darkness1

Her eyes searched the shadows that played in the moonlight beyond the pristine gardens, toward the iron gates and the woods that stretched the darkness as far as she could see. There was no sign of him, the man from the shadows, whom she had seen last night and the night before that. She felt certain she would see him, though, unless speaking of him had driven him away. But how could he know she'd spoken of him? And shouldn't she be grateful if it had driven him off?

She had told Sister Angela about the man and had seen the nun pale,her smooth, stern face like a statue beneath her black veil.

"He is the devil!" Sister Angela had whispered. "He has come to tempt you!"

"He looked like a man," Jessica had said in reply.

"Of course, he did! He will tempt you with an appealing shape!"

"But, he was so real, Sister! Could he not be a local man, from the village? He never tries to get inside, he just stands and watches. Could he be -- ?"

"Why do you go on about him? Has he cast a spell on your soul? Are you already his?"

Jessica gasped, afraid suddenly. She shook her head hard.

"No, Sister! I only...it doesn't matter, Sister, I don't need to know about him."

"Perhaps," said the nun. "We should discuss this with Father Martino."

Terror.

"No, Sister, please! I won't speak of it again, I promise, I won't even go near the window!"

Finally, Sister Angela had relented, yet Jessica's heart had pounded at her narrow escape. To be spared a visit to Father Martino and his leather strap!

And she had meant to keep her promise to Sister Angela...but as dusk fell over the convent walls, Jessica found herself again sitting at the window, searching...there was a world she vaguely remembered, where no one spoke of devils and spells, a world of reason and intellect...but it was
such a long ago place that she scarcely recalled. It was buried with memories of her parents and
her books and men and women who talked of learning and literature and the rights of man, buried
in a place before the fever had taken her loved ones and so many others, in a time before, alone suddenly, she was delivered to the convent to lead a life of piety and contrition. Sometimes, she thought it was all a dream, this other world beyond the harsh condition of the high-walled fortress in which she now lived.

*Jessica.*

She was startled from her thoughts. Who called to her?

*Jessica.*

She looked out the window again and saw him. But he was so far off; surely, she hadn't heard him call to her. In the pale moonlight, she couldn't make out his features, yet she knew he smiled at her. She imagined eyes of sapphire and hair, full and thick, dark as coal.

*Yes, Jessica.*

"Do you see me?" she whispered. "Do you hear what I think?"

*Always, Jessica.*

She shivered, feeling a warm breath on her neck, at her ear, as he answered her. The warmth traveled down her body, touching each place it visited with heat. She moaned softly. The heat crept between her thighs, touching, softly, teasing.

She gasped. Her eyes closed. Her hand moved down her cotton gown, stopping at that secret place that no one was to touch, rubbing softly, moving the soft fabric against the silky hair beneath. She
moaned again.

Behind her a door slammed and she spun, her eyes flying open, to see Sister Angela staring at her in horror. She tried to speak, but no words would come. Her throat was locked against all sound.

Sister Angela screamed, "Filthy, sinful girl! Have you no decency? Child of the devil! Well, we will go to Father Martino now! He will whip the devil out of you, miss!"

"Sister, no!" she finally managed to sputter. "No, please, you don't understand!"

But Sister Angela had taken the flat wooden hairbrush from Jessica's dresser and now advanced on her with it, saying, "No, you don't understand, you dirty creature! But you will, you will!"

With that, she brought the brush down hard on Jessica's backside. Jessica jumped, but not before the brush caught her a second time.

"Sister, please!"

"Please! You'll cry 'please', you'll cry for mercy by the time Father has finished with you! Now, move!"

The brush came down on Jessica's bottom again, stinging fiercely, and she hurried toward the door. Other girls peeked from behind their doors, to see what the commotion was, as Sister paddled Jessica all the way down the hallway.

Jessica caught a glimpse of Constance, her dearest friend, saw the tears that came to Constance's lovely blue eyes. In spite of the pain, the sting of the brush that she was certain was turning her
bottom a bright shade of red, she wished now that she could turn back and comfort her friend. But, suddenly, she was in the chapel, and all rational thought left her. She remembered her last visit to this
place, for far less a crime than that which she'd committed tonight, and she turned and fell to her knees.

"Sister, please, don't call on Father Martino, please!"

"Get up," Sister Angela ordered her.

Instead, she grabbed the hem of the nun's skirts and buried her face in the heavy material to weep. She raised her eyes again to plead.

"Punish me yourself, Sister, I beg you! I'll accept any punishment from you! But, please, please, don't call on Father!"

She thought she saw a wavering in the tall woman's eyes, but then Sister Angela shook her head hard and said, "We have rules. They must be obeyed."

She shook Jessica loose of her and left the chapel. Jessica lay on the cold floor, weeping, then pulled herself to her feet. She wrapped her arms around her, and looked around the room, with its stone walls, its great wooden cross, the light of a few candles. She couldn't move, could only shiver and await her fate. She brushed a straying dark curl from her face and wiped away her tears. She wouldn't plead with Father Martino. He would only punish her more severely for that.

*Jessica.*

She jumped at the sound of her name...from that invisible voice she was coming to know.

"Help me," she whispered.

*Be strong, Jessica.*

"Can you help me?"

*I cannot. Yet. But I will redeem you and you will have vengeance for what you suffer tonight. I promise you this, Jessica.*

The chapel doors flew open and the bullish figure of Father Victor Martino appeared before her. A fifty-ish man with olive skin and dark hair and eyes, he stood tall and broadly built. He glared at Jessica.

"Oh, please, help me,"she whispered.

"Do you call on the Lord for help?" his voice boomed out. "Or on your demon consort?"

"I have no demon consort, sir," she whispered.

"A liar as well as a harlot!"

"I am neither, sir, believe me, I beg you!"

"You will be neither by the time I finish with you! Disrobe, now!"

She knew that arguing would be futile -- and dangerous. Her face burning, she lifted the cotton gown over her head and tossed it aside to stand before the priest naked and shivering in the cold chapel.
His eyes traveled over her slender neck and full breasts, over the curve of her hips, to the soft brown hair that veiled the mound of her womanhood.

"Sister Angela has told me that you have flirted with a demon and defiled yourself with your own hand."

Jessica tried to speak, but only an incoherent whimper came from her lips.

"There is no need to answer, my sinful child. I believe the sister's words. And I am here to help you."

She shut her eyes, but opened them again when he spoke.

"Who is this demon who has seduced you, child?"

"It is no demon, Father. It is a man, and I have only seen him from afar."

"No demon? You tell me that Sister Angela lies?"

"No, Father, I...I..."

Jessica felt the tears well in her violet eyes as her thoughts grew confused. Was there anything she could say that would not anger him more? Anything she could do that would avert this punishment? She wrapped her arms around her again, covering her breasts.

"Arms at your sides, child!" he ordered.

She obeyed.

He said, "You will show me what you were doing when Sister Angela came into the room."

"Oh, please!" she gasped, before she could stop herself.

"You will show me now!" he roared.

Slowly, Jessica moved her shaking hand to the patch of hair between her legs. She was sure her whole body blushed as she gently rubbed the full lips and was stunned by the flush of pleasure that
ran through her very core despite her terror. Father Martino watched her, his dark eyes burning into her flesh, then pulled the leather strap from around his robe.

"Kneel," he said.

Jessica knelt on the cold stone floor, facing the altar.

"This is not a girl's punishment, Jessica. This is a harlot's punishment. Spread your legs wide."

Shocked, she yet obeyed.

She heard a loud whirr as the strap slapped the cold air and made contact with the backs of her thighs. She gasped loudly. The strap fell again, twice, crisscrossing her tender bottom now, and she cried
out.

Again it fell, and again, one cheek, then the other, then both, then her thighs again. Pain seared into her and tears spilled from her eyes.

"Father, please, no more!"

Ignoring her, the priest continued to whip her. Relentless. Without mercy, though now she begged for mercy. The strap touched her inner thighs, igniting them, then it fell upon the soft mound she had dared to touch earlier this evening, as she'd stared into the shadows.

She screamed.

She squirmed, but didn't dare to bring her legs together as the cruel strap slapped her secret lips again and again, then returned to beat her bottom, harder than before, punishing those places already reddened and welted.

And then Father Martino stood before her and she cringed as the strap was draped over her shoulders.

"Such tender flesh for one so wicked," he whispered. "And how terrible that we shall have to repeat this punishment each night until you have been cleansed of your sin."

"Forgive me, Father!" Jessica sobbed.

"Do you wish to be good, child?"

Not thinking now. Say what he wants. Give him no reason to beat you further.

"Yes, Father!"

"God has filled me with goodness, child, and I shall give you to drink from my fountain of holiness!"

"Yes, Father!"

His robe fell open then and his raging male organ rose before her face.

"Drink, Jessica! Drink and be filled with holiness!"

Jessica opened her mouth and took the organ between her lips. His hands grabbed her hair and pulled her to him as his organ slid back and forth over her warm tongue.

"Drink, harlot, and be cleansed. Draw the holiness from me!"

Jessica sucked hard at his organ, could breath and taste nothing but him. Her mouth hurt as he pushed at the back of her throat. Suddenly, her mouth was filled with warm liquid.

"Swallow," he whispered, his voice unsteady suddenly.

She struggled to swallow all that he gave her and was relieved when he finally pulled his now limp organ from her mouth. Her body ached, her knees from the hard floor, her mouth from his thrusting, her most vulnerable parts from the relentless fall of the strap upon them. Shamed, she lowered her head and wept silently and she didn't even know that he had left the room and Sister Angela had returned. Her gown was dropped over her head and she was pulled to her feet.

"Jessica."

She raised her eyes to the nun. Sister Angela began to speak, then stopped and turned away from her. Jessica resisted the urge to slap the nun. That the woman should turn her over to Father Martino and
then not even have the decency to look her in the eye! Each step was agony as she was led back to her room. Sister Angela left her and she dropped face down on the bed with her companion pain. She lifted her hips to keep her sore mound from touching the starched sheets, but her battered legs couldn't hold her.

*Jessica.*

"Go away!" she whispered. "You would not even save me! This is your fault!"

But he did not go. He came nearer. Her heartbeat quickened. Before he could reach her, though, her door opened again and she feigned sleep as someone entered the room.