Bless Me, Father

The Mother Superior grit her teeth and stood for a moment, but the intensity of the Father's eyes told her not to challenge him. She turned and strode from the cell and locked herself in her office. He would take care of her later.

For now there was one of God's children, barely breathing, barely conscious, frozen, and bleeding in his arms, and never had he been called upon during his vocation to such a serious situation as this. He held her tightly to his chest as tears rolled down his cheeks and into her hair.

"Oh, dear God," he prayed, "Guide my poor misguided child to your truth and benevolence. She has suffered enough."

Eulalia had come to, just enough to hear his prayer for his 'poor misguided child.' If he only knew, she thought to herself, the truth of those words. But it didn't matter. He was holding that child so close to his heart, she could hear it beating through his cassock. Bernice came in with some extra blankets and she began to feel the warmth returning to her body. She faded back into a tentative sleep in her father's arms, knowing he would protect her from herself, the cold, and even the devil himself, if it ever came to that. While he sat on the edge of the bed, rocking her gently back and forth, little Sister Bernice bathed her ankles and wrists with warm water.

After an hour of rocking he laid her down upon the bed, lifted the cross upon his shoulder, and strode purposefully from the room. He threw it upon the ground of the courtyard, and with an axe, hewed it to splinters in a matter of minutes. His anger was unquenchable as he took out all his frustrations upon the wood. Pouring kerosene upon the splintered mass, he ignited the offering, hoping that with the black smoke that rose to the heavens, ignorance and folly would go with it.

Within days, the Mother Superior was dismissed and sent packing to a convent across the country, relieving her of any 'superior' duties for the future. Father Lars checked in on Sister Eulalia periodically, keeping an eye on her recovery. A doctor was called upon to treat the lacerations on her wrists and ankles, which were wrapped in bandages for the next month. Eulalia, under medication, slept a dreamless sleep for the first time in years, and woke every morning in her bed, warm and rested.

But as soon as she was pronounced well and the medications wore off, the dreams returned.

It was a warm night, even in Eulalia's stone cell. Sister Bernice had come to visit, and was fussing over the scars on her wrists, making sure that they were healing well. While she was ministering the salve that the doctor insisted continue for another month, Father Lars entered the room. Looking over Bernice's shoulder, he cast a friendly smile which 'Eulie' had come to welcome and appreciate.

The closeness in the small cell was as warm as the atmosphere surrounding it. Bernice caressing her wrists, and Father close behind the novitiate, making contact with her, habit rustling against cassock. There arose an aroma pheromonal, like that of a musky rose. Bernice kissed Eulie's wrists and closed her eyes as the rustling behind her increased.

Slowly her habit was raised, revealing first her soft, white thighs, then her curls of auburn hair that covered her unmentionable solitudes, her stomach, soft and flat, then her breasts, round and perfect in proportion. From behind her, Father Lars cast his eyes down to her perfect tiny bottom, the curvature projecting out from the bunching fabric that would otherwise hide its beauty and sensuous attraction.

Soon the buttons on the holy Father's cassock were free of their constraining buttonholes and a magnificent scepter of flesh was holding forth, massive and pulsing. Against the tiny posterior of little Bernice, it seemed monstrous in proportion, but the sister's bottom sought its mass as the Father's member sought its delicious baptism in the moistened flesh of her vagina, glistening with the flow of lubricating ambrosia that trickled down the skin between her thighs.

Father Lars' tool touched against the soft flesh of her inviting entrance to paradise, when a soft whisper pierced the stillness of the night.

"No, Father," her tiny voice broke through the silence, "I am a virgin for Christ."

All was still for a moment as the pulsing meat at her entrance sought its sheath. The holy Father reached down with one hand and guided its head, glistening with anticipatory wetness, to the other entrance but an inch away. With his other hand, he sought a chrism of holy oil in the pocket of his cassock, pouring it onto the unforgiving flesh of manhood, slowly beginning its descent into the tight and equally unforgiving flesh of her young and untouched anus.

It was as though a miracle unfolded before their eyes, as the minute opening stretched to accept the massive implement being forced into it. He looked down to see her cheeks spread before its invasion within.

Eulie's and Bernice's eyes fastened upon each others as the miracle progressed. There was sweet and total surrender on their part to the fulfillment of the holy Father's desire. Eulie felt an intense pressure as Bernice squeezed her hand tightly, trying not to cry out against the fullness she felt. She burnt with a fire, the same fire that engulfed the biblical city of Sodom, and she invited it deeper and deeper as she pushed herself outward to increase its depth.

Finally there was no more flesh but that which was hidden within, the little sister engulfing it in its monstrous totality. In the total unbearable sweetness of this blessed sodomy, he spilt his seed in copious amounts. Bernice's eyes widened and dilated as she prayed to the Virgin Mother of God to accept the holy Father's gift of lust and fulfillment within her.

"Ah! The sweet salacious sin of sodomy!" Eulie whispered into the musky darkness of night, waiting her turn to be filled by her holy Father's seed. She decided then and there that she would turn from her vow of virginity before Christ, offering an unbroken maidenhead and an unchristened womb to her father.

Chapter Ten

She felt a hand upon her shoulder, gently shaking her awake on the hard stone floor.

"Sister Eulalia, wake up," whispered the little Sister Bernice, "morning prayers are but minutes away."

Bernice helped her from the cold floor and into her habit, and the two practically ran down the corridors to be on time. As they entered the chapel and knelt down, Father Lars entered the sanctuary from the sacristy.

He had not slept well lately, as was evident by the dark circles under his eyes. Like Jacob wrestling with the angel at the foot of heaven's ladder, nightly the good Father wrestled with the demon that had possessed his soul. Nightly he viewed the sacrifice of virgin flesh upon the altar of his computer screen. Young girls, budding like flowers from the manure of corruption, gave themselves to the endowed flesh of mankind, returning to the corruption from which they had sprung. This was the eternal cycle, the vast tapestry of life, and he was woven into it. He accepted and embraced his sinful nature... better before a computer screen than actual flesh, he thought.

The gospel reading was the account of Salomé, dancing before Herod, a sensuous and wicked terpsichorean display of suggestive and sexual movement. Herod had promised her anything in return, as he was consumed by his daughter's lithe and naked steps. Salomé turned her back to him, so close that he could savor the aroma of her private offering that she lowered, with the rhythm of the music, onto his waiting lap, his toga tenting to meet her, flesh upon flesh. The dance ended with Salomé's insemination upon his pole.

Eulalia couldn't help but smile to think that that may have possibly qualified in the records as the first 'pole' dance. She drove the smile from her face though, when she noticed Father's eyes upon her. His eyes were penetrating and made her tingle in her nether regions. She broke his eye contact by lowering her eyes and uttering a prayer to the Virgin Mother of God. He finished his sermon and announced that he would hear confession from any who were interested. She looked back up to see his eyes fastening upon her as he made the announcement, sending messages through the ether that it was 'she' he wanted to sit with in the confessional.

Bernice tugged on Eulie's sleeve. With an obvious growling stomach she was beckoning her to breakfast, but Eulalia told her to go on. She was fasting, and intended to stay for a while and pray. Bernice left her there, alone in the empty and echoing chapel, empty that is, except for the priest sitting in the confessional stall alone.

Sister Eulalia approached the stall with trepidation. She felt this may be the moment upon which both their worlds would turn. Moments of this kind were dangerous and unpredictable. She prayed that it would somehow be beneficial to both, for both would come to depend on each other in ways neither quite yet understood.

But one thing she was determined to avoid, and that was a screen between the two of them. This penitent was determined to face her confessor eye to eye. Instead of entering the next stall from his, she opened his door and knelt before him, folding her hands and placing her elbows upon his knees.

His expression was of a concentrated concern, both for her and himself. She began automatically to recite the ancient formulaic opening for the blessed sacrament of penance.

"Bless me, Father, for..."

"Shhhh!" he whispered, placing his finger upon her lips. Their eyes met, she struggling not to drown in her father's deep cerulean caverns, he wishing to peer into the soul of the angel before him.

"It is I who should be begging your forgiveness, child," he softly implored her. "Bless me, daughter, for I have..."

"No, Father," she pleaded, "I am not worthy to hear your confession."

They both found themselves at an impasse, neither feeling they had the right to judge or forgive the other. The world, the universe, was vast beyond either's ken. Who were they to prop themselves up against the standards of infinite grace, infinite wisdom, infinite folly, and the boundless lust each held within their hearts.

"Father?" she spoke, interrupting the silence between them.

"Yes, child?"

"Are not all God's children born of men and women? Are we not born in his image? Yet we condemn and curse the act of conception as though it were a sin unforgivable."

"This is true," he answered, "but the sexual act is reserved only for those who are wedded to each other."

"And those who are not wed? Where then is the sin?"

Father Lars thought long upon this question, for therein lay his guilt. He knew the church's answer, but it was not his. This child he affectionately called Eulie was plumbing the depths of his soul, bringing out the struggle that he wrestled with almost every night. Some inner voice was goading him on. Trust her, it called out to him.

"Eulie, I..."

"Shhhh!" she now placed a finger upon his lips. "I know your struggles, Father, I see them in my dreams. Young girls, innocent and beautiful, brought before your judgment, your desires, your holy yearnings. You want them, fledgling flesh upon the rod of Aaron, screaming for redemption..."

"Stop!" he whimpered. "I cannot face your judgment."

"...your flesh hardens at their sight, struggling free from the cassock that confines it. Like a demon it possesses your mind, and your heart cries out to be fulfilled through its rigidity."

"I am discovered, and I am ashamed," he surrendered.

"You are a man, Father, and you feel as all men feel. It is God's intention that you do. Would he have created us as we are, and not wish us to be what he intended? It is said that sin is not being what God created us to be. I burn inside with an all-consuming fire. You yearn for flesh upon the flesh with which you were endowed. I feel your eyes upon me in the dead of the night. I have seen your innermost thoughts as they follow Bernice down the corridor, desiring her corridor for your rising and rigid urgings. We are young, we are virgin, and we are yours if you but give us your blessings."

Eulalia was daring him to contradict her, to say even one word to deny her assumptions. As their eyes were entwined in the confessional embrace, she slowly unbuttoned several buttons at the bottom of his cassock. She lifted the hem to reveal his flesh before her, hard and exposed to her gaze. With one graceful motion, she pulled her habit over her head and threw it into the corner of the confessional. Their eyes met in one final moment of indecision, he recognizing the fire that burned within her, she recognizing the continual yearnings to which he was prey.

Chapter Eleven

Bernice ate her breakfast half-heartedly as she thought of Eulie, her closest friend and confidant, fasting in prayer upon her knees. She rose from her table and made her way back to the chapel, intending to join her in prayer. It was the least she could do in return for a friendship that had grown very close between them. Indeed, they were like real flesh and blood sisters, as well as spiritual.

Arriving at the chapel, she was puzzled not to find her there. It was not like Eulie to abandon her prayers once she had committed to them. She began to exit from the chapel when she heard a rustling sound emitting from the confessional. The Father's stall was closed, but the penitent's stall was open and empty. Curious, she quietly made her way to the empty stall and sat within.

Through the semi-opaque screen she could see Father Lars' profile. She could hear his breathing, which was rasping and heavy. She had once spied her real father in the act of self stimulation and understood immediately the significance of what she was observing, but when the holy Father raised both hands into the air behind his head, she realized that what she was watching was not Onanistic, but administered by another.

Her eyes grew wide as saucers when she gazed downward to see Eulie, naked and kneeling before him, in the act of manually pleasing the good Father, and his member was massive, long, and thick; so thick that Eulie's hand could not totally encompass its girth. The rustling of Father's cassock masked the rustling of Bernice's habit as she raised it to her waist and began fingering herself. Soft whisperings were heard from the other side of the screen, as Eulalia goaded him on.

"I know you want me, Father," she desperately whispered. "I can see it in your eyes. I have seen those eyes before: at my First Holy Communion they stripped me naked, at my crucifixion they offered me absolution and eternity, through time unfathomable Adam has sought the comforts of Eve, but he has been unable to fulfill himself. Since their expulsion from Paradise they have been unable to absolve themselves of their original sin. But that sin we bless and so bring ourselves to fulfillment in God's very house, not hiding from Him in our knowledge of good and evil, but naked and unashamed before Him."

Her stroking increased as he began to buck against the confining walls of the hardwood stall, while unbeknownst to them, Bernice was in the next stall, fingering herself, her vaginal fluids running down her inner thighs. She spiraled into a novena of orgasms, _ora pro nobis_... pray for us, sacrificing body and soul to the fire that engulfed her, until she was spent and quietly gasping for air.

Then she heard through the screen, Eulalia's confession, accompanied by a now frantic stroking with both hands.

"Bless me, Father, for my sin is legion. From the creator comes the created, flesh of flesh, true blood of true blood. I am your daughter, born of an insemination that occurred twenty-one years ago. Thou art my father, and from your seed I was conceived in the original sin that brings us here together, naked and bold in the eyes of God."

Fathers Lars was near the point of release as the words echoed ethereally off the walls of their confinement, trying desperately to escape into the chapel, but prevented from doing so by the secrecy of the confessional. He could not withdraw at this point from his throes of orgasm, as immense ropes of semen baptized Eulie's chest.

Bernice, realizing what was just confessed, ran from the confessional and out into the corridor, not wanting to accept the incestuous overtones overturning in her brain. She went to Eulalia's room, there to await her return.

Eulalia squeezed the last remaining beads of orgasm from his penis, dripping and clinging to her nipples like so many rosary beads, upon which her final prayers were uttered.

Father Lars, once he had overcome his ejaculative epiphany, began to take stock of Eulalia's confession. He gazed down at his naked daughter, not only his daughter in Christ, but his own flesh and blood. The enormity of his sin began to weigh heavily on his shoulders, but he didn't take his eyes from her. She was beautiful in every way, in every breath, in every sigh. Indeed, he could not avert his perusal to contemplate the crushing weight of sin the two of them had taken upon themselves. No cross could be heavier, but it is said that God will not give one more than he can bear.

The two of them leaned forward and touched their lips in a tender and loving kiss, and they both knew, at that moment, what their future held for them.

After imparting a few instructions to his daughter, Father Lars hurried to his room and began to make preparations for what was to come.

Chapter Eleven

Eulie walked to her room through the deserted halls, her naked body covered with Father Lars' sperm. It was good that there were no others in the corridors through which she tread, her eyes in a faraway place of dreams and wonder. She opened the door of her room and walked in. By this time, aided by the warmth of her body heat, the ejaculate had run down in rivulets to her pubic mound, and some to her thighs.

"Is it true?"

Eulie jumped, startled by the voice of Bernice. She gave her a puzzled look, not understanding how she possibly could know what had passed between herself and her father. Of course it was obvious on the outside, as his sperm covered the entire front of her torso. She weighed the burden that she should impart to her friend, especially as Father Lars had instructed her to tell no one.

"What exactly are you asking?" she countered.

"Is he really your father?" Bernice insisted.

The silence was deafening. The two stood a foot apart, the odor of semen filling their nostrils. Eulie closed her eyes and bowed her head, uttering in a barely audible whisper, as though a normal volume would be heard by the whole convent.

"Yes..."

Bernie pulled her habit over her head, tossing it onto the bed, and sank softly to her knees, slowly licking the creamy trickle from Eulie's knees and thighs. Eulie threw her head back and savored the tongue of her sister in Christ, tasting of the forbidden fruit, her knowledge of Eulie and Father Lars amounting to the knowledge of good and evil. Except she couldn't accept or comprehend that any evil could be reckoned into the sins of this night.

From her thighs, she licked clean the pubic mound of her virgin sister, lapping greedily at the creamy ejaculate. Eulie's virgin clitoris quivered every time Bernice's tongue neared its vicinity. The tremors travelled down her legs, until she thought she would crumple to the ground, unable to stand. Bernice lapped ever upwards, licking the beads from her nipples and chest, until the last ounces of carnal leavings were greedily consumed. Then she rose and gave Eulie a long passionate kiss, exchanging the sweet and salty taste of her father with his daughter, pressing her now cleansed, soft naked form, against her own.

Not a word was spoken. Bernice redressed herself and left Eulie standing alone in her cell. Outside, a soft rain turned to snow, lilting gently down to earth, covering the landscape with a cloak of white purity.