't explain that. Show it. Or rather, since you've shown it already, just leave out the explanation.
I liked the whole jerking off over his sister's entrails passage because it showed me his reactions instead of telling me about his moral depravity.

Selfishness doesn't run through you like hot lava. People who are selfish usually don't notice that they are. That's the point. Selfishness doesn't feel like anything, really, except maybe sweet self indulgence.

The servant girl - who must have also heard all the rumours about rape and murder - calls him simply "King"? No "Oh protector of the innocent, oh shining light of the Empire" type title?
And she dares to frown at him?
King M.'s employees aren't taking him very seriously, are they?

I also find both of their emotional reactions hard to follow.
The girl: Someone who is being beaten has the instinctive reaction to curl into a ball and whimper. Instead, she stands up and speaks in a quiet voice. That takes a lot of braveness. Bring that out more.
The King: Is horny even before violence is involved, despite not intending to rape her. Why, if it's only violence that gives him a woody?
I don't understand: He does not intend to rape her, because he does not want to endanger his information source? (Would a psychopath think this logically?) But in the end, he beats her up and rapes her anyway? I just don't get it.


Basically, you need to decide on what kind of narrative you want (subjective/objective), and whether you're going for modern or archaic style.
Your weak points are interactions between people and the thought processes in them. Try to think yourself into these people and make them react as they would. Instead of hurrying past the plot in an effort to get to the juicy stuff.

The two scenes I really liked were the jerking off scene and the scene where he looks at the photographs. I thought it was almost lyrical, the way he wants to fill his garden with purple flowers.

I do think that the father daughter incest things are too much, they don't serve a purpose.

Still, carry on writing. You have a nicely depraved imagination and there's much to be expected of you in future. :)