Posted by Rachael on March 10, 2004 at 16:25:55:
Story Codes:
No Sex. M/F, NC Snuff, Edge Play, Prostitution, Religion, Satan as a French Girl
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I went to where my husband lies
upon that tired heath
reflecting cold and wintry skies
to lay with him beneath -rr
Authors Note: I wish I’d developed April a lot more, spent more time building sympathy for her. Also, I desired to avoid exposition at almost any cost. I suppose I’ll add something about it in a footnote or something; I don’t want to put spoilers up here. Anyway. In case you couldn’t tell from my collective writing, this story contains my favorite themes: religion and being a Saint/Whore …Preferably at the same time.
I received no payment of any kind for Product Placement in this story.
Copyrighted 2004 by Rachael Ross. This is a fictional short story: all characters and events are products of the author’s imagination. This story may be distributed free of charge to persons over the age of 18 without my express permission. I do request my name and email accompany any repost or mailing of this story. If you are tempted to act out any of the events depicted in this story please drop me a line. –rr. Cebu Mar 9, 2004
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Soul Searching
Fiction by Rachael
I got the call about midnight; it was Randy, giving me a room number and a hotel. I’d been doing escort work for about 3 months, it paid better than dancing, and it was cleaner too. I checked my face in the mirror, brushed my hair and put on some lipstick. The guy wanted me all night, 600 bucks worth, so I made sure I grabbed extra condoms and some KY, zipping it into my purse along with the mace. You never know in this town.
I knocked on the door and blinked at the guy who opened it. He was dressed as a priest, well; it took all kinds, didn’t it? I smiled at him.
“Hi, my name’s April.” I wasn’t sure he was going to let me in for a minute, but he finally stepped aside and let me by. He closed the door and locked it behind me.
“I’m Father, uh…Jones.” He finally said and looked me up and down. “How old are you, April?”
“I’m 19, Father.” I smiled again, a little self-consciously. Usually you can tell if a guy wants younger or older. Like if he’d said ‘How old are you, little girl?’ I might have said 16, or even 15. I look pretty young. But as it was, I wasn’t sure, so I told him the truth.
“I see, um…do you want something to drink?” He had a little refrigerator and opened it. There was nothing alcoholic and I had a Diet Coke. He sipped a root beer and we sat down, him in the chair and me on the bed.
“I don’t, uh…” He looked uncomfortable so I smiled again.
“You’re new at this, huh Father?”
He nodded. “I…I guess I am.”
I nodded with him. “Me too.”
“How long have you been a…a...”
“An escort?” I giggled and lied. “Just a few weeks. I needed a job and I like guys, you know? So…I thought this might not be bad.”
“I see…” He took a swallow. “So you’re not really a, uh, prostitute?”
I wondered if he was retarded. “Well, yeah I am kinda. No green, no scene, right?” I laughed again.
“Oh.” He said and we sat there.
“Anyway, my boss said you wanted company all night, so we can get business out of the way and I’m all yours.” I smiled expectantly.
“Oh, I understand. Six hundred, right?”
I nodded. “I can take a credit card if you want, we bill as JB’s Catering in case your wife wonders or anything.” I offered helpfully. “And oh, there’s a 10% service charge though. Cash is really best.”
“I’m not married.” He stared at me.
“Oh sure, right, you’re a priest. I forgot, sorry.” I rolled my eyes when he looked away. Like he wasn’t the first guy dressed up like a priest that I’d fucked. Whatever.
“Here.” He counted out six hundred dollars in 5’s, 10’s and 20’s and put it on the desk in a crooked crumpled stack.
“Wow. Raiding the cookie jar, huh?” I laughed and counted it.
“No, I just borrowed it.” He said and then cleared his throat like he hadn’t meant to say that. “It’s from the collection box I have…I have to put it back in the morning.”
“Uh-huh.” I shook my head and rolled it all up, grabbing a rubber band out of my purse to hold it. I tucked the money in my purse and zipped it up. “Okay, soooo…”
“Now you’re all mine?” He asked.
“Yep, all yours…what do you want to do, father?” I sat back on the bed, lifting my legs up and digging my long stiletto heels into the mattress. I spread my knees and played with the hem of my skirt, a little peek-a-boo with my panties while he thought about it.
“I’d like to talk first, if it’s okay with you.” He lifted one corner of his mouth into an almost smile.
“Sure, I like to talk. What do you want to talk about?” I leaned over to the nightstand and grabbed my soda.
“Are you Catholic?”
“I used to be, growing up. Then, you know, I kind of got away from the church and, I don’t know.”
“I see.” He rubbed his chin. “And when was your last confession?”
“Hmmmm…” I thought about it. “Wow! That’s a toughie. I guess 3 years ago? Maybe…yeah, when I was 16 I think.”
“That’s a long time.”
I nodded.
“Would you like to confess tonight? Make the act of contrition and receive absolution?”
“Oh boy.” Why did I get all the wackos? “That’s awfully tempting father, lord knows I have a lot to confess. Do you think I should?” I thought I had him figured now. A little confession followed by some good old-fashioned penance. Some guys had a hard time just telling a pretty girl to get on her knees, although I never understood why.
“Oh yes, you need to be…clean.” He moved his chair closer to the bed and he had to lead me through it, since it had been so long for me.
“Forgive me father, for I have sinned…” I said softly. “It’s been, uh…3 years since my last confession.”
“God is listening my child, confess your sins that he may forgive you.” The priest had his eyes closed, holding a rosary and a bible while he listened to me.
“I, um…I swear. A lot. And I use the lord’s name in, uh vain. Sometimes. I’ve had sex…” I paused. “…a lot, father. With um, married men too and girls, sometimes. I took drugs and got drunk. I lied to people.”
“Go on my child.”
“Uhhh…I tried…I tried to kill myself once and I…” I hadn’t planned on saying this stuff, but it did feel good in some strange way. Like I was finally almost free of some very bad memories that haunted me when I slept.
“Yes?”
“I…had an abortion, father. I, ummm…” I felt like crying. “It was a boy and I killed it.”
“I see…”
We were quiet for a long time while I did cry just a lttle. He didn’t try to touch me, or talk to me, he just let me do it alone with God. When I finally looked up I could see he’d been praying. He stopped when he became of aware of me looking at him.
“These are truly grievous sins, my child. But the Lord our Father hears your voice and knows the grief in your heart. He is a God of Mercy and Love and he will forgive you. Let us pray now together, making the Act of Contrition and finding that forgiveness.”
We prayed for a long time. He did, I listened mostly, just saying the Amen parts, but it was enough I think. I felt so much better. I went to the bathroom to wash my face. I looked terrible. And that was when I realized there was someone else in the hotel room. I caught just a glimpse of her in the bathroom mirror, a little flash from some jewelry or something that she was wearing, and when I turned to look she was gone.
“Who was that?” I asked the priest, stepping back into the room and drying my hands on a towel.
“Excuse me?” he said, looking up. But it was obvious there was nobody else there and I shrugged without saying anything more.
“Would you, uh…undress please?” he asked me.
I smiled. About time, I thought. “Of course, father, I’d be happy too.”
I started slowly undressing, trying to be sexy and provocative for him, but he wasn’t watching. He just read his Bible and that disappointed me, really. I took off my blouse and my bra, so my firm tits fell free, then I unzipped my skirt, stepping out of it. I took off my panties and stepped out of those as well, so I stood only in my black stockings and spiked high-heeled shoes.
“Everything, father?” I asked coyly, making sure I was rubbing my pussy when he looked up at me.
He swallowed thickly and nodded. “Y-Yes please.” This time he didn’t look back down and I turned around so he could see my heart shaped ass when I bent over, pushing my stockings down slowly one at a time. They bunched around my ankles and I walked over to him, lifting one foot and putting it on the arm of the chair the priest was sitting in.
“Would you take off my shoes father, that little buckle always gives me a hard time.” I held up my fingers so he could see my long red fingernails.
I had my thighs spread apart and with one leg up he could clearly see my slit and the fullness of my labia as they were exposed. I thrust my hips out slightly and smiled as he took off my shoe with rather shaky fingers, then my stocking, pulling it off slowly as I lifted my foot. I presented him with the other shoe and giggled softly as he took that one off as well, then my stocking so I was completely naked.
“Now what, father?” I stood with my hands on my hips, waiting for him.
“Please, uh…lie down…there…on the bed.” I did as he asked, lying on my back, with my knees bent and legs spread. I rubbed my sex slowly, feeling it damp already at the idea of fucking this priest. I didn’t know why, but the idea had suddenly made me incredibly horny.
I watched as he opened a little suitcase and removed some lengths of thin silky rope. “I would like to…to tie you to the bed, please.” It seemed as if he were almost asking me if that was okay.
“Mmmm…I don’t know father, bondage costs extra.” I smiled.
“Ex…Extra?” He frowned. “I don’t have any more money.” He seemed genuinely sad and I shook my head.
“Are you sure father? Another hundred dollars is all it takes. You can tie me up, spank me, do all kinds of things to this body.” I ran my hands up and down my warm skin, caressing my pussy and breasts and giving him a little moan.
“I don’t have any more.” He wasn’t lying, I could tell.
“Its okay father, nothing extra then…just doesn’t tell anyone okay? Our little secret.” Randy would skin me alive if he found out, but this poor guy in the priest suit looked like someone had canceled Christmas.
“Thank you.” The priest said, smiling gratefully. He started tying my hands to the headboard. He wasn’t very good with knots but they seemed pretty tight. I experimented a little and I wasn’t getting free, that was for sure. Normally I wouldn’t have done this with a new customer, but we’d just done a confession scene, this guy wouldn’t hurt a fly, I was sure. He tied my ankles next, not spreading my legs though, which seemed a little strange. But I shrugged mentally, he probably just wanted to fuck my tits, or maybe get a rim job or something.
“Make sure you use a condom, okay? I’m trusting you.” I decided to tell him, just in case. “I put some on top of the TV.”
“What? Oh, yes…of course.”
I smiled at him and then I saw her again. Peeking over his shoulder as he finished with my legs. She was dressed in black, like a nun, but without the funny hat. She looked young too, beautiful and French. I don’t know why but I looked at her and thought, she looks like a French girl, the way you’d expect one to look. With short black hair and bright blue eyes. Her nose was small and she had red, red lips that pouted, even though she appeared to be smiling. So innocent looking. I suddenly felt intense shame at being seen by her. By her knowing I was a prostitute. I had to close my eyes and look away; it was a real physical pain. When I looked again, she was gone.
I took several deep breaths. I was frightened by it. I pulled at the ropes binding me to the bed and they didn’t yield even slightly.
“Father, I’ve changed my mind. I really need to leave. I’ll..I’ll refund your money, okay? But I need to go please.” Randy was going to kill me, but I was so cold now. I couldn’t stay.
The priest looked down at me. “Not yet, my child. Soon, very soon.” He started reading his Bible, but it was like nothing I’d ever heard, I was sure.
“W-What are you doing, father?” He was reaching into his bag and pulling out a large ornate knife. He laid it on my stomach, the blade pointing upward, between my breasts. It was cold and heavy and I was so afraid now. “Father…what…what are you doing?”
I held my breath, staring at that knife and feeling wetness fill my eyes. “Father…Father! Talk to me! What are you doing?”
He lifted a vial of water, holy water I guessed and made the sign of the cross over me, getting both me and that terrible knife wet. He took another vial, of oil I think, spilling it just above the mound of my sex. He was chanting the whole time and my body shivered uncontrollably.
“FATHER!!!” I screamed. He ignored me, taking a third vial and dipping his thumb into it. It was ashes and he made the sign of the cross on my forehead. “FATHER!!!” I screamed again, yanking at the ropes, bouncing my hips and sobbing now. “You’re scaring me! Tell me what you’re doing!” I pleaded with him, but he refused to say anything to me. His voice was a soft droning whisper.
“He’s going to take your soul.” A soft feminine voice whispered in my ear and I jerked my head, turning to see the woman sitting beside me on the bed.
“Wha-What?”
“He’s reading from the Apocrypha, his order was charged over 900 years ago by Pope Benedict the Eighth to find a soul, to put it in that jar, and deliver to me.”
I looked and he had indeed removed an old and dirty looking clay jar from his bag. He blessed that jar as well, it seemed.
“His order has never found one and he is the last. He’s dying. Once he has found yours, finally I can return home. I will be…Absolved.”
“Wh-Who are you?” I blinked at my tears. “Are you an…an angel?”
“I am the first among angels.” She smiled and my heart seemed to melt. I couldn’t breathe; my lungs paused of their own accord. “Do you know me?”
I nodded. “I’m dreaming, aren’t I?”
“No more so than I am. Or him.” She gestured at the priest as he kissed the jar. “Do you know what that ugly little jar is?”
“No.” I whispered.
“It’s the Holy Grail.” The beautiful girl laughed and my heart broke like glass. “It has the dust of Christ’s blood in it. Dried up like ashes. God…” She looked up as if He was listening. “…said that it was a sign of his mercy, that possessing it would ease the world of its misery.” She looked at me. “Do you believe that?”
“I don’t know.”
“Think how terrible the world would be without it!” She giggled and traced a finger across my lips and chin, down my neck.
I shivered uncontrollably.
“Shhhh…He comes.” She stroked my breast and smiled so that I thought I had never known love until that moment. “Be strong, it will be over soon.”
She sat there with me while the priest picked up the knife, holding it high with the tip of the blade pointed down. “Forgive me, my child.” He said and plunged that blade deep into the spot where he’d anointed me with oil.
I screamed and my whole body was tense, rigid with the shock of pain and fear. The injury itself felt like someone had poured a gallon of boiling water on me; wet and burning. The sharp pain had lasted only seconds, what followed was a terrible, general distress that spread through my body like a stain. It paralyzed me and anguish seized my heart. He used both hands to rip the blade through my flesh, rending me from my pelvis to my sternum. My teeth chattered and my body jerked and spasmed uncontrollably.
“Shhhh…” The girl whispered and her voice seemed to echo as if from far away, but the heat of her was in my ear. “Almost done, almost…”
The priest had dropped his knife and was pushing his hands inside my viscera, squishing and squeezing, pulling pieces of my intestines free as if looking for something horribly important that I had perchance swallowed. He was crying out, praying and his eyes looked wild and hungry. I couldn’t feel it anymore; I was awake, aware, but slipping away. Going quietly away.
“Wake up…” The girl kissed my lips and I screamed as a thunderous flash of pain exploded in my body. I was suddenly terribly awake to all of my senses. I could taste my fear. I could smell my pain. I could hear my body dying. I felt everything and saw the madness in the priest’s face. I sobbed and jerked and begged him to stop!
He cursed loudly, spitting at me like a rabid dog. “Where is it, you bitch! You filthy whore!” He picked his knife back up and cut the rope around my ankles, spreading my legs and stabbing into my sex. “In there? In there? You Jezebel bitch…it’s in there isn’t it?” He laughed maniacally and pushed his hand into my bloody torn womb, feeling around. “No? No? Little whore!” He grabbed me by the shoulders, shaking me. “Where is it? Where?”
I was going away again. I was dimly away of the priest cutting into my chest, clawing at my heart as it beat weakly. He pulled it free, turning it in his hands. “Where? Where?” he was crying and he threw my heart on the floor, shoving his hands into my chest and I felt it no more.
I was sitting with the woman, watching the priest and the dead girl on the bed. “He won’t find it.” I told her.
She looked at me and her eyes were those of a newborn. “You had an abortion.”
I nodded. “I gave it to him. To my child.”
“You’re denied Heaven, you know.” She looked at me, a smile playing across her lips.
“So are we both.” I smiled then also. “But my son is not.”
The beautiful girl stood up and walked over to the priest, whispering in his ear and kissing his forehead. The old man slumped into the chair, next to the bed, holding the jar and weeping softly. I left them like that, giving my body one last lingering look.
The end
rache18us@yahoo.com
Boring Pretentious Stuff
In case anyone is wondering at my logic, because I did leave a lot of exposition out of this story, it goes thus:
Lucifer wants to be reconciled with God, but to get to heaven Lucifer thinks she needs a soul, having none of her own. The Papacy, around the time of King Arthur when the Grail Legend was popularized, determined that if Lucifer was welcomed back to heaven, all the bad things here on Earth would be removed. There would no longer even be a Hell, since its reason for being would cease to exist. So the true purpose of the Holy Grail as a manifestation of God’s Mercy is to be a container a soul, since Lucifer herself has not the capacity for one. It then becomes a kind of passport for Lucifer to enter heaven and thus remove misery and suffering from the human condition.
It leaves unanswered the questions of: (1) Why this order was never successful, after 9 centuries of effort. (2) Whether or not unborn children have souls. (3) If Lucifer is correct in her assumptions, whether or not it is really a good thing that April no longer has a soul to be taken – That Lucifer ultimately fails.
If I were to answer these, my opinions would be:
(1) That the effort by the priests was unsuccessful because they were trying to *take* a soul. I.e. something that does not rightfully belong to the priests, or to Lucifer. Success is dependant on Lucifer being offered a soul, since free will is ultimately God’s greatest gift to mankind. Such an act would imply worthiness, for both humanity and Lucifer. If we use the Aquinas precept that ‘The sin lies in the thought, and not the deed’ we can extrapolate it to mean also, ‘The virtue lies in the thought, not the deed’ so that success is not necessarily contingent on the result of the task, but only on the process. Therefore, even in this story, success was a possibility while April’s having a soul was a logical assumption, provided she was willing to give it freely to the Priest (Lucifer) …That is the true and necessary center of conflict. If success were never possible, whether known or unknown, the story ultimately becomes unimportant.
(2) That unborn children do not have souls; this is my personal belief as woman who wants the right to chose. Although I anguish over it. For this story it was a necessary vehicle, which some readers will obviously not agree with. I can respect that.
(3)And that if Lucifer is correct, then it is a tragedy that the salvation, or selfishness of the individual leads to pain and suffering for the many. This is a common theme, and a reason we have since the earliest human writings extolled the virtues of the individual who sacrifices herself for the group. The story tries to trick us because we feel April did sacrifice herself for her unborn child, a noble act designed to make us feel good at the end. But even the noblest intentions may cause more harm than good.
This concludes my discussion on the underlying themes in this short fiction.
And if you read all that! Don’t email me arguments, pro or con. It’s just a story!! Sheesh! :)
Bye!