by Jess Bentley
“Come to me, Angel,” he murmurs, gesturing with his fingers.
I roll to my side, then push myself up onto my knees. Holding my shift on the sides, I walk slowly across the wooden platform toward him. He says nothing.
When I'm close enough, I reach out again and take his manhood against my palm again. “Like this?”
He closes his eyes.
“Do you have the same thing inside you?” I ask him quietly.
He smiles, finally. Long dimples form, bracketing his beautiful white teeth. I feel him relax slightly and slump backward as my hand works along his rigid shaft. He covers my hand with one of his hands and guides me, lengthening the strokes from the base to the knobby tip.
I love the feeling of those bulging veins against my fingers. I love the way his breath is deepening, becoming more forceful. I can't believe that my hand has the power to do that to this powerful, beautiful man.
“When I stroke you like this, does it awaken what's magical inside you too?” I ask him, but I already know the answer. I can see it on his face. I see that he feels just like I felt. I almost feel it throbbing inside him, aching to be released.
“Open your mouth,” he groans urgently.
I know what to do. I lean forward, letting my mouth fall open, letting my tongue slide across my lower lip. His manhood presses against my mouth, hesitating for just a moment. His hips pulse beneath me as though he wants to push harder. It seems to take a lot of strength for him to hold back.
But I don't want him to hold back. I wrap my hand around him and then draw him into my mouth, closing my lips around him, swirling my tongue over the beautiful, salty knob that is inside me now. He groans louder, and then louder. His manhood seems to get thicker in my hand, throbbing forcefully at the base. I feel his hands slide into the back of my hair and drag me forward.
His manhood slides against the top of my mouth and then fills the back of it, almost making me choke. I try to relax, try to that this is my duty to him. I need to do this for him, the way that Brother Owen did it for me.
“Keep going,” I hear Brother Owen whisper close to my ear. His hand strokes my hip, kneading against my buttocks. I feel my womanhood awake again and I know that I could have his mouth against me right now, and it would be the most perfect thing.
Just the thought of that makes me moan against Father Daddy's manhood. I know he can feel it, because I hear him groan again and then gasp, and then shout. My mouth is filled with salty, hot liquid that slides down my throat. I swallow it eagerly, filled with pride and also wonder and also gratitude and… love. I know that I feel love.
“Yes, yes… that's it, Angel,” Brother Owen whispers in my ear. His body is aligned against the back of mine, and he holds me still. “Just let him finish. Swallow his seed and wait for him to retreat.”
I nod slightly, breathing through my nose to try to relax myself. He’s so big, I have to struggle. After a few long moments, Father Daddy softens like a wilting flower stem. He finally slips from my mouth and falls against his thigh, glistening with moisture. Instantly, I miss him. I'd like to start again.
Brother Owen strokes my hair and kisses me on top of my head.
“You did so wonderfully well, Angel,” he sighs. “You’re a woman now, you know.”
I nod, giddy with excitement. But something seems to be missing. I thought there would be more.
“Is that it? Isn't there another… part?” I ask, remembering how Father Daddy breached Obedience’s flower. Just thinking about it gets me even more excited. We did not perform that act, so am I still a woman?
“There are many parts to being a woman,” Brother Owen smiles at me. “Your training has just begun. Learning to access your passion has great value. Your flower may yet have… even more value. For all of us.”
Father Daddy seems to wake up. He scowls at Brother Owen.
“What does that mean?” I ask.
“It doesn't mean anything,” Father Daddy replies. He leans forward and kisses me on both cheeks. “You’re a woman now, Angel. That’s all that matters.”
“Angel? Aren’t you going to give me a new name?”
“Angel is the best name possible,” he smiles. “That's exactly what you are.”
“Yes, you are our Angel,” Brother Owen continues. Father Daddy scowls at him again, but Brother Owen ignores that. “And you deserve to know the truth, don’t you agree, Silas?”
I feel the weight behind his words. He has more to tell me, and I watch him, waiting to see what he'll say and trying to seem open and accepting of his message.
“And you would accept any duty that you were given, isn't that true?” he finally asks me, grudgingly. Obviously he doesn’t want to say what he needs to say.
I nod emphatically. Of course I would. Anything.
“Even if it meant you had to leave us? To live among other men?”
My breath stalls in my throat.
“I — I don't know what you mean.”
“Everything has a value, Angel,” he continues quietly. “And what you possess may have the most value of all. It might even be able to save us. If it came to that.”
My mind trips over the thoughts. Save us? I have something of value? Something to sacrifice?
“Of course I would do anything I could for the Family,” I reply, trying to ignore the frantic sound of my heartbeat. “I only want to be of service.”
Brother Owen glances meaningfully at Father Daddy. He seems to say that he is satisfied with my answer.
“But I never want to leave you,” I continue. I don't want to say it, but the words tumble from my mouth anyway. “Just tell me what I need to do.”
Father Daddy strokes my hair comfortingly. “Let's just hope it doesn't come to that.” He sighs, shaking his head sadly.
Though I know my life is supposed to be used for whatever purpose they think is best, I know I need to stay here. This perfect moment, I never want it to end. I resolve to be the best that I can be, so they never want to let me go.
Owen
I lick my lips as I leave the Ceremony, the sweet and salty taste of Angel still on my lips. I want to wash her flavor down with a whiskey at Dustin’s, but my lust is still high in my belly. I need to release.
It’s hard to walk with my shaft this thick and heavy inside my pants. Whether I come or not, I usually am able to walk properly after a ceremony. But there’s something different about this one. She is perfect, in every way. Sweet, supple. Innocent, but naturally filled with her own flames of lust.
My cock throbs. It’s almost painful.
I barely make it inside my own door before I pull my fly down and free myself from the confines of the denim fabric. My fingers wrap around the familiar heaviness, but this time I feel hotter and thicker than usual. I see her mouth in my mind, that glistening, candy pink mouth. And I imagine plunging into her as she licks the underside of my shaft, her small tongue slipping naturally and eagerly around the knots of skin there.
“Angel,” I whisper to the empty room, as the planks of the barnboard creak with the movement of my weight, back and forth, back and forth. It only takes a few strokes before I spurt. The semen comes out fast and in thick ropes. All for her, her little mouth, her innocent sex. Imagining breaching her own little knot of skin in back.
When I catch my breath, I pull up my pants and quickly clean myself up.
The power this girl has is something fierce. I have to sit down and think all this over with a clear head. If there’s any other way to save the Family, if Silas won’t agree to let her go.
But first I grab my secret stash of whiskey from the hiding place under one of the planks, and take a swig straight from the bottle. The images of Dustin’s men taking Angel for themselves is intruding on my good feelings, and drink is the only way to dull the jealousy that roars inside.
Angel
“I want you to tell me absolutely everything before Mary gets here!”
Mama comes into the kitchen trying to smile, but
it looks thin and strained. She doesn’t want to reveal just how tense she really is. I just smile and take the basket of vegetables from her arms. They're still covered in dirt from the garden and give off that pungent, earthy smell of pollen and crushed leaves.
“Now, Mama, you know I can't do that. The ceremony is sacred! I can't just go blabbing all the details…”
She raises her eyebrows at me, something which normally carries some weight. But as of this morning, it doesn't seem to matter quite as much. I'm a woman now. Soon I will have my own house. My own Master. I will have all the rights and privileges of every other woman in the Family, and I can see that she knows that too.
“But it's just so… out of the ordinary!” she continues, trying to sound breezy. “Why were you alone with them? What did they say?”
“We’re here!” I hear voices from the front door. I shrug at Mama and sweep away, ready to greet the other aunties.
Annie comes in with a parcel of meat wrapped in brown paper. She holds it under one arm proudly, as though she might have slaughtered it herself. We all know that's not true. Annie's not that ambitious.
“That looks at a lot!” I gasp, like I'm supposed to. She smiles broadly at the compliment.
“Well,” Annie winks knowingly, “I bet you worked up quite an appetite, Angel… wait, what's your new name?”
Her brow furrows for a moment. I don't say anything. I just smile, letting them all wonder about it. Mary pushes forward, squinting at me curiously. I feel Mama come up behind me and Agatha sniffling from the back of the group. She has allergies.
“Wait, I want to guess!” Annie announces. “Henrietta? No? Magdalene maybe?”
I smirk at her, appreciating the insult. But I don't care anymore. What do her insults matter to me?
I take the meat parcel from her hands and wander back to the kitchen, letting them follow behind me. I do that sort of thing now, just lead the way when I feel like it. It feels pretty good.
“Wait, I know! What was the name of that old hag in the test Old Testament… hold on…”
“Oh, Annie, shut up,” Mary scoffs impatiently. “Just let her tell us. Enough of your silliness.”
Agatha moves the kitchen table away from the wall so we can all sit around it and prep the meat and vegetables for the dinner. It'll be us and Father Daddy. He'll officially announce my womanhood, perhaps maybe even name my new Master.
New Master? Something about that seems wrong. If I had to say I had a Master… I would say Father Daddy.
Or Brother Owen…
Or maybe both.
The thought gives me a quick little thrill, and my womanhood does a tiny flip-flop in my belly. Yes, I'm going to make very good friends with that part of me.
Which makes me wonder… do all these women have that too? Is that the big secret they’ve been withholding from me all these years? What else do I not know?
But you can't tell by looking from the outside. Mary looks like she swallowed a wedge of lemon years ago and it is still lodged in her throat. I can’t imagine her ever kissing a man, being naked with a man, groaning as he… Oh, wow.
“Just tell us already,” she bawls.
I shrug one shoulder. “Angel.”
Agatha sniffs. “I don't get it.”
I bite the inside of my lips, trying not to smile too broadly.
“He said my name is perfect as it is,” I announce, trying to seem nonchalant about it. But inside me, a million butterflies multiply with excitement. “I suppose that's kind of a compliment to you, Mama. You did a good job naming me.”
But Mama does not seem amused or flattered by this news at all. Her cheeks pink right up. In fact I think I see two capillaries threading through there that look like they might explode.
“Outrageous!” Mary huffs.
“See?” Annie sneers. “I told you so! They're doing it all wrong!”
“You don't have a new name?” Mama repeats in a wavering voice. Her eyes go sort of glassy. What is wrong with her these days?
“I will just be Angel, same as always,” I sigh as I retrieve the salt and pepper from the cabinet. When the roast is prepared, I drop it into the oven. It's at a low temperature, and should braise slowly and come out tender and succulent. Just thinking about it makes my mouth water.
“So that's that! We can talk about something else?”
“What did you do? What did you say to him?”
I dare to stare back at Mary. She is obviously furious, but I don't I need to be afraid of her anymore.
“Yeah, didn’t you go to confession yesterday? People saw you going to the confession shack. You know your first confession is supposed to be with one of the aunties. What did you say to him?”
I bite my lips together. “Confessions are private,” I say in a tight voice.
“Well whatever you said, it must've been terrible!” Annie says sagely. “It must've been so bad that Father Daddy didn't want to risk us knowing about it. Is that what it was?”
I feel my cheeks getting hot. “No… that wasn't it at all.”
Mary stops scraping the skin off carrots and points the knife at me. “Then what was it?”
I look around, confused. Why are they so angry? It's just a private exchange between me and Brother Owen and Father Daddy. It's not like I robbed a bank or anything. Are they really that mad about not knowing every little detail about every little thing that goes on in the compound?
“You know what, I think I need to start getting ready for dinner,” I lie, since dinner is actually hours away. “My dress isn’t finished, and if I don't work on it now, I'll only have the shift you gave me to wear!”
The sound of their collective gasp is actually sort of satisfying as I turn on my heel and leave the kitchen. I let the door to my room close rather loudly – not slamming it of course — so that they know I'm not to be disturbed.
Now that I've got some time to myself, I have to admit, those were some pretty good questions. Why did they want me alone? Why couldn’t the aunties be there, like they do for everyone else? To guide me and comfort me? To help me understand?
Father Daddy will be here soon, and I hope I have a chance to ask him. I know that we really connected. It almost felt like he could read my mind. If I just ask him, he'll help me understand.
Or perhaps he'll just announce my marriage and move on. Perhaps that moment we had is all there was ever meant to be.
Instantly I feel tears spring to my eyes. How could I live knowing I would not have that again? To not feel Brother Owen’s silky hair against my fingers again? To not taste Father Daddy's salty seed?
No. That would be a tragedy. It was so perfect, so completely what I needed… It has to happen again. It has to.
But then again, they could have anyone. They don't need some inexperienced novice like me. They have been through this hundreds of times over the years. They’ve probably forgotten about me already.
I sit down at my small table with a needle and thread and my nearly-completed dress. I still have layers of lacy fringe to sew onto the neckline. It's a more grown-up style. Still very modest, but the small adornments will let people know that I'm different now.
I feel my troubles sort of melt away from me as I concentrate on the task, darting the needle through the fabric, pulling the thread taut. I love that small musical twang that it makes as it vibrates. I’m so intensely involved with the work that I almost don't hear the knock on my bedroom door when it happens.
The door knob clicks and I turn around when the door swings open. Father Daddy leans his head into the room and I almost gasp with joy.
“May I come in?”
I stand up with a start, almost losing my sewing supplies on the bare floor.
“Of course! Please come in!”
He enters the room, filling the doorway and then looming large, his presence expanding to fill the space. I notice that he pushes the door close behind him and it clicks solidly shut. I imagine the aunties are quite excited about all of th
is.
“Angel… I just wanted to talk to you privately for a moment. Is that all right?”
I nod urgently, unable to speak. Glancing around the room, I don't really have anywhere for him to make himself at home so I gesture toward the bed, the only real comfortable place to sit here.
He sits in the middle, planting his heels on the floor and letting his knees fall open. His eyes dart around the room, taking in the simple furnishings. It's a humble space, but tidy, at least. At the very least, I keep a tidy house.
“Angel, you're very special girl —”
“— woman,” I blurt out. Instantly I regret it. What was I thinking, correcting Father Daddy?
But his face softens into a smile. My heart swells to bursting.
“Indeed, you are,” he agrees softly. “My apologies. You are certainly a woman now.”
“Does that mean you have a Master for me?”
He takes a short breath, one that leaves his mouth partially open. His eyes search mine.
“Or…” I dare to ask, “are you sending me out to the men in the world? Like Brother Owen mentioned?”
“Is that what you want?”
I don't know what to say. Is it? Do I really want some boy from the compound… Someone I grew up with and still think of as a little boy… Do I really want someone like that running my life?
“I'm not sure,” I answer honestly. “But I want to do whatever you think is best.”
He nods seriously.
“Well, that's good to hear, Angel. In any case, I think we should take our time about it. As I said, I think you're very special.”
I smile. I can't help it. When he sees me smiling, he smiles too.
“Why are you smiling?”
I shrug. “Because I’m happy, of course. I’m happy you’re here. With me.”
He chuckles, an almost unfamiliar sound. He's very serious all the time. He has to take care of all of us, which is why we call him Father Daddy. He is ultimately responsible for every life in the Kingdom Come Family. It must weigh so heavily on him.
