Alison Goes to London Ch. 17

The sun was setting on Alison's birthday, as she, Eva and Claire sat on a bench in the park facing the empty bandstand -- waiting. It was getting a little chilly on this autumn evening, so most of the outdoor fucking activity of the day was winding up -- apart from one solitary couple about fifty yards away on another bench. They were both dressed in tight black leather, but the man's cock jutted though his fly, and he was doggy-fucking his partner through an unzipped flap in the rear of her trousers.

"Thanks for coming with me, guys," said Eva, as she sat, nervously looking around and up and down the path.

"Well, we'd never leave you alone with that dickhead," said Claire, not making any attempt to disguise the contempt in her voice. "Who the fuck does he think he is, summoning you out here to meet him?"

"I don't know, Claire: he sounds like he's in trouble," said Eva, her brow furrowed as she studied the crumpled note over and over.

"Well, serve him fucking right!" replied Claire. "After the way he treated you -- and Alison. If he's left the RAF and is working at that Hospice place, then he's got what he wanted, hasn't he? Well, what he fucking deserves, anyway... What's he got to complain about to you?"

In the distance, Alison could just see the man in black now kneeling behind his partner, his face pressed up against her bare buttocks. "But it's dirty, mistress!" his voice echoed across the grass.

"Then fucking clean it, slave!" shouted the woman, slapping the man's bottom with a riding crop while pulling his head forward so that his face was buried in the cleft of her ass.

The girls giggled -- but were cut short by a sharp whisper from a rhododendron bush behind them. "Eva!" it said.

Eva froze, fear etched on her face. Alison and Claire looked around.

"Eva!" came the voice again. Eva trembled and grabbed Alison's hand, shifting toward the edge of the bench as if to get up. "Eva, I'm sorry, I need your help!" came the voice from the bush. Eva hesitated.

"Chad?" said Eva.

"Please don't run away," came Chad's voice. Now Alison recognised him -- but it wasn't the voice which Alison remembered: arrogant, cocksure and cruel. Yes, it still sounded like Chad, but it sounded nervous, fearful, and sad -- Chad cut down to size, Chad defeated.

Alison turned to look at the rhododendron. "Chad, what the fuck are you doing hiding in that bush? Come out if you've got something to say!"

"Don't turn around, Alison, please. Then they'll know I'm here: they're probably watching. Just keep looking ahead as normal. Please listen, I need to talk to Eva."

"Well, it doesn't sound like Eva wants to talk to you. And who the fuck are 'they'?

Chad ignored Alison's question, but addressed Eva instead. "Eva... please listen to me. You're the only person I can talk to. You're my only...friend." Chad pronounced the last word with such a level of despair that even Alison and Claire were beginning to feel worried.

"I was never your friend, Chad," replied Eva angrily. "I was just your slut. And you treated me like shit. Now fuck off." She got up again to leave.

"Eva, please don't go, please, I beg of you, don't go -- I'm sorry, I know I'm a dickhead. I know I treated you like shit. And I'm... oh God, I'm so sorry..." The voice from the rhododendron was sounding desperate now. "Please help me. I need your help. I don't think I can live with myself any longer. Please..." Chad's voice broke, and all that could be heard now were soft, low sobs. This was Chad as Alison had never heard him before: broken, desperate, desolate.

Eva took a deep breath, before resuming her seat and saying, "What do you want, Chad?"

"I can't explain it all now. If they see me talking to you, they'll cull me. And if I spend too long here, they'll miss me, and they'll know I've been talking to someone. Is there anywhere we can meet in secret? Then I can explain everything. Please?"

Eva paused in thought, before saying, "Chad?"

"Yes?"

"Can you come tomorrow morning, Sunday?"

"Yeah... Not sure when I'll be able to sneak away, but I'll try. Where?"

"38B Tottenham Cunt Road. Knock twice on the green door. I'll meet you there. I'll be there from first thing in the morning. Come as soon as you can. But don't let anyone see you."

"I'll be there. Thank you, Eva. Thank you!" There was a rustle in the bush, and then silence.

"Chad?" said Eva again. But he had gone.

It was getting dark -- but from fifty yards away the leather-clad woman, now sat on her bench with her legs splayed and a large black dildo in her cunt, could be heard shouting, "Now, slave, fucking piss in my mouth while I jerk myself off!"

"Yes, mistress," said the man, as he stood up, aiming his cock at her face. "As you say, mistress."

The chilly November evening closed in. And the sun set.

"Who exactly is this young man, Eva?" asked Father Ambrose. It was the day after the encounter with Chad in the park, and Claire, Alison and Eva were in the chapel at number 38B, watching as the dark-skinned priest trimmed the altar candles after mass. Alison and Eva had both made some effort to dress modestly: Alison had even put on a pair of panties under her skirt. But Claire looked very out of place in a crotchless whole-body red fishnet outfit, which she was trying in vain to conceal under a transparent latex coat. She shuffled from foot to foot as she made a conscious effort not to look sexy -- which was very difficult for her.

"He was a student at the RAF," said Eva. But rumour has it that he was kicked out -- uh, for attacking Alison here, actually -- and is now working for the Princess Asshole Hospice."

Father Ambrose grimaced. "Oh, I see. That place has a bit of a reputation, you know." He moved across to a small Lady Altar, and began clearing away spent devotional lights.

"For what?" asked Claire, rather loudly. Aware how out of place she felt, she was making little attempt to disguise her dislike for Father Ambrose, his chapel, and all things religious.

"It is where all Undesirable illegals apprehended in the London area get sent. Your father was culled there, was he not, Eva?"

"Yes." A shadow passed over Eva's face.

"And this boy works there? And yet he wants your help? To do what?"

"I don't know. But he sounded desperate. And the only safe place I could think of to meet him was here."

Father Ambrose took a deep breath. "Of course you can meet him here, Eva. If he is in trouble -- as he appears to be, then we must be here to help. Why don't you and your friends wait here in the chapel, until he shows up?"

"Thank you, Father," replied Eva. "Thank you."

Father Ambrose smiled kindly and nodded. "I have some paperwork to do in my office. But I'll come and join you as soon as he arrives," he added reassuringly, as he left the chapel.

There was an awkward silence, as all three girls sat on separate front pews, partly facing each other, partly facing the altar. A small red lamp flickered above the tabernacle, an understated reminder of a Presence -- which even Alison felt she could not entirely ignore. She shifted awkwardly, almost as if she felt watched. She closed her eyes, and the feeling became more clement. "Perhaps," she thought, "not 'watched' so much as 'watched over'... Fuck, this is heavy..."

Her introspection was interrupted by Claire. "This is so fucking boring, this place," she complained, as she diddled her pussy-lips absent-mindedly. "Don't they even have a screen so you can watch fuck-flicks?"

"Not in this kind of church, Claire," replied Eva, smiling. "But if you're feeling horny, why don't you and Alison go outside and have a quick fuck?"

"Can we do it in the bathroom, like last time?" suggested Claire, helpfully.

"You know, Claire, best not," Eva giggled. "It was kinda obvious that time!"

"Really?" replied Claire. "Okay, outside then. You wanna come, Alison? I brought a Mars bar: you could fuck me with it and then eat it out of my cunt!"

"Oh, that's sweet, Claire," replied Alison. "But why don't you just go and jerk off on your own this time? I'd like to sit here a while."

Claire looked disgruntled, but left, muttering under her breath. "What is it about this church? No one wants to fuck! Fucking weird, if you ask me..."

Eva and Alison sat, looking silently into the middle distance for a while, until Alison asked, "Is this where you came to church when you were a kid?"

"Yeah. My parents were married here. And they used to bring me and my brother here when I was tiny -- though I don't remember it from then. After my parents were exiled, Rob and I actually lived in the presbytery here. Father Ambrose agreed to take us in -- until Rob was old enough to have a place of his own and look after me by himself."

"That must have been hard."

"Well, mentally maybe, but not physically. We lacked for nothing, and Ambrose is a kind man. The main challenge has been trying to join all of this up" -- Eva gesticulated at the chapel, the altar, the tabernacle with its gently flickering light -- "with the world of fucking outside. In here is a sanctuary of peaceful, self-sacrificial Love. Surrounding it is a whole world of hedonistic Pleasure. It's inevitable the Pleasure, the fucking, will win. It's just louder..."

"Yes, but beyond all that is another World!" replied Alison. "Love comes from Beyond. Remember what you told me, Eva:God is Love!"

Eva looked at Alison quizzically. "No 'vert' like a convert, eh, Al? You don't really believe that now, do you?"

Alison paused, deflated. "I don't know... But I wish it was true," she sighed. "I wish there were somewhere I could escape to, where my self-worth didn't depend upon how well I fuck, how many dicks I can fit in my ass, how much cum I can eat..."

"Well, there is the Outside World, remember? My parents lived there for years. My brother and my mother are there now."

At the mention of Rob, a flash of unexpectedly happy reminiscence came over Alison. "How's Rob doing? You know, I never understood him before -- but sitting here, thinking about the things Father Ambrose said to me, about sacrifice, and giving things up for the people you love... well, shit, I guess I feel a bit bad for him -- I..."

Eva waited. Alison swallowed, and finished her sentence: "... I feel sorry for him, and grateful. He did a really kind thing for me."

There were tears in Eva's eyes. "That's a nice thing to say, Al," she said. And now there were tears in Alison's eyes as well.

Down the corridor, they heard a pair of rapid but quiet knocks at the front door. Eva stood up, alarm sweeping across her face as she wiped her tears away and steeled herself. They heard the front door being opened and shut, and shortly thereafter the chapel door opened, and in came Father Ambrose, with Chad.

Eva and Chad looked at each other, Eva's face hardened but trembling. Chad looked, Alison thought, as she had never seen him before: dejected, humiliated, broken. His eyes were bloodshot, and his skin was pale.

"I'm so sorry, Eva," he said.

Eva paused. "What do you want of me now?" she asked, in a tone which -- whilst unmistakeably accusing -- masked, Alison thought, a deep vulnerability.

"I know what you must think of me, Eva," said Chad, eyes downcast. "I treated you like shit. I've treated everyone like shit. I thought I was better than everyone else -- but actually I'm a total dickhead. And I've got nobody to blame but myself."

"Come, Chad, let's sit down together and talk this through," said Father Ambrose. The four of them sat apart from each other in the front pews, as the priest asked, "What's happened to you, Chad, to cause all this distress? I understand you are working at Hildegard's hospice -- is that right? That's a prestigious place: very few people are chosen to work there..."

"Which is why I accepted the job," said Chad, his lower lip trembling as he spoke. "I thought I was the best: the best fucker, with the biggest dick -- oh sorry," Chad interrupted himself awkwardly.

"Don't worry, Chad," reassured the priest. I've heard plenty of language before -- just tell me, in your own words."

"Okay, well yeah, anyway, they flattered me, told me I would be headed for the top if I became one of their fuckers -- promised me loads of money, and loads of sex; and there's this nurse there, see -- Nurse Datchet -- and she... Well, I fell for it, hook, line and sinker."

"And are you not headed for the top? Did you not get 'loads of sex'?" asked Father Ambrose.

"Oh yeah, sure," scoffed Chad, his voice laced with bitterness. "But the price is, I've become a murderer."

Alison gasped. Eva grimaced ruefully. Father Ambrose looked unsurprised. "You are asked to cull a lot of people, then?" he asked.

"I knew I would have to do that, Father. But I thought culling was always voluntary under Enlightenment law -- you know, suicide drafts and things like that. Now I know that behind closed doors, we just kill people. And that Hospice is where it happens. Hundreds, thousands of people, duped, coerced, imprisoned -- and murdered. I have to do it too: innocent people -- not just unwilling overagers, but young adults and children too -- Undesirables, Objectors, illegals -- parents with their families even. They don't get a trial, they just get sent to us -- like your father was, Eva -- and we just mow them down. They scream, they cry, they whimper, they beg -- but we just mow them down. By the end of each day my brain echoes with their voices pleading for mercy, I feel them scrabbling at my feet, I stink of blood -- oh, the blood, the blood!" Chad howled, as he stood. "I have become a monster, Father -- not just an arrogant fool, but a monster. Oh God, what do I do?!" Chad broke down, collapsing to his knees on the tiled floor, hard sobs pouring agonisingly from his breast.

Eva looked at Chad, an expression of forlorn pity on her face such as Alison had never seen before, one hand involuntarily reaching out toward him. Chad looked up at her. "Eva, you always knew I was bad. I don't know how you put up with me, the way I treated you -- and that was just the tip of the iceberg. I must be bad through and through. You did well to escape from me when you did. I am so, so sorry..." Chad's voice cracked, and he wept again, not even bothering to cover his face. It was as if there was no shame left for him to hide.

"Chad..." said Father Ambrose slowly, "I have two things to say. First -- there is no such thing as 'bad through and through'. Your identity does not subsist in what you have done. It lies in the One who made you, and who gave you His image and likeness. Your actions have sullied the likeness, but it cannot efface His image. You aregood through and through. But you need to stop doing these terrible things."

"But how, Father? How can the Hospice be stopped?"

"TheHospice stopped? It cannot be. I know that place, and I know the woman who runs it. None of this is new. The government turns a blind eye -- because it is convenient. So it is pointless going to any authorities for help."

"So what do I do? How can I escape? Because if I can't, I..."

"I can help you escape, Chad. To the Outside World."

"What?" gasped Chad. Eva covered her mouth in shock.

"It is the only place you will be safe. If you stay in the Union, they will track you down eventually. And then you too will be sent to hospice."

"But... but...." Chad fumbled for words, trembling.

"I know it is hard. But it is your only hope. I have helped others this way before -- including members of Eva's family. So, sit down, and let me explain what I can do for you..."

It was late afternoon, and the last rays of sunlight piercing the small rose window high above the altar were beginning to fade. Alison and Claire had gone home, and Father Ambrose had returned to his study. Eva and Chad sat a few feet apart from each other on a front pew in the chapel.

"Eva, I don't deserve your kindness."

"I know. But that's okay. That's one thing I learnt here, Chad -- but have too often forgotten: we don't get what we deserve. We get what we are granted. And the one thing you and I have in common is that we are damaged goods -- no, hear me out, Chad -- we are both full of shit, and anger, and hatred, and lust for vengeance: me as much as you, otherwise I'd never have become your slut, never played all your cruel games, never hurt so many people like I have. But here I learnt that sometimes we receive mercy. We receive Love. That is something we can never earn."

"Love?" replied Chad, incredulously. "Is there such a thing? I've never met it. All my life it's just been pleasure, pleasure, Pleasure. And as soon as the pleasure stops, then comes the pain. As long as I can remember, life has been about avoiding the pain at all costs."

"I am the same, Chad. And look where it has got us. Now we are both alone, abandoned, wounded." Eva paused, looking up at the light dying through the rosette window. "Maybe we can help each other, hey?" She slid carefully along the pew towards Chad, put one hand on his shoulder, and smiled.

"Eva, I don't know what to say. Everything I say is wrong, is cruel."

"Then say nothing." Eva put her arms gently around Chad and held him, long and tight. And Chad wept, loud hard sobs which echoed around the chapel as if he was howling out all the pain and humiliation he had ever felt in his life -- as if all the cruelty he had ever perpetrated was piercing his very soul. And Eva wept too, knowing that their sins, for worse or for better, were shared.

The sun had set, and Father Ambrose heard a knock at his office door. "Father Ambrose! Father Ambrose!" A dark-skinned nun poked her head around the door.

"What is it, Sister Rina?" said the priest.

The nun's dark bewimpled face crumpled in confusion. "I don't know what to say, Father. Those two young people you left in the chapel -- they're, they're... Oh, Lord have mercy, Father, I hardly know what to say! They're... 'fucking'!"

Father Ambrose raised his eyebrows, and smiled. He thought for a while, before saying, "Good."

"Good?! But Father, surely -- surely that's sinful, isn't it? And in a chapel too, before the tabernacle -- surely that's sacrilege!"

Father Ambrose thought. "Yes, Sister. It is sinful. And sacrilegious."

"But what are you going to do?!"

"Nothing, Sister. No, no, let me explain. Those two young people are damaged and confused. They have never known, but are just beginning to realise, what freedom there is in the One who is Love Himself."

"Yes, but Father, surely -- this cannot be allowed!"

"Allowed? No... But tolerated? Perhaps yes... Come, let us have a little look together, Sister..."

Father Ambrose and Sister Rina tiptoed down the corridor to the door of the chapel and peeked inside. It was now almost completely dark. The candlestands and altar cloth had been removed from the altar and placed neatly on the retable. The only light came from the flickering red tabernacle lamp, which was just enough to softly illuminate two lithe young bodies quietly making love on the altar. Chad was lying on his back, his huge cock erect, as Eva squatted over him, slowly sliding her pussy up and down his shaft, her large breasts dangling and swinging in his face, her piercings glinting red with reflected light. They were gazing into each other's faces with tearful delight.