The Abbey of Disillusion Ch. 03

"How has Margaret been?" She asked me.

My mind raced. I was unsure what she knew, so I decided to assume she knew nothing, that I might not give anything away. "She has been well Mother Superior. She tells me she barely considers her urges anymore."

The abbess smiled at me. "But not so for us hmmm?"

I shook my head, no.

"I imagine, the life you led, it wasn't easy to come here. No men, a bunch of stuffy old nuns judging you."

"Well," I said, "It isn't so bad."

"Hhmph, don't be coy." The Mother Superior replied, sitting on the bed, and motioning for me to do the same. "I was married, you know? Ten years, hmmm, to a virile man. He was strong, and gentle too when the time was right, forceful when I needed it. He fucked me every way from Sunday."

My eyes grew wide at her last statement, such a frank admission... I had to remind myself what I already knew about her.

"I was a dotting wife to him. His needs were ordinary I would say, but he was open to... experimentation. I proposed that we go through the Karma Sutra in our first year of marriage. Hmm, it only took a month though. He loved every part of my body. I pleasured him not just with my cunt but with my ass, my hands, my mouth, my feet... even my armpits." She broke out laughing at this. "There's not an inch of my skin that never felt the touch of his semen."

As she spoke I saw it, her keychain. It was there, just sitting on her nightstand, she must keep it on her person normally.

"When he died I became a nun, but unlike most of the women here I know what I'm missing." She continued, "As do you, hmm? Tell me, what was it like, working as a whore?" She refilled my glass as she spoke.

I thought for a moment. "It was hard." One of the keys was very old, simple in construction. I felt sure that was the key to Dumonte's cell.

She looked at me for a moment, "And?"

"Some of the men used in ways that... I often think about."

"Tell me, if you could relive one such experience, what would it be?"

I thought about this for a moment, there were several that would frequently be in my thoughts, but I remembered one in particular.

"There was a man who brought me to his home. He was a widower. He made me get on my hands and knees, like a dog, and he penetrated me from behind."

"Oh tell me more, what exactly did he have you do?" Mother Superior pried.

"He put me on the bed first, he kissed me which is often not done. He played with my breast, that is a common fixation for the Johns, but he was especially interested in my ass. He had a... large mouth. There were teeth marks all over me, but I enjoyed it. My butt hurt me for days when I sat down, it perversely reminded me of the act and I liked it. Then he had me get on my hands and knees. He licked me from behind before he took me. He wouldn't let me leave the house all day, I daresay he did not pay me enough, but I left without complaint... and I came back to offer me my services several times."

"Beautiful," The abbess said, "Did the men often lick your sex?"

"No," I explained, "But it happened enough that I began the habit of shaving down there, to help keep myself clean... between men you see."

I thought perhaps this sordid fact may put her off, but she seemed unphased. "You say he took you on all fours... did he take your ass?"

I shook my head. "No... I have never engaged in sodomy."

"Really?" The abbess said. She stood, opening her nightgown. She placed one leg on the bed next to me, putting on a lascivious display. I saw her supple breast, her body thick but with a dim outline of strong muscle underneath the soft fat, promising a myriad of sensations if one would entangle themselves with it. I wondered what sorts of exercises she did and then my eyes were drawn down to her large jungle of black pubic hair.

"Does it bother you? That I'm not shaved?"

I shook my head, no it didn't. I idly reached out and ran my hand through her bush, sensing that I was invited to do so, letting the hairs curl between my fingers. My mouth started to water.

The mother superior reached out and picked up the wine bottle, then to my shock she poured some over her breast. The wine dripped down her stomach, flowing in branches and tertiaries like the amazon into the jungle of her untamed sex. I leaned forward, licking her stomach, lapping the wine from her skin. The abbess lowered her breast to my mouth.

"I have an admission." She said, as I licked the chardonnay from between her tits. "When I first started working with Sister Margaret I wanted to help her but... now I know she can't be helped." The scent of alcohol, and her arousal, filled my lungs, I breathed it deeply, making slurping, popping sounds as I worked her soft breast. She poured more wine onto her tits as I licked, neither of us caring that it dripped down our legs.

"You see to correct her behavior I tried to train her that sex between women is associated with pain, ahhhh you have a skilled tongue, but you see she enjoys the pain. I wonder what Throndike would make of that."

I stopped my work for a moment and looked up at her, "Don't you worry?" I asked.

She stroked my hair, "About what, dear?"

"Our sin." I told her, a genuine question. "These unnatural desires for other women?"

"Oh dear," She laughed at me, "You mean your sin. I'm no lesbian, no don't stop. Smell me, go ahead. We both know you want to."

Confused and uncertain, I pushed my face into her bush, the strands tickling my nose. I inhaled her scent deeply, it was intoxicating. I closed my eyes and forgot the world for a moment, nuzzling amidst her womanhood, lost in a dense jungle, safe from the world. There was warmth, nectar, safety, comfort, her hands on the back of my head assured me this was my place, a home I could retreat to, a shrine I could worship at for a Goddess truly deserving of my undying service.

"Ummm, you're good Caroline, and yes, I'll let you service me, but I'm no lesbian. It's a man I really need but ahhh, your soft tongue is better than my fingers isn't it? After all we are wed to Christ, so we are one family, nothing wrong with two wives pleasuring each other before their lord husband is there?"

I pulled back, catching my breath. "Do... you have this relationship with other Sisters?"

The Mother Superior pushed me back onto the bed, climbing on top of me as she let her robe fall off. "Every abbess needs a few sapphic minded Sisters in her convent, after all we all have needs don't we? A few lesbian slaves, so useful in my position. You know that more than most." The abbess turned herself around, presenting her ass to me.

"Sodomize me with your tongue." She ordered me, blunt in her desires.

Damn my rotten soul I marveled at her plump ass. Naked, she was exuding confidence, as if her dominance over me was a foregone conclusion. I kissed her asscheeks, slowly moving inward. The deep valley called to me, and I licked up and down it, creeping inward. As it became slick I could slide my face deeper. I was so absorbed the drip of wine into my mouth was a surprise to me. I looked up and saw that Mother Superior was pouring wine onto the small of her back, which ran into my mouth when I stuck my tongue out, forming a ramp sandwiched between her asscheeks.

"Ooohh, you're so eager." The abbess observed. "What a delightful slut you are."

Things were getting blurry at this point, and my drunkenness made me even more pliable for the abbess to use to her heart's desire. She sat back on my face, covering my mouth and nose with her ass, allowing me to force my tongue inside. After a few moments I felt a familiar burning in my lungs for air, and I tapped on my Goddess's legs, trying to signal that I wanted air.

"Mmmm, Caroline the feeling of you struggling is strangely arousing. I don't believe I've ever had a little slut quite as pathetic as you."

Her words penetrated me as deeply as any man's cock ever had, but I didn't want to pass out under her. I grew afraid, this woman could make me disappear I realized. She could take me to her dungeon where I'd never be seen again.

"A few lesbian slaves." She had said.

I struggled under her, tried to push her off. She grabbed my hands, laughing. Her ass, large and warm, was wrapped tightly around my face. I was buried alive in its tender flesh. I panicked and yet... I continued to lick fervently, trying to bring her off. My efforts faded as things darkened, but just before I gave in to oblivion she raised herself up, allowing me to weakly draw breath before sitting back down.

"Don't stop pleasing me, Caroline." She said. I resumed my work, Frenching her asshole as if it were my husband on our wedding night. The earthy taste of her ass filled my senses, the smell of her sweat. It should disgust me shouldn't it? Aren't healthy people disgusted by such things? It's clear that I am not, I love the feelings, flavors, scents of a woman's body. Of every part of her body. Her strong thighs had me pinned to the bed as she started rubbing her clit, driving herself to orgasm as I ate her ass.

By the time she came I was swooning, both with arousal and exhaustion. She slid off me, looking down at the mess I was. She smiled, "You look good and ready." She said.

"F-f-for what?" I asked, concerned.

"A hard fucking." She replied calmy. She reached into her nightstand for something, and in a moment I saw her strapping the stone cock to herself, the same one she had used on Margaret. I lay there, waiting, and I confess; excited.

She made me get onto my hands and knees, stripping my clothes, and kissed my ass. I realized she was allowing me to relive some measure of the widower's attention, biting my ass cheeks and briefly licking my swollen cunt before she leaned over me, the head of the cock pressing into my pussy lips.

"Ask me." She whispered into my ear.

"Fuck me." I didn't even hesitate.

The Mother Superior pushed forward, and I groaned. It had been so long since something that large had been inside me. I squeezed my eyes shut and bit my lip, trembling as she took me. "Does it hurt?" She asked me, strangely tender, catching me off balance.

"Just a bit." I said, huffing.

"Relax." She said, and her hands caressing my sides as I adjusted, feeling the tool work slowly into me, the abbess demonstrating utmost control as she felt out my body's resistance, opening me slowly. When her hips touched mine I imagined the cock inside my womb, for it was so long. I felt impaled, afraid but still incredibly aroused. It was not as nice as a warm penis I will say, but the fact that it was a woman taking me in this way made me shake, with shame and pleasure.

The abbess whispered in my ear, "Fuck yourself against me."

I began to move, rocking on her stone cock. I grunted and fucked myself against her, my ass slapping her thighs. After a few minutes I felt her driving me forward and I fell onto my stomach, the abbess laying on top me. She began to fuck my pussy with me pinned against the bed.

"Take my cock slave, moan for me, yesss cum. Cum for Mother!"

I looked back over my shoulder and saw her crazed expression, she was mad with lust, but then so was I.

"Ugghhh Mother!" I cried out, all sense leaving me.

"Tell me what it feels like." She asked me.

"Like I'm being fucked by a horse!" I whimpered.

"And you like it?"

"Uhggghh, it's good, it's sooo good Mother!"

"You're going to be my little cunt licker understand?" The Mother Superior said.

"YES." I acknowledged what I already knew.

"You're going to take care of my needs, because I'm a real women, while you..."

"Gaww I'm a dirty lesbian dyke!"

"That's right Caroline, you belong beneath me."

"Oh God, oh God, oh God..."

"Goddess." She corrected me.

I was crying into the pillow when I had my first orgasm. On the second I was begging God to forgive me. When she turned me over and kissed me I silently prayed for forgiveness from Margaret, for I didn't only sin against God, but against my lover, because I loved being fucked by this full, lustful, and skilled woman. I was putty under her, arms and legs wrapped around her back screaming when I had my third orgasm.

May 26, 1933

I spent much of the day evaluating the weed situation around the abbey. Buckthorn is growing all over the eastern banks of the Miskatonic. I hate the stuff. I'll have to watch for the saplings taking root on our grounds and slaughter them wherever they peak up their heads.

I don't know how I'm going to get that key. Perhaps if I keep visiting the abbess she will grow careless around me. The problem is complicated by the fact that, once taken, I am certain suspicion will immediately fall on me.

Margaret came to see me. I couldn't tell her what was truly wrong but she sensed my agitation. She held me for a while and I asked her.

"Have you ever been in the door at the end of my hall?"

She was quiet for a while, eventually she said the strangest thing, "It's a gateway to the Gof'nn Hupadgh."

I looked at her questioningly, "The what?"

"Do you know what satyr are?" She asked me.

"From Greek myth?" I offered.

"There's a dark forest on the other side of the door." She seemed embarrassed to tell me this, and I opened up to her.

"There's a staircase." I said.

She shook her head, "That's what we're told, but it's a forest on the other side of that door. Please, don't mess with it. I used to go through it, I thought it was a fantastical realm, but it's full of horror. It's dangerous."

I didn't know what to make of this. "Can you show me?" I pressed her. She resisted at first, but with my persistent begging, and kisses, she agreed to show me the forest, but only to prove the danger.

We walked to the door, I had never attempted to interact with it in the daylight and it felt strange to so casually approach the forbidden entrance. I watched as Sister Margaret worked the lock, touching the symbols, arranged like a clock around the doorknob, in a familiar order.

Until the end that is, when she pushed a different symbol. I realized as she open the door that there could be multiple correct combinations and I chided myself for being so blind.

Looking into the door, no the gate I saw it. A dark forest, not dissimilar in character from that of the Massachusetts wilderness. The trees were larger, thick, powerful, seemingly ancient. The stars, for it was nighttime in that forest, twinkled brightly in the sky, beneath which flowers seemed to glow with an illuminance all their own. The flowers were of many shapes, strange to me though my knowledge of herbalism is significant, and among them fluttered small insects. Most incredibly however were the figures moving through the wood line. At first, I took them for bucks but then the movement of their heads caused me to blink. It was not just a large array of antlers as I first thought, but a human body. What I beheld then were the mythical centaurs, whom my ancestors had spoken of but modern man foolishly forgot, concluding them to be a flight of fancy. There was singing in the dark woods, it was in a language I had never heard uttered on this earth, but it spoke to me. It was haunting and beautiful, inviting me to come swoon under the three moons with it.

Margaret shook me, screaming in my ear. "Stop Caroline please! Lord let her hear me!" I blinked, confused, and looked down. I stood amid the flowers, I felt the warm wind rush over me and smelled some unknown fragrance. I couldn't place it but I just knew it was associated with a wonderful memory. It could have been the smell of my mother's hair, or my father's favorite coat, wrapped warm around me on a winter night. I looked back and saw that I had taken ten paces into the otherworldly scene, Margaret was trying to pull me back towards the gate, which was set on this side at the base of a cliff at least four stories high.

"Why can't we come here?" I asked, almost sleepily.

"We can talk in the abbey Margaret, don't listen to the singing please come back!"

I allowed her to pull me back into the abbey. After she closed the gate my ears rang with the fading songs of the otherworld. I looked at Margaret, full of questions, utterly confused. I suppose in a way it was easier to pretend that the stairs, although I knew it was impossible, did not conflict with or disprove my modern understanding of the world. I had been able to pretend that it only bent the rules, although deep down I knew the tomb at the top of the steps could only have meant the stairs led into another dimension.

I pushed my hands against the side of my head, trying to stop the world from spinning off its axis. The world is a veil, and at any moment realities entirely foreign, or familiar, are only a footstep away! Margaret escorted me back to my room and lay me down, where she comforted me.

"There are things in the forest." She told me. "Much worse than black bears. Worse than gangsters and huns and communist. We can't go there, you understand?"

"Those were centaurs, Margaret! Centaurs!" I muttered, needing to express my shock.

"I know, and the satyr, well they are a sight as well but I don't go there anymore and I don't want you going there."

I nodded, but in my head I heard the singing.

May 27, 1933

Last night I dreamt I was in the abbey's dungeon. I lay naked on the cell floor shivering until a large shape broke the stillness of the dark hall, wrapping a clawed hand around the door, pulling it open. I screamed in terror yet I knew no human ear was close enough to hear my cries as the beast rushed into the room. I tried vainly to fight but it picked me up with inhuman strength, throwing me into an impossibly large mouth where I fell against its tongue, ludicrously as large as myself. The slimy bulk of it rubbed around my body, splitting open my legs to taste my cunt. Its vicious teeth, each the size of my head, open and closed. I narrowly avoided them but then felt a suction pulling me downward.

"Noo!" I cried out, trying to hold onto the squirming tongue that slathered over my flesh, pushing over my tits and licking the tears from my face. There was nothing to cling to in the slippery orifice, and I slid back into its throat where the warm walls of its gullet enveloped me. There was a smooth drop through what felt to me several stories of throat muscles until I fell into a great cavity, splashing into noxious fluid pools on a surface so yielding it was like a net. Then the acids washed over me. This was no saving grace, no whale to rescue Jonah, but a devouring leviathan, come to destroy me.

I awoke covered with sweat, but I understood the meaning of the dream. There must be a limit to the time I delay attempting the crowbar on Mr. Dumonte's cell. The man must have been trapped down there for a month now, and I fear the abbess does not intend to keep him indefinitely, in fact by becoming her new toy I may well have endangered him. With a whore as willing as me, even if she prefers the company of men, does she still need him?

Before morning prayers the abbess stopped by my room. "You know Margaret, you barely come to morning prayer."

I nodded, "There's a lot of work in the gardens."

She smiled, "Well I understand but I don't think you realize it's essentially mandatory."

"Oh." Was all I could muster, feeling silly. Playing this game, this public front with her feels so different than the way I do with Margaret. With Margaret we are together, two against the world, but with the Mother Superior I am her captive, as though I was a frontierswoman taken by the Indians and forced to wed into the tribe, with her as my Wampanoag husband. Although of course, she is clueless as to this. I have fooled her into believing I want to be her 'little lesbian cunt licker.'

Or have I fooled myself into believing that I don't want to?