Kind of Unclear on the Concept

[This is another story in the ongoing Mrs. Tupa series that are chronologically in alphabetical order by title. You may get more out of this story if you read the stories preceding it. This story, like all of my stories, are NOT for everyone. They are intended for a very select readership of those who enjoy stories about bodily fluids and materials, strong smells, violations of taboos, scat, golden showers, body hair, and so on. You get the idea. Many of my stories start slowly, with much buildup, so if you are looking for a quick wank, these are not for you. If, despite these warnings, you read on and are disappointed, please find other stories on this site that may better suit you. Please do not down vote this story just because it does not fit your tastes. Thank you.]

Jack has an intense encounter in a Mortification Cell

It shouldn't be a surprise, I suppose, that the more I familiarized myself with the Bohemian Church that served the Czech immigrant community in the Rust Belt in northern Ohio in 1968, the more I became aware of its extreme penchant for secrecy and privacy.

Given its strong attachment to its traditions and "old ways" dating back many centuries in "the old country", and the ugly record of the Vatican's repeated attempts to eradicate Bohemia's proud sense of independence and drag it kicking and screaming back into the Holy Roman Empire, it was second nature for the Bohemian congregants and clergy to keep as low a profile as they could manage.

While the surviving Bohemian Church was nominally within the fold of the Roman Catholic Church -- at least for the purpose of filling its share of the Vatican's coffers -- it had received a Papal dispensation to continue its eccentric earthy rituals and customs, under a kind of "Don't ask, don't tell" policy.

The members of the Bohemian Church could continue their traditions -- as repulsive or depraved, as others might find them -- but only as long as they did not become public. If the cat was let out of the bag, no doubt leading to great public scandal, the Papal dispensation would be withdrawn and the Catholic Church would be forced to disavow the Bohemian congregation and expel them all as heretics or perverts.

* * *

In this context, it might be said that Mrs. Anna Tupa, the Czech widow who lived next door to my family, was taking a considerable risk in seducing me -- an eighteen year-old outsider -- and introducing me to such Bohemian rituals as sharing our pee and poop. This might be why Father Viktor, her parish priest, upon learning of Mrs. Tupa's security leak, felt it was urgent to draw me into the Bohemian community, both as a catechumen and a lay server in training.

The good Father might have saved himself undue anxiety if he had fully understood just how charmed and thrilled I had become with Bohemian customs and culture, even in the first few days as Mrs. Tupa enthusiastically introduced them to me.

I was soon living in the Rectory, in my own little garret, and diligently learning how to serve the "needs" of the elderly Czech widows who almost entirely made up our parish congregation. I found that I had a "thing" for elderly Bohemian ladies, who were typically short, broad in the bust and buttocks, and delightfully hairy. I also discovered that my duties also applied to the sisters who resided in the Nunnery, most of whom were just as "needy" as the parish widows.

As an aside in his gradual introduction of Bohemian secrets to me, Father Viktor had mentioned that there were two or three "Mortification Cells" in the maze-like church basement, which were often occupied by two sisters who seemed devoted, if not addicted, to the Mortification of their Flesh in their efforts to seek penance for their guilty cravings and grave sins.

I will admit that I had a morbid curiosity about what their mortifications consisted of, as the good Father had mentioned that he might call upon me to serve them in their penance if the need arose. As was typical in the parish, the need arose almost immediately, as a certain Sister Pavla had requested my assistance in her chastisement in her mortification cell. I somewhat reluctantly agreed to help her, once Father Viktor had assured me that there would be no blood or cruelty involved.

She was down there in Cell No.1, awaiting my visit, I was told. The good Father handed me a flashlight, a beeswax candle, and a book of matches, all of which he thought might come in handy. He also suggested that I might bring a pillow and a blanket or two with me, as the cells were not furnished with much besides a rubber pad covering the cement floor underneath.

* * *

As I made my way through the twists and turns of the dim corridors of the church basement, I tried to bring a mental image of Sister Pavla to mind. I seemed to draw a blank. And then it struck me. Was she that blind Sister who seemed to hold back and rarely pushed herself forward? Due to her self-effacing manner, she hadn't made much of an impression on me. Was she now asking for me to mortify her flesh? The idea was unnerving to me.

What I found so attractive about Bohemian traditions and the old ways was that they embraced the natural human body and strove to banish shame through rituals that emphasized the sharing of our open hearts and open bodies. The doctrine of Mortifying the Flesh seemed to run counter to the whole thrust of Bohemian philosophy, it seemed to me, but I was sure that Dame Taborova and the devotees of the Penance Chapel would disagree. They continued to find mortification a source of forgiveness and release. I would soon find out how Sister Pavla regarded it.

* * *

After a spell of wandering around in confusion, I found Cell No.1 and knocked on its door. A muffled voice from within asked, "Hello? Who's there?"

"It's Jack," I answered, turning the doorknob to see if it was locked.

"Brother Jack! Please come in. I've been hoping that you would respond to my request."

Sister Pavla's cell was totally dark, and as I flicked on the flashlight, I saw her blindfolded and sitting on the floor in a shapeless sackcloth habit. She looked so forlorn that she almost broke my heart. I kept the flashlight on, dropped the pillow and blankets on the pad, and lit my candle and jammed it into an empty candleholder near her body. I had no clue what was going on.

As I beamed the flashlight upon her, I was struck by how her pale face looked so innocent, and yet haunted. What exactly was I supposed to do? Mortify her Flesh? Spank her plump buns? Ask her what she needed? I was truly at a loss. And then, after a long silence, she offered directions.

"Please, Brother Jack, I need you to push me and pull me. Force your weight upon me, and make me struggle beneath you. Not only am I blind, but I feel somehow dead inside.

"The only way I can feel alive or receive any pleasure is to be roughly handled. Father Viktor and my dear Sisters have tried their best to meet my needs, but I fear I have burned them out. They seem squeamish and reluctant to give me what I need. I feel so alone.

"Brother Jack, both Sister Katka and Mother Superior have said you can work wonders and are a very loving soul. Can you take pity on me and help me feel alive again? Perhaps the Almighty has brought you into our fold to serve even the most pathetic among us."

Sister Pavla began to weep and I felt my heart go out to her. My angelic twin was stirred up to a degree I'd not previously sensed, wordlessly urging me to try my best to comfort and fulfill the poor Sister's needs. I reached down and grasped Sister Pavla's hands and pulled her to her feet. I was totally winging it, to a degree I never had before.

"Pavla, please! I'll do what I can. Let's get this sackcloth off of you. I'm sure it doesn't help." I then removed my own clothes, as seemed only appropriate.

It was only once the poor Sister was naked before me that I could discern in the candle light that she was relatively young -- just a few years older than me, I thought -- and breathtakingly beautiful. The thought of physically abusing her made me nauseous and I tried desperately to think of alternatives.

"Tell me, can you still taste and smell?"

"Yes, Brother Jack. They do bring me joy."

"That's good to hear. But for now, let's stop with the Brother Sister business, okay? Let's just be Jack and Pavla, like we are friends playing together.

"How about heat and cold? Can you feel warmth?"

"Yes! I can feel your body heat and smell your sweat."

"Great! Then let's try an Embrace of Eden together. Can you do that?"

"I can, Jack. Thank God my heart still works. Just hug me very tight."

I reached out and roughly drew Pavla to me, hugging her more tightly than I had ever hugged another soul. I tried with all my might to blast my heart open and bathe Pavla with the pure light of my love, merging with her lovely body, and surrounded by the wings of my angelic twin. Without speaking another word, we fell into eternity, tumbling forever into the depths of love.

As we came back to earth, still deep in the basement, I impulsively kissed Pavla, surprising both of us. She eagerly kissed back, rubbing her hairy twat against my engorged prick. It certainly seemed to me that we were making progress.

"I don't know, Pavla, but it seems like you can find pleasure in some things besides rough treatment."

"It's true, Jack. I do find some solace in our community's rituals. But they seem so fleeting. I feel connected while doing them, but when they are concluded, it's as if they never happened."

"So, are you telling me that after our Embrace and my kiss, you now feel like they never happened? That can't be right. I still feel a joyous glow and a link of love between us."

"I don't know what's wrong with me. I used to feel that way after a nice Embrace or a Kiss of Peace, but these days I feel like I'm carrying a weight around inside that drags me back down immediately."

"Pavla, I hope you don't mind my asking, but when was the last time you received a good fucking?"

"I never have. I'm still a virgin, both front and back."

I couldn't believe my ears. I helped her sit down and sat myself right beside her, with my arm around her waist.

"How in heaven's name can you still be a virgin at this late date, and in our parish of all places? Father Viktor is usually very diligent in seeing that our congregation and clergy have all their 'needs' attended to. How could he possibly skip you?"

"Well, he didn't skip me. When I first transferred here from the Dominican Order, I simply told him that I needed regular Mortification of my Flesh. That was what I had been taught at their Convent. That's all I knew."

"Holy shit! It's those damn Dominicans again. They have a lot to answer for. They really did a number on Sister Katka, at least until I got her tuned to the right frequency. No wonder, she and Mother Magdalene were urging you to see me.

"Alright, here's the deal, Pavla, we're not leaving this cell until we find a way to make you feel so good that the glow will linger for days. However, I'm not going to take your virginity today, through either orifice, as there's a very special ritual for that which Dame Taborova may wish to suggest. But I think that my tongue and I can make you feel happy to be alive, without resorting to mortification of the flesh! Okay?"

Sister Pavla had a big smile on her face and was nodding her head eagerly. "Alright, Jack, I'll happily surrender to your expertise, but I must confess that I do like a good mortification now and then."

"Well, that's fine. As you probably know, Dame Taborova is a big believer in the blessings that come from regular mortification, and so is the good Mother, for that matter. But it is all a matter of finding the right balance. You've been operating with a huge deficit in the bliss department, and we need to get that corrected. Let's see what we can manage with a Kiss of Peace." My angelic twin seemed ecstatic.

* * *

I spread a blanket on the padded floor and had Pavla lie face down on it, elevating her shapely arse before me. I then gave the pillow to her for support where she might need it most. She wasn't as petite as Sister Katka, but they were clearly both apples from the same genetic tree.

Exactly how Katka and Pavla, both Czech immigrant offspring, were shunted to a Dominican orphanage and convent respectively, remains a mystery, though I suspect that Vatican moles in our local parish apparatus had engineered what amounted to an abduction of Bohemian youths any time the Rectory let its guard down.

Somehow, they had both found their way back to our parish and had taken refuge within our church. And somehow, it had fallen to me to heal the damage done by our ancient enemies, the Dominicans. Both Katka and Pavla dearly needed love and I was honored to do my best to provide it to them. It was odd for me to think of myself as a healer, but it seemed to be part of my calling as a server.

Gazing upon Pavla's exquisite bum and running my hands all over it, I gave her cheeks a good squeeze and a slap. That got her attention. It had occurred to me that mixing a little mortification into our Kiss of Peace might help spice up what had seemingly become a jaded routine for her. There was nothing in Bohemian doctrine that forbade combining a good wrestle with the Kiss of Peace.

I wrapped my arms around her thighs and hugged them tightly, until she let out a gasp and pushed her buttocks back at me, seeking my tongue. I lathed her anal crack with it and started spearing it into her darkened sphincter, trying to loosen her up, the better to help her open her heart. I was trying to channel my own open heart into a beam of love emanating from the tip of my tongue deep into her bowels.

Pavla was responding more and more excitedly, begging me to grab her swinging titties and give them a good tug and a squeeze. I pinched her nipples and shook her boobies as if they were fleshy gourds. That brought a deep groan out of her, and a plea for more slaps to her buns. By now she was clearly in her happy place and riding a wave of endorphins that transformed my slaps into love spanks.

My angelic twin was doing her best to hug us both as she fluttered around invisibly, amplifying our passion. My original resolve to go easy on the mortification had mutated into a sweaty lovers' wrestling match, pitting our muscles against each other as we tried to gain a hold and take each other down.

If this was a rite of penance, it had to be the most mutually satisfying chastisement I had ever experienced. Somehow, in our loving struggle, the balance of power had shifted and Pavla was now eating my ass like a champ, slapping my buns and thighs, until my own endorphins kicked in. We just kept going at it, until we both needed a break to catch our breaths.

The cell stunk to high heaven, a heavy mix of sweat, pussy juice, butt relish, pheromones, and even a squirt or two of pee. We were sopping wet, as was the blanket that had become intertwined with our bodies. I tossed it away and grabbed the dry blanket and wrapped it around us. I clutched Pavla to me, basking in the glow of our love struggle. When done with sufficient passion, it didn't seem mortifying at all, but more like loving horseplay between two playmates rolling around in the basement. Maybe this was what Pavla had been aiming for, but never quite achieving. I sensed that she needed more, a powerful jolt of release that would reassure her that she was treasured and loved.

I threaded my fingers into her furry twat, tugging on her damp pubes, letting her know that we weren't finished. She gasped and bit my shoulder with a sharp little love bite. I was beginning to sense that beneath her withdrawn and forlorn manner, there was a pent-up spitfire just begging to be released. All the abuse that the Dominicans had heaped upon her had not broken her spirit, but oddly strengthened it, though trapping it deep inside, a treasure waiting to be found.

Because Bohemian traditions showed a distinct preference for the anus as the orifice of love, I would realize over time that this sometimes meant that a woman's vulva was underappreciated as an erogenous zone. I had a strong hunch that Pavla's pussy fell into this category. While under the Dominicans' merciless control, Sister Pavla had no doubt been forbidden to masturbate -- or engage in "self abuse" as they called it -- and I wasn't sure that things were much better for her now, even within the much more liberal confines of the Bohemian Church. I got the impression that Pavla was still consumed with self-denial, a withdrawn virgin whose only release came from being manhandled. Her vagina was, for all intents and purposes, "uptight and out of sight", as Stevie Wonder put it.

My angelic twin was doing her best to direct my awareness to Pavla's twat as desperately needing attention. I took the hint and decided to give Pavla's cunt a thorough attending to. This was hardly self-sacrifice on my part; I loved to lose myself in a woman's genitals, sucking and slurping away, supplementing my tongue with my fingers, and discovering how she likes to have her clitoris played with. If I thought that Pavla's beaver was damp and aromatic before I began nosing around, I was discovering just how wet she could get as I slobbered away. It was as if she had a very well-lubricated pheromone delivery system stationed between her legs, direct from her cunt to my nostrils. I wanted to fuck her so bad, it was almost painful, as my boner was lobbying very hard for me to let it deflower her then and there. But that was not part of my plan.

Like Katka had been when I took her to meet the good Dame, Pavla was a double virgin, which made her a perfect candidate for the Rite of the Immaculate Conception and the possibility of drawing down her own angelic twin to her. I got the feeling that my own guardian angel was giddy with the prospect of another angel to play with and have over for tea.

I summoned up my will, put my penis in park, and doubled down on getting Pavla off. She was whimpering and crying, with her fingers in my hair, fucking herself with my face. I didn't know if this was pure instinct on her part or not, but there was a lot I didn't know. Had she even had an orgasm before? Did she even know what one was? If she didn't know before, I was saying silent prayers to the Almighty that my ministrations might enlighten her in that matter. Pavla was giving every indication that a colossal climax was imminent, as she started a low groan that got progressively louder until I jammed my middle finger up her anus and gave her clit a delicate suck and a lick. That seemed to do the trick, as her groan turned into an ecstatic scream that echoed in the empty corridors of the church basement.

It took us a good while to catch our breaths, but when we finally did, Pavla was all over we, kissing my face, my hands, even my rigid prick, which was sticky with pre-cum.

"Oh My God, Jack, you beautiful man. I swear I've never felt so alive and full of love. You are an absolute wonder worker. How can I ever thank you? I feel like I've risen from the grave."

"Just doin' my job, Ma'am," I joked. "You can thank me by lighting a votive to the Infant of Prague for me, and by keeping that lovely smile on your face. We'll have to do this again, sometime," I said casually.

"Sometime soon, Jack. Very, very soon. And don't forget to check in with Dame Taborova about that virginity ritual you mentioned. You've got me very interested. It does seem like I have a lot of catching up to do. God have mercy."

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