Redemption of the Demoniac Ass

When he returned, her bell was silent. Perhaps she had finally developed some self-control. He turned on his mic and her sound, listening to her breathing on the speakers.

"Grace?"

"Grace?"

He lightly stroked her swollen lips.

"There you are. I hope you enjoyed your break."

"Now, Would flogging help? Yes, no, or harder?"

There was a long pause, followed by a deep breath. And the bell rang once. She breathed out.

"So flogging would help?"

It rang again, then he heard a grunt and two more rings, which turned into a pleading whimper. She rang it twice again, paused, and then repeated the message. He patted her butt reassuringly as he counted the chimes.

"Flogging then. Good. How about caning?"

This time, she squeezed just twice, distinctly. She was shaking is if something had her rattled, so he decided to offer some light encouragement.

"Don't worry," he said, patting her butt affectionately, "some ask for much, much more."

Father August was unsure at first if this had a salutary affect, since the shaking seemed to initially get worse. It was a relief to the kind clergyman when she got back in the spirit of things and asked for more.

* * *

Fortunately for Grace, Father August had been confusing ancient and modern practices and, being a good, diligent priest, made sure to check before the corporal punishment phase. Nonetheless, by halfway through the spanking, she was visibly shaking, and the priest momentarily wondered if she had asked for more than she really needed.

He compromised, taking the paddling and flogging phases slower than he usually would, and providing plenty of encouragement to help her relax between blows, and even another break of the type she'd enjoyed so much earlier.

Being merciful, the good priest decided to give her the option of discontinuing the caning phase instead of proceeding through all forty strikes as was traditional. He administered the first set of five before asking casually if she needed him to fuck her ass when he was done (providing light encouragement while the sobbing died down and repeating the question to make sure he understood her answer, naturally.)

He only had to administer five more before Grace agreed she'd had enough corporal punishment. She gave him what he took for a most sincere show of gratitude when the Father agreed to provide her this final service of the evening.

He called in several assistants to reposition her at the perfect angle. Gaining entrance still ended up being a chore, but the priest felt that this was a lingering effect of the demoniac's sensitivity, rather than any true resistance to her just correction. But the satisfaction of connecting with her in such an intimate, spiritual way more than offset the fatigue and inconvenience.

Seated deep inside her, Father August reassured her gently that she would be a true, obedient servant of the church when this was done, while giving her time to adjust. The way she responded to him made him reflect piously of the wisdom of the church fathers, for surely this was the best and most practical way to communicate with a woman in spiritual crisis.

Before he even started moving, she could tell him which wheals and welts hurt the most, which back muscles felt good to rub, and how much she appreciated the gentle and more forceful encouragements of his attendants.

By the time he started moving, he could tell Grace would be cured. While her apparent enthusiasm would have seemed indecent to outside observers, Father August saw it as the sign of sincere spiritual growth it was. As he emptied himself inside the penitent, the priest offered his encouraging parting words, praising how far she'd come. One or two more nights of this, and she'd almost certainly be cured.

"You did very well tonight, Grace. We'll meet again tomorrow evening. Brother Michael will take care of everything and finish up here."

Brother Michael chuckled at her sigh of relief, then his face took on a concerned look.

"Oh, she thinks that-" He put his hand over his mouth, while Father August hastily turned off the microphone.

"I was saying, she thinks that the, umm, final phase is done."

"It's called The Chastening," August said a little peevishly. "Exorcism is important work. please learn your terminology."

"Of course, my apologies" Brother Michael said, embarrassed. "I was saying, she thinks The Chastening is over for the night."

"Oh, right." August said, thinking for a moment as Brother Michael rubbed Gloria's posterior reassuringly with one hand, fingers brushing against her holes briefly to gauge her readiness. "She'll be okay. Keep her encouraged, just not too encouraged or you'll be here all night. And have some initiates wipe the floor."

"Yes Father,"

"And relax, Brother. First day is always a little wild, but she's hardly a stranger. You know her father, don't you?" The priest asked, handing him the mic.

"Actually, I know her too. I used to babysit when-"

Father August put up a hand.

"Right," Brother Michael said, gesturing to the group of men behind him. "I'll oversee everything."

He settled the mic in place, clicked it on, and quickly lubed up.

"Uh, hi Grace," he said, pushing past her sphincter a little too quickly. "A little lighter please. I wish we were catching up under better circumstances." He lightly stroked her clit, his brow clenching in confusion as a series of grunts worked their way out of the device. A moment later, his eyes widened, and a beatific smile blossomed on his face.

"Good girl," he said, petting her rump like a trusted pet.

Father August let the door close behind him when he stopped, suddenly registering a crucial detail his underling had forgotten. He badly wanted to go to bed, but his duty to the girl took precedence. He rubbed his temples for a moment, then walked back in quietly, stepping up behind the novitiate.

"...usually no more than ten men, but-"

"Brother Michael?" Father August asked, tapping him on the shoulder.

"Yes, Father?"

"It's alright this time, but next time, please clean her out between participants. You're a role model now. The last thing a girl like this needs is to learn new filthy habits from her masters."

"Oh, right. Sounds like you're going to be a very clean girl by the time we're all done with you, Grace, inside and out!"

The last thing Father August heard as the door close behind him was Brother Michael frantically asking a more senior clergy member what to do about the girl peeing on him. Never mind. Brother Michael was green, but he had faith and persistence, which was what really counted.

* * * * *

Epilogue

The next day didn't go nearly as smoothly for Father August, and seemed to stress the demoniac girl as well. By that evening, he had a Revelation that the girl would need an extended course in the Harlot's Shepherd, and had her body hair permanently depilitated as was customary, although he used his discretion to postpone the permanent treatment of her eyebrows and shaved head out of respect for her pious mother.

But on the third day, the treatment took, just as the father had initially predicted it would. She even spontaneously prostrated herself before her deliverers, giving heartfelt thanksgiving using the penitent skills she'd had so much opportunity to practice over the preceding days, albeit leaving her somewhat overtaxed ass out of the devotion.

It was one of the most successful exorcisms in the modern era, if not in all of church history. But like all redemptions, the changes it brought about required some special accommodation. Grace -- or Jingles the Anchoress, as future generations would know her -- found herself not cut out for secular life after the experience, and had difficulty communicating verbally. She proved capable of stringing phrases together more or less coherently, but preferred to spend her days in wordless contemplation of the mysteries the father had introduced her to.

Fortunately, after hearing testimony of the miraculous deliverance of the now pious girl, the Bishop was happy to grant Father August supervisory powers to ensure Grace's welfare and daily communion with the church for as long as either of them wished for her to remain. She was even provided with a Harlot's Shepherd and other devices, so she could commune with the father and his trusted associates, and receive correction as required.

While some in the church questioned her mental fitness after the procedure, Father August found her to be a far better conversationalist than before, and would spend many evenings delving into the divine mysteries with his charge.

Soon, rumors of her remarkable gifts began to spread within the inner church, and she began receiving visits from other diocese, and even administered ecumenical services for religious leaders who wished to "soak in her healing waters," as they described it. As far as anyone could tell, Grace lived a full and fulfilling life.

Of course, there were zealous skeptics as there always are, particularly among the secular community. Some of Grace's own friends and family were initially quite critical of her transformation, and demanded to know the sacred rituals used to cure her. The most zealous proved to be demoniacs themselves, and Father August treated them with the same diligence that had delivered Grace. The rest were mostly ignored.

Grace's gifts were most in evidence when serving those closest to her. Her first confirmed miracle was aiding in the exorcism of some loud woman who identified herself as Grace's girlfriend, although Father August had his doubts. At any rate, as soon as Grace was brought into the room and demonstrated her daily adorations on the assembled clergy, the friend ceased to resist the church's ministrations, and soon repented herself, becoming Grace's first disciple, under Father August's guidance.