Confession, the Third - Intermezzo

Copyright 2021. All characters and religious institutions are fictional. All characters are over 18. Any resemblance to persons living or dead are coincidental. Do not use this as a guide to Providence Rhode Island; I have taken liberties with the geography for the sake of the story. This is a sequel, and while I tried to make it stand on its own as much as possible, it really needs to be read after "Confession, the First" and "Confessional, the Second".

Eugenie was still euphoric from her evening in Father Al's capable, talented hands, and on his altar at the Church of the Morning Star, and tied up under him, but she had school work to do for her courses at the Design Institute and she wanted to explore Providence, Rhode Island more.

As the evening approached, she finished her homework assignments and summarized her lecture notes. She went for a walk along the banks of the Providence River, towards a bunch of little restaurants she hadn't tried yet, and some streets mentioned in H.P Lovecraft's stories. When she got to Wickenden Street, she turned east. Passing some tattoo shops, she thought about getting some piercings that she just couldn't get back home in Ohio. That is to say, she could, but everyone gossiped so much that she would have ruined her "good, church-going girl" reputation, and unlike her gift for giving fellatio, she couldn't intimidate anyone into keeping it to themselves. Here though, no one really cared and it wasn't worth talking about.

Eventually, she found a sandwich place that looked interesting, and ate a bit. While she was eating, a few of her classmates sat with her and they gossiped a bit about other students and faculty at the Design Institute. Eugenie got that fluttery feeling deep between her labia spreading up through her core, knowing that she had done things the night before that they wouldn't believe.

As they ate and talked, an older man came in. Tall, lean, wearing old fashioned clothes, but clean and well mended, with long-ish grey hair, and a full grey beard. Some of her classmates waved, and the old man nodded back. For just a moment, they locked eyes, and she felt herself melt between her thighs.

"Who's that?" Eugenie asked.

"He says to call him Tom, and he lives in sort of a run down place by the river, but he was a sailor and tells the coolest stories! He's got some awesome old stone figures in his yard too. And he's been to all these other countries and islands; Africa, South America, the Pacific Islands. He is a little strange though. Someone said he has all these little bottles with a weight or something on a string in them, and he talks to them."

Eugenie looked at Tom. It was hard to tell how old he was. His face was deeply lined, leathery, but he moved like an athlete, and his posture was impeccable. She found herself idly wondering what sex with him would be like. He had a calm and strong face. Despite his age, he moved like he could pick her up and manhandle her in the best possible way. She could definitely look up at that face when she was moaning and cumming. At the same time, she knew she couldn't say anything to her friends, they wouldn't get her thing for older, powerful men.

Glancing at a clock, Eugenie realized she needed to get home and call it a night. She made her excuses to the others, then she headed back to her apartment on Williams Street, about four blocks north, and a ways west. It was so cool that she lived on a street mentioned in Lovecraft's "Call of Cthulhu".

As she was walking, she got the feeling she was being watched or followed. She couldn't see anyone, but something was making the hair on the back of her neck go up. It was weird, because ever since she discovered the Church of the Morning Star, she had felt watched on and off, but that was always benign, like someone was watching her suck off Father Al out of curiosity or engaged in a bit of voyeurism while she was tied to his altar and he fucked her. This was more like someone was stalking her. She wrote it off to nerves, but couldn't shake the feeling that something wasn't right, and that someone was following her.

When Eugenie got home, it was after dark, but still early in the evening. All the walking and tasty dinner took their toll. She was caught up on her school work now, so she decided to call it an early night. She put on an oversized tee-shirt, and made herself comfortable under the covers. She opened one of her Lovecraft paperbacks, and started reading "The Strange High House in the Mists". Lovecraft's archaic prose helped her unwind, and her mind drifted to mental images of characters from the story touching her and unseen and unnameable things exploring her helpless body. As she read, the feelings between her thighs and her imagination became more interesting than the book.

She held the book with one hand, slipped her other hand under the covers, and began massaging her mound as she read. Her fingers pressed against her pearl through the thin fabric of her thong as she imagined nameless horrors touching her breasts and ass. Setting her book down for a moment she wiggled her underwear off, then found her place again. Her pussy began to warm up and she slid a finger tip down the split. Her hand came away wet, so she brought some of her honey up to her clit, and began to stroke her sensitive little bead.

Setting the book down, Eugenie turned off the light and started imaging fluttering noises and unseen hands touching her nipples. She flicked and teased her tits with one hand as her other hand got slick with her pussy juices. In her mind, tentacles wrapped themselves around her sensitive nipples, and forced their way into her ass as her hand moved faster. With a groan, she climaxed, and as she tried to catch her breath, she nodded off to sleep.

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It was dark with a little moonlight coming through the window when a damp, sweet smelling cloth was pressed against Eugenie's mouth and nose by a shadowy figure. She felt dizzy, then like she was floating as hands put something over her head, picked her up, and she slipped into unconsciousness again.

She came around in a space lit by flicking candles, surrounded by softly chanting hooded shapes. She was tied to something flat, with her hands over her head, and her legs spread. Her tee shirt was gone, and she felt a breath of cool air on her nipples and between her thighs. She tried to cry out, but was stifled by a gag. It was terrifying, and yet she felt detached, as if she was both watching and experiencing this at the same time. Struggling to look down, there was some sort of idol surrounded by candles just past an open space at her feet, and the robed figures made a horseshoe around her head. Above her, the stars twinkled in the night.

"This would be sort of romantic," she thought. Then it dawned on her that whatever they used to knock her out was still in her system, that she was still pretty stoned. "Knocked me out, so they can knock me up", she thought as she giggled against whatever was in her mouth. A shadow spiraled down from the stars with a fluttering sound, and she had a confused impression of something human, with leathery wings, but it was so dark that it was only an absence of form obscuring the stars and the candles.

A deep male voice said "Silence. The Messenger is here."

Eugenie was floating in a drug-induced euphoria, but something in the back of her mind was frozen in terror. For an instant, it crossed her mind that she wasn't getting out of this alive, then the thought was forgotten, as her attention wandered to how hard her nipples were in the cool air, and how good something felt on her thighs. Feather light touches were everywhere, on her tummy, her thighs, the exposed undersides of her arms, her breasts, and on her mons and vulva that were presented to the idol and whatever this "Messenger" was. She knew she was helpless and exposed, but all the random little caresses were getting her hot. Her body was responding despite the effects of whatever they had dosed her with, and the dire situation she was in. She was floating in a cool darkness, and her body was shivering in pleasure.

Eugenie could feel her pussy opening like a blossom, and leaking her honey as whoever was over her touched and teased her. With the tranquilizers or whatever in her system, she couldn't help but relax and enjoy it even though some part of her knew how crazy this was. Something soft and wet, a tongue or lips, brushed her labia. Smooth fingers slithered up her thighs and under her ass. Something was teasing her nipples and the flicking on the hard little nubs was making her tremble. Something was running along the crack of her ass, making her cunny ache for attention.

The ache was soon assuaged. A tongue tip gently nudged against her pussy's entrance, then penetrated her. Things were still foggy for Eugenie, but the tongue was deep in her, deeper than a tongue should be able to go. A slim finger was between her ass cheeks, her juices made it slick as it tickled her back entrance. As the small appendage gently probed her ass, she felt her nipples getting attention, and that unnaturally long tongue was exploring her pussy. It was all insanely intense. He licked her g-spot as another fingertip made circles on her clit, and something slender inched its way into her ass.

The rhythm was too slow to bring her to climax, but the feelings deep in her belly were building. Her clit was throbbing, and her pussy and nipples felt swollen and tingly. Having her ass penetrated was a new sensation for her, but she was loving how it made her feel. The combination of her pussy, clit, and ass was incredibly powerful for her, but just moving too slowly. She wanted to grind against someone, or anything for a release, but the restraints and whoever was toying with her wouldn't let her. She moaned against her gag.

Then whoever had been titillating and exploring her body withdrew. Her cunny, ass, and nipples were vibrating in anticipation and hunger for more stimulation. The shadowy, black form stood. Eugenie tried to get a look at him, but all she could see was a hazy, shifting dark shape and a clearly defined, huge hard on. He spoke in a deep, gravelly voice, but she didn't understand the language.

The deep male voice that spoke earlier said, "The Messenger is pleased with the vessel we provided him. He accepts her, and shall take her." The robed figures began chanting softly. She couldn't understand the words, but understood the meaning. They were urging him on, urging him to rape her. Some small piece of her was horrified, but she lacked the will power to care and her pussy was hungry for whatever this Messenger was.

The Messenger loomed over her, between her thighs. His shape was indistinct, except his erection. His cock was huge, uncircumcised, and he began rub it on her pussy in time to the chanting. The enormous head was getting slippery with her juices. It was hot against her, and she felt burning, slippery trails on her tummy where he started to leak his precum on her helpless body. The huge tip of his prick began to press against her entrance. As wet and ready as her core was, this was too big, and it began to hurt, bruising her labia as it tried to force its way into her.

The drugs must have been wearing off, because she gasped in pain.

There was a boom, and a flash, and the Messenger flew off Eugenie. There was a surreal shriek. Another flash and boom, and then a thump. A woman screamed. A man was cursing a blue streak, then was cut off in mid rant, and there was another heavy, dull thump. People were bumping into each other, swearing, stumbling.

Eugenie saw the Messenger blown off her, and then an inhuman scream and that fluttering sound as he, it rushed towards the stars. Then a madman came into view, a cutlass in one hand, and a huge double barreled pistol in the other. He raised the short sword over her, and brought it down with a crunch, and her hands were no longer tied to the top of whatever she was on, but were still cuffed. He turned, and with two more strokes released her legs from their bonds. He turned back and looked down at her. It was Tom. "Lass, we are in a rush. Just trust me. Father Al sent me."

Eugenie was still floppy, but she put herself in his hands. He jammed the pistol in his belt. "Sit up, darlin'." As she tried to bring herself up, he reached between her thighs.

Briefly, she thought, "This isn't the moment." Then he leaned forward and hoisted her over his shoulder, and knocked the wind out of her. He held her fast with his left hand, and he held his cutlass edge and guard angled outward, and the point about mid-chest level in front of him. Eugenie had a great view of his ass and the ground, but couldn't see much else. He was moving fast now. Not running, but taking long strides, then going down a flight of stairs. Then they were out in the open air for a second before he dumped her in the seat of a pickup truck.

"Okay love, I need you to wrap up in this blanket," as he shoved it into her hands. "Yer tits are lovely an' all, but I don't want to have to explain them to a cop." She spread it over herself. He reached over her to buckle her in before going around and getting behind the wheel and starting the engine. As they pulled out, he said "You've had a rough night. Catch yer breath, close your eyes, an' catch a few winks while I take ya home."

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The sun was coming through the open window over her fire escape. What dreams, Eugenie thought to herself. Her mouth was dry and tasted horrible. When she tried to get up, she immediately slumped back down again with a splitting headache. Knowing that she hadn't had any alcohol the night before, she figured it was a flu coming on or something.

Carefully, she struggled up to sit on the edge of her bed. She would have sworn she had gone to bed in a tee shirt and underwear, but she was naked. Her hair was damp, as if she had taken a shower. But that was all nothing compared to the horrible, vivid dreams she had last night.

Holding her head down so that it wouldn't explode, she shuffled to the bathroom with her eyes half closed. She filled a glass with water, sat to pee, and drank while she sat. The water helped with the foul taste in her mouth, and slowly the headache subsided. When she could open her eyes without fresh nails getting driven into her skull, she noticed a couple of wet towels on the floor, and the shower was still wet like it had been used recently.

Leaving the bathroom, she saw muddy tracks by the door. Bare footprints, her size, next to much larger boot prints. Her footprints went to the bathroom, and the large ones were near the chair by the door to the apartment. On the floor, just to the side of the bathroom door was a huge, ancient, double-barreled pistol. Carefully, she picked it up, and got a whiff of gunpowder, a warm, tangy smell. Both barrels had been fired recently. She stood, holding the old gun, staring at it in disbelief.