Devil's Fire

by Melissa MacNeal

  ‘There’s number one! Oil me again, Mary.’

  The casting Elvira handed me was a perfect replica of a splendid pecker, right down to the little hole in the top, and the ridged edge of the head, and the veins that corded the underside. I had no time to study this piece, however, because Paul and Quentin sounded ready for second dippings as well. I quickly oiled the shaft before me, marvelling at how it blossomed in my hand.

  ‘May I ask how you shrivelled so quickly?’ I whispered.

  ‘Let’s just say I think cold thoughts of cold people,’ Elvira replied with a nasty chortle. ‘Right now, however, your touch is reviving me quite nicely. Are you sure you can resist that lovely cunt in front of you? Watching you lick Sybil would be…such an inspiration.’

  The moment of truth had arrived: while I’d learned to enjoy Sybil’s attentions, I had yet to taste a woman’s nectar. Hers was flowing, too — gathering around the rim of her pink hole like milky honey, ready to spill over. Closing my eyes, I advanced towards her with my tongue extended, eliciting a pair of delighted sighs when I made contact with Sybil’s musky cunt.

  ‘Dip me now, darling. And then get right back to what you’re doing.’

  I obeyed eagerly, aware that our competitors were catching up, making the most of the attention Vee and Zee were giving them. When Elvira’s cock was coated, I leaned up again, letting my curiosity lead my tongue. Sybil moaned and shifted, spreading her thighs to urge me on.

  ‘Go deeper,’ she rasped. ‘Jesus, Mary, I’ve wanted this for so long. Get me out of this damn cast so I can enjoy you!’

  Licking the dew from my lips — and catching the yearning expression on the face behind Sybil’s thighs — I stood to assist her. It seemed feasible to cup the lifelike chocolate casting so that, with Elvira’s help, Sybil raised herself out of it. She breathed her relief, her nostrils flaring at me like a dainty colt’s, but her intentions got cut short.

  ‘We need another bust of Sybil!’ Brother Paul cried out. His erection stood up, proud and brown, yet he had the presence of mind to heckle us. ‘Have to keep that Head Wench occupied so she can’t distract the rest of us. We know whose team she’s pulling for, after all!’

  And so it went. I dipped Elvira a second time and then smeared sweet-smelling oil over Sybil’s lovely breasts, more enthralled by the feel of them than I thought I’d be. With no time to lose, however, I assisted her dip and by that time Elvira was easing out of a second casting.

  ‘Oil me again, sweetheart,’ she breathed. ‘Don’t be afraid to knead and squeeze me. It gets trickier each time I go up, after shrivelling it.’

  I complied, and on impulse I also renewed my attentions to Sybil. Her moans proved quite inspiring to Elvira, who watched so eagerly as I drove my tongue in and out of that creamy slit that she felt compelled to join in. When Sybil let out a louder wail, like a she-cat calling to its tom, I realised Elvira was tonguing the hole behind mine — and loving it, by the way that cock sprang to life in my hand again. My face was so close to those chiselled lips, I stopped breathing for a moment.

  ‘Dip me,’ Elvira whispered, and then kissed my lips.

  ‘Dip me!’ Sybil squealed. ‘Don’t you two even think about ignoring me down there!’

  I moved as fast as I could, realising Brother Paul and Brother Quentin might soon gain the advantage because they each had an assistant — and no wiggling woman on their laps demanding her due. I reviewed Elvira’s explanation of this game, and considered a counter-strategy I hoped would work. Our opponents appeared as randy and close to climax as Elvira would soon be, if I weren’t careful — although I had the feeling that Paul’s excitement came from ogling the man facing him.

  Not that it mattered. Our game was everything at the moment, and as rapidly as Elvira was panting into Sybil’s arse, I sensed it would end soon.

  ‘Go cold!’ I whispered, taking hold of the chocolate shell that had hardened sufficiently.

  Elvira stopped wiggling, and as soon as that member shrivelled just enough, I slipped the casing off it. Once again I oiled it, this time slipping my mouth over its pulsing hardness as I inserted two fingers into Sybil. Again the shaft shot up, and after its initial dip, I offered my wet fingers to the lush lips I curiously wanted to kiss.

  ‘Warm in here,’ I rasped, my pulse racing as Elvira sucked up to my knuckles. ‘You tend Sybil while I derail our competition. I won’t be long.’

  With a covert chuckle I stepped from between those long, smooth legs so I could catch Brother Quentin’s eye. As I anticipated, he was rocking on his seat, straining to contain himself while Zee reached for the pot to give him a second coating. I stepped in front of him. Then I lifted my tunic quickly over my head, exposing myself more lewdly than I’d ever dared before.

  Brother Quentin’s eyes bulged and his face reddened with the strain. And when I cupped my breasts from the sides, creating an offering of my cleavage, he let out a cry. The chocolate on his cock shattered, sending a stream of semen on to Paul’s stomach. The blond fired back, only his coating shot like a long brown bullet and smashed against Quentin’s chest.

  ‘Bravo! That’s my Mary!’ Sybil crowed. ‘Now get me out of this thing!’

  With utmost care Elvira lowered the redhead from his lap to the floor and relieved her of the hardened chocolate encasing her chest. Sybil in turn eased the chocolate from Elvira’s cock. She turned to congratulate me, her eyes warning me that I was being ambushed from behind — but my arms were already being playfully pinned to my sides.

  ‘And what punishment shall we deliver to this wicked little vixen?’ Brother Quentin said from behind me. His breath teased my ear, and I felt his laughter rumbling in his chest. ‘Seems to me she deserves a licking, from everyone present.’

  ‘And what better way to use the brandy left in the pans?’ Sybil suggested. ‘Just this morning, Mrs Goodin warned us not to waste our supplies. So we’d only be complying with her command, wouldn’t we?’

  I was laughing too hard to be afraid, only faintly anxious as Vee and Zee fetched the pans while my captor planted me in the pot of chocolate. Like warm mud, the fudge oozed up between my toes, and then the blonde sisters were giggling on either side of me, pouring the warm, sticky brandy so it ran in rivulets down my breasts and back. It went down the crack of my arse, and saturated my bush, and then slithered into my slit.

  ‘I think she’s ready,’ Brother Paul announced in a feral voice. ‘Let’s see how long it takes to make her cry for mercy!’

  They converged on me like a pack of hungry dogs. Lips and tongues teased every part of my body while sly fingers entered me from front and rear. Brother Quentin centred himself in front of me to kiss me hotly on the mouth, so I didn’t know whose mouth massaged my bottom or who was suckling each breast. Female panting and laughter mixed with male, and my body threatened to overload from all the sensations of their probing tongues and exploring hands.

  ‘I bet she has the most delicious feet,’ Zee suggested, and I was suddenly uprooted from my pot of chocolate. Elvira cradled me against her smoothly muscled chest, while Brother Paul sucked on one foot and Zee latched on to the other. I writhed, amazed at such exquisite torture. Was it Sybil kneeling beneath me, separating the halves of my arse? I felt Vee kissing my neck, and closed my eyes for the more thorough kiss I saw in Elvira’s shining gaze.

  The lips were a man’s, hard and demanding, and I opened eagerly to them. I squirmed against the arms that tightened passionately around me, certain I was incapable of accepting any more pleasure. Then I heard a devious chuckle — Quentin’s — and after he lifted my bush to wetly tongue my clitoris, he shoved something inside me.

  My eyes flew open. ‘What —? Whose —?’

  Quentin’s laughter came from between my legs. ‘Now you know why we delight in making these chocolate cocks, sweet Mary. I filled one of Elvira’s with some of that fudge, so even after you’ve climaxed, there will be luscious pleasure left for the rest of us. How much more can you handle? It�
�s only halfway in.’

  I curled upward with the next thrust, barely containing a scream of utter ecstasy. Elvira smiled, a mere inch above my face. ‘That’s how you’ll feel when I get my turn, lovely Mary.’

  Again and again the velvety dildo was pushed and pulled, coating my inside passage with its lush warmth until I could hold back no longer. I cried out with loud, lusty wails that ricocheted from the copper pots hung by the hearth. I convulsed as though possessed by the Devil himself, and then fell limp in Elvira’s arms.

  ‘Welcome to the Kitchen Club,’ Vee said with a giggle.

  ‘We’re so glad you could come,’ Brother Quentin quipped, and he gently placed the dripping dildo on my chest. It had shrunk considerably, and it reeked of heated chocolate and brandy and my own copious juice. ‘Since you so gamely entered into our fun, Mary Grace, you get to choose who’ll tongue you out. Can’t let all those choice ingredients go dribbling down your legs, wasted.’

  ‘Wouldn’t want to defy Mrs Goodin,’ Sybil chimed in, making them all laugh. ‘And Lord knows old Hortense would be green with envy if she knew how we’ve all enjoyed making Mary’s acquaintance.’

  ‘Or just making Mary,’ Brother Paul added with a chortle.

  ‘Better to be green with envy than red and scorched from the fires of Hell.’

  The group sucked in its collective breath and drew instinctively closer together. But that didn’t keep the dour woman in the doorway from seeing our unclad bodies, all caught in the acts of pleasure from moments before. I clenched my eyes shut, doom roiling in my stomach as the seconds of Mrs Goodin’s silence ticked by. Elvira gave my shoulder a sympathetic squeeze, but it did nothing to relieve my mounting fears.

  ‘Father Luc will see you now, Miss Michaels,’ the housekeeper announced, her voice ugly with glee. ‘He wants to discuss your next quilts. I’ll tell him you’re on your way.’

  Chapter Twelve

  Yet Another Cleansing

  As I hurried along the path to the abbey’s imposing entrance, where the gargoyles leered with more menace than before, my tunic was sticking to all the wrong spots on my body and my hair was a ghastly sight. I could only wonder what sort of punishment awaited me when I reached Father Luc’s office. Mrs Goodin had only had five minutes to tell her tales — but I suspected she’d set a nasty trap before coming to the kitchen. My thighs chafed with the memory of her lye soap as my footsteps echoed down the stone corridors. I entered that solitary hallway, nipping my lip.

  Father Luc awaited me alone. He was seated on his thronelike chair, his hands tented beneath his nose, following the sinister lines of his black moustache. ‘What day is this, Miss Michaels?’ he demanded.

  As I calculated back to when I left Mount Calvary, it seemed I’d crammed weeks into only a few days. ‘It’s Sunday, sir,’ I murmured, already sensing where this path would lead.

  ‘And have you attended Sabbath services?’

  ‘No,’ I replied, the heat rising into my cheeks. ‘Have you?’

  ‘I conducted mass at sunrise, before breakfast. I noted your absence, Mary Grace, and was appalled that you’ve so quickly departed from the way in which your parents raised you.’

  ‘Let’s leave my parents out of this!’ I retorted. While I was ashamed for forgetting what day it was, no one else had mentioned any worship services — nor had they behaved as though today was different from any other.

  ‘And why are you mentioning this now? I’m getting pretty damn tired of everyone else knowing the routine here, and leaving me out!’

  His coiled laugh warned me that I was playing into his trap. ‘Sybil didn’t inform you? She hasn’t missed a Sunday service since she’s been here,’ he continued smugly. ‘And Elvira — whom you undoubtedly met during your kitchen visit — is the finest organist Heaven’s Gate has ever enjoyed. If I were you, I’d be wondering why my so-called friends didn’t tell me about these things…why they allowed me to blunder, and then pay the consequences. Perhaps you’re associating with the wrong people.’

  My mouth dropped open. ‘You’re the one who assigned me to Sybil’s cottage!’

  ‘Because she had room for you. Because we have so few women’s quarters.’

  ‘And you have nothing but praise for her cooking!’

  The abbot chuckled as though he were dealing with a dense, witless woman. ‘What Sybil and her crew produce in the kitchen is our business, Mary Grace. Our livelihood. Let’s not confuse our earthly work with seeking our souls’ places in the hereafter.’

  When Father Luc leaned towards me, I noticed how his eyes burned with something familiar, yet something so cruel and vindictive it frightened me. I braced against his scrutiny, because it would be a sign of defeat to shrink away from his gaze.

  ‘What’s that I smell?’

  ‘I don’t know, sir. Your cassock looks fresh,’ I ventured. ‘Perhaps it’s the soap and sunshine from Mrs Goodin’s laundering.’

  His mouth quirked. ‘You reek of brandy, Mary Grace. Sybil invited you to assist with the chocolate-covered cherries, but you didn’t have to return here smelling like one. Did you bathe in that liquor?’

  I would have to reply carefully to this line of questioning, or I’d betray my new friends. ‘I must’ve sloshed some on my tunic. It has a delightful pungency, doesn’t it?’

  The hint of a twinkle in those piercing eyes was all the humour the abbot allowed for. I suspected Mrs Goodin was waiting in the wings to join him in this interrogation, so I had to speak carefully. He had probably heard her account of our kitchen activities, and would mete out my punishment according to how bad a lie he caught me in.

  ‘Remove your tunic. I can’t possibly work in this small room with you smelling like fermented cherries.’

  ‘I assume you have another one for me?’

  ‘No. You’ll have to wait for this one to be washed.’ The planes of his face creased with a nasty mirth. ‘Each resident is issued one tunic upon arrival, in keeping with our vow of poverty. Perhaps after this you’ll take better care of your clothing, Miss Michaels.’

  Did this mean everyone went around naked while his tunic was being washed? I had a hard time believing the monastery coffers were so low, or the residents so tidy, that the monks made do without any additional clothing! And yet…I’d seen those men circling that pear tree, and Sybil’s assistants had no qualms about hanging up their tunics when their games began. Perhaps I’d have to set aside my modesty, even though I didn’t plan to remain here past May.

  ‘Where’s the dress I wore here?’ I demanded, stepping forward to challenge him. ‘If you think I’m going to do my quilting naked —’

  ‘You’ll do as I tell you.’

  ‘— then Hyde’s going to hear about your perverted —’

  ‘He won’t believe you.’ Father Luc raked his fingers back through his raven hair, smiling arrogantly. ‘If you tell him I forced you to strip, he’ll chalk it up to your own wantonness — which he knows about, first-hand. And I’ll attest to your need for penance, if you’re to continue to live here. You’ve been nothing but trouble since you arrived, Mary Grace, and I have more important matters to attend than your behaviour. The sooner you obey me, the sooner you’ll have your tunic back.’

  No laundry would be done today. I glanced at my little corner beside that window — where anyone passing by could look in and see my naked state — and wanted to put up more of a fight. Yet my punishment for defying him would only increase with each passing moment.

  And he was right: no one else would defend me to Hyde, because they all seemed quite comfortable shucking their clothes. I closed my eyes and tugged the bottom of my tunic towards my waist, hoping this would satisfy Father Luc’s penchant for humiliating me. Hoping he wouldn’t notice other substances I’d tried to wipe off before coming here.

  When I stood clutching my sticky tunic against my front, the abbot cleared his throat. ‘Look at me when I’m speaking to you, Mary Grace.’

  I opened my eyes, knowing
he’d found another path to pursue.

  ‘Drop your tunic beside you.’

  I did so, wishing my nipples didn’t react to my lack of clothing. It repelled me to think that Father Luc’s lecherous gaze might inspire the hardening of these buds, or the clenching of muscles in my nether regions, where my honey began to flow in spite of my growing resentment towards this man’s manipulations.

  ‘At the risk of embarrassing you with an indelicate matter, Miss Michaels — what’s trickling down the inside of your leg? I hope you haven’t become so upset while talking with me that you’ve soiled yourself.’

  My face went fiery-hot. I was tempted to say yes, it was excrement and it expressed exactly what I thought of him. But Mrs Goodin would be all too pleased to wash my mouth with her lye soap, if I got too cheeky.

  ‘Perhaps, Father Luc, I smell so horrible you’ll want me to work in the cottage. If you find my personal hygiene lacking, I’ll gather my things and go.’

  He laughed abruptly. ‘You smell like chocolate. Chocolate and your own musk.’

  I remained silent. He hadn’t asked a question, so it was better not to respond.

  ‘Melted chocolate is one of this world’s greatest delights,’ he went on in a voice that raised the hair at my nape. ‘It coats the mouth with velvety sweetness, and makes the palette — one’s very soul — sing for joy, and for more chocolate. Don’t you agree, Mary Grace?’

  I had visions of him spreading my legs to indulge in the treat he described so poetically, and my body’s reaction to this fantasy made me wish I could disappear between the marble tiles I stood on. ‘Yes.’

  ‘Yes, what?’ he demanded, scooting forward on his chair.

  ‘Yes, Father Luc. Chocolate is delicious.’

  ‘Then we shouldn’t waste a single drop of it.’ His expression tightened and he folded his hands below his waist, where I suspected he had a large bulge. ‘Cleanse yourself, Mary Grace. Catch the drippings on your legs, and then lick your fingers. Reach higher, until no trace remains on your private parts, or your pubic hair, or inside you. Then I shall deem you fit to continue your work here.’