MSL-12 The Monk's Secret Dungeon


FOREWORD

I watched through the hole I had discovered in the wall of the wine cellar. I had just 
discovered it and as I looked in I could see flickering candles. I didn't see the naked girl 
chained to the wall until I heard her moaning and decided to glance in that direction. It was 
terrible.

She couldn't have been more than fourteen. Her breasts were very tiny, but her pink 
nipples were thick and stiff. Her hair was blonde and long, and you could see just a trace of 
hair near her pussy.

It looked like the rest had been burned away because there were all kinds of bleeding 
scars around her cunt.

I don't know why it happened, but I could feel myself starting to get hard and I lifted my 
robe and began to stroke myself. Then I prayed that God would forgive me for doing such a 
thing on sacred church ground. I prayed as I stroked, until I looked again through the hole. I 
heard footsteps and then I saw Father Peter walking toward the young girl. He, too, was hard, 
and he had pulled up his robes.

He moved closer to the young girl and then started to force himself into her. She 
screamed and he slapped her again and again as he started a steady thrusting pace. I stroked 
as he thrust and I could feel myself starting to pulsate in my hand. There was something so 
haunting about seeing the Father act in such a way with the girl. I somehow knew, even then, 
that this was to be only the first time. I would witness other things just like this. I would soon 
become familiar with each priest's lecherous desire...

* * *

This begins the diary that Clarence, an indentured cook at St. Christophal's wrote.

The manuscript, written sometime in the 1590's in a small Spanish prison, documents 
bizarre and gruesome happenings all in the name of God. The author worked at the nearby 
monastery, St. Christophal's, and discovered a hidden dungeon where the Fathers carried out 
evil deeds in the name of God.

Somehow, his diary was discovered by someone at the monastery and the author was then
labeled a heretic and sentenced to death. The last chapter contains the author's reflections on 
what happened, and it was written in prison.

Now, his manuscript has been recovered and all can be told.


CHAPTER ONE

I watched Father Peter. I could see the flexing motion of his buttocks as he continued to 
thrust into the young, chained girl.

"But I am no longer pure," she screamed, and it was only then that I realized she had been 
a virgin. I knew now where the trickle of blood that ran down the Father's leg was coming 
from. He had been the first with her.

"You were no longer pure when you arrived," the Father screamed at her, and then he 
suddenly pulled out.

He had not relieved himself, for his manhood still stood up proud. It was red and 
glistening with a combination of her blood and her juices. He started to stroke himself in the 
attempts, I reasoned, to keep himself hard.

I looked at the young blonde girl. I saw terror in her eyes as she looked at the Father's 
phallus. It was a menacing weapon to her.

I did not understand what was going on. I had been working at the monastery now for 
almost three months. I lived in the village with my wife, Maria. I had been taken on as an 
indentured cook for all the Fathers and Monks. My wife was not very happy because I was not 
home for too many hours during the day.

I would leave the house by sun-up, and usually not return until sundown.

Even as I stroked myself, I knew that Maria would be mad. I hoped that I would be able to 
get it hard for her that night. My hard cock always satisfied my wife whenever we were having 
an argument and I knew we would have one that night.

After all, I came home late enough and now that I was watching the Father with this young
girl, I would be home even later than usual.

I don't even know why I had decided to go to the wine cellar that night, of all nights.

Perhaps it was because of my frustrations working at the monastery. I could hardly endure 
the silence I was met with. The Fathers and Monks would keep to themselves, and the only 
companion I had was Susan, the serving wench.

Susan was mute, however, but sometimes, I would stand by the kitchen door and peek 
through as she served the Fathers. I would notice that they would stop their talking as she 
approached them to place the food on their plates.

I think that I was hoping there might be some wine in the cellar for me to drink. I thought I
would feel much better after drinking some. I had taken a burning torch with me, for it was 
already way past sundown. Then I had seen the small hole. Then I had looked through and 
heard the moan.

I was still trying to understand it, even as I continued stroking my throbbing cock and 
bringing myself such pleasures that even wine could not bring.

"You are very lovely, my dear young thing," Father Peter said to the girl, and he moved his 
hand to her body. He cupped one of her small breasts and started to squeeze it. I could tell, 
even in the shadows, that his cock was pulsating harder in his hand.

I would have never expected anything like this from the good Father. He was a tall 
strapping man with blond hair and blue eyes. He always had a smile for me when I passed him
by, but never a word. The smile seemed to be enough, however, for there were very few of 
them who even did that.

"I would hate to harm you more," he continued.

"As if you did not harm me enough," she said, and her voice was low and filled with pained
anguish.

He squeezed her breast some more, then started to pinch only her nipple. When he 
twisted it I saw the way she tried squirming. But there was really no way she could get away, 
for both her arms were chained to the wall. Her legs were not but she seemed too weak to 
even try and kick him.

"Your parents have sent you here to confess to the sin they feel you have committed and 
you will not leave until I have a confession."

The girl was crying now.

"There is no sin that I have committed until just now, or earlier tonight when you started 
to probe me with your fingers. First, burning me, and then probing me. And now, you have 
committed the sin."

I watched with horror as the Father pulled his hand back and smashed it across the young 
girl's face. I thought, as I heard a crack, that it was her neck being broken. But when she 
turned to look at him again, I knew that all she had suffered was the pain of the blow.

I was beginning to put the pieces together. There had been many parents who had 
brought their children to the monastery during the few months I had been there. I had 
thought that they were bringing their children for confessions, and I could tell now that this 
was the way confessions were run.

The parents of the beaten young girl had obviously thought she had committed some 
kind of sexual sin and they wanted her to confess.

If the sin had not been committed before (and I am sure that it wasn't since I did witness a 
trickle of virgin blood) then it had just been committed by the Father. She had told him the 
truth and he had hit her for it.

"A girl with a body such as yours must have many boys who look at her with lecherous 
desire," the Father said. "A girl with a body such as yours must feel a need to fill some kind of 
desire in herself. You have committed sin.

"I have not," she cried. "Or I had not."

Suddenly, the Father moved his mouth to her breast and started to lick the nipple that he 
had been pinching. I could hear him sucking and slurping and then the girl started to moan.

Her chest heaved up and down and the Father moved his hand between her spread legs. 
He slid his finger into her pussy.

I pulled on my own throbbing meat again. I had been stroking myself the whole time I 
watched them, but, each time I found myself on the verge of coming, I squeezed hard enough
for the pulsations to subside. I did not want to come right away.

The Father moved his mouth from one nipple to the other, running his tongue over her 
breasts and between them. His back was to me and I could not see the look on his face, but I 
am sure that he was enjoying it all.

For I heard deep moans that were a man's.

He continued in this manner for a few minutes, so it seemed, and then he pulled back. His 
mouth no longer touched her nipples, and he kept his fingers in her cunt for a few seconds 
more.

She continued to pant. As he slid his fingers out of her pussy he pulled on some of the 
burned pussy hairs until the girl was screaming again.

"You enjoy it," he said to her. "You enjoy what I have done to you. It tells me that you have 
enjoyed it many times before. I can tell when a young girl has committed the sin. All I want 
now is your confession."

She shook her head. I wished that she would have confessed. Perhaps she would have 
saved herself some of the physical abuse.

He hit her across the face again.

"I can keep you here for days," he said to her. "I can keep you here for the rest of your life, 
if that's the way you want it. All I want to hear is that you have committed the sin, then I want 
to hear you repent. It is all I ask."

"But I had committed no sin until I came here," the girl said. "I was always a good girl. You 
are right. There were boys who have tried to take me, but I turned them away and told them 
to see the village whores. They would service better. I was remaining pure, the way a good girl
should."

"Hah!"

Tears were rolling down her cheeks again and the Father moved his finger over to wipe 
one away. He seemed so tender during that second, but then I looked between his legs again 
and saw him still stroking his throbbing cock.

That made him evil in my mind. I cannot explain why it seemed evil for him to be doing 
something like that while I had no qualms about stroking my own cock. Maybe it was because
I had not taken an oath to God, while he had.

The Father should have been chaste, and now I was seeing that he had the urge just like 
most of the men I knew.

"I will drive myself into you once again if you do not confess," he said.

The girl's eyes bulged even more. I could understand why. The Father's cock must have 
been at least ten inches long and quite thick. I am sure that it must have been very painful for 
her to take in such a thick phallus, especially for a first time.

"Please do not," she pleaded with him. "I will die."

"You will die if you do not confess," he said to her. "The Lord will look down upon you and 
smite you from this earth for your sin. And you will go to Hell for it where you will bum in fire 
for an Eternity. Is that what you wish?"

His voice was booming and echoing in the secret dungeon. It was even scaring me, so I 
could understand the girl's fear.

She did not answer at first, and he screamed again.

"Is that what you want, my child? Do you want to bum for an Eternity?"

"No," she said, and her voice was so low and meek compared to his. "No."

"Then confess," he screamed, and I watched as he forced himself against her again.

He shoved his cock into her dripping pussy, then lifted her legs up so they were wrapped 
around his body. She groaned in pain as he started to thrust in and out of her. Her breathing 
was heavy and I feared that she was going to die then. I do not know why I had that fear, but 
each breath sounded like a last one.

"Confess!!" he screamed, thrusting harder and harder.

I could feel my own cock beginning to pulsate in my hand. My whole body was breaking 
out in a nice sweat. I started to come, shooting thick loads of cream against the wall. I 
watched it trickle down for only a second, continuing to stroke myself as I looked back 
through my private peephole to see what was happening.

The Father was slamming himself into her now, and I could tell from his breathing that he 
was about to come.

"Confess before it's too late," he screamed.

I began to understand what he meant. Too late was his point of orgasm. If she didn't 
confess before he came I sensed that he would do her even more harm.

"Do you feel that inside of you? Do you feel that stretching you more? You will confess 
before it happens. Confess!"

He was in some kind of heightened sexual frenzy. His cock was obviously spasming in her 
mushy, tight pussy and she groaned even louder.

"Mercy," she finally said. "I confess to my evil sins and I ask for God's forgiveness. Forgive 
this lamb who has wandered from the flock, dear God. Please!"

He grunted loud, then pulled out of her. He had already come in her, but his cock was still 
shooting. I saw the Father shoot his cream onto her burned pubic patch. She looked down in 
disgust, and it was even more obvious now that she had never experienced anything like this 
before. The sight of a coming cock was new to her.

The Father continued to stroke himself, and as he started to go limp (as I had done only 
moments before) he rubbed himself against her and kissed her breasts and neck. He was 
moaning softly the whole time.

"It is good that you have confessed, for I can feel the Lord talking through me. He is 
looking down upon you now, my child, and He is forgiving you for your sin. He is telling me 
that there is only one thing left to do to drive the sin from your flesh, and I have only to carry 
out His orders."

He pulled away from her, and it was only then that he let his robe fall to the ground. He 
walked over to the wall and pulled off one of the torches that had been adding a gloomy light
to the whole scene.

My eyes bulged with horror as I saw him approaching her, and she started to kick as he 
moved the burning torch between her legs.

I turned away because I could not look as he burned her. Her screams were enough to tell 
me that she was suffering terribly.

"I will bum it out," the Father screamed. "It is what God tells me to do."



* * *



I look at what I have written before me now, and I think of what can happen to me if 
anyone should ever see this. My wife lies in bed. She is sexually satisfied for the night. I hear 
her breathing calmly.

It was a good fuck!

After I witnessed what had happened with the Father and the young girl, I fled from the 
wine cellar. Never in my life have I been more cautious than the moment when I opened the 
door to sneak out of the cellar.

Had any of the Monks seen me, they would have realized what I just witnessed and I am 
sure they would not have let me leave. As I ran home with only the moonlight and the stars to
guide me, I thought about what I had seen.

It was horrid, and yet, it was so compelling. I somehow sensed that I would be back there 
to try and see other things, if it happened often.

My wife, Maria, was quite upset when I walked in. She was already lying in our bed with 
her red-brown hair hanging down to her naked breasts. I was happy to feel a surge in my loins
as I looked at her. My first orgasm back at the monastery had not put me out for the night.

As I undressed, pulling off my long robes, my wife reached over and took hold of my cock.
She started to stroke it.

"You work long days," she said, "and yet he is always willing to stand. I do not understand 
that. You seem tired in every other way, except through him."

"Please," I said, for her words were taking away from the pleasure of her stroking. She 
cupped my balls and squeezed them.

"No," she said, "I will not be quiet. You work long days. So long, that you are hardly ever 
home. And tonight, my husband, you have stayed out longer. Do I bore you? Do I not satisfy 
you?"

I ran my hand through my black curly hair, then down my body. I rubbed my chest hair, 
pinching at my nipples to arouse them. Then I moved my hand through my black pubic hair, 
down to my long cock bone. I touched my wife's stroking hand.

"You know that you are the only one who satisfies me," I said.

I started to move my hand down my wife's arm. She had such soft skin. I touched her 
naked breast and felt her soft red nipple. As I pinched it I could feel it getting harder and 
longer. She moaned and then lay back on the bed, pushing the covers down with her naked 
legs. Her pussy was beautiful to me still.

I lay down on the bed beside her and started to kiss her. I had to pull my cock from her 
grip, but I rubbed it against her leg and felt satisfaction in that way. I kissed her on the bps 
and pressed my tongue into her mouth.

I could feel her soft body beneath me as I climbed on top of her. My cock pressed against 
her soft mound and my chest against her breasts. I moved my fingers to her nipples and 
began to play with them as I rubbed my body over hers.

"Why, Clarence?" she asked me, running her hands up and down my back. She squeezed 
my buttocks between her clenched fingers.

"Why, what?" I asked her, kissing her neck gently.

"Why does it have to be like this? Why can't we live the life we lived when we were first 
married? We had so much time together."

When we had married, we owned a small farm. But then the plague had killed off our 
animals and there was no money at all. I had to take this job at the monastery for it was the 
only thing around.

Maria and I still had our wonderful little house. It was about five miles from the monastery 
and so I walked about ten miles a day, there and back.

"I will make enough money soon to buy what we need," I said. "Right now, I must work 
there. We need money. We need food on our table."

"All I need is you," she said.

I licked my way down to her breast. I started to run my tongue around her nipple in a 
circular motion. I loved the way her breasts always rose and fell with passion. I could feel it 
pressing against my face. Finally, I sucked her nipple into my mouth.

I placed my lips over it and began to flick my tongue back and forth. I let my hand slide 
between her legs. Her pussy lips were wet and I started to slide my fingers in. I could feel her 
little love-button and I knew how to wiggle it back and forth to make her spasm inside. I felt 
her getting wetter and hotter.

I moved my tongue to her other nipple, but I didn't play with it for long. I could feel her 
creamy juices running all over my fingers. I licked my way down her belly and ran my tongue 
through her wet red patch, right down to her lips.

I spread her and started to lick her insides. There was nothing better than Maria's sweet 
flavor. I used to think that I could live on that food and nothing else. I started to flick her 
love-button back and forth with my tongue and she began to thrust her cunt back and forth 
into my face.

She always did that when she was aroused. I moved my hands under her buttocks and 
clenched them to keep her still. I squeezed her ass and felt her sweat.

Now I could lick her better, and I made her come again. I did not lick her dry, however, for 
my cock always liked a warm, wet home. I left her in the middle of an orgasm and quickly slid 
up her body.

I rubbed my cock against her pussy lips and thrust right into her. She pushed her ass up 
off the bed to meet me halfway and then we started to thrust together.

There is no better feeling, to me, than my wife's cunt spasming around my cock. When I 
close my eyes and see the colors shooting through my mind, then feel the pleasure through 
my body as every nerve ending seems to open up for stimulation, I am content. I am content 
to live this meager life as a cook, as long as I realize that it is only temporary and that my wife 
will be home each night to comfort me.

Her tight, wet walls spasmed around me hard. It was almost as if her pussy was sucking on 
me, just the way she likes to do with her sexy mouth at times. I felt a churning in my balls, and 
I was glad that she was coming.

It meant I could come whenever I wanted to, and I felt the urge getting stronger. I started 
to grunt as I shot into my wife's pussy, and she moaned softly, leaned up, and bit my neck 
gently. I love it when she does that.

I could feel my whole body raging with desire as I came inside of her. It was as if my very 
being was shooting into her. I lay on top of her for a long time after it was over, until I heard 
her breathing softly and peacefully.

I write this now as she sleeps, for I feel that I should keep some kind of a record. I realize 
that Father Peter was only the first Monk I have witnessed participating in some kind of sexual 
sin, but I can feel that there will be more.

I thought about telling my wife what I saw when I came home. Sometimes, we do talk dirty
with each other and I know that it arouses her. I admit that I am aroused, too. But I knew that 
Maria would not like talk like that.

She is a devout Christian woman. I believe that she loves God more than me, and I do not 
blame her. We have all been taught to love God.

The Spanish Inquisition is on. The Church is strong. There is even more reason to fear God 
now, for He seems to be very strong on the Earth, through the Church.

I would simply be called a heretic if I so much as told anyone what I have witnessed. They 
would surely think it was a lie and I know that the Church would get at me in some way. I 
think it's sad. For I am beginning to have my own doubts about the Church and I cannot even 
share them with my wife out of fear. But only time will tell and I will keep this journal locked in
my strong box where even my wife cannot get to it.





CHAPTER TWO


St. Christophal's is a small monastery but there is a large black gate surrounding it to keep out
intruders. I remember the first time I saw the gate. There was something ominous about it. I 
approached and rang the front bell.

A hooded Monk came to answer. He did not talk to me at all. I explained that I had come 
to work there as a cook and he beckoned me inside. The gate creaked as it opened.

Although I asked the Monk many questions, he never answered.

He just led me to the kitchen where I just started working.

Later, that first day, Father Jacques came to talk to me. He was one of the only Fathers who
ever spoke to me and that was only to relay orders.

He told me that I should ask no questions for I would get no answers. Then he told me 
what was expected of me, the salary, and what I should make for the day's menu. After that 
first day, there was always a paper waiting for me in the kitchen and on it was the menu for 
the day.

I don't know who saw to ordering the food supplies. I had thought that it would be the 
cook's job, yet the food order was always there when I arrived in the morning. I used to 
jokingly tell my wife that they were like little mice sneaking around at night, for the food had 
to be brought in after I left at night and before I came in the next morning. For it was always 
there.

As I said, I did not enjoy my work at the monastery. There was not so much work to be 
done, for there were only twenty-five men to be served. It is not hard to cook in bulk for 
twenty-five men.

My only companion there was Susan, the mute girl who cleaned up. She had long black 
hair and was always dressed in rags. I don't know how old she was, but she did have the firm 
large breasts of a woman.

Most of the time, her breasts seemed to be hanging out of the tattered garb she wore, 
and I did not say anything for it was a pleasing sight. I thought that it was up to one of the 
Fathers to say something anyway, but no one ever did.

After witnessing my first scene in the dungeon, I started to think that the Fathers liked 
Susan walking around with her breasts practically all naked for them to see. I started realizing 
then that no matter what, these Fathers were men more than anything else. All men, so it 
seemed, had sexual desires.

I remember one night when I was in the local pub. It was on a Saturday evening, for I only 
work half days on Saturday and I am off on Sunday. I do not know who cooks for them on 
Sundays, although I do think that they fast. They pray all day.

"Why, Clarence," my friend Cicero said, pulling up a chair at his table and pouring me 
some wine, "it has been so long since we talked."

"Yes," I told him, and I nodded at Philip, another man with us.

"You have been a cook at the monastery, so I hear," Cicero said. I had been working there 
for two weeks at the time. "I want you to tell me the truth."

"What truth is that?" I asked.

I could tell that he was already drunk, and I picked up my mug of wine and downed it all. 
When I am with friends who are drunk, I like to meet them halfway into their drunken stupor. 
It is really the only way to relate to them.

Cicero put his arm around my neck and pulled me close. Philip moved in, too.

"I want to know if the Fathers remain chaste, and if so, how?"

"Cicero, I do not know a thing like that."

"But you see them. You are closer to them than anyone else I know. Tell me. For I suspect 
that every man has the urge and I see what trouble it brings to me."

"Like the sickness," Philip said, laughing. "Cicero went to see an unclean whore."

I started laughing. So that was what the whole thing was leading up to.

"Yes," Cicero said. "My cock is diseased, but it will get better, I know. And when it does, as I
pray to God it does, I want to learn how to suppress the urge."

"There is no way that I know of," I said. "There has to be," Cicero said. "If I do not find a 
way I will... I will... "

"Just go out and do it again," Philip said, laughing.

I started to laugh, and Cicero grabbed my arm.

"He is right," Cicero said. "I will go out and sin again with another whore. Only you can 
help me. Only you can help me. Here, have more wine."

We continued to talk and laugh. Cicero seemed so desperate, and by the end of the night, 
when I was as drunk as they were, he started again.

"You still have not told me how the Fathers keep their urges suppressed," he said, as I was 
getting ready to leave. "But I do not think that you have to tell me, for I think I know. They 
must get women in there sometime, for every man, be it a Father or a Priest, has to get the 
urge. It is only human nature."

"Do not let anyone else hear you talk like that," I said to him. "Still, I cannot tell you. All I 
know, is that they do remain chaste."

I thought that they had. Now I know different.

For as I sit here late at night, listening to the steady lull of my wife's breathing, I think 
about the scenes that I have witnessed. There have been more since the first time. It has 
become a habit of mine to go down to the wine cellar each night before I am ready to leave.

Some nights there are things to be seen, other nights, nothing.

Last night was by far the most gruesome of anything I have witnessed. Father Jacques and 
Father Peter were down there when I arrived. They were standing around a young girl who 
was dressed in sack cloth and on her knees.

"Repeat after me," Father Peter was saying. "Dear God, Forgive me for the sin which I have 
committed. Only You can save me now and I am Your humble servant."

The girl was beautiful and her voice was steady and clear as she repeated the words. Her 
brown eyes seemed lit up by the flickering of the candles and her small breasts pressed 
through the sack cloth dress.

Even as she repeated the words that the Father had spoken, I had my eyes on Father 
Jacques. He was standing behind the girl and he had one hand on her shoulder. The other 
hand was near his crotch. He was stroking himself through his long black robe.

It was easy to tell that he was hard from the bulge I spotted.

"And now there is one other thing that we must ask of you," Father Jacques said to the 
girl, after a full prayer of confession and repentance. "The Lord asks to witness the sin once 
more. He asks to watch you."

She looked around at him and it was only then that she noticed the bulge in his robe. She 
seemed to be very scared of it, and tried to stand up and pull away. It was only then that I 
noticed a chain around her ankle.

"The Lord does not work like that," she said.

"You are only a child. You do not know the way of the Lord," Father Jacques said, and he 
and Father Peter started moving in on each side of the girl.

They both tore at the sack cloth dress, ripping it into pieces until the girl was completely 
naked. Her small breasts were the size of small melons, and her nipples were brown and stiff.

She had a thick patch of brown hair between her legs.

After the Fathers stripped her, they started to take off their own robes. It was the first time 
I had ever seen Father Peter completely naked. The last time, I had only seen his cock.

Although his head hair was a light blonde, his body hair was a dark brown. He had hair all 
over his chest and even on his back and shoulders. Father Jacques, whose head hair was 
brown, had an almost completely hairless body. He had some hair under his arms, and of 
course, a thick patch around his cock.

The girl tried to push them away as they inched closer. Father Peter took hold of his cock 
and began to rub it against the girl's leg. She seemed to tremble the minute the cock head 
touched her.

"You will repeat the act that you have committed," Father Peter said.

"But I did not do it willingly," the girl said. "I was raped and forced by the two tradesmen. 
There is no reason to commit it."

"You will tell us how it happened."

"If there is a God," she said, starting to cry, "then He has already seen what has happened. 
He is all around. There is no reason to repeat it."

Father Jacques, who was standing behind her, suddenly slapped her hard on the buttocks. 
I could hear the echoing sound of the slap.

"You have heard God's wish," he said to her. "Do you want to be damned, girl?"

"No," she said, trembling. "I want a place in Heaven."

"Then tell us what happened so we may repeat it."

"First they tore off my clothes, as you have done. Then they stripped themselves, as you 
have done, too. Then, they raped me."

"But how?" Father Peter asked, still rubbing his cock against her leg.

"One made me take him in his mouth while the other started to lick me from behind."

Suddenly, Father Peter forced her to bend over. Father Jacques quickly fell to his knees and
began to lick the girl's buttocks, asshole and cunt.

"Like that?" Father Peter asked, and when she nodded, indicating that Father Jacques was 
doing the right thing, Father Peter plunged his cock into her mouth. "We will do this for a 
while, and then continue."

Father Peter started to thrust his large cock in and out of her mouth. He moved his hands 
to her hair and began to stroke it softly. I could hear him moaning the whole time. I knew that
he was getting pleasure from it.

It made me start to wonder. Did God really want to witness this scene again, or was the 
Father just doing this for his own sinful pleasure? After all, I know how a man feels when his 
hard cock is sucked. A man can forget about everything else. I could never imagine myself 
thinking of God while my wife was licking my dick and I wondered if Father Peter was thinking 
about Him or not.

The girl seemed to be gagging on his long, thick pole, but he didn't care.

He pulled his cock from her mouth and slapped her across the face a few times.

"What happened next?" he asked.

"The man made me lick his balls, while the one who had been licking me entered me from 
behind. Please, it hurts."

"God wants to see you suffer once more for Him. It's a true sign of repentance."

Father Peter shoved his balls into her mouth and I watched him start to stroke his cock, 
rubbing up and down on his long shaft and occasionally rubbing it against her face. 
Meanwhile, Father Jacques was doing his part.

He stood up and I could see his glistening saliva all over the girl's buttocks. He rubbed his 
cock between them and then started to enter her pussy from behind. As I looked closer, 
squinting, I could get a better look at them all.

The girl had her eyes closed and it looked like she was hating everything. She tried not to 
grunt and groan so much, but every so often, I would hear her.

Both Fathers had their eyes open however, and they were looking at each other.

They reminded me, by their looks, of two mischievous boys who had once stolen from my 
farm. They were only seven and only playing a game as they stole some of my crops. I caught 
them, however but did not do anything to scold them.

I don't know why I thought of those boys then. Maybe it was because it seemed like the 
two Fathers were playing their own kind of game and using this girl as the playing piece for 
them to work on. I started to realize then that this was no work of God at all, but rather, the 
work of two holy men with normal urges.

Father Jacques' cock started to glisten as he thrust in and out of her pussy and I'm sure it 
was because of her creamy come.

"What else is there?" Father Peter asked, pulling his balls from her mouth, but keeping his 
hand on his organ at all times to keep himself stimulated.

"They pushed me down on the ground. The one I had been sucking started to fuck me 
from the front while the other one sat on my chest and made me suck his cock. Oh, God, 
please don't make me do that."

It was too late. As soon as she had told them of the way she was pushed to the ground, 
they did just that.

Father Jacques sat on her chest, his naked buttocks pressing down hard on her breasts. He
shoved his cock into her mouth, and as he started to thrust I could see that his hard balls were
slapping her in the chin.

I could hear the sound of her sucking and she seemed so unhappy.

Then Father Peter started to enter her cunt with his pole-sized cock. Her screams were 
muffled in Father Jacques' crotch when Peter entered her cunt. I know that she had to scream 
because of his size.

Perhaps he was larger than the ten inches I gave him credit for the first time I witnessed 
him in action, for he looked even bigger this time. I could understand the kind of pain that 
must have been rushing through the girl as she felt her vagina stretched to take in such a 
thick cock.

Father Peter's buttocks were dripping with sweat and I knew that was a sign of his raised 
passion. I knew that he couldn't have been thinking about God at all then. He was too lost in 
the pure physical feeling of fucking.

He placed his hand on Jacques' shoulder and Jacques turned to him and looked at him. 
They smiled at each other. Yes, this seemed like one big game to them.

I heard the slapping sound of flesh against flesh. Jacques balls were hitting her in the chin 
and Peter's balls were hitting her in the ass. You could almost hear a whipping sound as their 
balls swung back and forth along with their thrusting motions.

"And what else?" Father Peter asked. "The sin will not be cleansed until we have repeated it
all for the Lord Himself to see."

"They both pulled out of me, and the one whom I had been sucking lay down and pulled 
me on top of him. He entered me."

I watched as they both pulled out. Father Jacques was smiling, for he was obviously 
playing the part of the rapist who had fucked her then. He willingly lay down on the floor and 
then tried to pull her on top of him.

She struggled and pleaded.

"No. Haven't we gone far enough? Enough sin has been shown."

Father Peter suddenly kicked her in the stomach with his foot. She made an attempt to 
double over in pain, but he didn't let her. He had knocked the energy out of her and now it 
was easy enough for him to roll her on top of his friend.

I watched as Father Peter spread her legs and watched his friend guide his cock into her 
cunt. Father Jacques moved his hands down her back and clenched her buttocks, then started 
to move her up and down.

"What else?" Peter demanded.

"Please," she said. "I don't want the rest to happen again. I can't."

"What else?" Peter asked, his voice booming so much that the fear was running through 
my own body again. "Tell me, child, or you will bum."

"The other man started to whip my buttocks with a leather whip."

Father Peter reached over and pulled a whip off the table.

"Like this?" he asked, dangling it in front of the girl's face. Her eyes were filled with fear as 
she nodded. "All right then, Father Jacques. Move your hands or they, too, will get whipped."

Jacques slid his hand up the girl's body, to her back, and then Father Peter started to lash 
it out at her buttocks.

I could not believe it. He took his hand from his hard cock for the first time as he whipped 
her, and yet, even without touching himself, he was now pulsing more than he had been 
before. Each time the whip cracked and landed on her buttocks his cock seemed to throb with
more and more life.

As if his cock was enjoying the pain he was administering to her.

I saw bloody streaks on the tender buttocks as the Father continued his whipping. Father 
Peter started to groan a little, and that made me wonder.

Was her pussy spasming harder around the Father's plunging cock, or was he just getting 
turned on because of the whipping? It is something that I will never know.

"And what else happened?" Father Peter asked.

"It is the last thing," the girl said. "You do not have to do the last thing. It hurt more than 
anything else."

The father pressed his foot down against her buttocks, which I'm sure were stinging 
because of the broken skin. She started to groan with pain as he moved his foot all over her 
blood-stained ass.

"We must repeat it all," he said to her. "There is no reason for us to stop now. What else 
happened? Tell me, sinner. Tell me!"

"The one who was whipping me climbed behind me and started to enter my asshole. They 
were inside of me, both at the same time."

Father Peter smiled more than ever then as he took his mammoth dick in his hand, ready 
to invade her asshole.

He sunk to his knees behind her and pulled her buttocks apart with his hand. It was only 
then that the girl must have remembered his size. For he was rubbing his cock between her 
buttocks and she felt him.

"No," she started to scream. "He wasn't as big as you. You're too big. You're going to kill 
me with one that size."

But it was too late. I could see her puckered red asshole and I could see the Father aiming 
his cock in that direction. At first, he touched her gently, but then he started to push the head 
of his cock into her.

I couldn't believe that her asshole stretched enough to take his large cock in but it did. She
let out the most horrifying scream, however, and it sent chill after chill through my bones.

The blond-haired Father pushed himself all the way into her, and when his groin slapped 
against her bloody ass, she screamed again. Father Peter started to thrust in and out of her at 
a steady rate, and each time he thrust in he seemed to be slapping his groin against her 
buttocks harder and harder. Purposely!

"Oh God, forgive me," the girl started to scream. "Forgive me. Let me live through this and 
I will never commit such a sin again."

Both Fathers seemed to be moving at the same rate. Two cocks thrusted in and out of her 
two vulnerable entrances.

Soon, however, it seemed like she was even moving with them, and they were one big 
sweaty blur of flesh on the floor.

I had my own cock in my hand at the time. Ever since I had been witnessing these scenes, I
had been feeling the most incredible pleasures. When I would make love to my wife, I would 
sometimes remember visions of some of the things I had seen and my cock would swell even 
more and satisfy both myself and my wife even more.

I heard Father Peter starting to moan louder than the girl and Father Jacques, and then he 
started to come. He rolled off her and stroked his cock so that his come shot all over her 
buttocks.

I could see a faint trickle of blood dripping out of her asshole.

Then Father Jacques started to come but he came in her cunt. I heard the girl breathing 
hard and then she must have fainted. For by the time Father Jacques had emptied himself in 
her and pushed her off, she was unconscious.

The two Monks stood on either side of her. Their limp, satisfied dicks hung dripping 
between their legs. They looked at each other and smiled, then back down at the girl.

"Should we do it?" Father Peter asked.

"I see no reason why we should not. It will only make her believe a little bit more. There is 
nothing wrong with that."

"No, you are right. There is nothing wrong with that."

Father Jacques walked over to the wall and took off one of the hanging torches. 
Meanwhile, Father Peter walked over to a large bucket filled with water. He moved back to the
girl and started to sprinkle a few friendly drops on her face, just to wake her out of her 
unconscious Heaven.

"The Lord has looked down, and He has forgiven you," Father Peter said to her. "He has 
forgiven you your sins, my child, and asks only that we bum them for you."

I saw Father Jacques moving the torch between her legs before she did. However, I did not
feel the pain that she felt as the flame seared her flesh. I could hear her screaming as the torch
was driven in and out of her vagina only once. As it was pulled out, it was still flaming.

The girl lay on the floor, moaning. I could see how the burning torch had burned a great 
deal of the hair off her pubic patch, even though it couldn't have touched her for more than 
thirty seconds.

Father Jacques hung the torch back on the wall, then he and Father Peter donned their 
robes. They started to walk out.

But right before they left, Father Peter turned to the girl.

"You will tell no one of this, or you will be damned to Hell for it. The Lord has forgiven you 
and now you must forget all. Someone will be down here to take care of you and clean you up
in a few minutes."

Then they left. I had just been on the verge of coming when they had used the torch on 
her. Her screams had left me limp without orgasm for I had suffered with her.

I remained in the wine cellar a little longer, looking at the naked girl on the floor. She still 
looked pained as she lay there with both hands clutched between her legs and her legs 
clenched tight, as if that would ease the pain.

Then I watched as the door to the dungeon opened and Susan walked in. This was a job 
that I didn't know she had to do, but now it was obvious that she knew what was going on, 
too. After all, she cleaned up the mess when it was over.

I decided to try and talk with her. Even though she was mute, she could still answer with 
her eyes.





CHAPTER THREE


"Susan," I said to her the next day while she was sweeping the kitchen, "I have to talk with you.
Please, sit for a minute."

She shook her head no and tried to pull away from me. Besides being mute, she seemed 
to be a little bit crazy.

When I touched her, I stroked her arm gently, just to show her that I meant no harm. I 
moved my other hand to her long black hair and tried to make it look a little neater than it 
was. My comforting touch seemed to calm her down a little.

I led her over to the small wooden table where the two of us had sat through hundreds of 
silent meals with each other. She let her broom fall to the floor.

"How long have you been here?" I asked. She held up three fingers, and I took it to mean 
three years, but asked just to check. She shook her head. "Have you seen things here that you 
believe are unnatural for a monastery."

Her eyes bulged. It was almost as if she suspected I knew. She started to shake her head 
no, back and forth so hard that her hair flew and slapped her face.

It was a sure sign that she was trying to cover up something.

"Come on," I said to her, "there must be things that you have seen. Things that should not 
occur at a monastery, a house of God."

Again she shook her head no and she pulled her arm from my grip. She started to get up 
and I tried to pull her back down, grabbing her tattered dress. It was only then that I noticed 
something on her dress.

There was a red stain. Dried blood.

It looked like she had made an attempt to try and wash the blood off, but there was still 
the stain. I imagined that some blood had dripped on her dress while she had been cleaning 
up some beaten girl.

I grabbed her arm again and held up the dress so she could see the stain.

"What is this blood?" I asked her. She kept shaking her head and making moaning sounds,
almost like a baby. "Is this someone else's blood, or is it yours?"

She shook her head yes, trying to make me believe that it was her blood. Then she pulled 
her dress and got away from me. She picked up her broom and started to sweep again.

I knew that she was too scared to even think about it, so I decided to let it go for a while. 
Still, I told myself that during my days at the monastery, I would try to befriend her more and 
more, until she felt honest enough to open up.

Even though she was mute, she could still communicate when questioned. I also thought 
that if I had the chance to witness more, I would be able to formulate better questions to ask 
her later on. That was one reason why I didn't try to pressure her.

There was lamb for dinner that night, and for the first time since I had been working there 
one of the Fathers came back in the kitchen during the meal. His name was Father Joseph and 
he had just arrived at the monastery that afternoon.

"I just wanted to compliment you on your fine cooking," he said to me. "I had been 
traveling for the past few weeks and this is the first good meal I've had."

"Thank you," I said to him. "That is the first time I've ever gotten a compliment from 
anyone here."

"Oh?"

"Yes. None of the Fathers talk to me. I don't know why. Perhaps you should ask. Perhaps 
you are doing wrong."

"By talking to you?" he asked. "I do not see how that could be doing wrong."

"Neither do I," I told him. "Still, there are the others."

"I suppose you are right," he said. "I am still new to this whole thing, having only taken my 
vows in the past week. Perhaps you are not holy."

"I believe like all men should," I told him.

"Good, my son," he said. "Perhaps I will see you again."

He left, and I couldn't help but smile. He was an attractive man, and much younger than 
anyone else at the monastery. I imagined that he did not know anything of the practices that 
went on behind the church doors, and I wondered if he would lose faith should he find out 
about it.

I wondered about the others, too. When had these sexual tortures first started? Why? 
Were the Fathers first scared to try it, or were they more than willing? If they were willing, then
it certainly showed a lack of faith on their parts.

That night I went home, lost in thought. Maria was ready for me in the bed by the time I 
was undressed, and yet, she could hardly get my member to rise. She started to stroke me and
yet I remained flaccid.

"Tell me your thoughts," she said, rubbing her tit against my arm. "Tell me what is on your 
mind, my husband. We have never kept anything secret."

"I know," I said to her. "But there is nothing."

"Surely you lie to me, for whatever it is on your mind seems to be the thing that keeps 
your cock limp. Bad thoughts are not good for sex."

I moved my mouth to hers and kissed her hard. I could feel a warm rush running through 
my body, but my cock didn't stiffen as it usually did.

"There are no bad thoughts," I said. "I am just unhappy."

"With me?" she asked.

"No, my darling, certainly not with you. I could never be unhappy with you. I am, instead, 
unhappy about my job, about the long hours and the little time I have with you. If I could be 
with you all the time, I could not be happier."

"Then why can't you rise to the occasion?" she asked. "You are with me now. Perhaps there
is someone else then."

"Why would you say a thing like that?"

"It is known that many men have mistresses, my husband. We have never talked about it 
though. Now then, is there a mistress in your life, hubbikins?"

"No," I said, laughing. "Where would I have the time to go see a mistress?"

"At the monastery," she said, and she laughed a bit, too. Her laughter made me relax a 
little bit more, and my cock started to surge with life.

I know why that happened. I started thinking about all the things that I had witnessed. It 
was almost as if she knew something, but not everything.

"At the monastery?" I asked. "You must realize that it is God's home. Nothing like that 
could ever happen there."

"Are there no women there?" she asked.

"One mute serving girl is all," I said. "Every so often there is a young girl who is brought 
there for confession."

"A young girl," she said, rubbing my balls now that my cock was fully hard. "Do you 
remember when I was a young girl? Do you remember how much you loved to run your 
hands all over my body? We were sinners then, until marriage."

I cupped her tits in my hand. I loved the smell of her sweaty flesh as well as the feel. As far 
as I was concerned, I still love to run my hands all over her body. Her flesh is always responsive
and it's a comfort to me.

She moved her Ups to mine again, then kissed me.

"You look a little tired this evening," she said. "You lie back and I will be the one to service 
you tonight."

I liked that idea. Most of the men I associate with, during talks of sex, always tell about 
how they love to be the aggressor. Cicero, for one, always tells me how he starts all the action,
how he is always the one to kiss the girl and turn her on and how he is always the one on top.

I once asked him why he didn't let the whore take control, and he laughed.

"It is not the manly thing to do," he said. "The man is the aggressive one and the woman 
lies back and takes it. That is the way."

I never argued with him about it. I only pitied him for the pleasure that he was missing in 
always playing the same role.

For I could feel my whole body shiver with pleasure as my wife started to sit on top of me. 
She kissed me on the lips again, then moved her mouth down to my neck and started to lick 
me. I could feel her warm buttocks rubbing against my cock and I reached down and 
massaged her ass cheeks.

She slid down out of my grasp, but only so she could kiss my chest. I felt her tongue 
running over my hairy chest, from one nipple to the other. I closed my eyes and for some 
strange reason, I had a quick vision.

I thought that I saw Susan being tortured.

She was tied to a wooden table, completely naked. She was very scared, it was easy to tell, 
for she was being whipped. There were a few Priests standing around her and they were all 
naked and hard, and she was being whipped with their cocks.

I don't know why I had a vision like that, but it left as fast as it came.

My wife started to suck hard on my brown nipple and I felt it getting even stiffer. She did 
what I always did to her. She placed her lips around my nipple and then started to flick her 
tongue back and forth over the tip of it.

"You are wonderful," I said, stroking her red-brown hair.

She laughed and when she exhaled, her warm breath touched me deep inside. I could feel 
my cock pulsating and she quickly reached for it and squeezed it hard.

"Don't you come before I'm ready for it," she said, warningly.

She moved her mouth to my other nipple and repeated the action there. Then I felt her 
start to lick her way down my chest. When she came to my navel she flicked her tongue in and
out. I started to thrust my ass up and down because my cock was rubbing between her two 
tits then. There was a soft warmth in the cleavage between her tits.

She pressed her hand firmly on my groin to prevent me from thrusting too long. She 
continued to lick the sensitive groin area starting from my navel, down, but she didn't actually 
touch my cock with her tongue for a long time.

Instead, she just tried to avoid touching it, as if she realized that once she had it in her 
mouth, she would go at it good and hard.

I felt her licking my pubic hair, taking tufts into her mouth and sucking on the sweat that 
had built up in my pubic patch. When I looked down at her she just looked up at me and gave
me one the most pleasant smiles.

It was pleasing for me to know that my Maria was enjoying what she was doing and that 
made me start to think again.

The girls that I had seen with the Priests had all been tortured, and when they were being 
sexually violated, they never seemed to like it. It was as if they were in pain at all times while 
being fucked.

Could that bring the Fathers pleasure? I know that I got the most incredible rush of 
pleasure through my when I saw how much my wife enjoyed licking me.

Then I thought of Father Peter's cock and the way it had throbbed while he had been 
whipping the brown-haired girl's ass. That was a distinct sign that he was deriving pleasure 
from the girl's pain.

"Is there anything wrong?" my wife asked then.

"No, why?"

"You seemed to have just drifted out of it," she said. "Are you enjoying it?"

"Yes," I told her. "Are you?"

"You know that I love the taste of your flesh, just as you love the taste of mine. That's the 
way a man and a woman know they love each other."

With those words, she started to run her tongue up and down the length of my cock. She 
held it so that it pointed up at the ceiling and she started to pinch the tip as she licked the 
underside.

I could feel my balls churning with come, and she reached for them and cupped them in 
her hand. She squeezed a little and I spread my legs for her even more.

I thought that she was going to open her mouth and take me in then, but she had other 
things in mind. She held onto my cock as she moved her tongue to my thigh.

She started to lick, and as she moved up closer and closer to my man-meat, I could feel 
myself throbbing even more in her hand. She moved her tongue to my other thigh and licked 
there, too. Then, when she moved back to my cock, she opened her mouth wide and sucked 
my two balls in.

I was lost in total bliss. She rubbed her hand up and down my shaft while she sucked on 
my balls. Then, I felt a small drop of come escaping from the slit and she moved her finger 
there and began to smear it all over the head of my cock.

With the creamy lubrication, the pleasure increased even more. Another drop of come 
escaped by the time she had finished smearing the first one, and it wasn't until she had 
finished smearing the second one that she opened her mouth to take me in.

I slid my cock all the way in the back of her throat and she took it. She paced her 
breathing right so that she didn't gag, and she started to suck as hard as she could. I loved the
way she used her tongue.

Each time she pulled her head back up to the tip, she would move her tongue to my slit 
and start to lick it. Then, as she descended down the shaft to the root, I would feel her tongue 
sliding along the underside of my shaft.

"Maria," I moaned, "I'm going to come in your mouth if you keep it up like that. I can feel 
it happening. I can feel it."

She squeezed my balls even harder then and she continued to suck. As far as I was 
concerned, it was okay to come then, for I had warned her that I was near and her continuing 
only meant that she didn't mind.

My whole body started to tremble as I felt my dick pulsating in her mouth and I tried to 
keep from coming anyway by clenching my groin muscles.

I could only hold back for so long, however, and soon I was shooting into her mouth. She 
pulled her head back so that she only had my cock head in her mouth, and she started to suck
hard at my cock juices as her hand grasped the shaft and continued to jerk back and forth. 
She was moaning hard as my come filled her mouth.

There reached a point when she just had to suck the rest out, for I had shot as much as I 
could. She continued to lap at my cock long after I had come, and it was very relaxing. When 
she finally let my cock fall from her mouth, she licked her way back up and kissed my on the 
lips.

I could taste the flavor of my come on her tongue as she forced it into my mouth and I 
started to suck it. I placed my hands on her ass and squeezed as she ground her cunt up and 
down on my limp cock.

"You are more than any man could ask for in a wife," I said to her.

"I should hope so," she said, rubbing her hair on my chest. "I should hope so. It makes me 
believe that you are faithful."

"Of course I am faithful," I said. "Why do you think I'm not all of a sudden?"

"It's only tonight that I have started to think like this. And it is only because you had so 
much trouble getting yourself hard tonight. That is all."

"Don't you worry," I said. "I don't think that I'll have any trouble getting hard again to 
satisfy you."

"Good," she said, massaging my chest with her strong fingers. "And as we wait, tell me 
about your job."

"You know about it," I told her. "You know what I do and there is very little to tell. Why do 
you ask about it?"

"Because you are acting strange these last few weeks," she said to me. "There was a time 
when you would come home and tell me about your whole day, but you have not done that in
some time."

I knew that she was right, and I felt like a fool. I still didn't think that I could tell her of the 
things that I witnessed because she wouldn't understand them, but obviously, my saying 
nothing had made her more suspicious than anything else.

"We have a new Priest who arrived today," I told her. "His name is Father Joseph and he 
spoke with me to compliment me on the dinner."

"That's odd," she said. "From what you tell me, none of the others ever talk with you. 
Perhaps he did not know better."

"That's what I told him. But I still do not think that there is any reason why no one there 
should not talk to me."

"Neither do I," she said. "They are a strange lot."

"What do you mean?"

"I was talking with Margaret, our neighbor a few miles down. She sent her daughter there 
for a confession and when her daughter returned home she seemed to have been beaten a 
little. She would not talk about it. I wonder what happened."

"I imagine that they must try to beat someone into a strong confession," I said, but I did 
not want to say anything more. "If she does not want to talk about it perhaps there is no 
reason to pursue it."

"Perhaps," Maria said. "Margaret told me that she sent the girl there because she 
suspected her daughter of having intercourse. The Father told her that the girl had confessed 
and pleaded for mercy from God."

"I am sure that she received the mercy she pleaded for," I said, and I could feel my cock 
beginning to swell again as it rubbed against my wife.

"Perhaps," Maria said. "Why would they shave her cunt?"

"What?"

"Margaret said that they shaved her cunt. I can't see any reason for their doing something 
like that. I can't see any reason for them even looking at her cunt, except to check for her 
maidenhood."

"Then that is reason enough," I said.

I knew that my wife could tell I was getting a little edgy talking about this and that 
probably made her even more suspicious.

Still, I was glad that my cock was hard because it always served in ending conversations 
before. I couldn't go on with this one for I feared that my wife would learn something from 
me. So I rolled over so that she was lying underneath me.

I spread her legs and began to rub my cock head against her pussy lips. I loved the way 
they always got so wet with excitement, and when they were wet enough I thrust my hardness
into her.

She clung to me as I thrust in all the way, and she wrapped her legs around my ass and 
started to massage my buttocks with her feet. I could feel my cock swelling as her cunt started
to spasm tightly around me.

She started to move with my thrusting rhythm and I placed my lips on her breast and 
started to suck on her nipple as hard as I could. She moaned loud and dug her long nails into 
my back. I could feel a faint trickle of blood, but I didn't mind it at all because of the pleasure.

"Oh, God," she moaned. "You are wonderful, Clarence, wonderful."

I felt her pussy starting to cream around my cock, and since I had come only a few minutes
before, I still wasn't worked up to the point of orgasm. I knew that I could thrust inside of her 
for hours and make her come again and again.

I closed my eyes and I saw another vision of Susan.

She was still being whipped with cocks, but now there was one Father straddling her and 
shoving his cock into her mouth. She looked like she was gagging on it. There was another 
Father fucking her cunt, and the others who stood around the table were the ones who were 
cock-whipping her.

I shook my head to try and drive that vision from my mind. I couldn't stand it. I wondered 
if it was a sign. Was Susan in trouble there? Could something like that have happened to her? 
Could it still be happening?

Since she was all alone in the world and the monastery was the only thing in her life, she 
lived within the gates. There was a small room off the kitchen with nothing more than a straw 
mattress where she slept.

I wondered if any of the Fathers ever used her at night.

Still, I couldn't understand why a thought like that should go through my mind as I was 
lost in sexual pleasure with my wife. I clenched my eyes shut and hoped that the vision would 
disappear.

When it didn't, I opened my eyes and looked at my wife. Her eyes were open, too. She was
staring at me.

"What is wrong?" she asked. "Why that horrid look on your face? Is it me? Clarence, tell 
me. Am I the reason for that horrid look? It's frightening."

"No," I groaned, "it's not you at all. Just a bad image."

"Tell me what it is and I will interpret it for you."

"I can't," I said, and then I could feel my cock starting to pulsate in her cunt. I started to 
groan and it was only then that I knew I didn't have to talk. I groaned more than usual, just to 
try and cover the fear I was feeling from the vision of Susan.

My wife started to come again and this time her spasming pussy had its effect on me. I felt
myself starting to shoot into her and our juices were mixing and brewing in her hot cunt. I 
came in a few long spurts, and then as I fell out of her I licked my way down between her legs 
and started to eat her clean.

Her cunt juice and my cock cream combined was a most unique taste treat and I started to
lick her cunt walls to get the coated cream off.

Afterwards, she fell asleep in my arms.

I am writing this entry by candlelight now. Maria has finally fallen asleep and I am glad for 
the time that I have alone here over my journal. I still keep it locked away, but as my wife's 
suspicions continue to rise, I fear that I might have to move this journal elsewhere.

I have thought of keeping it somewhere in the monastery kitchen, but I sometimes think 
that one of the Fathers might uncover it. After all, I do not know what goes on in the kitchen 
during those night hours when I am not there. I know that someone has to enter to bring in 
the food, and I wonder if they ever search the place to try and find out things about me and 
my habits.

So I can't keep the journal there, but I tend to think that it becomes more and more risky 
to keep it at home also. It must be written, though, even if it can be used against me should it 
be discovered. It must be kept!





CHAPTER FOUR


"I cannot think of any reason why I shouldn't talk with you," Father Joseph said to me. We 
were standing in the kitchen while I was preparing the lunch meal. "I thought to ask one of the
Fathers, but then I decided that there was no reason to ask."

"You should have anyway," I said to him. "There must be some reason why they never talk 
to me. Perhaps I am not holy enough."

"They hardly even talk to each other," he said, standing there in his long black robe with 
both hands in the pockets. "I think it is your own self-fear that makes you pick yourself out. It's
not that they don't talk to you. They don't talk to anyone. They are usually too lost in prayer."

"I see," I told him. I did not believe it, but I didn't want to start anything.

"Yes," Father Joseph said. "If you look at the others as they walk by you will see that their 
lips move slowly in silent prayer."

I smiled as I diced some carrots into the large stew I was preparing over a hot fire. I had 
my shirt open and the sweat dripped down my chest. Ever since I had been working close to 
the fires for cooking, I had learned to fear flames.

Then, when I saw the horrible ways that some of the tortured girls had been burned, it 
made me fear fire even more.

I started wondering if I could talk about certain things with Father Joseph. He seemed 
pleasant enough. He had short red hair and a red complexion. His teeth looked so white 
whenever he smiled because of the dark red color of his face.

"I sense something on your mind," he said to me. "Feel free to talk."

"That's very good," I said to him. "There is something on my mind and if you will be open 
and honest with me, I will talk."

"I will be as honest as I can be," he said. "Well then, I hope I can match your honesty in my 
questions because I feel a little embarrassed in asking them."

"Don't be," he said. "Nothing should embarrass a man of God."

"Including sex?" I asked.

I think that he blushed when I said the word, but I couldn't really tell for his skin was such 
a red color all the time.

"Sex?" he asked.

"Yes. I know that I have a sex drive that has to be filled. I can wake up some mornings and 
feel my hardness throbbing. But I am not a man of God and I do not have any kind of 
obligation to be chaste. You do."

"We all do," he said, and I didn't want to tell him otherwise.

"Yes, I imagine so. But as far as I can see, it is a physical need, sex is. If you have the urge 
how can you function without satisfying it?"

"You talk of the physical need," he said, "and you're right. It is there. But my soul is with 
God and when I get the physical urge, I try to bring my soul into contact with the Lord. He is 
always there to guide me."

"But how?" I asked. "How can the soul change the physical need?"

"It takes a great deal of endurance," he said to me. "It is hard, and yet I somehow manage 
to do it."

A little more celery and some seasoning was all the stew needed and I tasted a little more 
after adding it. I held out the spoon for Father Joseph to taste and he nodded his head in 
approval.

"Can you suppress the urge all the time?" I suddenly blurted out. "I mean, don't you ever 
take yourself in your hand and... "

"I think that we have talked enough," he said to me. "Perhaps we will have the chance to 
talk with each other again soon."

With those words, he turned quickly and left the kitchen.

My suspicions seemed confirmed. Even a man like Father Joseph had his urges and I knew 
that he must have masturbated during those times when his soul didn't make contact with the
Lord. I'm sure that he must have felt guilty about it, yet he did it. That made me believe, even 
more, that the Fathers were abusing these young girls for their own sexual pleasure and 
nothing more.

They were using the name of God to defend their actions, telling the innocent victims that 
God demanded this of them, or God demanded that of them. However, it seemed to me that 
the only ones making the demands were the Fathers.

It scared me to know such a secret. It scares me still even as I write this down. I can feel the
pen shaking in my hand.

God, do You see what I am writing, for You should see everything. Do You know what is 
going on here? Is it strange for You to see such actions, or are You used to it? Has this been 
going on for as long as the Church has been in existence?

With those thoughts, I close this passage.



* * *



I feel compelled to write down what I saw tonight.

After I had finished cleaning up in the kitchen I went down to the wine cellar. When I 
looked through the small hole, into the drab dungeon, it was completely dark. I took a bottle 
of wine off the shelf and started to drink some. I was not planning to stay for long. I only 
wanted to get pleasantly drunk and then I was planning to start on my way home.

But then, I heard some noise coming from the dungeon, and I looked back through my 
secret peephole.

I could see a few flickering lights as the door opened.

Father Peter and Jacques were there, along with a few other Monks. They were dragging 
two young girls with them, and they threw the girls on the floor.

The Fathers surrounded them and would not let them out of the circle.

"You are sinners," one said, his voice echoing. "Both of you have been discovered together,
sinning. Sinning with the flesh."

The girls looked terrified. One had short red hair and the other was a blonde. They both 
couldn't have been more than fourteen years old. The blonde had larger breasts than the 
redhead, although I didn't see that until later.

"We are innocent," the redheaded girl said.

"You were allowed into the convent by our sisters in order to become Nuns, sisters of the 
Lord. But you have sinned on sacred convent grounds."

I began to understand why both girls had such short hair. Obviously, they had taken the 
order and were well on their way to becoming Nuns. They had been discovered engaged in 
some kind of homosexual act, and apparently, the Mother Superior of the nearby convent had
decided to let the Priests deal with it.

"There is no sin," the blonde said, clinging to the redhead. The way they clung to each 
other seemed to be indication enough that they had been physical with each other. There was
even something unnatural in their fear.

"God knows that you are lying. The Mother Superior has told me everything. Do you want 
to hear what she said?"

"No," the girl cried out, but that didn't stop Father Peter.

"She was making her rounds to check on the sisters," Peter screamed at them, shoving the 
blonde back into the middle of the circle as she started to try and break free. "She was making
her rounds and she walked in and found you in her bed. You were licking her cunt and 
drinking her juices. Is that not true?"

"It's a lie," the blonde screamed.

She tried to push past him again, but this time he swung at her. He reached for her frock 
as she fell back and ripped it down the front.

Her two trembling tits were exposed then, as was part of her blonde patch. For he had 
ripped the frock down the front and she was now half-naked.

The blonde clung to the redhead, trying to cover her nakedness. But then, the other Priests
started to close the circle around them and I could hear the ripping of cloth. They were only 
there for a few moments, and as they pulled back, widening the circle, I could see that they 
had stripped both girls completely.

They were both trembling now and clinging to each other. The blonde was running her 
hands up and down the redhead's trimmer body, and I had no doubt that the two of them 
had been together. Still, the punishment was worse than it should have been.

Father Peter was holding a whip in his hand, and he started to lash it out at the two girls. I 
watched the leather slash the blonde's belly and then a small trickle of blood started to drip 
down.

"Confess your sin, first," Peter said.

"Confess! Confess! Confess!"

I could hear the other Priests echoing Father Peter's request and it was chilling. I felt 
goosebumps all over my flesh for their voices were chanting the words. Both girls seemed to 
be crying so hard that they could hardly concentrate on anything else.

I noticed it before they did, I'm sure. It was the strangest thing, and very sick in its way, but
as the Fathers stood in a circle, it was easy to see that they were all getting aroused. There 
were bulges under their long black gowns, each and every one of them. Some bulges were 
larger than others, depending on the size of their cocks, but they were all fully aroused.

The whip was lashing out randomly at them, hitting them all over. You could see the slash 
marks on their flesh where the whip had landed.

Finally, the blonde girl started to scream out.

"All right," she said, "I confess! I confess that we lay in the same bed and I confess that we 
touched each other and felt pleasure. Is there anything so wrong with that? Is there anything 
wrong with that?"

"No," Father Peter said, and the chanting behind him stopped. The whipping stopped, too,
and the Father stepped into the middle of the circle. "Now I want you to show us what you 
did. I want to see what you did."

"What? I can't. Not here. We can't do it here."

Father Peter swung his hand back and then slapped the blonde across the face. She fell to 
her knees, right in front of the other girl.

The Father reached for the redhead and pulled her by the nipple. I could tell that he was 
twisting at the same time that he was pulling. He pulled her so that she was standing right in 
front of the blonde.

I couldn't believe it. He was getting them to do it.

He held the blonde by the hair, then moved his hand around to the redhead's ass. He 
pushed them together, until the blonde had her face buried in the redhead's cunt.

"Now lick her the way you did," he commanded.

He was pressing her cunt so close that I imagine she had no choice but to lick the other 
girl or suffocate. I watched as she moved her fingers to the redhead's cunt, spread her pussy 
lips and then began to lick.

She flicked her tongue in and out of the girl's pussy and it was easy to tell that the 
redhead was aroused. First of all, her bright red nipples were stiff and sticking out and second,
she was moaning loud.

She placed her hands on the blonde's shoulders for support. It was easy to tell that the 
heightened sexual passion the blonde was bringing out was making her weak in the knees. 
Father Peter seemed to sense it also.

As the redhead started to sink, he moved his hand to her ass again. This time he stuck out 
his middle finger and I'm sure that he drove it right into her asshole. I heard her screaming 
out in pain and as he pushed his finger in deeper, she seemed to stand up a little better. It was
all because he was forcing her to.

Then I looked at the circle of Fathers, whom I had pretty much forgotten about.

Each and every one of them had his robe raised, and they were all jerking themselves off 
as they watched the scene occurring in the middle. I had never seen anything like it before in 
my life.

One Father was jerking himself so hard that you could tell he was trying to inflict some 
pain on himself as well as the pleasure of the sheer physical touch.

Not a single one had his eyes closed. They were all too busy watching the two girls 
perform in front of them.

The blonde, meanwhile, had pulled her head back when the redhead had groaned in pain. 
She could tell that Father Peter had his long finger up her ass and she looked like she wanted 
to say something to him.

She looked like she was ready to kill him, but she kept her mouth closed, obviously 
realizing that she would be harmed more for anything that she said.

"Lick her, you sinful girl," Father Peter screamed.

He pressed her head back against the redhead's pussy and stuck her tongue out again. I 
could imagine her flicking the girl's love button back and forth with her tongue and I knew 
how the weakening pleasure was affecting the girl. The redhead was embarrassed about being
made love to in front of all the men.

Had she only opened her eyes (which were clenched shut) she would have seen all the 
half-naked Fathers, and I'm sure she wouldn't have felt as guilty or embarrassed.

"Didn't you do anything other than lick her?" Father Peter asked.

"Yes," the blonde moaned.

"Then do it. Do what you did. Repeat your sinful act."

The blonde started to move her fingers up the redhead's body, until she was pinching her 
nipples hard.

The redhead let out a low groan as she felt her nipples being twisted.

"Oh God in Heaven," she started to moan, "forgive me for what I have done, and forgive 
them for making me repeat it again. You are just and merciful."

Father Peter reached for her short red hair and started to pull it. It was only then that she 
opened her eyes and noticed all the hard cocks. He jerked her head so that her face was only 
inches from his and he peered into her eyes.

"What do you mean, asking God to forgive us? We do nothing wrong."

"This is not right," the girl screamed at him. "This is not right."

"And who are you to say?" the Father asked, and he suddenly pulled her back and threw 
her down on the floor.

She landed with a thud and he pulled her up to a sitting position.

"Is this right?" he asked, and he pulled up his robe.

He started to rub his ten inches and then plunged them into her mouth. She gagged as he
thrust deep in the back of her throat. Suddenly, the blonde girl was trying to fight him. I 
watched her dig her nails into his buttocks to try and pull him away from her friend and 
prevent her friend from sucking him.

He continued to thrust as he swung his arm around back and tried to fight her off. Finally, 
he yelled to another Priest, Father Paul. Father Paul stepped into the center of the circle and 
he pulled the blonde back.

She continued to struggle, trying to fight him off. Since he was still stroking his cock, he 
started to lose the battle with her. But soon, he decided to fight in another way, and I watched
him start to kick the blonde girl hard.

His first blow hit her in the stomach, and she doubled over in pain.

He kicked her in the face so that she fell flat on her back. Then he got down on his knees 
between her spread legs and rammed his cock into her cunt. I heard her groan with pain and 
watched as she tried to press her nails into his back.

Father Paul made a fist and started to smash it against the blonde's face until she was so 
weak that she had stopped scratching his back.

I watched him humping his ass up and down, driving his cock in and out of her cunt. By 
the time he came, which wasn't too far away, he had knocked all the fight out of her. She just 
lay there, flat on the ground, as he rolled off her, his dripping limp cock dangling between his 
legs.

Father Peter was still fucking the other girl's face, and she had resigned herself to it, so it 
seemed. Her eyes were open and there was still fear, but she was doing nothing to fight back 
and drive him away.

In fact, she had even moved her hand to his buttocks and she was squeezing them and 
guiding him back and forth.

Then, I saw the most disgusting sight of all as far as I was concerned. All of the Fathers had
continued stroking themselves, and as the first reached his point of orgasm, he walked in the 
center of the circle and started to spew his white come all over the blonde girl. He shot on her
tits and belly, and I could see the thick white cream trickling. When he was finished, he took 
his place back in the outer circle.

That was the way it continued to happen. Once the first Father had come, they all started 
coming pretty fast afterwards. At one point, there were three of them huddled over the 
blonde, all shooting their come onto her naked body at the same time. There were about ten 
of them, so by the time the last one had come, the blonde was swimming in it.

It was the third time I had seen Father Peter involved in such activity, and it was quite 
obvious that he was much more experienced than the others because of his staying power. 
For he was being sucked, while the others had only been jerking themselves off, and he was 
the last one to come.

It took a long time, even after the last one had come on the exhausted body of the 
blonde, for he was still thrusting his cock in and out of the redhead's mouth the whole time it 
happened, and after.

I could see the tension in his buttocks as he started to shoot into her mouth and I heard 
her gagging. I'm sure that the girl had never sucked a cock before and she really didn't know 
what to expect.

He stayed in her mouth the whole time and she sucked and sucked until he pulled his cock
out. The look on her face seemed to indicate that she didn't like the taste of the cream she 
had just sampled from his cock, but he didn't care.

He pushed her down on the floor beside her friend.

"Lick her clean," he said, kicking her naked ass. "Lick all that come off her body and then 
make her come the way she made you come."

The redhead looked at him with pleading eyes, but, as I was beginning to realize, there 
was no pleading with Father Peter. Once he had something in mind he went along with it the 
whole way.

He had it in mind to watch the redhead going down on the blonde, and when she didn't 
move he got down on his knees beside her. He grabbed her by her short red hair and pulled 
as hard as he could.

"Are you deaf as well as a sinner?" he asked. "Now do as I say!"

He pushed her down so that her face was touching the blonde's come-coated breast. She 
started to lick and it was easy to tell from the sounds that she was making that she didn't like 
the taste of come.

I could understand why. It took me a few times before I acquired a taste for my wife's 
flavor, as I know it took her some time to grow accustomed to my taste. I am sure that this 
was the first time the redhead had ever tasted come, and since it had been forced on her, 
there was every reason to hate it.

She started to lick her friend's body all over, and I could see the come on her tongue a few
times before she swallowed it. She was gagging the whole time, as if the flavor was making 
her sick and she was going to vomit.

As she licked her way down the blonde's belly, the blonde seemed to regain 
consciousness. She started to stroke the redhead's hair, forcing her face between her legs.

"Lick me," she moaned. "Lick me and make me come."

Father Peter watched, and a smile spread across his face. He was obviously glad that she 
had said something like that, for it gave him every reason in the world to start beating the 
blonde again.

He bent down by her head and started to slap her across the face again and again. But she
continued to moan and beg the redhead to do a good job.

It was all so grotesque. I could hear the sounds of his hand hitting her face, along with the 
slurping and sucking sounds that the redhead was making as she licked the blonde's pussy. I 
watched the blonde start to hump her ass up and down off the floor and I took it that she was
on the verge of coming. Perhaps that was why she didn't try to fight back against the 
slapping.

All I know is that when the blonde had finished coming and the redhead had rolled off, 
lying back on the floor and spreading her legs, I saw Father Jacques walk to the wall. He took 
down two burning torches and handed one to Father Paul.

Peter still stayed down by the blonde, but he grabbed her hands so that she couldn't try to
fight back and the burning stake was driven between her legs. It was thrust in and out once, 
and it was done quickly.

But you cannot imagine how much damage a burning stake can do, even if it is for only 
one short thrust. Her cunt hairs were burned away completely and you could see the way her 
insides had been seared.

The redhead was sitting up by that time and she could see what had just happened to her 
friend. She tried to back away as she saw Father Jacques approaching her with the burning 
torch, but there was nowhere to go. She backed into one of the Fathers and he wouldn't 
move. She clung to his legs and Jacques drove the torch in.

Then they were both grabbed and dragged over to the wall. I watched as they were 
chained up, both arms and legs.

"You have time now to think," Father Peter said to them. "You have confessed your sin and 
tomorrow you will be asked to repent. Your vaginas will not bring you pleasure anymore 
because it's the work of the devil. But you will have time now to think of your sins and 
tomorrow, when I come to see you, we will talk again."

Both girls looked like they were only semi-conscious, and then Father Peter moved his 
fingers to their cunts. He fingered both of them at the same time with his two hands and you 
could tell that they were pained. Then he and the Fathers filed out, taking the burning torches 
to guide their way and leaving the girls in darkness. I heard them groaning in pain as I made 
my way out of the wine cellar.

But before leaving, freeloading lush as I am, I filched a couple of wine bottles.

To tell the truth, I was in dire need of booze. To forget what a spineless jerk-off little turd I 
was, participating voyeuristically in these whopping orgies.





CHAPTER FIVE


I went down the next day, early in the morning. I had never gone down to the wine cellar in 
the light of day, but I wanted to see if the two girls were all right. I peeped through the hole 
into the dungeon.

They weren't there. I don't know what happened to them or where they went. I thought for
sure that they would still be there since Father Peter had told them he would be down there 
the next morning.

Obviously, someone (most likely, Father Peter) had come down during the night to either 
finish what was started, or release the girls.

That morning, I ran across Father Joseph and I was thinking about asking him if he knew 
anything of what went on. After all, there weren't too many men in this monastery and I had 
seen at least half of them participating in such activities.

I was sure that Father Joseph would have to get involved in these things as long as he 
remained in the monastery. Still, I couldn't bring myself to talk with him about it, for I was 
pained even thinking of it.

I could see that Susan was in pain that morning, too, and I remembered my dream about 
her. I wondered if dreams could sometimes tell truths.

She seemed more scared than ever that morning, and I tried to comfort her with a few 
pleasant words. It really didn't do any good. She seemed too scared to even trust me with 
anything that she might have known.

I don't blame her. I am too scared about the things that I know now, and each time I write 
in this journal, I fear what would happen if the contents ever leaked out.

I have seen the way heretics are treated. Just the other day, as I was walking to the 
monastery, I saw soldiers leading a man out to be burned for heresy. I watched them tie him 
to a stake and then put piles of wood around him.

I saw them setting the fire and I heard his screams a mile away.

I saw the charred remains that night as I walked back home. His burned corpse had just 
been left there with all the charred wood. They were probably waiting for all the ashes to blow
away in the hopes that there would be nothing left to clean up.

It's a terrible time with the Inquisition on now. Everyone must answer to the Church, if they
are called upon to do so. Once, in my life, I would have thought it a good way of keeping 
people as believers, but I don't think that way now.

Now I have seen too much and it tells me that there is a great deal of hypocrisy in the 
Church. The Fathers at St. Cristophal's use young girls to satisfy their own sexual needs and 
they're hypocrites because they say they are doing it for God.

You don't torture someone like that in the name of God, for God, as I've always learned, is 
merciful. He wants to help his children and not hurt them. But I have seen no help at any time.
All I have seen is the hurt.

I wish I knew what happened to the two girls. Were they sent back to the convent where 
they will become Nuns? If so, they won't have to worry about their sexual urges anymore 
because their insides must have been burned out.

Or did they just die? I have considered that possibility, for they looked like they were on 
the verge of death when they were chained to the wall. Could they have died during the 
night? Maybe that was why Susan had been acting so funny the day afterwards. Maybe she 
had to drag the dead bodies out.

I fear what might happen. When people are supposed to be working for God and they 
seem to be the actual source of evil, it can only mean one thing.

It is the work of the devil!



* * *



"The work of the devil, you say?" Father Joseph asked me. I did not tell him everything that
I had seen. In fact, I told him nothing, except that I feared there was something evil in the 
monastery. "What makes you think that way, Clarence?"

"It is just a chill feeling I have running through my bones, that is all."

"Perhaps the clothes you wear are not warm enough," he said, smiling. "Have you ever 
thought of that?"

I was dying to tell him what I had seen, but I couldn't. If he told them then I would suffer 
for it.

"No," I said, and then I whispered to him. "Can I trust you with a secret? If you say no, I will
not tell you."

"You may trust me. I will tell no one."

"Including the Monsignor?" I asked him, for he was the head of the monastery and 
although I had not yet seen him play a part in the depraved acts, I had to suspect that he 
knew about what was happening.

"Could it be that serious?" Father Joseph asked me.

"Yes," I said. "Do you sleep well at night? Do you sleep well enough so that you do not 
hear screams in the middle of the night?"

"What kind of screams?" he asked me.

I just couldn't come out and tell him, so I decided to trust him.

"Will you come with me tonight?" I asked him. "I don't know if anything will be happening,
but will you come?"

"Where?" he asked me.

I did not tell him. Instead, I just told him that he should meet me in the kitchen after 
dinner. I recommended that he mention to the others that he was going to sleep, go to his 
room and then sneak out.

That way, no one would notice that he was gone, just for precaution's sake.

"My friend Clarence," he said, "and you are my friend, you are making this all seem so 
suspicious. But if you want me to, I will come."

He squeezed my hand and then left.

I know that it sounds sick, for even as I write it, I think of how sick it is. But that whole day, 
I prayed to God that there would be something happening in the torture dungeon that night. 
I did not want anyone else getting hurt, of course, but I did want something to happen so that
Father Joseph could see it.

He came to the kitchen later that night, after everyone else had left the dining hall. I was 
just cleaning up some of the pots when he walked in, and I smiled at him. I said goodnight to 
Susan and got a silent nod back.

Then the good Father and I walked out. The moon was full that night and the sky was 
rather light for such a late hour.

I walked around the back and started to lead him down the stairs of the wine cellar. When 
he saw where I was taking him, he laughed.

"I see," he said. "You are taking me with you so we can get drunk, is that it, my friend? You 
should be ashamed."

"Ssh," I said to him, for I always made sure to keep quiet when I was down in the cellar just
in case anyone was in the dungeon. I didn't want them to hear me.

I beckoned for him to follow me down the narrow aisle and I was happy even before I got 
to my secret place, for I could see that there was some kind of light coming through the hole 
and I knew that there had to be someone in the dungeon.

It was Father Paul and Father Jacques. I was somewhat surprised that Father Peter was not 
there, for he seemed to have been the leader of the usual group. I started to realize as I 
peered through that there was no leader.

Each man did his own thing, no matter how terrible it was.

I looked through the hole again and I could see that there was a young brown-haired girl. 
She looked like she was about twenty.

"Your husband has told us that you haven't been faithful to him," Father Paul said to the 
woman. She was still fully clothed.

"No, I haven't," she said to the Father. She seemed to be very strong in her convictions. "I 
don't see why I should be. He doesn't satisfy me and he sleeps around with whores all the 
time."

"What is going on?" Father Joseph whispered into my ear. "What is this?"

"A dungeon of horrors," I said to him. "Watch for yourself."

I moved to the side so we could both peer in.

"Then you admit that you have been adulterous?" Father Paul asked.

"Yes, I do," the woman said. "I have needs that need to be filled and as long as I do and my
husband cannot fill them, I will take the liberty of doing it on my own."

Father Paul seemed to be smiling and I could see growing bulges under the robes of both 
men.

"Then perhaps we can do this a little differently," Father Paul said, and he moved his hand 
to her face and touched her.

She was on her knees and he started to run his finger over her lips. She stuck out her 
tongue and started to lick his finger. He began to slide his finger in and out of her mouth, as 
you would expect a man to do with his cock.

Meanwhile, Father Jacques moved behind her and he started to stroke her breasts through
her frock. I could see how much he was getting into it.

"I understand now," the woman said. "I understand what it is you want. You just want me 
to help satisfy your urges, right?"

Father Paul didn't say anything, but he did rub his crotch. The woman slid her hand under 
his robe and up his leg. She felt his bare cock.

"Oh, nothing underneath to keep your soldier from standing up," she said to him, and she 
started to stroke him firmly.

He moaned, then reached for his robe and pulled it up over his head so that he was 
completely naked. The woman smiled, then pulled him closer by his cock. She opened her 
mouth and then started to lick the Father's cock.

"What's happening?" Father Joseph asked me, but I told him to be quiet.

This time, so it seemed, they were going to be gentle with their victim. It seemed as if 
there was no hatred inside of them at all. Father Paul started to thrust his cock in and out of 
the woman's mouth slowly.

Meanwhile. Father Jacques was stripping off her frock. He opened the top few buttons and
slid the dress down her shoulders, revealing two large melon-like tits. He cupped them in his 
hand and pushed them together.

Then he slid her dress down all the way, revealing her shapely ass. He pulled his robe off 
and moved behind her so that his extended cock was rubbing against her buttocks. She 
moaned softly and started to squeeze Father Paul's balls.

I looked at Father Joseph. He seemed more surprised than I had been the first time I had 
ever witnessed anything like this, and that surprised me since I had seen bloody sexual 
violence.

What was happening as the two of us watched seemed to be tender sexual love. The 
woman had already admitted that she had sinned, and she was more than willing to satisfy the
two Fathers. She was sucking Paul's cock with enthusiasm.

He started to moan and grunt, and I knew that he was coming in her mouth. I could see 
some of the white cream dripping down her chin but she continued to suck harder and 
harder, draining him completely dry.

He didn't say anything to her as he pulled his cock out of her mouth. He just moved his 
hand down and started to tug in order to make himself hard again. As he did that, he moved 
out of the way and let Jacques take his place.

Father Jacques's cock was much larger than Father Paul's and she looked like she was 
struggling a little more to take him all the way in. But I could see his entire cock sink deep into
her mouth. He held onto her hair, stroking softly, as he began to thrust in and out of her.

I could see how determined she was to make him come, for her cheeks were sucking so 
hard and she was making a determined noise. Father Paul, who had already come, was 
beginning to get hard again. He sunk down to his knees behind the woman and started to 
kiss the back of her neck, then licked his way down to her buttocks.

He spread her ass cheeks as wide apart as he could and then started to lick her asshole. I 
heard her grunt a little, as if she wasn't too pleased with this approach, yet she did nothing to 
try and get away.

I turned to look at Father Joseph again. He hadn't expected me to look at him, I knew, for 
he was stroking the hard-on he had under his robe. His cock looked enormous as it bulged 
out, and when he saw me looking at him he blushed.

"You asked me about the urge," he whispered. "I have it now."

"I don't blame you," I said. "But let us not talk right now. I fear that they might hear us. We 
will talk later."

I looked back. Father Paul was driving his tongue deep into the woman's asshole and she 
was trying to wiggle away.

Finally, she dropped Jacques's cock from her mouth and turned to look at him.

"Stop it," she said. "I don't like that. It hurts."

"Sinners must pay with a little pain," he said.

"Sinners? I am no sinner. I am doing nothing wrong."

"Then shut up and continue," Jacques said to her, and he stuffed his large cock back into 
her mouth. He rammed his way in deep and kept her head pressed to his groin for a few 
seconds, until she was gasping for breath.

Then he let up and she started to move her mouth up and down his organ again.

Father Paul had stopped licking her asshole by that time. He had moved his fingers around
to her cunt and he was sliding them in and out. She started to breathe a little bit heavier as 
her pleasures rose.

Then Father Paul started to enter her asshole with his cock.

Her screams were muffled in Father Jacques's mouth-thrusting cock, but it was easy 
enough to tell that she was in pain as Paul drove himself all the way into her.

He started to pump his cock in and out of her ass as he fingered her cunt. Father Jacques 
pumped his cock into her mouth and he moved his fingers to her tits and started to massage 
them. It seemed like they were trying to do anything to turn her on and slowly, she got into 
what they were doing.

I bet that her asshole, pained as it was, even adjusted to the thrusting cock that was 
invading her, for she didn't protest any longer.

She started to move with it, in fact, slapping her ass back against his groin each time he 
was pulling his cock back. It was almost as if she didn't want his cock to ever leave her asshole.

I could hear Father Joseph starting to breathe heavier, for he was only inches away from 
me. I turned to look, and this time, he had pulled his robe up and was stroking his naked cock 
now.

I couldn't believe how big it was. It had to be at least twelve inches, and so thick that he 
could hardly fit his hand around it. Still, he had developed a steady thrusting pace as he drove 
his cock through his clenched hand.

I looked back. Father Jacques started to come, and as soon as he did, he pulled out of her 
mouth and started to shoot on her face. She opened her mouth to try and catch his spurting 
seed, but he directed his come toward her face anyway. He seemed to like the way it looked 
dripping down.

Then Father Paul started to groan and I knew that he must have been coming in her 
asshole. She let out a soothing, purring moan.

She moved her fingers to her cunt and started to fuck herself, pushing Paul's fingers away. 
It was, I'm sure, because she knew how to bring herself off better than either one of them 
could.

For she started to pant louder the minute she started to finger herself, and it was quite 
easy to tell that she was coming. Her nipples perked up more than ever and she started to 
close her eyes.

"Oh God, yes," she moaned, "this is the pleasure that You created for us and it's only fitting
that I should experience some."

Father Paul had finished coming inside of her and he pulled his limp cock out. She fell to 
the floor and, lying on her back, continued to finger herself. She thrust her ass up and down 
off the floor, caught up in some kind of wild frenzy.

Just then, I heard a low groan from Father Joseph, and I looked over just in time to see a 
thick load of come shooting out of his cock and hitting the wall. He continued to pump on his
dick, but I looked back at the naked woman. She was more exciting.

It seemed like she was fingering herself so that she would come again and again, and it 
wasn't until Father Paul stooped down beside her and forced her to that she pulled her fingers
out of her cunt. She did it reluctantly.

"You have committed evil sin," Father Paul said to her. "You have confessed it and now you
must repent."

"And will you repent?" she asked, trying to catch her breath. "I will only repent if you and 
this Father repent, for you have sinned as I have."

I'm glad that Father Joseph had already come, for now that he was down from the heights 
of his sexual orgasm, his mind was together enough for him to witness what followed.

"We have not sinned," Father Paul said, and he smashed his hand across her face.

She groaned in pain. It was the First painful thing that they had done to her and she 
moved her hand to her cheek where he had hit her.

"We have not sinned," Father Jacques agreed. "We have made you sin so that God can see 
the evil in you. Now it is time to repent."

"For what? Admitting to my pleasure? So, too, must you admit."

She reached up and tried to grab Father Paul's limp cock, but he pulled away. Twice was 
obviously enough for him, but still not a sin as far as he was concerned.

He beckoned for Father Jacques and the older man walked toward the wall and pulled 
down a burning torch. I had seen this all before, and I turned my head away in disgust.

"God, no," Father Joseph said, for he was still watching. "What are they going to do to her?
What? This is madness."

I placed my hand over his mouth. The one thing I didn't want was for him to talk loud 
enough to be heard. I looked back through the hole.

Father Paul had sunk to his knees and he was holding the woman's two arms. Father 
Jacques was straddling her belly, and he moved the burning torch to one of her stiff brown 
nipples. She screamed before the flame even touched her, but when it did, the sounds were 
too agonizing to be believed.

He held the burning torch against her nipple for about a minute, and when he pulled it 
away her skin was charred. I could still see her nipple but it was black and burned now. The 
amazing thing was, it still looked stiff.

"You will repent," Father Jacques said to her.

This woman was smart, as far as I was concerned.

She seemed to realize that unless she repented, they would bum her some more. She 
didn't seem to be very religious anyway, and she started talking.

"God, forgive me for my sins," she moaned, without much sincerity in her voice. "Forgive 
me for my sin of adultery and forgive these fine men for what they are doing, too. Forgive us 
all for the sins we wallow in."

Father Paul seemed to be very mad at her when she begged God's forgiveness for him, 
and he slapped her across the face again.

"We do not need to be prayed for," he said. "We are God's direct servants and He knows 
all that we do."

"He knows all that we do and He tells us how to cleanse the flesh," Father Jacques said to 
her, moving down her legs.

He placed the burning torch near her pussy and she started to scream. Just then, I heard a 
sound behind me. I turned just in time to avoid one grotesque scene and witness another. 
Father Joseph started to vomit against the wall, and I watched him as I heard her pained 
screams through the wall.

I turned back as the torch was pulled away. It hadn't been thrust into her cunt like I had 
seen it done to others. In that way, I guess the Father's thought that they were merciful toward
her. Instead, all they had done was burn the pubic hair away and bum a little bit of her flesh.

Father Jacques stood up and hung the torch back up on the wall. He reached for his robe 
and started to put it on.

Father Paul helped the woman up and then he started to dress. She reached for her frock 
and began to put it on, too.

"The Lord has forgiven you and He has taken you back into His flock," Father Paul said to 
her, reaching over to squeeze her tit one last time.

She smiled at him. She seemed to be different from the others. She seemed to realize what
hypocrites these Fathers were, but she was intelligent enough to know that if she said 
anything, she could suffer for it.

I watched as they led her out and I tried to remember what she looked like. I was planning 
to look around. town for her because she seemed to be one of the only people on my side. 
She had actually gone through the tortures.

I turned to Father Joseph after the others had left the dungeon. There was a small pile of 
vomit around his feet and he turned away from my gaze, as if he was embarrassed.

"There is no reason to be embarrassed about this," I said to him, and I told him that I 
would clean it up.

"But how could that have happened?" he asked me. "They used that girl for their own 
purposes. They used her and sinned with her, then denied the sin themselves. Surely 
something must be done to stop it."

"Do not be too hasty," I said. "There are more of them involved than you would ever 
imagine. I have seen ten in here at one time, and ten of them are stronger than one of you. Do
not say anything to anyone."

"But... "

"What?" I asked. "What do you think you will be able to do? I know that you can get to talk
to the Monsignor, but you have no idea if he knows about this or not. For all we know, he can 
be involved with it as much as the others. The best thing to do is remain silent. Silence is 
golden."

Jesus, I thought, if Father Joseph went to spill the beans with the dubious Monsignor, the 
blabbermouth would really make the shit hit the fan! My proud rectum constricted at the very 
thought.





CHAPTER SIX


I cannot help but feel that I am responsible for what I have witnessed these past few days, and
the guilt runs through my bones. I hear my wife sleeping in our bed and I know that even she 
is suspicious.

Even her lovemaking has not been able to soothe me. She comforts me for the moments 
that I am inside of her, thrusting, but when it is all over, the guilt begins to grow again until it 
is all I feel.

Father Joseph has suffered terribly. I should have known not to take him down to the wine 
cellar, and the only thing I have to be thankful for is the fact that he was able to keep his 
mouth shut and not tell them about me.

I know that I wouldn't have been able to keep my mouth shut had I suffered the tortures I 
saw him suffer.

It started the night after I had brought him down to the wine cellar. I hadn't seen him all 
day, the next day, and there was no reason to be suspicious about anything. That night, 
however, as I went to check the dungeon, as usual, I was surprised to see him down there.

He wasn't with the others, however. He was the victim.

I could see the Monsignor standing there with Father Peter and Father Paul.

There were also two young girls with them, and both girls were clothed. Then I saw Father 
Joseph. He had been tied, his hands pulled over his head and roped together. The rope had 
been pulled through a hook hanging over him and he was completely naked and vulnerable 
for them to do anything that they wanted.

At first, I could not understand why they had tied him up in such a manner, but then I 
heard the Monsignor talk.

"You are a fool, Joseph," he said. "You are a fool to have come to me to tell me about the 
sinning you have witnessed. Do you think that I do not know of the sinning? I am in charge of 
this place. I know all that happens."

"But it is sinful for them to have used that woman. I witnessed it last night. I came to your 
office to tell you."

I hated thinking it myself, but the Monsignor was right. Father Joseph had been a fool to 
go and tell him. I had warned him myself not to say anything, thinking that the Monsignor 
was involved. But he was young innocent, and he has suffered dearly for it. I hope he has 
learned.

"And what exactly did you witness?" the Monsignor asked.

"Intercourse in the name of God," the Father screamed.

"And do you not feel some need to be filled?" he was asked by the older Priest. "Do you 
not feel an urge?"

"No," Father Joseph screamed.

He was lying. It was obvious to me from what I had witnessed the night before when he 
became excited. I thought that he was crazy not to tell the truth.

"I have two young girls here to put you to the test," the Monsignor said to him. "If you can
remain limp, it will show me that you are not lying. If you get hard, you are a hypocrite."

I don't know where the girls came from. They were both about fifteen and looked like they
could have been sisters.

The Monsignor beckoned to them, and he, Father Peter, and Father Paul all took a few 
steps back, leaving the two young vixens in the middle of the room.

They stood in front of Father Joseph and they started to rub their own bodies. Both were 
dressed in long peasant garb, but it was easy to see that they were getting excited as they 
played with themselves.

I prayed for Father Joseph then.

"Oh God," I murmured, "if You love that servant of Yours, for he is the only one truly 
faithful to You, please let him make it through this without harm."

I looked at him and I could see him trembling.

I hadn't seen him fully naked until this time. He had small tufts of red hair around his 
nipples and a thick patch of hair around his cock. I looked at how his limp member hung 
between his legs, and prayed that it would keep hanging limp.

I'm sure that he was doing the same thing. He had his eyes closed and he was moving his 
Ups in prayer. Yet the two girls were giggling, and I'm sure that no matter how much he tried, 
he couldn't help but hear that.

"I'm getting undressed now," one of the girls said so that he could hear. She looked over 
at the Monsignor and he nodded toward her. He obviously approved of what she was doing. 
In fact, I wouldn't be the least bit surprised to learn that he was the one who told her to do 
that.

For she continued to talk as she undressed.

"I'm sliding my dress down past my tits now, and my nipples are just so hard. I'd like to rub
them against your chest, but that wouldn't be right. Still, they're black and stiff and it's all 
because of you."

"They are black, and they are stiff, Celia," the other girl said, so that Father Joseph could 
hear. "In fact, I can feel them. Doesn't that feel good, Celia. Don't you like it when I rub your 
nipples?"

"I like it even more when you rub my cunt, cousin Robin. Rub them some more. Oh, that 
feels good. Run your tongue over them and you'll feel them perk up some more."

I watched as Celia moved her mouth to Robin's breast. She sucked the entire tit into her 
mouth and made the loudest slurping sound.

My own manhood was beginning to rise steadily, but I wasn't concerned with myself. I 
looked over at Father Joseph and was happy to see that his dick was not responding at all to 
this kind of torture. Perhaps he couldn't hear them at all, for he was still moving his lips in 
prayer.

I looked over at the Monsignor. He was talking with Father Peter, pointing to Joseph's limp
cock. He was probably surprised to see no response. I could tell that he wanted Joseph to get 
hard so it would prove to him that Joseph had an urge just like the rest of them.

He clapped his hands and both girls looked at him. They had been getting into their little 
scene too well, for once Celia had started to lick Robin, she had stopped talking. The 
Monsignor beckoned to them when they looked his way.

"Oh, that feels nice," Celia moaned. "But now I'm going to strip completely, Robin, and I 
want you to lick my cunt. I want you to thrust your tongue in and out of my cunt and lick me 
so hard that I start to come fast. That's the best thing that I can imagine. Oh, yes, your tongue 
feels so good running down my belly. I like that. Oh, God, my cunt lips are getting wet 
already."

She sunk down to the floor and spread her legs. I watched her lean them on the other 
girl's shoulders, and the other girl moved her head to Celia's cunt. I could hear her lapping 
and slurping, and Celia started to moan even louder with passion.

"Oh, yes. Wiggle my love-bud around to make me spasm. Oh, yes, Robin, I can feel the 
spasms starting. I can feel the waves of pleasure rushing through my cunt. I can feel it building
inside of me. Lick my pussy. Oh, yes, oh yes."

I looked at Father Joseph then and I was horrified. His cock was beginning to get longer 
and thicker, extending down his leg. I glanced at the Monsignor. He had been too busy 
watching the girls, but as I looked at him, Father Paul tapped him on the shoulder to show 
him what was happening with Father Joseph.

A wicked smile lit up across the Monsignor's face and he ran his large hand through his 
sparse white hair. He started to lick his lips as he turned back to watch the two girl's 
continuing their homosexual act.

He cleared his throat to catch Celia's attention and then Celia looked over where the 
bound Priest was standing. She noticed the way his cock was growing.

As it got harder, it began to extend out of his body, and I looked at the pained expression 
on his face. He moved his lips even more and started to pray out loud.

"Oh Father in Heaven, help me," Father Joseph started to say. "Help me, Your mere servant,
to overcome this lecherous desire I am feeling. Take it away from me and I will be ever humble
and always Your servant."

I knew that there was no way his cock would go limp. In all my years I could never 
remember a time when a growing erection of mine would go limp without the satisfaction of 
an orgasm to do it.

"Oh God, I'm coming," Celia started to moan, and she began to thrust her cunt against the
other girl's face. "I'm coming. I can feel my cunt spasming and my juices are flowing. God, I'm 
coming!"

Father Joseph opened his eyes then and he looked at the naked girl on the floor being 
eaten by the other girl. Robin was still dressed, but as she continued to eat her cousin, she 
started to strip out of her clothing.

The Monsignor clapped his hands again and the two girls stopped what they were doing. 
They stayed on the floor as the old Priest walked in front of Father Joseph.

"Can you deny the desire you feel now?" he asked.

"There is no desire."

"And what is that massive bulge between your legs, my son? It is a sign of your sexual 
arousal, is it not?"

"I have been duped into being aroused," Father Joseph said.

I could see the anger rage up in the Monsignor's face. He pulled his arm back and then 
smashed his hand across Father Paul's face, hitting him so hard that a trickle of blood started 
to run from the bound man's lip.

"You have been duped into nothing," the Monsignor said. "You just have the thoughts like 
all of us do. What do you think you are, a God who has no feelings?"

I was shocked to hear the Monsignor talking this way. It was complete and total sacrilege, 
yet I was glad that Father Joseph did not pick up on it the way that I did. For had he picked up
on it, I'm sure that he would have said something and then he would have been tortured 
more for it.

He looked past the Monsignor, at the two girls on the floor.

The old Priest followed his gaze, then moved out of the way.

"You feel no desire at all?" he asked.

"None," Father Joseph said. "I feel none at all."

"Celia, come here," the old Priest said. "Come here and fill this man with some kind of 
desire. Show him that it exists."

Celia stood up and walked over to the bound Father. Her breasts bounced up and down as
she walked closer. Her long black hair hung to her shoulders.

She stood on her toes and even then, she could only reach his nipples with her mouth. She
stuck out her tongue and started to lick one of Father Joseph's nipples. I heard him moan 
softly and I prayed that he wouldn't.

Her black pussy bush was rubbing against his cock and I watched as he started to thrust 
his body back and forth against hers. She moaned, too, then ran her tongue from one nipple 
to the other.

Meanwhile, the other girl had gotten up and she walked behind Father Joseph. She 
reached between his legs and grabbed his large balls, then started to squeeze them. I heard 
him moan even louder as she pulled on the sack.

By that time, Celia had licked her way down to his cock. She opened her mouth and 
started to lick the thick head of his dick. As she did, she moved her hand between her legs and
started to finger herself.

I watched as Father Joseph tried to thrust his cock deep into her mouth. He had his eyes 
closed and it still looked like he was praying, but he was too aroused now. Sexual pleasure 
seemed to have taken over everything.

Robin started to lick the Father's back.

She ran her tongue all the way down to his buttocks and spread them apart. I saw her start
to force her tongue into his asshole and he groaned even more, the pleasure heightening. I 
could see his cock throbbing.

Celia opened her mouth as wide as she could and tried to take in as much of his cock as 
possible. She was a small girl, however, and he was a big man with a big dick. She could only 
take him in so deep.

"Can you deny it now?" the Monsignor was asking, for he was standing closer than the 
others, watching with total fascination.

"I feel nothing," Father Joseph moaned. "I feel nothing except for the pain a Priest can feel 
when he knows he has been deceived."

"Deceived? What kind of deceit do you mean?"

"Using the name of God for your own pleasure," he said.

The Monsignor laughed and his voice echoed throughout the room.

"I am using the name of God for your own pleasure," he said to the Father. "I do not hear 
you complaining, nor does it look like you feel deceived."

I had to admit that the older Priest was right. The bound Father was breathing heavier and 
heavier as his thick cock was sucked more and more. I could see trickles of sweat running 
down his chest and I wished that he would have admitted to the sexual pleasure he was 
feeling. I think he was too scared to do that.

Robin continued to lick his asshole.

I know what that can do to a man, for my wife tried it once and I thought that it was a 
most incredible feeling. Once she thrust her finger into my ass as I was about to come and it 
was the best orgasm I can ever remember.

The Monsignor walked behind and pulled Robin away. He pushed her around front and I 
watched as she made a move for his cock, too.

She started to run her mouth up and down the shaft while Celia concentrated mainly on 
the head, holding it between her lips and obviously flicking her tongue back and forth over 
the tip of it.

My eyes bulged with horror as I saw what the Monsignor was reaching for. He had a large 
wooden phallus on a table and he grasped it in his hand.

"When you come we will know the full strength of your lust," he said to Father Joseph, and
then he moved his hand to the man's buttocks and spread them.

Father Joseph's scream was a combination of pleasure and pain as the dildo was rammed 
up his ass. I know that there was pleasure because I could see the come shooting from his 
cock at the very moment of entry. Both girls moved their mouths to his cock head to lick the 
spurting come.

But then, there was the pleasure from the width and force of the thrusting dildo that had 
been shoved into his asshole. I watched the Monsignor start to thrust it in and out of poor 
Father Joseph's asshole and soon I could see that their was a coat of blood all over the 
wooden phallus.

It was a most horrid sight.

The Father's dick continued to spurt out its white cream and both girls lapped it up 
eagerly. The Monsignor rammed the phallus deep into the man's asshole and left it there. He 
pulled away, walked in front, then pulled the two girls away. Father Joseph's cock spasmed 
once more and then started to go limp.

"Can you deny the pleasure, Father Joseph?" he asked.

"There would have been no pleasure had you not tortured me in such a way," the bound 
man said, and his words were filled with pain. I'm sure that the phallus in his asshole was more
than he could handle.

"Regardless, you have felt the sinful pleasure."

"I have," Father Joseph said. "I have felt it and I beg God to forgive me. I beg God to 
forgive all of you. You sin more than I do."

"Oh? In what way?"

"The ones that I had witnessed, the ones that I came to talk to you about, forcing the 
woman to take cocks. They had the desire first. They always have the desire inside of them and
they forced themselves on the woman. In my case, the women were forced on me and they 
built up my desire."

"You mean to tell me that you do not ever have the desire?" the Monsignor asked him. 
"You never feel sexual desire. Are you not mortal?"

"I am. I fight it, though."

"And do you succeed in fighting it?"

"Yes. I have never made love to a woman, for I knew that I was going to devote my life to 
God. I still wish to devote my life to God."

"And so you shall," the Monsignor asked, and then he beckoned for the two girls. "You 
shall, but first you must know what you are giving up for God."

The two girls started to run their hands all over his body, and when Celia moved her hand 
behind to massage Father Joseph's naked ass, she pulled the wooden phallus out. He seemed 
so relieved.

But something else was upsetting him, and I could see what.

Robin was sucking his limp cock in her mouth. Since he was limp, she was able to suck all 
of him between her lips. It was easy to tell when he was getting hard because as he did, she 
couldn't hold him all in her mouth.

I saw his cock getting thicker as she moved her mouth down the shaft, and by the time he 
was fully hard, all she could take in her mouth was his thick cock head. She flicked her tongue 
over it, then let it fall from .her lips.

"Do you see how the passion works?" the Monsignor asked. "You are aroused again. 
Already. In such a short time."

"What are you going to do to me?" the trembling Father asked. I think it was only then, 
with his cock hard again and ready for action, that Father Joseph realized just how vulnerable 
he was.

"I just want you to know what you are going to miss by remaining celibate. I don't see how
you can give up something when you don't even know how pleasurable it can be."

He looked at Robin, stroked her long black hair, then whispered in her ear. She smiled at 
him as he walked behind her.

I couldn't believe what I saw next. He held out his hands for her to sit in and squeezed her 
buttocks as she sat.

The Monsignor was a large man, and quite strong for his age. He was able to lift her up 
and she spread her legs.

She grabbed Father Joseph's cock and rubbed it against her pussy lips as the Monsignor 
started to lower her. She moaned as Father Joseph's cock head slid into her and then the 
Monsignor pulled away.

The girl wrapped her arms around his shoulder and her legs around his ass.

She started to thrust her way up and down his cock and I could hear him moaning. She 
moved her lips to his and kissed him hard.

Meanwhile, Celia had moved between his legs and she sucked his hanging balls into her 
mouth. I had never experienced two women myself, but I could imagine how incredible it 
must have been to be fucking a tight cunt and having your balls sucked at the same time. I 
watched as Father Joseph started to get into it, for. he was thrusting on his own, too.

"Oh, God, forgive me for feeling pleasure," he moaned as Robin moved her lips to his neck
and started to kiss him.

She pressed her tits against his chest and I could see his whole body bursting with sweat. 
There was no way that he could deny the pleasure he was feeling now, and as I looked at the 
Monsignor, I could see that he was smiling, as if he realized that fact, also. He touched Father 
Paul and whispered something in his ear.

Father Paul smiled, pulled his robe up, then walked behind Celia. He fell to his knees and 
then rammed his cock into her cunt from behind. She started to suck on the bound Father's 
balls with even more enthusiasm.

I heard him grunting and then, just from the tension in his body, I could tell that he was 
coming in Robin's cunt. I even saw some of his cream dripping down her legs since his load 
was so great.

She slid off his cock after he had come and lay back on the floor with her legs spread so 
he could look right up her slit. Celia continued to suck on his balls, then sucked his cock into 
her mouth to get all the come out.

Then Father Paul started to groan and pulled out just in time to shoot his come on Celia's 
back.

After they had all recovered, the Monsignor stood in front of Father Joseph.

"You will stay here all night and you will think about your sins. I will deal with you in the 
morning."

Then they all started to file out. I wanted to run in there and untie him, but I was too 
scared. So I left that night. As I ran home by whole body was shaking.



* * *



I snuck back down into the wine cellar the next morning, but Father Joseph was no longer 
there. When I went to start breakfast, Susan was sitting in the kitchen. She seemed to be more
afraid than she had ever been in her life.

"Susan," I said to her, "you seem to know something that I don't know. Tell me what it is 
and it will be all right."

She shook her head no, half crazed. She tried to get up and run away, but this time I stood
up and grabbed her. I held her by the shoulders.

"What happened to Father Joseph last night?" I asked her.

Her eyes almost bulged right out of her head. I'm sure she was wondering how I knew that
something had happened to the Father, but I wasn't ready to tell her about the wine cellar yet.

"Did they hurt Father Joseph?" I asked, and she started to cry. She shook her head yes. "Is 
he dead?" She shook her head no. "Then where is he?"

She couldn't answer me and I felt like a fool for even asking her such a question. I could 
hear the slamming of doors as some of the Fathers started to enter the dining hall and I knew 
that I couldn't talk with her in the kitchen any longer, unless I wanted to risk being overheard.

I decided to wait it out then, figuring that I would have to bump into the good Father 
sometimes within the next few days.

He didn't come to the dining room for any meals, but after each meal, one of the Fathers 
would come into the kitchen to. prepare a tray. I was sure that it was being prepared for 
Father Joseph but I knew that I couldn't ask about it.

By the third day I was quite worried about him. The tray would come back to the kitchen 
with all the food eaten, but I still wanted to see him, just to reassure myself and know that he 
was alive.

Susan was no help. She seemed to get worse as the days passed and there was no 
reasoning with her at all.

My wife seemed to sense that there were things on my mind that I wouldn't discuss with 
her, and during those few days before I saw Father Joseph again, she would keep pressuring 
me to tell her.

"I'm going to insist that you quit your job if it continues like this," she said to me. "You 
cannot continue to act like this. What is going on at the monastery that affects you in such a 
way?"

"Nothing," I said to her.

I was a terrible liar, but at least she didn't question me further, for she knew that if she 
couldn't get me to tell her what was on my mind during my most vulnerable times 
(particularly, when she had my hard cock in her hand and I was lost in her complete control) 
then she wouldn't get me to tell her at all.

I started thinking the most terrible thoughts about Father Joseph. I thought that he would 
become one of them.

I thought that now that he had experienced sexual pleasure and knew what it felt like, he 
would act just like they did and would help in torturing other victims in the secret dungeon.

And I feared for my own life during those few days because I knew that should he join 
forces with them, he would tell them about me.

I became quite paranoid around the monastery for I thought that he already could have 
told them about me. Each time one of the Fathers came into the kitchen something was going
to be said. But all they did was take the trays I prepared and then return later with the empty 
tray.

Then, a few days after witnessing his horrible tortures, I saw him walking down one of the 
hallways. I had just finished preparing the lunch and since I had some time I was planning to 
take a walk in the garden.

I saw him first, but when he saw me, he turned and started to walk away.

"Father Joseph," I said, yelling after him. "Wait one minute."

I was faster than he was, and when I caught up with him I grabbed his robe. He whirled 
around and looked at me. He seemed to look okay. There were no scars on his body 
anywhere, from what I could see of it.

"I saw what happened to you," I said to him. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. You never should have
gone to tell the Monsignor, though. I told you that he might be in on it and I seemed to have 
been right."

He shook his head, but he didn't say anything. I continued to talk and all he did was nod. 
Finally, I could take his silence no longer.

"Say something," I screamed. "Don't be like the others."

Then he opened his mouth but only made sounds. I looked inside and I could see that he 
no longer had a tongue. The Monsignor had cut it out.





CHAPTER SEVEN


I cannot even describe the feelings running through me when I looked at what the Monsignor
had done to Father Joseph. I felt more hatred for the man than I could ever remember feeling 
in my life for anyone else. I felt pity for poor Father Joseph.

But I think that most of all, I felt disgust over the whole situation. I could not believe that 
anyone could be so heartless and cruel in the name of God.

I am writing this entry in my journal now and it is about three weeks since I saw what was 
done to Father Joseph.

I just couldn't bring myself to write anything down, even though the atrocities I've 
witnessed during those three weeks were just as gruesome as the others recorded in this 
journal.

But now I feel that I should write down other things because something happened this 
evening which terrifies me.

When I arrived home after a long day at the monastery, my wife Maria was sitting at our 
stone table with some food she had prepared. She looked so cold, for some reason. She was 
always so receptive toward me when I arrived home because she usually knew that I had 
enough energy left to fuck her. Sometimes more than once.

"Is there nothing to eat?" I asked her.

"There will be if you continue with what you are doing."

"There will be what?"

"Nothing to eat," she said to me, and then I could see by the dim candlelight that there 
was a tear rolling down her cheek.

If there is one thing that I cannot stand it is to see a woman cry.

I walked over and kneeled down near the stool she was sitting on. I reached over and 
wiped the tear away, then kissed her cheek gently.

"My darling Maria, you must tell me what is wrong," I said.

"This."

She thrust my journal into my hand. I suddenly looked over at the strong box where I kept 
it locked. The box was open. I do not know how she had opened it, for I kept the key hidden 
behind a stone outside. Yet she had opened it in some way.

"How did you do this?" I asked her. "Where did you get this, and what makes you think 
that you can go through my personal belongings?"

"I am aware that for some time you would get out of our bed after you made love to me. 
Do you think I cannot feel it when you get up? I do not fall asleep so easily after one brief fling
at intercourse. And your getting up made me start to wonder if I was satisfying you or not.

"Sometimes is was too dark for me to see you writing, for as you know, when you sit at the
table and write your back is usually toward me. I sometimes used to think that you were 
sitting there playing with your cock to make yourself come again."

"Maria, how could you think something like that?"

"Some men like to use their own hands on their cocks." she said. "I know that I like to use 
my hands on myself. To play with my nipples. To play with my cunt."

"Don't I satisfy you enough?"

"You do, husband. But there are times during the long day when I feel the rush come upon
me and I know that I have to do something to relieve myself."

I was shocked to hear that my wife liked to masturbate. I think that as I write these words 
now, I am dealing better with it.

She continued to talk.

"Usually, I was asleep by the time you were finished doing whatever it was you were doing.
Now I know what it was. You weren't playing with your cock. You were writing heretic words in
order to destroy us both."

"What? How can you say that?"

"How can I say that? How can you write these words? Look at what you say the Fathers at 
St. Christophal's are doing. Look at the things you have even written about me. Right here. 
You talk about the way we make love."

"And what is wrong with that?" I asked, slowly moving my hand to her tit. I began to 
massage her soft white mound through her frock, and I could feel her brown nipple beginning
to get stiffer. I squeezed it just a little bit.

But she pushed my hand away. I let it rest on her thigh.

"It feels funny to read the thoughts of the man who makes love to you. For you must 
realize that you do have your thoughts in this manuscript. You describe making love to me 
and then you describe what you feel."

"Is there anything bad that I said?"

"No."

"Then what is the problem?" I asked her. "Tell me."

"All right," she said. "I don't care what you write about me, but to write these things about 
the Fathers is heresy. Such holy men could not do the things you say that they have done. 
They cannot."

"Why not?"

"Because they are God's children and God's children would not do that. They are his 
leaders on earth and we follow them."

"They are men, more than anything else. Men have their urges. I would have never 
believed such a thing possible had I not witnessed them myself. I am going to continue 
keeping this journal and you are to tell no one about it. If you do not like what it says, then 
you should not read it. You should not have read it in the first place."

I took the journal and put it back in the strong box. I closed the box and saw that my wife 
had broken the lock. I was furious with her, but I could see that she was hurting badly. She 
clutched her stomach and cried.

I walked over to where she sat and reached down to lift her up. I carried her to the bed 
and laid her down. I lay down beside her and kissed her gently on the lips. She did not 
respond all that well, but when I pushed my tongue into her mouth she started to suck it hard.
I could feel my ready cock responding.

I ran my hand down her body, opening the buttons of the frock she wore. I slipped my 
hand into her frock and cupped her naked breast. I could feel her nipple, already hard and 
bursting with life. She moaned when I pinched it and then I rubbed the palm of my hand over 
her soft mound.

When I started to kiss my way down her neck, she moved her hands to my hair. I could feel
her pulling on my hair a little harder than usual but I didn't say anything. I sucked her hard 
nipple into my mouth and began to flick my tongue back and forth over it. At the same time I 
was moving my hand even further down her body. Her frock, by this time, was opened all the 
way.

Her pussy lips were warm and wet. I started to pull them apart, massaging them gently. I 
could feel her cunt walls filled with cream, and that let me know that my Maria was hot. As I 
started to slide my fingers in and out of her cunt she bit my ear gently, then groaned softly.

I felt her clit and started to wiggle it back and forth. She arched her ass up off the bed and 
my fingers slipped into her cunt even deeper.

Her nipple tasted so sweet. I could have sucked on it for hours. However, my cock was 
pressing against my robe, trying to burst its way to freedom. My nostrils could smell the sweet
scent of cunt and they were sending waves through my brain and all through my body.

The waves ended at my cock, and they were shooting through it, all the way to the tip. 
That, I suppose, is what keeps a cock hard. The pleasure waves shoot through the entire 
length of it, from the groin outward to the tip.

I pulled my robe up over my waist and my hard cock slapped against her belly. She 
reached down for my balls and squeezed them. I could feel the come churning inside and I felt
like I was going to shoot soon.

That was the only reason why I decided to mount her right away. I wanted to feel her cunt 
around my cock while it was still hard. I didn't care if she came again or not, but I was sure 
that once she felt the heat of my cock burning her cunt, she would wrap her legs around me 
and squeeze me.

I pulled my cock from her hands and moved it to her cunt lips. I started to rub the 
dripping head against her creamy cunt lips and I moaned with pleasure.

"You are the most wonderful woman in the world," I said to her.

Then I thrust my cock deep inside. I could feel her cunt walls squeezing around my long 
shaft and I started to thrust in and out of her as hard as I could. She raised her legs up and put
them around my shoulders, and I raised myself up on my knees.

I think that was the best position ever for intercourse. I could feel my cock bone rubbing 
against the small love button inside of her and that contact was keeping her pussy spasming 
well. When her pussy spasmed well, it was better for my cock. I got the most pleasure when 
she was tight.

I cupped her ass cheeks in my hand and squeezed them, then looked at her lovely face. 
Her red-brown hair was strewn in all directions over the pillow. She had her eyes closed gently
and she was running her tongue over her lips. Her lips were perfectly heart-shaped and her 
tongue looked so sexy.

It was heaven on earth when I felt that tongue licking my cock.

Maria's tits were rising and failing rapidly. Her two brown nipples looked so stiff and 
inviting. I stopped rubbing her ass and moved my fingers to her nipples, taking on one with 
each hand. I pinched them gently and she started to buck her ass like crazy. I could feel the 
spasms around my cock harder than ever.

My dick started to pulsate inside of her and I tried to concentrate on holding back now. 
When my cock was pulsating, it was best of all and I wanted to prolong that pleasure forever. 
She was too much for me, however, and soon I started to shoot my seed deep into her cunt. 
She moaned loud and thrust Her ass up so that it slapped against my groin. I held her close 
and continued to come with my cock buried as deeply inside of her as it would go.

I could feel my whole body bursting with sweat.

I closed my eyes and saw flashes of colors before me. I felt her moving her hands and 
raising my robe a little more so she could stroke my chest. She moved her fingers to my 
nipples and pinched them so gently that my cock, now going limp, started to surge with some
kind of energy again.

"Oh, stay hard inside of me. Let us see if you can do it."

It was a challenge that I took personally. I moved in and out of her a little so that her warm
walls would aid in keeping me hard. I think that her nipple-pinching was the thing that kept 
me hard more than anything else, however.

I could feel the waves running through my nipples and down to my groin. I stayed in her 
for about five minutes before I had another fully hard erection. I had never gone completely 
limp anyway, but it amazed me that I was able to get fully hard again in such a short time.

Still, I was not complaining. I started to thrust in and out of her again, and I could feel her 
pussy spasming.

"Let us change positions," she said to me.

I pulled my cock from her cunt and rubbed it with my hand for the short interim between 
change of positions. This time I lay on my back, but before I lay down I pulled my robe up 
over my head.

Now I was completely naked.

Maria spread her legs and I could see her ruby red pussy lips dripping with her passion 
cream. As she began to straddle my groin I moved my hand from my cock and her hand took 
its place. She rubbed her finger over the tip of my cock and I could feel pleasure surging 
through me more than ever.

She lowered herself a little more, until only my cock head was between her pussy lips. I 
tried to thrust myself up so that my cock would be buried in her deep, but she placed her 
hand on my belly and tickled the hairs there, keeping me from moving with her words.

"Let us stay like this for a few seconds," she said. "Don't you like it like this?"

"Yes," I moaned.

I was loving it. Her pussy was spasming around my cock head and that was by far the most
sensitive part of my body. She moved her hand behind and cupped my balls. I felt her pulling 
on the sack and tickling the fine hairs.

Then she lowered herself a little more, but she still wasn't all the way down my shaft. I 
looked forward to the moment when she would be sitting on my groin and I would be able to 
feel her warm ass cheeks.

Maria has such a soft ass. I moved my hands and cupped her cheeks, squeezing.

She still had her eyes closed as she moved herself down a little more. Now she had about 
three quarters of the length of my cock in her cunt and I wanted the rest inside of her. I 
moved my hands from her ass and she lowered herself all the way. I felt her cheeks rubbing on
my groin, and she wiggled around because I knew that she loved the hair from my legs. They 
tickled her ass.

Then she started to ride up and down on my cock.

"Do you know, husband, that your cock works me over better when I ride you like this? We
make the best contact. We were made to be like this."

I didn't say anything because the feelings I had now were more intense than they had 
been during the first fuck, and they had been very intense then.

There were times when her pussy spasmed around my cock so hard that I thought she was
going to cut it right off.

That made me start to wonder. I thought about Father Joseph's tongue. I know that there 
could be nothing pleasurable in that, just as there really couldn't be anything pleasurable in 
actually getting your cock cut off. Still, why did the thought of it fascinate me so much as her 
cunt was making such dreadful gestures?

Perhaps it was because I knew that her cunt really couldn't cut my cock off. If there was 
any real threat, than maybe I would have felt pain.

Pain! What makes it so necessary that there be pain mixed with pleasure during the sex 
act? I know that there are always some painful things, be it the thrusts being too hard on the 
woman, or something of that sort.

And when I thought about the pain that the Fathers inflicted on the young girls, 
particularly with the burning torches, it made me wince.

It made my cock pulsate, however.

And once my cock started to pulsate inside of her, there seemed like there was no turning 
back. I could feel my pulsations working against her spasms and that made the fuck even 
tighter. I began to thrust my ass up and down off the bed, something I had not been doing up
until this point.

My cock was thrusting into her hard then and my groin was slapping her. For some reason,
I felt like I wanted to inflict pain in her then.

I reached up and grabbed her nipples. I twisted them harder than I can ever remember 
doing. I wouldn't be surprised if she thought I wanted to twist them right off. I was like a man 
gone mad.

I had my eyes closed so I did not see the slap coming, but I felt it. Her hand started to slap 
me across the face. First, she was not hitting me so hard, but the more she slapped the harder 
the blows became.

I pressed her tits together hard, still pinching her nipples. And if I had not been thrusting 
hard enough then, I started to slam it into her. I could hear the sounds of our flesh slapping 
louder than anything else.

She was grunting a little, and her tits were rising and falling with passion faster than ever.

It was the most incredible thing. She started to pull on my scrotal sack so hard that my 
balls were aching with pain. Yet there was an incredible amount of pleasure running through 
my body, too.

It was, to say the least, a most confusing fuck.

Still, neither one of us backed off. It seemed as if we were trying to outdo each other to 
see who could inflict more pain on who. Each time I did something new to her, she would find 
something new to do to me, and the latest thing would be more painful than the thing before
it.

Yet certain pains were kept up. Her cunt was constantly spasming hard around my cock, 
and I continued to ram it into her. I stopped pinching her nipples after a while and then I 
started to smack her tits.

My cock pulsations were lasting longer than I could ever remember them lasting. Under 
circumstances like that, I would have come minutes ago. Yet there was something that was 
keeping me from coming, and now I think I know what it was.

The pain was the prevention.

For usually, if I was this caught up in fucking Maria, I would think only of the pleasures and
that would make the pleasure increase more and more, until it was so high that I would come 
fast.

But thinking about pain and actually feeling small painful abuses was keeping me from 
shooting right off. It was almost the opposite of the way it usually worked.

I can never remember a time when there was so much panting and groaning during a 
session of lovemaking between my wife and myself. That was one thing, I knew, that was 
definitely keeping us going. The sounds of our fucking that night were more erotic than any 
other time that comes to mind.

When I finally did start to shoot inside of her, she screamed at me.

"You bastard. You bastard."

She kept repeating the words all through the orgasm. I would call it my orgasm for I do 
not know if she actually had one that time, or if she was lost in a continuation of one orgasm 
after another.

I know how her pussy felt around my cock. I know that it had been spasming hard for the 
duration of the fuck, and I estimate the fuck to have lasted at least a half an hour, if not 
longer. I remember that I could feel the sweat dripping off her body and wetting me so. My 
body was dripping just as much.

Her cunt started to squeeze the come out of my cock, and there was so much suction 
inside that it was unbearable.

She continued to ride up and down on me, for by that time, I had stopped my hard 
thrusting. There finally came a point when my cock, now very much spent and quite limp, fell 
from her pussy. She fell down on top of me, her wet cunt hairs protecting my limp dick.

She moved her mouth to mine and kissed me hard on the lips. This time I sucked her 
tongue into my mouth and felt her warm tits on my chest.

Then I licked my way to her ear and whispered.

"Why did you call me a bastard?" I asked her.

"Because you came so fast. I wanted it to last forever."

"It can't last forever," I said to her. "Nothing does and nothing ever will."

"Will we?"

"I hope that we will." I was beginning to suspect that there was something else on her 
mind. I could usually tell with Maria. "But that is not the only reason why you called me a 
bastard, is it?"

She looked at me.

"You could always see through everything I have going on in my mind," she said to me. 
"You can always sense what I think and feel."

"I know that I can," I said, rubbing her ass with my hand.

"Then you tell me why I'm so mad at you," she said to me.

My Maria was always the sly one, but I was sure that I knew.

"It all has to do with the journal that you found, doesn't it?"

She shook her head yes, and I knew that I was on the right track.

"You were raised in a more religious family than the one that I came from," I continued. "I 
know that your father and mother taught you to respect God and to respect his children on 
earth. I can imagine what a shock it must have been for you to read the things that I wrote in 
my journal."

She started to cry again, and this time I licked away her salty tears with my tongue.

"What you wrote is heresy," she said to me. "If you do not pay for what you have written 
here on earth, than God will make you pay for it in the other world."

"How can God make me pay for something that I have witnessed. For I have witnessed 
these things, and if I have, then God must have seen them, too."

"But He would never let something like that happen."

"I used to feel the same way. But I saw it happening. Maria, you must believe that I did not 
make up anything that was written there."

I started to stroke her long hair, and I could tell that there was still some doubt in her 
mind. Finally, it came down to one thing.

"Maria, you must believe me. After all, who do you love more? Do you love me or do you 
love God?"

She did not answer me, and that question still reigns in my brain and makes me sick with 
thought. She lay in my arms for a long time, and then she rolled off me and slid her way under
the cover.

She turned her back on me and rested her head on the pillow.

"Clarence," I heard her say. "There is only one thing that I ask of you. You can write what 
you want to write, and I will not even question whether or not it is true or false. Only please, 
for my sake, do not keep it in the house. Take it with you and hide it somewhere in the 
monastery, for I do not want to have anything to do with it. I fear that God will send plague 
and destruction on our house with such a document here. Please, for my sake."

And so, I am making my last entry at my house. Tomorrow I will take my journal with me to
the monastery and keep it hidden there. I am sure I can find a spot where no one but myself 
will ever see it. I am sure of it.





CHAPTER EIGHT


Maria is still wary of the things that I say and do. I notice her giving me strange looks each 
night when I come home. Sometimes she asks me if I have witnessed anything at the 
monastery during the day. But I have told her nothing since I have taken this journal to the 
monastery.

I find that it is convenient keeping the journal here. I found a place to hide it behind some 
loose bricks in the kitchen, and since I am usually the only one in the kitchen anyway, I have 
much more time to write here than I did at home.

I am never scared that one of the Fathers might walk in, for they never have except during 
the meal hours and I just make sure to hide the document during the meals.

Last week, Susan walked in while I was writing, and she looked at me with a puzzled 
expression. She cannot read, as far as I know, and I did not even bother to explain what I was 
doing to her. I did not think that there was any reason for her to know.

I like Susan very much, more and more each day. I talk about a physical attraction only, 
and I wish that there was some way I would be able to have her. I do not know if she is a virgin
or not and so I am scared to even talk with her about it.

Still, the other day, I witnessed her masturbating and I found myself masturbating as I 
watched her. It was in the middle of the day, after the lunch meal. Susan usually mops the 
dining hall floor after lunch, and by the time she is bringing the pail of water out back to 
throw out, she is usually a mass of sweat and her clothes usually cling to her skin.

The other day was a scorching day and she was sweating more than usual.

I watched her walk toward a small stream in back of the monastery. There was a small 
waterfall there, and sometimes, in the hot sun, I would swim.

I could see Susan from the small window near the kitchen. When she slipped out of her 
tattered dresses, she looked even more beautiful than ever. Her long black hair hung down to 
the middle of her back, and her ass cheeks were so round.

When she turned around to see if anyone was watching her, I could see her high tits and 
her thick brown nipples. She had a trimmed pussy bush which looked very tempting. She 
hopped into the water and stood under the waterfall.

As the drops of water splashed through her hair and ran down those luscious tits, I wished 
that I was one of them. I wished that I could be taking a short ride down the curved white 
flesh of her breast, only I knew that I would stay on her nipple, were I to take such a ride.

As I thought about it I could feel my cock getting hard. I reached under my robe and 
started to massage myself.

It was about that same time that Susan must have felt the urge first coming over her own 
body, for I watched her tracing the path of some drops with her hands. She ran her hands 
down her neck and over her tits, cupping each one. Then she started to run her finger in a 
circular motion around her nipple and I could actually see them grow stiff before my eyes.

My cock grew even stiffer, too.

Susan was standing in water that was only up to her thigh, and I watched with fascination 
as she ran her hand down her flat belly, over her trimmed bush, and then slid her fingers into 
her pussy.

The look on her face was enough to make me come. She had the softest brown eyes and 
they were open all the time. A glazed look seemed to come over them, however, and you 
could tell that she was lost in the pleasures of her orgasm.

She began to sway her hips around while she moved her fingers in and out. Her body was 
still glistening with water, and that might be one of the reasons why she was so appealing. I 
could see the water droplets sparkling on her flesh and it made her light brown skin seem 
even more appealing.

She licked her lips with her tongue, sent me shooting for good. I spurted my come against
the wall when I thought of how her tongue would feel licking my cock.

Her knees seemed to buckle after a while, and I took that as being the height of her 
orgasm when she could hardly control herself any longer. It wasn't long after that when she 
pulled her fingers out of her cunt.

They were glistening with her pussy cream as she pulled them up to her mouth and 
started to lick them off, one at a time.

Then she moved her fingers back to her pussy and got them wet once again. She did this 
for some time, and I take it that it was her way of eating herself out. She loved sucking on her 
fingers each time they were coated with cream for I could see the pleased and truly satisfied 
look on her face.

I didn't say anything to her about it and I don't think that I will. But sometimes, when she 
comes into the kitchen, I feel like bringing it up. I'm sure that it would lead to something and 
she might even take my cock in her hand without any further prodding. Still, there is 
something so innocent about her. There is a fear that seems to live deep inside of her, and 
sometimes it even scares me.

It scares me, too, when I think of the things that I have seen in the hidden dungeon. Just 
last week, I witnessed a most bizarre happening, although, I tend to think them less and less 
bizarre as more of them occur. They are becoming an everyday thing for me and I find myself 
less shocked as I witness each spectacle.

Last week it seemed like nothing was going to be happening. I had, of course, gone down 
to the wine cellar to look (I think that there is a little bit of a voyeur inside of me) and seeing 
nothing through my peephole, I had opened a bottle of wine.

I was fairly drunk by the time I heard the creaking of the dungeon door and I looked 
through the peephole in time to see Father Peter and Susan walking through the door.

They were each holding a rope in their hand and I watched them leading two naked 
people in behind them.

Susan's rope was leading a man. He had short black hair and a few scars on his body. I 
took them to be whip lash marks.

His cock was hanging limp between his legs. In fact, it looked rather scared for it had 
retreated into his pubic patch.

Father Peter was leading a blonde woman, and she had large tits. Her pussy hairs looked 
like they had been singed off and her face looked pained.

"Bring them over here, Susan," Father Peter said, and the two of them were led to the 
middle of the room.

The Father had been carrying a burning torch and he let his rope fall from his hand as he 
went to light the others. I could see the two people even better in the brighter light of the 
dungeon.

The both looked like they had been tortured a great deal already, and both seemed 
resigned to the fact that they were going to be tortured again.

"So, you both believe in the Devil and you both hold Devil worship in your home," he said 
to them. "A husband and wife heretic."

Father Peter was pacing around the room. The man's legs were shaking.

"Tell us the names of the others in your covenant."

The man bit his lip, and the woman made a sound. He turned to her suddenly, and she 
looked scared enough not to talk. Of course, the Father had noticed that the woman was on 
the verge of talking, and he took it as a good sign.

"Susan, string his arms up," the Father said to her, and then he walked over to the woman.

Susan pulled the rope through a pulley that was hanging from the ceiling. It was the same 
way in which Father Joseph had been tied with his hands raised and his body in the middle of 
the room so that he was vulnerable from all sides.

Meanwhile, Father Peter walked over to the naked woman. He moved his hand to her tit 
and tickled her nipple. She looked at him with scorn and then he squeezed her nipple until 
she was writhing in pain.

By that time, the husband was tied.

"Now," Father Peter said, "I am sure that we will be able to get the names from you, my 
fine young lady. I am sure that when you see the things we will do to your husband, the pain 
we will bring him, you will talk in order to save him."

"Do not say a word," the man said, each syllable filled with pain.

"Shut up," the Father screamed at him. "Susan, get the phallus and let us see how much he
likes to be fucked himself."

Susan was hesitant, but the Father glared at her. I could actually see her courage shrink 
and his power taking her over.

She walked to the table and picked up the large wooden phallus. I could see dried coated 
blood on it, and I am sure that it was still the blood from Father Joseph.

Susan walked over and handed the phallus to Father Peter.

"What are you giving this to me for?" he asked her. "You know what to do with it and you 
are the one to do it."

Susan walked over to the man. I could see that she was trembling, and I think that I even 
saw a tear rolling down her cheek.

She started to spread his ass cheeks and then she thrust the phallus into his asshole with 
one powerful thrust. He tried not to scream, but you could tell by the choking sounds that he 
was making that he was definitely in pain.

I thought it strange, however, when I saw his cock shoot up fast into a hard-on.

Susan started to thrust the phallus in and out of his asshole and you could see beads of 
sweat running down his chest.

I looked back at Father Peter. He was pulling on the short pussy hairs of the blonde 
woman, and her knees were buckling. He was running his tongue over her ear and trying to 
whisper something, but he was whispering loud enough for everyone to hear.

"You can see that he's in pain. All it takes is one thing for us to stop. God will love you 
again if you tell us who the heretics are. We will be more lenient with you and your husband if 
you tell us."

He moved his finger to her tit and massaged her nipple, gently this time.

"You see that I can be nice, too," he continued. "If I can't get you to talk with pain, than 
perhaps I can get you to talk with pleasure."

I could see her pussy lips getting wet.

Meanwhile, her husband was grunting and groaning as he was being viciously fucked with 
the dildo. It was easy to tell that Susan did not like doing what she was doing, yet the Father 
stared at her with icy eyes and they seemed to keep her entranced.

The woman opened her lips to talk as she looked at her husband.

"Please don't hurt him anymore," she moaned. "Please."

"Just tell me the names," Father Peter said.

"All right," she said, "I will tell you."

"Shut up, Petra," her husband yelled out. "Do not tell them anything. Do not. We will be 
killed even if we tell, and there is no reason to risk the lives of the others. There is no reason at
all."

"They are heretics," Father Peter screamed. "They pray to the Devil."

"And you?" the man asked. "And you? You think that this torturous work is work that God 
wishes you to carry out? Do you think we are stupid enough to believe that you are a man of 
God? You are a phony."

Father Peter's face was bright red as his anger rose. He walked over to the table, picked up
the largest and thickest leather whip I had ever seen, then started to lash it against the man. I 
could see the leather cutting his chest open and the blood started to seep out.

Susan moved away, for fear of being hit, and she had the phallus in her hand. I was glad, 
for I hated to think of the extra pain of the thick wood in his asshole.

The sounds of the whip made me wince, and my flesh was crawling. It was almost as if I 
was being whipped, too. I could hardly stand it. Perhaps my feelings were intensified because 
of all the wine I had to drink.

I felt like screaming out for him to stop, but I feared for my own life.

So I just stood there and watched the horrors continuing.

Father Peter whipped the man enough so that most of the skin on his chest was torn away.
He hadn't whipped him any lower than his belly, and that was good.

"Do you want him to suffer more?" Father Peter asked.

"I am past the point of suffering," the man said, and it seemed like each breath was his 
last. "There is nothing more that you can do to hurt me, bastard."

"Susan," Father Peter said, beckoning to her. "Show him what more we can do to hurt him, 
all right?"

I could not believe my eyes when Susan fell to her knees in front of the man. She took his 
cock in her mouth and started to suck hard on it, pulling his balls at the same time. He closed 
his eyes and moaned with pleasure.

I wondered what kind of hurt was this? It seemed like the man was getting lost in the 
feelings of her mouth and her tongue, for he even started to thrust his hips back and forth, 
fucking her mouth.

She placed her hands on his ass and squeezed his buttocks, and it was only then that I 
looked back at Father Peter. He seemed to be enjoying what he was watching, as if he knew 
that something terrible was to happen.

He was still fondling the naked blonde's body and I could tell from the look on her face 
that she was jealous. She did not seem to like the fact that her husband was being sucked off 
by another woman, and I'm sure that his getting into the feeling of it was making her even 
madder.

"Susan, now," Father Peter said.

I didn't know First what she was going to do. At first, all I heard was the man moaning, and
then he started to grunt. Then, he started to scream.

I looked at her mouth. She was no longer sucking. It was quite easy to tell that she was 
biting down on his cock, grinding her teeth together at the same time. That was more painful 
than anything else he could stand.

His screams were louder than any of the other screams I had heard yet, and in a few more 
seconds, his wife was screaming, too. She was horrified at seeing her husband in such pain 
and she tried to pull away from Father Peter.

He held onto the rope that was around her neck, and since her hands were tied, there was 
no way for her to help him.

Relief, for the bound man, came only in the form of unconsciousness. At first, when I saw 
him close his eyes and saw his head fall down and rest on his chest, I thought that he was 
dead. Susan looked up when he stopped screaming, and then she dropped his cock from her 
mouth.

He was no longer hard, and there were deep teeth marks.

It was only then, after she moved out of the way, that I could see his chest rising and 
falling slowly. He was still alive. Just barely.

Father Peter turned to the wife and pushed her back against the table, hard. Her ass 
scraped against the stone table and the Father pulled his robe up over his waist. His cock was 
hard as he moved closer to her.

He pushed her legs up to her head, then shoved his dick into her pussy. He thrust so hard 
that she grunted in pain. He moved his hands to her face and started to slap her on both 
cheeks at the same time.

"Now, you heretic bitch," he said to her, "You will tell me the names of all the people in 
your covenant or I will fuck you to death."

I could hear the hard sound of his flesh slapping against hers. She did not seem to be 
getting any pleasure from this at all. She had turned her head and was looking at her 
husband, his body hanging limply from the pulley above.

She shut her mouth tight, and I knew then that she would never talk.

The Father continued to fuck her hard, and soon he was grunting. He pulled his cock out 
of her cunt as he was coming and shot all over her belly. She looked at him with disgust, and I 
thought she was going to vomit.

She started to wretch, but nothing came up. I could only assume that she and her husband
hadn't been fed in such a long time that there was no food in her stomach for her to vomit 
up.

The Father continued to slap her, and then he pulled off her.

"I am going to burn out your insides unless you talk," he said to her, and he reached for 
the flaming torch on the wall.

Her eyes bulged with horror as she saw him moving the flame closer and closer to her. She
started to whimper a little bit and I could feel myself getting sick.

He held the torch only inches from her pussy then and even though she was trying to 
squirm to get away, there was no way she could. He was just about to touch her cunt lips with 
the flame when she screamed out.

"All right, I will tell you all the names that you want to know. Please, don't burn my 
womanhood. I will be nothing without it."

"I want each name," he said, "Tell me everything."

I heard her listing the names, and some of the people were ones that I knew who were 
friends of mine. She mentioned my friend Cicero, and I knew that I would have to warn him to 
flee.

I did warn him, too, since the scene I am describing happened a few days ago, but he 
wouldn't listen to me. I haven't seen him in the past few days, and I have heard word that he 
was arrested by the police.

The woman must have mentioned twenty names, and I felt sorry for each and every person
because I knew what the Fathers would do to them.

They seemed to thrive on inflicting pain on others, using the name of God as their excuse. 
It was sickening.

I know that Father Peter thrived on pain, because ten minutes later, after the woman had 
named them all, he shoved the torch into her cunt anyway.

She screamed in agony, then fainted. After she had passed out, he spoke to her.

"You are a fool for believing that I would let you go free," he said. "You have provided me 
with the name of other Devil worshippers, other heretics, and yet, that does not change the 
fact that you are still one."

He started to laugh as he placed the torch back up on the wall. Then he let his robe fall 
down to the floor and turned to Susan.

"You will clean up all this mess," he said. "Bring them back to their rooms when they are 
able to stand. As long as they are still alive they can be used some more. They will die soon, 
anyway."

Then he left, laughing the whole time. I continued to watch, for I wanted to see what 
Susan would do.

She threw herself on the ground and started to cry. She was lying by the foot of the hung 
man. She sat up on her knees and started to move her Ups. There were tears rolling down her 
cheek and I knew that she was praying to God.

She beat her hand over her chest a few times, as if repenting.

Then she turned to the unconscious man. She opened her mouth and sucked his limp cock
between her Ups. She started to suck on him as hard as he could, and even in his unconscious
state, he seemed to be getting aroused.

She fondled his balls gently this time, and licked his cock even more gently, as if she 
wanted to make up for the pain that she had inflicted before.

I watched her reach for the wooden phallus which she had dropped on the floor. She 
clutched it in her hand, then lifted her tattered dress.

She shoved the phallus into her pussy and started to fuck herself. It was easy to see that 
the phallus was causing her pain because it was rather thick and she did groan after the first 
thrust.

Yet she continued to fuck herself with it, as if that was some other form of repentance in 
her mind. She moved her ass back and forth so that the wooden phallus would sink deeper 
and deeper into her cunt each time.

She started to come soon after, for I could see her juices all over the phallus. Then she 
sucked a little harder. She pulled her mouth from the man's cock just as he started to come. 
She opened her mouth and his come spurted between her lips. She swallowed it all, and then, 
when he was no longer coming, she took his dick back into her mouth and sucked him 
completely dry.

Then, after she let it fall from her mouth, she fall on her back.

She opened her mouth and started to wail. It was the most agonizing scream that I have 
ever heard in my life.

As I sit here writing this all down now, I think about that scream. I can still hear it echoing 
through my mind and it scares me.

I think about Susan quite often now. She must have seen more atrocities than I have seen, 
for she is the one who has to clean up after it. I wonder why she stays at the monastery. I 
wonder why she doesn't run away somewhere in order to escape the horrors they make her 
witness and now I know, even take part in.

I have thought about talking to her again and again, for even though she is mute I am 
sure that I can get some answers from her.

I would like some answers. I would like to know what makes all the holy Fathers (hah!) 
think that they can get away with all these things that they are doing. I wonder if they really 
believe that they are doing this in the name of God, or if they know better and just use the 
name of God to satisfy these sadistic feelings that they have inside. They use the name of God 
to satisfy themselves sexually.

What is happening with the world?

We cannot even fight back, when I think about it more, for now with the Inquisition going 
on, the Church is more powerful than ever.

It makes me sick to think that such sadistic men can hold such power over other people. I 
wonder what will happen with the world when the power of the Church grows more.

My wife would kill me if she knew that I don't want to live to see that day. She would even 
think that I'm a heretic.

And I am beginning to believe that I am. I cannot believe in a God who would let such 
things happen. I just cannot!

All this rigmarole was throwing a shitty spanner in the works of my rustic, god-fearing 
faith.





CHAPTER NINE


Oh, I am doomed. I take back all the words I say, and beg to you, God. For if you do exist, as I 
want to believe you do, you will not let anything happen to me or to my sweet wife Maria.

Is that not a small price to place on God's head, a small thing to ask just to find out if there
really is a God?

Make a miracle come true, because now I am the one who needs the miracle and not the 
others whom I have seen tortured and brutalized in the name of You, dear God.

I am writing this from the prison cell where I am being held prisoner for heresy. There is a 
small barred window in my cell and it is the only source of light. The other day I stood up on 
the small wooden stool, and even further up on my toes, and I was able to look out the 
window.

It had been the first light I had seen in days. I do not even know how long I have been in 
here, but that light looked so good.

Then I heard the shouts of what seemed like throngs of people. Eventually, as the noise 
grew louder, I could see them coming closer and closer. They were shouting.

"Kill the heretic! Kill the heretic!"

I thought that they meant me and a momentary panic spread through my body. But I was 
relieved soon, for I could see the heretic they were talking about. In fact, there were three of 
them.

It was a regular auto da fe!

They were cheering the oncoming deaths.

But the victims where what scared me. It was easy to see that they had been viciously 
tortured. The whip marks were quite evident on their naked bodies, and you could see trails of
blood behind them. One looked like he had had his knees cracked, although they were all 
being forced to crawl on their knees.

They crawled toward the large stake that had been set up and then they were tied. I could 
hardly watch as the wood around them was set afire. I could smell the burning flesh long after
the shrieking cries subsided and I didn't sleep for the next few days. That doom could be mine
as well, I know that now.

I don't even know why she did it, but I am sure that Susan was the one who told them 
where my journal was hidden.

It all happened a few weeks ago, and ever since then my life has been upside down. I came
into the monastery kitchen one morning and Susan was lying on the floor, crying. Her head 
was buried in her lap, and as I stooped down beside her to comfort her I lifted her head. There
were streaks of blood all over her face and dress, and her dress was torn enough so that her 
two large tits were showing.

I tried to comfort her with my words.

"Susan, it will be all right. There is nothing for you to worry about. I know what goes on 
and how things are carried out around here. I even know the small part that you play in 
cleaning up."

She looked shocked when I told her all that. She opened her mouth and made sounds.

"Was this the blood of the latest victim?" I asked her. "Was it? For I know that you're 
usually left there to carry out the half-dead bodies."

Suddenly, she clung to me. She wrapped her arms around my back and squeezed me so 
hard. I could feel her warm nipples through my robe. They were getting stiffer, too. I have 
never been unfaithful to my wife in body before, but I couldn't help myself then. I moved my 
lips to hers and kissed her.

When I pressed my tongue into her mouth she sucked on it hungrily. It was almost as if no
one had ever showed her any love or affection before. I wouldn't be surprised if that was the 
first time she ever had sex with a man, without being forced to do it by the commanding 
Fathers.

She started to slide her hand down to my crotch and she rubbed my hard and eager cock 
through my robe. I moved my hand to her nipple and pinched the hard dot. She moaned with,
what I thought then, was sincere passion.

I kissed her everywhere, for it seemed that her body had never been gently kissed before. 
When I touched her neck I felt her pressing her cunt against my leg and it was so wet there 
that I was sure she had come, without any other stimulation so far.

I kissed my way down her neck and opened her tattered dress the rest of the way. I could 
see her two huge melons before me and I cupped them both and buried my face between 
them. I licked and slurped like I had never done before. When I finally started to work on her 
nipples, it felt like my first bout of tit-sucking.

First I licked them, just to see how much she liked them. She was breathing hard then, but 
when I started to suck on them, she was almost uncontrollable. She started to open my robe 
in the front, and before I knew it she had my naked cock in her hand and she was jerking me 
off like crazy. I thought that I was going to come so soon and so I had to whisper in her ear 
and tell her to slow down.

When I started to nibble on her nipples, she was absolutely insane. She squirmed under 
my grip, and then I placed my hand on her fine black pussy hairs.

I cupped her pussy mound and started to squeeze. I had never felt my wife do anything 
like that before, but Susan was actually dripping her pussy juices onto my hand.. I could smell 
their sweet fragrance and my cock started to pulsate hard.

By that time, Susan had stopped stroking me so hard because of my warnings to her and 
when she felt my pulsating, she squeezed me. It was as if she really knew what to do to keep a
man good and satisfied.

Maybe if was because this was the first time I had ever been with her, and my wife was the 
only other woman I've ever had in my life, but I was so hot when I was with Susan. I couldn't 
remember ever feeling so excited with my wife, not in a long time, that is. I think there is some
tiling to be said about having mistresses, for no matter what I used to think, one woman is 
nice, but you can get tired of her.

When I felt Susan's pussy was so wet I started to slide my fingers into her cunt. I felt her 
little love bud and wiggled it back and forth. Her knees were buckling so much, so I backed 
her against a table and told her to lie gently on her back.

She did as I said. I kissed my way down her belly. She was not that sensitive in her navel, 
but I love to lick my wife's navel so I spent a great deal of time on Susan's She was stroking 
my black curly hair, pulling at the curls and loosening them. I could feel her whole body 
trembling with pleasure, and she was moaning so softly. I looked up at her. She had her eyes 
closed and was licking her heavenly lips. I can honestly say that it was the first time I had ever 
seen her looking so happy and peaceful and that incited me to work her better.

I ran my tongue over her pussy lips and tasted her sweet flavor. When my head was down 
there, I got a better rush of her juices and they sent my mind racing. I could feel my cock 
pulsating without any other stimulation now, but the sweet flavor and fragrance of her black 
haired cunt.

When I shoved my tongue between those lips I licked her creamed walls. My wife, in all the
time I had been with her, never was so wet inside. I was feasting on Maria's pussy. I was sure 
that I could live a life on her pussy juices.

I rubbed my tongue over her love button and she gasped.

That's when I knew I would really make her come. I started to lick her love button so hard 
and her pussy spasmed tighter than ever. But as it spasmed, the cream began to coat her walls
in even thicker layers and I licked it all.

I didn't really lick all, because I wanted her cunt to be nice and wet for my smooth cock 
entry. When I had her on the verge of another orgasm I licked my way back up her body, 
fingering her for the few seconds that my tongue had left her cunt, then I guided by ready 
dick into her.

I slid in so easily and she bucked her ass up to meet me halfway. My groin slapped against 
her belly and we both let out loud moans at the same time. She looked at me and smiled, as if
that was some kind of joke.

I pressed my lips back on hers and kissed her hard. She pushed my mouth open with her 
tongue and left a pathway for my tongue to slide into her mouth. I slid it in fast and she 
sucked on my tongue, pretty much the same way that her tight pussy was sucking on my 
cock. She was running her hands over my sweaty ass, too, pulling my buttocks apart and 
scratching them lightly with her long nails.

I could feel my balls churning and the urge to come was greater than ever. Still, I slowed 
down some because I did not know when we would be able to do something like this again, 
and I wanted to prolong the pleasure.

She seemed to appreciate it, for then she started kissing me all over the face, running her 
tongue up and down my cheeks and neck.

She sucked on my neck and that made my cock start to pulse hard.

That time, I kept thrusting, for there comes a time in a fuck when you know that you have 
to come. When you know that the orgasm you are on the verge of is going to be shattering, 
and if you wait and prolong it again, the one you work yourself into later just won't be as 
good.

She had come so many times already, so I didn't care about that. When I felt myself on the
verge I told her, and then her pussy started to spasm again.

It was almost as if she could will herself to come.

When I started to shoot my creamy seed into her, her cunt sucked at my cock and I could 
feel it being sucked out as well. She moved her hand to my asshole and started to massage it 
lightly. Then she slid her finger in and a burning sensation went through my cock. I shot out 
another load, even thicker than the first.

She finger-fucked my asshole for a few more seconds, and I did not find it discomforting 
at all. In fact, I know that was what made me come harder.

As my cock started to shrink in her pussy, she pulled her finger out of my asshole. I slid 
down her body and moved my head between her legs. Her cunt was just flooding with juices 
now and I opened my mouth and caught the waterfall flow. There was so much that I saved a 
mouthful for her, and when I kissed her she lapped it up eagerly.

We lay there for a few seconds and then started to get into our clothes. We both had our 
work to do, but the silence for those moments was unbearable.

As she pulled her dress back on her shoulders were heaving up and down, and I knew that
she was crying again. I thought that I understood why.

"Susan, I know that you're thinking this is the only time we'll be together. But it doesn't 
have to be. I imagine that you want out of here, right?"

She shook her head yes, and a tear dripped from her eye.

"Well, one day things well get better here," I said. "I know that they will. This madness 
cannot continue forever. What they are doing is sinful."

Again, she shook her head yes. But she still cried.

I felt such love for her at the moment, that I wanted her to share my one secret with me. I 
walked over to my secret hiding place and pulled the loose bricks away. I pulled out my 
manuscript (God, what is going to happen with it now? I haven't seen it since that time) and 
brought the journal to Susan.

"I have seen many things here and I am keeping accurate records. I am going to bring this 
to someone who can do something about it. I don't know who, just yet, but there has to be 
someone who can stop it."

She started to skim through it, and as she reacted to certain passages, I knew that she 
could read. She looked so scared when she read certain parts, and I think that it might have 
been the parts where I mentioned her.

Suddenly, she closed the journal and then made like she was going to rip it. She held it in 
both hands and started to tear it a little bit.

"No," I screamed, grabbing it from her. "No."

We fought over the journal and I finally got it back from her.

"I know you might not like some of the things that are said here, but they are all true. 
Nothing will happen to you for it. You are being used. But I am going to continue keeping this
document and one day the world might see it."

She started to shake her head in all directions, telling me no, no! I grabbed her arms as she
clung to me. She pressed her head against my chest and I rubbed her back a little bit until she
had calmed down.

When I let go of her, she started to make sounds and motions. I seemed to understand 
what she was saying. She pointed to me, then to herself, then to the large gate we could see 
from the kitchen window.

She wanted me too take her out of there. I touched her hair, then spoke softly.

"Susan, I will take you out of here one day, but not right away. No, we can't leave together.
Susan, I am a married man with a loving wife at home. I cannot run away from here with you. 
My wife would never understand."

She seemed so cold at that instant, but then she seemed to have snapped right out of it. 
She kissed me gently on the lips, then turned and picked up her mop. She walked out into the
dining area and started to mop the floor.

I could hear a few sobs coming from in there but I didn't go to talk to her. I hid my 
manuscript behind the bricks again and proceeded with my work.

Susan and I didn't say very much to each other that day but there was nothing unusual 
with that. We rarely said anything to each other anyway, and by the middle of the afternoon 
the time we had been together seemed so far away. It was as if we had been locked together 
in passion for a few moments, but now it was over.

The next day, when I arrived at the monastery, they were waiting for me. Father Peter and 
the Monsignor were in the kitchen with the police.

Father Peter was flinging my document in front of my face.

"You are a heretic," he screamed, and before I knew it the policeman had grabbed my 
hands and my wrists were tied together behind my back. "I have read the words you have 
written and all it says is you are a heretic. Even the last written words have you thinking it. You 
will die, and your wife with you."

"I am no heretic," I said, trying to remain as calm as I possibly could. "I am no heretic, and 
you are a sinner to say I am. Your sin is lying for you must realize that every word written is 
truth. You participated."

"Take him away," the Monsignor said. "We will have to find ourselves a new cook." I was 
led off, and as I was dragged off the monastery grounds, I looked back. Susan was standing by
the gate watching me. She looked so sad, and somehow, I knew that she had been the one 
who had given me away.

I couldn't understand why she would do something like that. I was her only friend at the 
monastery. The rest of them treated her like a slave, and nothing more.

I did not see anyone in the jail for the first few days, except the rats who were my 
cellmates.' At night, sometimes, I would feel one nibbling at my toe and wake up screaming. If
I don't die from their poison before I am burned, it will be a miracle.

Some days later, I was led into a small room. I was completely naked, as I had been since 
they threw me in the cell.

When I arrived, my wife was in the room, too. She was as naked as I was, and she was tied 
to the wall by manacles.

At first, I was just thrown in the room and I had some time with her myself.

"What is happening?" she asked me, and I walked closer and began to stroke her naked 
body. My cock had risen since I saw her there, and I wanted to bring her some pleasure in this 
time of total pain.

I told her how the document had been discovered, without mentioning Susan, of course. 
My wife started to cry immediately.

"I knew we would die because of it one day," she said to me. "You should have destroyed it
when I told you to. Oh, Clarence, we are doomed."

I kissed her pussy and started to play with her love button, yet nothing I could do seemed 
to turn her on. She was so cold toward me.

Finally, I could feel her beginning to get wet and then she was moaning softly and 
breathing a lot heavier than usual.

It was just then that the door opened and Father Peter walked into the room.

I pulled away from my wife, immediately. As Father Peter stepped out of the way, I could 
see that he had Susan with him. She was trembling as she saw me standing there with my 
wife.

The door was slammed shut and then Peter spoke.

"You are such a fool," he said to me. "Did you really think that you, one mere person, could
fight the entire Church. You are nothing and the Church is all powerful, don't you realize that? 
You have written heretic words and now you must pay for them."

"What are you going to do?" I asked him.

"First I need a confession from both you and your wife, and then, you will both be killed," 
he said to me. "Once we have the confession, we need nothing else. Confess."

"You cannot be serious," I said to him. "First you tell me that I will die anyway and then you
tell me to confess. I will die without any kind of confession because I will say, until the time 
that I die, that I am no heretic. I will say that you are a fake, using the name of God for any 
purposes you see fit. All of the Fathers at St. Christophal's, and God knows where else."

He slapped me hard across the face. Then he turned to Susan.

"Go over and lick that woman's cunt until she confesses."

Susan looked at me with sad puppy eyes, then walked over to my wife. She started to lick 
her pussy hard, spreading Maria's pussy lips as wide as she could and biting on her erect love 
button.

Maria started to moan with a combination of pleasure and pain.

"Stop this," I said to him, for I was truly disgusted seeing my wife in such circumstances.

"There is nothing for her to confess to. She was innocent of everything, you must realize 
that."

"In the last chapter of your book, the eighth chapter, you write about a conversation you 
had with your wife. She knew of your heresy and did not turn you in. That makes her just as 
guilty as you are by our laws."

"You bastard," I screamed and lunged for him.

He pulled out a knife and drew closer. Ignoring him, I turned back to see what was 
happening with my wife. She was squirming against the wall, and I could see that her nipples 
were so stiff. She had her eyes closed and looked very troubled. Yet, after a short time, she 
started to thrust her pussy against Susan's face, and that only told me that Maria was enjoying
this.

Then my wife started to scream in pain so that it echoed in the small room.

"Oh God, she's biting me. God, help me. It hurts."

"Tell her to stop," I screamed at the Father, but he had already moved close to my wife. He 
pinched her nipple hard, twisting it.

"Confess," he said to her. "Confess that you knew what your husband was doing and that 
is all we ask. Confess to that."

"Yes," she moaned, "I will say it. I knew that he was keeping this document for some time. 
But it is a wife's duty to stick by her husband's side. I could not turn my own husband over to 
the Church."

"If that is so," Father Peter said, "then you will stick by your husband's side as a heretic. 
Once he confesses to heresy, then you will be a heretic, too."

He was a sly man, that Father Peter, and I wanted to kill him so much. Susan stopped 
licking my wife's pussy and then she stood up. She and the Father walked closer to me. Susan 
reached for my upraised pole and started to massage it gently, and then before I even knew it,
the Father was walking behind my back.

He pulled my hands tight and then tied them together. I had gotten lost in the pleasure of 
my cock for ten seconds too long, for had I not been concentrating on what Susan was doing, 
I would have been able to fight the Father.

As soon as I was tied, Susan dropped my cock from her mouth.

"We need a confession from you now," the evil Father said to me. "We need you to confess
to your heresy so we may bum you."

"Fuck you," I said to him, and I could not believe my own ears. I never would have thought 
of cursing a man of the cloth before, but now it was so easy.

He slapped me across the face.

"The only thing I wonder now, is do we get you to confess with pleasure or with pain. For 
we both know what pleasures Susan can bring to you, don't we?"

"What is that?" my wife asked, for she was still fully conscious.

"Your husband has been with this young girl before. He knows her in the Biblical sense, 
and so she is familiar with his cock and the things that turn him on."

My wife didn't say anything, but I could see the hurt in her eyes and feel the hatred 
emanating from her.

Susan, meanwhile, had my cock in her hand and she was stroking me to keep me hard. I 
was unconsciously thrusting back and forth in her tight hand.

Then Susan started to lick my cock, and when she touched the tip of it with her tongue I 
could feel the pleasure shoot through my body. I felt a probing in my ass and turned around 
in time to see Father Peter holding the large wooden phallus. He was making as if he was 
going to shove it into my asshole and I could feel my knees buckling as I anticipated the pain.

But I was not going to confess. I remembered the husband whom I had seen tortured 
once. I never knew if he confessed or not, but as far as I was concerned, I had the same 
thoughts that he had.

Why should I confess? Why? I am going to be put to death anyway and I would rather die 
an unconfessed heretic so that people may read my document.

If I confess too being a heretic, they will all believe that the journal is a lie.

But I did have to withstand many tortures. Susan started to suck me off while Father Peter 
rammed the dildo into my asshole. I could feel the burning pain as he thrust back and forth 
hard. My asshole was burning and bleeding.

Then Susan started to pull hard on my balls. They must have been able to tell how much 
pain I was in from the way my whole body was shaking and sweating. At times, I found myself 
inflicting self-pain. At first, I thought that I was going to open my mouth and confess, just to 
stop the burning in my asshole.

I didn't want to.

But when I felt that, I started to bite my lip as hard as I could, not only to bring back some 
sense of my own thoughts, but even more, to keep my lips shut so I couldn't even confess to 
them.

My wife, the whole time, was crying, but then she started screaming.

"Confess already," she yelled. "You have tortured me by being unfaithful and getting me 
involved. You should confess to them. Confess, you fool. They will stop torturing you further if 
you only confess."

A few times, I was going to open my mouth and confess to her just to get her to shut up. 
But I didn't want to.

I looked down at Susan and she was looking up at me. I could feel tears welling from my 
eyes and soon they were rolling down my cheek. When that happened, she seemed to soften 
a little bit, and she cried gently.

Then she started sucking my cock a little differently. She started to suck it as if she meant 
it. Before that time, she had been biting a little and sucking too hard for there to be any 
pleasure. But now it seemed like she wanted to make up for it, and in a few seconds, I could 
feel my cock spasming.

The phallus in my asshole prevented me from trying to hold back from coming and as I 
shot in her mouth I started to moan so loud that Father Peter knew something was up. He 
pulled the phallus out and walked in front of me.

He must have seen my come dribbling out of the side of her mouth, and he pulled her 
back and slapped her across the face, so hard that I could see the red come to her cheeks in a 
second.

"You were not supposed to make him come," he screamed at her. "You were supposed to 
torture him with pleasure."

My cock was still spurting and I turned so that I shot on the Father's robe. Then, as soon as
I was finished, I felt the urge to do something else. With my arms still tied behind my back, I 
aimed my cock at the Father and started to piss on his robe.

He looked completely disgusted and he smashed his fist against my face.

Then he turned to my wife. He walked back to her and started to bite on her nipple. I 
could see her squirming as he moved his mouth from one to the other, and I could even see 
the teeth marks that he had left.

"Maybe if you see your wife suffer, it will move something in you," he said.

I can honestly say that it was hurting me so to see Maria tortured. He was pulling on tufts 
of her pussy hair, so hard, that he ripped some out. I watched the hairs fall to the floor, trying 
not to look at the pained expression on her face.

But she was grunting the whole time and I could hear muffled sounds of pain as she tried 
to hold back and not let her screams out.

Then I watched as the Father raised his robe and his large phallus pointed toward her 
pussy. The thought of him fucking my wife made me sick. His cock was so large and I could 
see that my Maria was afraid of him.

When his dick touched her pussy lips she started to cry and I started to wretch. Luckily, I 
had no food inside of me to vomit up.

I was going to open my mouth and yell at him to stop, but then I realized something. 
Maria and I were both going to be killed.

It was more important for me to die without a confession than it was to confess because 
the Father was fucking my wife.

It was only a fuck, and although I could tell from the expression on her face that she was 
hating it, her longing look never once made me think of confessing. I watched the Father's 
tight ass moving back and forth as he humped her hard and I could hear my wife grunting 
with each inward thrust.

He was giving it to her good and I prayed to God to strike him dead on the spot.

At one point Father Peter started to groan louder than ever and then he pulled his cock 
out of her just as he was coming.

He aimed his come on her belly, I guess just to make me even more angry, and I watched 
it slowly trickle down her navel and pubic bush. He was rubbing his cock hard and moaning 
with such pleasure.

"God will put you in hell for that," I said to him. "You are supposed to be celibate to devote
your life to God, yet as far as I can see, you and all the others are the biggest fuckers of them 
all."

He turned and kicked me in the face so hard that I passed out.

I woke up again in my cell, and here I am still. I do not know what has happened to my 
wife for I have not seen her. My last image of her is one where she is chained to the wall, 
naked, with someone else's come dripping down her belly. It is sickening to think that it may 
be the last time I will ever see my wife.

But some things have happened since then.

One day I had a visitor. At first, I did not know who it was for the person was cloaked. But 
then, she pulled her cloak down and I could see it was Susan.

She thrust a note into my hand.

"I am sorry for everything that happened," the note said. "I have fled from the monastery 
for I cannot stay there any longer. I have something of yours."

Under the note was the manuscript and she handed it to me.

"How did you get this?" I asked her.

"I stole it," she wrote on another piece of paper.

I hugged her so tightly, and then I decided to ask her something.

"Susan, are you mute because they cut your tongue out like they did to that poor man 
Father Joseph?"

She shook her head yes and then started to cry. Then she handed me something else. It 
was some more paper and a pen.

"I want you to write some more," she had written on the package, in another note. "I want 
you to write what else happened to you and I am going to come back and get it some day so 
that I can show it to the world."

I kissed her hard on the lips and she reached for my cock bulge. She started to squeeze it 
hard and I could feel my cock pulsating in her hand.

"I want you to take the First part of the manuscript and hide it somewhere. I want you to 
keep it for I cannot keep it here. They will find it here and they will destroy it out of fear. But if 
you keep it, one day people can read it."

She shook her head yes and then started to sink down to her knees.


The End
