And That’s How I Met …

"Strip you little bitch," she demanded again and when I didn't move a muscle, she grabbed the collar of my dress and pulled. The dozen or so buttons on the front of my dress flew off in every direction. And as I wasn't allowed to wear underwear, I was instantly fully exposed.

She pulled my arms from the sleeves and pushed the dress to the floor. Then with me now hobbled by the dress around my ankles, she pushed me forward and bent me over the priest's desk. I could feel Father James' lustful eyes scrutinize every inch of my backside -- then suddenly I felt a stinging slap first to one butt cheek, then a harder one to the opposite cheek. After a short pause, there was an even harder slap to the first cheek again.

"Well, it looks like we've gotten a response here," he said with a chuckle referring I'm sure to my rapidly reddening skin. He then reached between my legs and running a finger along my vagina, said, "Dry -- very-very dry. If you don't start getting wet fast, this is going to hurt you a lot more than it hurts me."

I realized at that moment he was going to rape me, and Mother Superior was going to assist. She stepped behind the massive desk and grabbing both of my arms pulled me forward across the desk until my toes were just barely touching the floor on the other side.

I could hear Father James unbuckling his belt and lowering his zipper. He wet his fingers at his mouth and again ran them through my private lips. With my feet still partially bound by my dress, he kicked them as far apart as he could get them and brought his hips up to mine.

Mother Superior pulled me tightly down on to the desk and as Father James entered me from behind, I heard him say, "What a filthy cunt -- what a filthy Czech cunt."

I wanted to cry, not because of what he was doing to me -- but because of what my own father had done to me. In his religious fanaticism and utter ignorance of reality, he threw away the precious gift of my love and respect for him.

Luckily Father James reached climax quickly and as he withdrew from me, he said, "Well, not that bad for a whore -- not bad."

Mother Superior let go of my hands and in righteous defiance I slowly stood with my feet together. I was determined not to give them the satisfaction of a single comment or tear. And resumed staring at the crucifix. I wondered if this was how Jesus felt when he was betrayed by his own people.

"Mother," Father James said. "Why don't you come over here and let's show Marika how it's supposed to be done."

She walked from behind the desk to where I was standing and pushed me out of the way. She unbuckled her belt and let it fall to the floor. She then unbuttoned her habit the rest of the way and stepping out of it, kicked it to the side. She was now standing beside me with nothing on but her filthy white bra, her black shoes, black hose and to my total shock, a garter belt supporting her hose, but no panties -- no underpants at all.

She sat on the edge of the desk where I had just been bent over and then laying back, spread her legs for all to see. It was utterly disgusting and if I had not just been raped, I'm sure I would have retched. Father James wasn't really looking at the mess between her legs. He was looking down at his penis and pointing to it said, "Mother, do you think I should have the little whore clean this mess off of me?" It was clear that he was suggesting that I suck his cock.

She lowered her legs slightly and looking me up and down as I stood there naked, said, "No, I wouldn't trust her. We already know she bites."

Father James turned to me and with glaring eyes said, "You wouldn't dare bite me you little bitch -- I'd snap that pretty little neck of yours like a twig."

And with that he stroked himself several times, moved up to the edge of the desk and proceeded to fuck Mother Superior right in front of me. He lasted much longer this time; in fact, it probably took more than ten minutes for him to reach his second orgasm of the afternoon. Mother Superior on the other hand reached orgasm three or four times and it was now apparent that I was just the warm-up act for their main event.

When they were finally through, Father James pulled back and dried himself on a neckerchief he pulled from his pocket. Mother Superior waddled into his private bathroom, and I could hear running water as she presumably cleaned herself before coming back into the office and calmly dressed.

When they were both fully dressed and as if nothing had ever happened, Father James turned to me and said, "You can get dressed too, but remember -- and remember it well. If you ever tell anyone of this -- and I do mean anyone -- it will be your word against ours -- and who do you think they will believe."

He then grabbed my arm and squeezing it as hard as he could, he added, "And then I'll fuck your ass hole so hard you'll shit blood for a week. Do you hear me?"

I tried so hard not to dignify his threat with any response at all, but he was squeezing my arm so tightly, I finally had to nod yes just to get him to stop. He then added, "Then I'll find your sisters and I'll fuck them all in the ass too."

As soon as he released my arm, I quickly pulled up my dress and holding it closed against my chest as it no longer had any buttons, I turned and walked calmly toward the office door. Mother Superior unlocked the door, and I then ran from the church office as fast as I could. I didn't go back to the laundry; I ran straight to the dorm, threw my dress in the trash and stood naked in the cold shower for fifteen or twenty-minutes crying.

I didn't go to dinner that night or evening prayers, I just laid in my bed and cried.

None of the other girls asked me about what happened. Since I'm sure they all knew about me biting Sister Josephine, though some of them may not have known the circumstances, they rightfully assumed that I had been punished and I guess they were just too scared to ask me about it. Or they assumed that if I wanted them to know, I'd tell them.

I never did tell anyone, not out of fear for myself, but fear of what Father James might do to my sisters. Besides, it was so unbelievable, no one would have believed me anyway.

The evening of the Forth Sunday of Advent, two days before Christmas, we were all allowed an hour or so out in the garden before evening prayers. The sun had already set, but the moon was up, and the garden pathways were still clearly visible in the dusky light. As I normally did, I walked as far away from the convent building as I could, knowing that the gates were all locked and there was no way to get over the garden walls.

As I turned the last corner of the garden path, before starting to head back to the Chapel, I heard a voice, "Marika -- Marika," it whispered. I turned but couldn't see anything. I turned back and there out of nowhere was a tall dark figure of a man standing in front of me.

"Marika, it's me. It's Wade," the figure said.

I leaped into his arms and burst into tears. "Wade," I said. "Wade it really is you. Where did you come from?"

"I've come to get you Marika, I've come to get you out of here," he said still whispering. "I have a way out of here -- let's go quick"

He had placed an old trellis against the corner of the back wall and helped me climb to the top. His car was parked against the wall on the other side, and we slid down on to its roof and then down to the ground. Once in the car we quietly drove out of town, but once out on the open road, Wade floored it.

"How did you know where I was?" I asked.

"Pavla told me," he said. "I saw her in town several weeks ago and she told me. I've been plotting your rescue ever since."

I started to cry -- only this time it was tears of joy. "Are you hurt?" Wade asked as we sped through the darkness.

"Not now," I said wiping tears from my face.

He paused, "Did they hurt you?"

"Yes," I said. And trying to clear the lump from my throat I managed to say, "I can't talk about it now. I'll have to tell you later."

"Don't worry Marika, you are safe now and I will never let anyone ever hurt you again -- I swear," he said as he slowed to make a hard-left turn onto a county road.

"Where are we going?" I finally asked.

"We're going to Fort Worth. I have cousins there that will take us in until we get on our feet. And I'm just taking a few back roads to keep us off the main highway in case they start looking for us."

"Until we get on our feet?" I asked.

"Yes, until we get on our feet Marika, I'm marrying you and I'll never let anyone ever hurt you again," he said, and then added all most as an afterthought, "Marika, will you marry me?"

"Yes Wade, yes -- yes -- yes," I exclaimed as I tried to hug his neck without causing him to wreck the car.

We safely made it to Fort Worth about twelve hours later. We were married the Friday after Christmas by a Tarrant County Justice of the Peace and continued to live with Wade's cousins for another three months until we had saved up enough to move into a small rent house in the Mistletoe Heights neighborhood just south of downtown.

I never told Wade about the rape, as I was afraid he would kill Father James and then spend the rest of his life in jail. I just simply put it out of my mind. My life lay ahead of me, not behind me and I was just sorry for the girls that Wade and I left behind.

We stayed in touch with Pavla through letters. My oldest brother Peter married the next summer and took over the farm. Mamma and Papa still lived there, but Papa took a job in town as farm work just got too hard for him. All of my other brothers and sisters eventually married and most moved away to either San Antonio or Houston in search of work and a better life.

Papa died in 1965, twenty years after dropping me off at St. Louis. In those twenty years, we remained estranged and never spoke or communicated, but I'm sure Pavla kept the family up-to-date on Wade and I and our four children. All six of us went back to Flatonia for the funeral. It was open casket, so I actually did get to see Papa one more time -- but it was a bittersweet moment. The only thing joyful was seeing Mamma and all my brothers and sisters again and meeting all of their families and proudly introducing them to mine.

I'm sorry, forgive me -- I need a Kleenex.

So, Sweetie -- that is how I met your Grandfather, the most wonderful and caring man on earth.