Secret Sins Ch. 10

All hail the new Queen

Donna didn't come back to the Mission that Friday. After I finished the screwdriver she'd mixed for me, I checked both doors to make sure they were locked before going upstairs to mix another one for myself. Once I'd accomplished that, I began stripping out of my uniform for the second time that day. I left it on the living room floor where it fell, moving to the sectional, snuggling into the corner with my drink to look out the window as I often found myself doing.

I awoke there Saturday morning with a light hangover. Making my way to the kitchenette, I immediately mixed another drink and used it to down three Tylenol before taking what was left in the glass down the hall where I began putting myself together for the day.

By the time I was done, wearing a barely decent pair of denim shorts and a braless, pink T-shirt, I realized that I wasn't feeling horribly about anything that morning. I was feeling good. Not great, but good. Perhaps, once again, it was only the vodka but, if that were the case, it was reason for another screwdriver. Because good plus good equals gooder.

With this one, I sat back in the corner of my sectional again, feeling my tummy growl for food, remembering Donna's words about how I wasn't part of the Army, so much as it was a part of my life. She'd said that I had it in me to really help people, emphasizing her words in such a way as to suggest that something, most likely the Army itself, was presently holding me back from that. I hadn't been wearing the uniform for very long, but it had been a lifelong goal, my great achievement to date. I looked at it, untidily lining the floor where I'd carelessly left it between the kitchenette and sectional, her words making me wonder what my life might be without it.

Then I began to more seriously wonder about how things had gone with Donna's unscheduled meeting with the Major the day before. I had no doubt that she was able to get in to see him, regardless of his busy itinerary, and I considered calling her, but I wasn't sure if I should or not. Though I was feeling good about myself, I was still afraid when I remembered how my Donna had left the Mission the day before.

But, what exactly was I afraid of? I knew she'd never hurt me so, in that respect, I had no real reason to fear her, and it wasn't as if the Major held any special place in my heart at that point, so his personal wellbeing was of little or no concern to me. Was it just the fact that it was a situation in my life that I had no control over? One that involved me and my long sought after, now precarious career?

However, I had to believe that Donna wouldn't ruin my career. Though she had no respect for the uniform, or the organization it represented, I knew that she did love and respect me, even though she sometimes had a funny way of showing it. However, while I thought I could feel secure in her not sabotaging my career, I also somehow had the idea that this was only because she wanted me to be the one to end it. It was the same as how she wanted me to see Christianity differently, wanted me to be the one to leave my faith behind so that it would be real and final for me so that I could believe in a decision to move on with no regrets. As she'd said, she wanted me to figure things out for myself and, as much as I felt threatened by that on behalf of my career and the faith it was centered around, I also had to respect her for it. It meant that she respected me.

Taking another sip, I looked at my smartphone, still sitting where I'd left it on the coffee table. Moments later, I had it in my hand, listening to Donna's ring on the other end until it was answered.

"We're sorry, the Sasktel customer you're trying to reach is either away from their phone, or outside our-"

"Shhit!" I hissed, breaking the connection.

But, eying the phone in my hand for a moment, I was inspired with another idea. Going back to my contacts list, I found her number again but, this time, I sent her a text.

Hey, sexy. Please give me a call when you can.

Holding the corner of my phone to my lips, I then contemplated yet another idea. Should I just go to her house? It wasn't that far away, in an area called Harbour Landing, which I found kind of comical, given that Saskatchewan is a landlocked province, without any kind of harbour where anybody could actually 'land'.

But, I couldn't do that. How would I ever explain to Donna about how I knew where she lived? More importantly, how would she take that? While I wasn't afraid that she'd actually hurt me, I certainly didn't want her mad at me for any reason, and anybody who's ever experienced her anger, the awful, frightening things that happen in her eyes when she loses her temper, would completely understand that.

With my thoughts turning to Donna's eyes, a question that had been sneaking around the back of my mind since I'd come to firmly believe that there was something wrong about her finally surfaced.

Was Donna evil?

The question, dragged out into the light, seemed silly and I had to wonder about that, given my faith. I mean, one who believes in Christ has to almost automatically believe in Satan and, therefore, the existence of evil, so why did it seem like such a silly question?

People routinely use that word, 'evil', to describe many very bad things, Hitler being probably the most common example. As another example, some say that Communism is evil for how it disallows God, but these examples weren't the evil I was thinking about. I was thinking about 'Evil'. With a capital 'E'. The merit badge that Satan himself proudly wore. And why should this seem so silly, on a par with the zombie apocalypse? Was it because true evil is so rarely encountered in the world that people, even devout Christians, didn't really believe in it anymore?

Getting back to the real question though, did I believe that Donna was evil, or 'Evil', I suppose I should say? I've described her eyes as being two black pits that led straight to hell, but wasn't that just an impression that my fearful reaction to them was coming up with? What if she was only... different? I mean, if she really was evil, like some kind of demon or monster, then how could she love me as she did? From what I knew of Evil, love was certainly not included anywhere in its list of attributes. Furthermore, if she was Evil, how could I love her back? As a Christian, I should be automatically and naturally repelled by her. So, Donna either wasn't Evil, or... or I wasn't really Christian. At least not in the sense that God knew me. If Donna was Evil, that would explain my ability to love her, wouldn't it? In fact, by definition, that made me just as Evil as her.

Suddenly disturbed by this line of thought, I backed away, understanding why I'd left the question of whether or not Donna was evil to languish in the back of my mind. I wasn't the type to avoid issues, but this was one I really didn't feel ready for, at least not until all the facts were in. There were too many unlit roads that led to some very unpleasant places, and it was best not to travel them without the light of facts.

Finding my glass empty, I got up to mix another drink, remembering on my way to the kitchenette how suddenly uncomfortable the Major had become when I asked him if God spoke to him. I smiled with satisfaction, recalling Donna's speech about that and what his reactions to my questions said about him.

One thing I was truly coming to love was not wearing a bra. I loved the airy, free swinging feel, the way they bounced when I walked, not to mention how they looked, slightly spread and natural with their nice, fat, pointy nipples. Opening the refrigerator and seeing that I was running low on vodka, I realized that I'd have to go get more before I was too blitzed to drive, and I only hesitated for a few seconds before slipping on my shoes and leaving the house without bothering to put one on.

Needless to say, I got a lot of forbiddingly fun attention at the liquor store for that and, by the time I returned to the Mission with two big bottles of vodka, I was decidedly horny. So I mixed myself another drink and went to get my laptop, deciding that I wanted to watch a young woman sucking a nice, big, thick penis.

But, I had trouble finding a video that really satisfied me. I could have watched one from my saved file, but I wanted something new. Something that held surprises, like what happened in the downstairs kitchen that day with me, Donna, Haley and her brother, Darren. Surprise could be lots of fun.

And so, sitting there at my coffee table, I lost interest in the scene playing out on my laptop, instead thinking of Darren's cock, then his fathers, thrilling to the fact that I'd actually sucked on that one. I'd made him cum. In my mouth.

"Mmmmmm..."

Taking a drink with slightly trembling hand, I thought of Marilyn's invitation, suddenly horny enough to not have a problem with it, beyond the fact that it wasn't until the next weekend.

The dildo was in my nightstand drawer, and it would have been an easy solution, but not a final one. You see, it wouldn't have been a real experience. It wouldn't cum for me. I wanted real cock, the unpredictability that came with it. Part of me was becoming nervous at just how much I wanted this, trying to convince the rest of me to just go get the dildo and do myself. I took another drink and got up to go stand in front of the window.

Sumitra and her husband were outside, working at something in their front yard. It looked as though they were rerouting the downspout of their eavestroughing, but Debesh was the one who was actually doing the work. Sumitra stood over him, watching, pointing here and there and, apparently, officiating. From her body language, I could tell she was upset about something.

She was wearing very tight jeans and a little white, short sleeved top. I couldn't be sure from the distance I was watching, but it looked as though she wasn't wearing a bra either. However, it was Debesh I was interested in, wondering at the size of his cock.

I gave my head a shake, groaning with desperation. Again, I thought of Marilyn's invitation, wondering if she and her husband were free...

Less than a minute later, I had the yellow slip of paper she'd given me, having retrieved it from the jacket pocket of my uniform where it still lay on the floor. Grabbing my smart phone, I sat on my sectional, took a drink and opened Google Maps. Once I found her address though, I closed my eyes, giving my head another shake. Was I really going to drive to Marilyn Davies's house to fuck her husband? Without at least calling first?

I put the phone down, disgusted with myself, yet grinning helplessly at the 'without calling first' part. After a moment, I remembered that Marilyn had given me her card when we'd first met at the centre, but then remembered that it only bore her office number, and would be useless on the weekend.

So, back to horny square one and that's how, a few minutes later, I found myself on the sidewalk for a short trip next door.

"Hello, Sister!"

It was Sumitra from across the street, waving and smiling at me. I waved back, returning her smile as well before starting up the Bennett's short front walkway. Knocking on the front door, I was barely able to believe I was actually doing what I was about to do.

"Hi, Lieutenant Watts," Haley said when she answered.

She wore a very short, pleated black skirt with a deep brown, nylon halter top with straps. Smiling as she stood there, checking out my boobs, it was pretty easy to tell that she wasn't wearing a bra either.

"Hi, Haley. Uh, is- is Darren home?"

"Yeah, c'mon in."

The first thing I was struck by was how nice the interior of the Bennett home was, as compared to its somewhat drab exterior. The second thing that struck me was the partially deconstructed wall to my right.

"Oh, is your father remodeling?"

"Nope," she replied. "We donated those two-by-fours. Remember?"

It took a few seconds for that to click in for me, but I just had to make sure that I was hearing what I thought I was hearing.

"Y- uhh... you mean that your father... ripped a wall down for the two-by-four to donate to the Mission?"

Shrugging, she replied, "He said it wasn't a loadbearing wall, so... He took some from upstairs, too. C'mon, I'll show you. Darren's up there anyway."

Stunned, I could only follow along, ascending the stairs to find the upper level as nice as the lower one, save for the missing wall space in the hallway. Through the open gap, I could see what I presumed to be the master bedroom, unable to help noticing that the room was also missing its door. As my mind settled on the unimaginable fact that Donna must have told Joel to cannibalize his own house so that I could have an office, the man of said house emerged from another room in the hall.

"Hey, Lieutenant Watts," he bade, surprised, but happy to see me as his eyes went immediately to my chest.

He wasn't wearing a shirt and, covering his bottom half, was a pair of dark blue, plaid pajama pants.

"Hi, Joel... Uh... heh, love what you've done with the place..."

I could have kicked myself for voicing such a joke, but I wasn't just surprised, I was practically in shock and it just popped out. I felt guilty as sin, being the one who'd prospered by the partial dismantling of his home, and I couldn't believe Donna would do this, my mind warping around her apparent ability and how she obviously thought nothing of using it in whatever way she saw fit, no matter how it affected others.

But he only laughed, saying, "I was just glad to contribute. So, how can we help you today?"

"I..." was all I could get out as my eyes went from him to his missing bedroom wall.

"Lieutenant Watts was looking for Darren," Haley told him for me.

"Darren!" he called, half turning to direct his voice down the hall as I wandered through the large gap in the wall, looking around myself, dismayed, but truly amazed by the results of Donna's insidious influence.

"Hey, Lieutenant Watts," Darren said moments later.

Like his sister and father, he was regarding me as though I were a meal and, though I liked that, I was now too distracted by the revelation of where my office had come from to do anything about it.

"Uhh... I have to go," I told them.

"But, didn't you need Darren?" Haley asked as I walked back out through the wall.

"I'm sorry, something's come up," I told them, hurrying down the stairs with another potential realization in my mind.

"Wait," Haley called after me. "Are you coming back?"

I didn't bother to answer, just exited their house by the door which I'd been let in, hurrying down their walk with my eyes across the street. Sumitra and Debesh were gone, possibly inside now, which would make the investigation of my suspicion all the easier. Standing on their front step, I was about to knock when I heard screaming from somewhere inside the house.

No, it wasn't screaming, exactly. It was the sound of a woman flipping out in a foreign language. Probably Sumitra using her native tongue. Whatever had upset her, it must have been pretty major by the sound of her and, were it not for the personal urgency I felt regarding what I needed to find out, I would have turned around and left.

But I knocked, loud enough for Sumitra to hear me over the sound of her own voice, then listening as the livid, ceaseless shouting grew closer and closer until the door opened to a gap of about three inches.

Looking up at me with a warm smile, she bade, "Hello, sister."

The change was so abrupt, I was tempted to laugh, but I managed to keep it to a wide smile as I said, "Hello, Sumitra. Um, there's something I need to ask you, and... well, I was wondering if I might come in?"

"Of course," she assured, opening the door wide for me to enter.

Sumitra's living room, to put it simply, was a mess. However, as she stood there, doubtlessly waiting for me to ask whatever it was that I needed to ask her, I couldn't help but notice the blank spaces where a complete living room set should be. A Queen Anne living room set, to be exact.

"Sumitra?"

"Yes, Sister?"

"Did you-?"

My question, the answer to which I was already certain of, was interrupted by a pathetic moan from the back of the house. Sumitra turned and unleased a furious, verbal tirade in that direction, her pretty face and petit body expelling more toxicity than the Exxon Valdez for about fifteen seconds before turning back to me with her warm, helpful smile, waiting for my question.

"Uh... I thought you were getting a new living room set."

"No," she simply replied, shrugging her shoulders and giving her head a little shake with that smile.

"O-okay. So, um... may I ask what's going on out back?"

"Mm?" she asked, gesturing towards the moan she'd shouted down.

I nodded and she said, "Follow me, Sister. I will explain. You will see."

So I followed, taking note of how good her little tushie looked in those jeans as I walked through a house that looked as though a hurricane lived there. At the end of the hallway, she led me through a doorway to an equally cluttered room where I was greeted by the sight of Debesh tied to a queen size bed, face up and naked. His average sized penis was flaccid, chest covered in long, skinny red marks, and the expression on his face was anything but willing. When he saw me, his eyes lit with sudden hope, and he started babbling, desperately pleading in a tongue I didn't understand until Sumitra's verbal tirade exploded once again. From a nearby, cluttered dresser, she grabbed something that looked vaguely like a car antenna wrapped in black electrical tape, and she started beating his upper body with it. She didn't whip him overly hard, but hard enough to hurt and leave those red marks, hard enough to soon reduce his desperate babbling to pathetic whimpering.

This was even more surprising than how I got my office and the Queen Anne living room set, and I could only stare, again slack jawed at this bizarre little scene as she explained.

"Sister Donna told me that Debesh was... how you say... massage? ... Massagist?"

"Misogynist?" I tried in a hollow tone, wondering if I closed my eyes, then opened them again, would this scene still be there?

"Yes! This is it! He is misogynist. So, now I misogynist him. Donna says it is Christian way. You see, sister?"

"I... uh huh."

Then, for no apparent reason, she started beating him again, shrilly berating him in whatever language she was using. He cried out, but she only kept on beating.

And I began laughing. I suppose it was the absurdity of the situation mixed with my nerves of late, and with enough vodka in my system to appreciate the outlandishness of it all. When Sumitra stopped and noticed me laughing, she started laughing with me, then started beating him again, which made me laugh all the harder.

When she once again stopped, both of us still laughing as though it was the funniest thing we'd ever seen, she handed the antenna thing to me, gesturing to her helpless husband. I barely hesitated, stepping to the edge of the bed to begin beating him like she had, and we both continued laughing almost hard enough to pee ourselves.

We took turns at it, finally stopping because we were simply out of breath from beating and laughing so hard. Still grinning at each other, I noted that I'd been right about her not wearing a bra. Without a second thought, I took the bottom of her cute little top in my fingers and pulled it up and over her head, tossing it on the bed with Debesh to land across his chest.

Dropping the antenna thing, Sumitra took the bottom of my T-shirt and did the same to leave us both topless.