The Immoral Ones- a Sinister Set

by Yolanda Olson

  Good.

  “The night before I joined the priesthood, I went out to a discotheque. I did not go to indulge in what I was leaving behind, simply to enjoy my last night as a man not yet of the cloth even though I had spent the past couple of years studying in the seminary. I wanted one last drink to cross my lips, one last smoke before I gave it all up to live a life of piety. That’s when I first met her,” I say, my teeth clenching as bitter tears spring to my eyes.

  “He’s lying!” she shrieks into his arm.

  “Oh, I wish that I was,” I reply, wiping the tears away angrily. I get to my feet and clutch my Bible tightly in my hand. “You see, Chloe has always been something of a whore, but you must know this—you must feel the looseness of her cunt when you fuck her. How many cocks have been inside of you? How many men have you corrupted to get your next fucking drink or perfect, little white lines?” I yell at her.

  She shrinks back against Henri who shakes her off and gets to his feet. He squares his shoulders, clenches his jaw, and looks me straight in the eyes. “Chloe has never touched drugs, you lying piece of shit. Get out of our house!”

  I throw my head back and laugh. Now he wants me to leave? When the truth is only now starting to come out?

  “You will sit down and you will listen to every fucking word I have to say,” I seethe, my body trembling with anger. The Bible is becoming hot in my hand and I raise it over my head, striking him across the face as hard as I can. Henri collapses onto the couch, with shock, fear, and a hint of admiration in his eyes.

  A wave of disgust washes over me as I lunge onto him and hit him again and again, as hard as I can, until I’m sure he’s lost consciousness.

  Chloe screams for Henri; she shakes him violently but he does not respond to her pleas for him to open his eyes. I’ve never taken the life of man before tonight and I do not intend to do so.

  Yet.

  “It pains me that you do not remember me, Mademoiselle Chloe,” I say to her through bated breaths. “I was so sure I had left a lasting impression on you.”

  She’s sobbing now. Her body is limp against Henri’s and I’m sure that until I continue the story he can no longer hear, she’ll continue to deny her recollection of me.

  “What do you want from us?” she sobs, barely audible, her face still buried in Henri’s chest.

  “Recompense.”

  7

  Chloe

  Henri won’t wake up no matter how hard I shake him and I’m afraid to be left alone with this madman. He says he knows me, that I owe him for a sin I do not remember having committed against him, and he will not leave now—not until his price is paid.

  This man is no patron of the cloth. He is merely the devil in disguise drunk on false memories that we do not share.

  “Tie him up,” he whispers dangerously.

  “Leave us alone! Isn’t that what you’ve wanted this entire time? To leave? I give you permission! Leave!” I scream at him.

  His eyes darken and he lifts his Bible over his head, bringing it down across my face. A pained sob escapes me as I look around the room for something, anything, to fight him off with but I know that he’s probably much stronger than I am and I give up the fight almost immediately.

  “I have nothing to use,” I wail through sobbing gasps.

  “Your dress will do just fine. Remove it, whore. Tie it around his wrists and secure them. If you try to cheat me, I will know and you will suffer as he did,” he says, nodding at Henri.

  My hands are trembling so much that I can barely grab onto the bottom of my dress, but when he takes a step closer to me, I manage to quickly pull it off. I do my best to tear it in half and almost succeed, but he sighs loudly and takes it from me, splitting it the rest of the way.

  “Do it.”

  I struggle as I push Henri back up to a seated position, because he’s dead weight at the moment, and tie one of the thin straps of fabric around his wrists, then secure it with the other. I pull them tightly to show Prêtre Leon that I’ve done my best, yet he still leans down and gives them a tug to satisfy himself.

  “Good,” he says with a nod. “Now take the rest of your clothes off.”

  I look up at him with shock and disgust, but the look in his eyes tells me that any form of protest will be met with violence, so I quickly unsnap my bra and let it fall to the ground, my panties quickly following.

  He looks down at me with intrigue and anger, as he reaches up and pulls his clerical collar off. In his next movements, his robes are over his head and off of his body, and he’s standing before me now in his white boxers.

  I don’t know why that stands out to me so much because what else should he be wearing underneath his robes? He’s a man before he’s a priest and I can tell as much when he begins to grab himself over his underwear.

  But something isn’t quite right. And the more he moves his hands, the more I can see it. I gasp in horror when I notice that as he rubs himself, a small pool of blood begins to form.

  “I’ve punished myself for years because of that night. You took something from me that I had hoped to keep forever. Was it worth the line of blow you snorted off my cock? Was it worth forcing your whore mouth onto it and making me into a ‘man’ as you so cruelly asked me if I was?” he asks, tears spilling down his angry face.

  My mind races.

  I can’t remember the exact time I came across this young man on a night out, but what he’s spewing at me sounds oddly familiar. Was it him, though? He looks nothing like the man I remember approaching that night. He looks much paler; sickly almost, and I can’t help but wonder why he’s waited so long when I’m so sure he would have seen me much sooner than now.

  “No. No! I will not allow you to lay hands upon me again, but I will make you feel my pain. I will make you understand the torment that you’ve subjected me to night after night since we’ve met and when I feel that you truly grasp the severe pain your actions have caused me, then I will take my leave,” he says, as he angrily yanks his boxers down.

  I gasp and turn my face away. I don’t want to see what he’s done to himself, and I don’t want to pay the price of this burden because I did not force him to do what he thinks we did. He was a willing participant in the act and he refuses to remember things as they actually happened.

  “Look at me,” he seethes. “Bear witness to what you’ve made me do!”

  Henri moans next to me and I have to fight the urge to throw myself against him again. Prêtre Leon has made it quite clear already that he will beat me severely if I don’t follow his commands, and if I’m left unable to protect myself, then who will save Henri?

  Fresh tears spring from my eyes as I glance at the torn dress that I’ve used to subdue him. My favorite dress—the one I’ve saved for a special occasion, is torn and tattered to pieces just like the man standing before me.

  A sob escapes me as I turn my eyes toward the Prêtre. I look up into his eyes because I’ve already glimpsed the horror below but he shakes his head slowly; deliberately.

  “Look.”

  I let my eyes wander slowly down his face to his neck, and from there, to his pale chest. He’s breathing heavily and I know it’s from his uncontrolled anger. My eyes continue their trek down his belly and stop just above his pelvis. I don’t want to look—I don’t, but I must if I’m to see Henri untied and keep us both alive.

  I close my eyes tightly for a moment before I open them again and stare as my body shakes even harder at what I’m meant to behold.

  His cock is bleeding. There’s a metal ring placed around where it springs from his body and I can see the spikes digging into him. Satisfied that I’m seeing what he wants, he reaches down and begins to gently rub the head of his dick. The harder he becomes, the more the spikes dig into him, drawing more blood than before and yet he smiles. The pain, the tearing of his skin—and regardless, he smiles at me.

  “This is how I protect myself from the world of pleasures you attempted to draw me into, Mademoiselle Ch
loe Dubois. This is the only way I know how. Do you finally see? Do you fully understand now what you’ve done to me?” he asks, quietly.

  “I’m sorry,” I reply softly as I lower my head into my hands. I was such a lost girl that I never understood that the selfishness of my own past would haunt someone’s future. I thought nothing more of the young man after that night, and yet I lingered with him for the rest of his years. How does one repay such a thing? To steal the will of another and not even know them when you see them again?

  There’s no price I can pay—no recompense that he seeks, that will balance the cost of what I’ve done to this man.

  “Wake him up,” he says to me, nodding at Henri.

  My hands are weak to the task; they always are but I will do as I’m told because it’s a simple request and if this is how my penance will be made, then I will see it through.

  “Mon amour,” I whisper to Henri as I give him a gentle shake. “Open your eyes now; it is time.”

  He doesn’t heed my request right away and that is to be understood as he’s been beaten rather brutally. There’s a large welt on the side of his handsome face, and I gently lay my fingers against it. If words will not rouse him from his sleep, then agonizing pressure surely will.

  8

  Henri

  The pain is blinding.

  I don’t recall yet what has rendered me so useless and the attempt to open my eyes for Chloe only makes it worse. I reach my hands up to rub the sides of my head and somehow feel as if they’re not cooperating with me.

  What the fuck is going on?

  “Chloe?” I mumble, the pain causing me to flinch at the sound of my own voice.

  “I am here, Henri,” she responds quietly, placing her hand on my leg. “You must open your eyes now. Please.”

  I smile as best as I can to calm the obvious fear she is feeling. It reverberates through her tone of voice and I’ve always hated when she feels afraid. With a nod, I shift my weight on the couch and begin to blink slowly. In the onslaught of sudden light that’s greeting me, I can see a man standing before us. Tall, naked, and bleeding, watching us ever so carefully as I struggle to keep my eyes open.

  “What has happened?” I ask Chloe as I roll my head in her direction.

  “She understands now,” the man interrupts. “She sees.”

  The voice sounds familiar and I blink rapidly, forcing the pain away, making sure that the room comes into focus faster than my brain is willing to allow.

  And that’s when I realize that the man before us is Prêtre Leon. He’s so very angry and obviously insane in this moment—that much is prominent in his eyes.

  “What have you done?” I grunt at him, attempting to free myself from what I now realize are binds around my wrist.

  “I did nothing. I merely allowed a moment of clarity between myself and Mademoiselle Chloe. I have one more thing I wish to see before I take my leave and you will keep this night a secret or I will spill all of your dark and dirty secrets Monsieur Henri de San Martin. Oh yes, I do know your secrets. All that are seen with you, regardless of how low their standing is in this life, are never seen again. Do not think me for a fool; I have watched you two for a very long time waiting for this moment and now I finally have it,” he says, a terrifying smile widening across his young face.

  “Untie me and I will see this through like a man should,” I command Chloe through gritted teeth. She wrings her hands next to me on the couch and I look at her sternly. Her hands are shaking, but Chloe has always been weak when it comes to ending the life of another. She merely watches as I fuck them and cleans up the mess afterward.

  “Untie me,” I shout at her, instantly wincing from the pain.

  “You no longer command her—I do,” the Prêtre says with a laugh. “And she will do what I wish of her.”

  Chloe puts her face in her hands and sobs. He’s broken her. In the time that I’ve spent in a dark world void of all things, he’s broken her. It’s taken me years to find a way to do it myself and yet he’s beat me to it.

  I no longer have use for her if she will not bend to my desires and needs. But I do have one thing that I will claim before this night is over.

  “Ask him where he was last night,” the Prêtre says, crossing his arms over his chest. I can see his Bible dangling from his hand. A weapon against evil indeed. “And don’t lie to her because I will tell her the truth if you fail to do so.”

  I shift angrily on the couch. This animal before me must be tamed before my darkest secret comes to life and I have no way to do so. He’s rendered me bruised, bound, and useless in this moment. He holds the truth on his tongue while I want nothing more than to lie to the whore.

  “I went to visit the city as you know I tend to do and I decided to drop in on your family,” I begin slowly, “Your mother and father; and I spoke to them of my desire to marry you.”

  “Keep going,” Prêtre Leon says dangerously.

  “They were pleased that someone finally found a place in your heart; that you are indeed capable of love,” I say, darting him an angry look. Chloe is watching me through her tears and as she bites her lip, I wonder how much she will care about the rest of the story.

  “And?” he snaps loudly.

  “You are in my home! You will show me respect, you animal!” I shout at him angrily.

  He throws his head back and laughs before stepping forward and striking me in the face again with his Bible. I find myself gagging at the strike as it brings forth a new wave of pain. I cannot take another hit or I will fall into the void again with no way to return if he chooses to fill Chloe’s head with the evening’s events.

  The Prêtre lingers over me dangerously as I spit at his feet. He will not strike me again for deeds, only for words, because regardless of how he attempts to display himself right now, he is still a man of honor.

  “Time is running out for you; I would speak quickly,” he says ominously.

  I turn to face Chloe as best as I can and take a deep breath. She once told me that she did not love her parents or any member of her family and that their deaths would not weigh on her head. My next words will tell me if she was speaking the truth to me.

  “Before I left them, I inquired about your inheritance,” I continue with a tired sigh. “I needed to make sure that things were in order before...”

  “Before what?” she asks, her voice a shaky whisper.

  “Before I did what I do best,” I finally say. “Your mother’s cunt isn’t as tight as yours, but it was enough for me as I made your father watch. I think he rather enjoyed me forcing myself inside of her because I can almost swear that at one point he smiled before I beat his head in with the cutting board. I made your mother bury him deep in the backyard before I pushed her into the still open hole and piled the dirt onto her. It took me most of the night to ensure that the ground looked like it had never been disturbed, but no one will ever know what happened to them.”

  “Why? Why would you do such a thing?” Chloe asks as she begins to sob again.

  “You cry far too much for my liking these days,” I snap at her. “Obviously because if they are presumed missing or dead, then you get their fucking money.”

  She shakes her head in confusion for a moment then gasps. I watch as Chloe gets to her feet and turns her back to me, walking past the Prêtre and stopping at the entrance to the parlour.

  “You intended to kill me too, didn’t you Henri? Is this the reason you married me? To get their money?” she asks quietly.

  I roll my eyes and attempt to get to my feet, but the Prêtre pushes me back down.

  “Answer her.”

  “What else would I want with such a used cunt?” I finally explode. “You do not know how to please a man, Chloe. You are fucking worthless and you deserve all that comes to you from this night. Is that what you wanted to hear? Is it?”

  She drops her head and her body shivers slightly as she wraps her arms around herself. She turns slowly, her eyes resting on Prêtre
Leon who’s busying himself with pulling his underwear back on. He quickly retrieves his dress robes and pulls them over his head, then walks over to her and places a hand on her shoulder. She looks so heartbroken and sad that for the slightest moment, I feel a pain in my heart for her.

  Of course, that quickly dissipates when I realize that my plan has been foiled by a young man, obsessed with a rancid whore.

  She looks up at him as he leans down and whispers something in her ear. Chloe wipes the tears from her eyes and nods, leaving us alone in the parlour. Prêtre Leon comes back into the room and sits in the chair he had first sat in and looks at me.

  “Her mother—was she alive when you buried them?” he asks me curiously.

  “Obviously. I had to slap her with the shovel to keep her from screaming,” I reply angrily.

  He nods and drums his fingers along the arm of the chair. For the next half an hour that’s all I hear; the drumming of his fingers, and sometimes the ticking of the clock, when Chloe finally reappears.

  She’s dirty, tired, and still so fucking beautiful in all of her nakedness. The Prêtre smiles at her when he sees her and gets to his feet. He walks toward me and roughly pulls me up off the couch by my elbow and begins to drag me as we walk behind Chloe out into the night.

  The gardens; they’re taking me to the gardens and I don’t quite understand why until it’s too late. She’s been outside digging a hole in the very place we were married and it all makes sense now. I can feel something I’ve never honestly felt before in my life—fear.

  “Push him in and leave him alive to choke on the dirt. He needs to see; he needs to understand what he’s done to another. That’s the only way he’ll ever comprehend how his actions can taint the soul of another,” he instructs her, the madness returning to his eyes.

  I turn quickly to face Chloe, to attempt to plead with her not to do this, but I’m greeted with the cold steel of the shovel against my face and my knees crumple beneath me as I teeter on the edge of the freshly dug grave before I fall in.