Devil's Fire

by Melissa MacNeal

  My shock made him chuckle darkly. ‘And if you find this too revolting, I’m sure Mrs Goodin will oblige me. She craves chocolate even more than I do.’

  Heart pounding, I reached down to scrape the warm liquid from the inside of one thigh. Quentin’s chocolate phallus had thoroughly coated my inside passage, and now gravity was running its course in a sticky stream. I licked my fingers quickly, eager to be done with this repugnant display.

  ‘You should savour that, Mary Grace. Sybil and her assistants stir up the finest chocolate in the world, so suck those fingers slowly,’ the abbot murmured. ‘And tell me — what do you taste? Besides cocoa and sugar, that is.’

  My cheeks prickled again. ‘Myself, sir.’

  ‘And what flavour might that be?’

  My belly went tight with his question, causing more liquid to seep out. ‘Salty…buttery.’

  ‘Mmmmmm…keep cleansing yourself, Mary Grace. You seem to create more sweet, salty honey-butter by the moment.’

  I couldn’t look at him. Pretending my closed eyes were a part of that savouring he demanded, I scraped my fingers along the other leg and inserted them into my mouth, pulling them out slowly so I could indeed enjoy the consequences of our contest in the kitchen. I thought again of Paul and Quentin, firing their chocolate shells, and of mysterious Elvira kissing me deeply, and I could forget about my lewd spectator, who was probably pleasuring himself beneath his cassock. Visions of Sybil came to mind, proudly poised on Elvira’s lap with her breasts encased in hardening chocolate, parting her legs in invitation as I anointed the curious man who held her.

  I began to use both hands, dipping and licking one before quickly following suit with the other. The sensitive skin of my thighs quivered and I caught myself writhing, more aroused than I would ever want to admit once this shameless exercise ended.

  ‘Spread further, Mary Grace. Scoop that dark, sweet liquor from your outer folds. Dip your fingers deep…deep inside you.’

  I complied, wiping at my bush and my outer lips, and then sucking off the chocolate. My breathing was becoming shallower and more rapid with each stroke. Although I had to run out of that buttery-brown nectar soon, my pussy was pulsing it out continuously and growing more excited by the second. I reached up inside, using three fingers as a scoop, and heard a low moan.

  ‘Lie down,’ the abbot rasped. ‘Keep reaching into yourself, with your thighs wide, until I declare you completely clean.’

  He demanded the most intimate of views, the most explicit means of exposing myself. As I sank to the floor, bunching my tunic beneath my head, Father Luc walked quickly into the little room where I’d dressed after my earlier episode with Mrs Goodin. He returned with a basin of water and a towel, which he folded, lengthwise, and then draped across my eyes.

  ‘You’re not nearly finished,’ he chided in a breathy voice. ‘Now keep those fingers moving, Mary Grace. You know what’s required of you. You know that to fully purge yourself of that chocolate — however it got up there — you’ll need to convulse like a female giving birth.’

  He spoke in a different metaphor than others I’d met here, but his meaning was clear. The towel created a dimness I could hide behind, even though my sex was still blatantly exposed to him. Relieved that his housekeeper wasn’t being called in, and aroused enough that my initial hesitation had disappeared, I thrust my fingers up my cunt again. I was rocking on the floor, my movements becoming more frantic between tastes of the syrup I brought out with wet, furtive noises. I felt the inner spasms beginning, like low and distant thunder before a storm.

  A hand clamped around my feet, pressing the balls of them together while pushing down slightly to keep my legs open wide. ‘It’s running clear now,’ the abbot whispered. ‘Time for the final act of contrition, Mary Grace.’

  The position he held me in intensified every sensation as I strove towards the climax that would settle this matter. I was somewhat constricted, unable to see, yet between the confines of my thighs, my slit and clitoris pulsed so powerfully Father Luc could probably view their movements. He would be looking directly down at them, as I felt his feet flanking my hips and his cassock fluttering around my bent knees. My fingers slid quickly along my wet slit while my thumb rubbed the aching nub adjoining it, until the warmth and the wetness and the illicit nature of this penance had me writhing up towards release.

  Father Luc raised my feet, which elevated the sensations until I grimaced with an exquisite tightness that refused to be denied. As I cried out, I heard an answering moan. A torrent of hot seed splattered against my breasts.

  I fell limp, and the abbot released me. ‘Use the towel and water to wipe yourself, and then continue with your work, Mary Grace. You’ll be sequestered in this room until Mr Fortune visits on Friday, to prevent any further temptations and the need for purging them. Your solitude will provide the time to contemplate your purpose here among us, and to plan your future work.’

  ‘Yes, sir.’

  ‘I’ll inform Sybil of this situation, and instruct the others that you are to be left completely alone, for your own benefit. Do I make myself clear?’

  I sighed beneath the towel, imagining a week in this claustrophobic room, naked, with only the abbot and Mrs Goodin for company. ‘Yes. Quite clear.’

  ‘Fine. Make yourself respectable, and be thankful for my lenience today. Your penance will be much harsher and more humiliating next time.’

  Chapter Thirteen

  My Guardian Angel

  I was so overjoyed to see Beau trotting ahead of that familiar black carriage, I nearly cried. My five days of confinement in Father Luc’s office had been less of a punishment than I anticipated, but only because Brother Christy appointed himself my ambassador. Although the abbot forbade him — or anyone else — to speak to me, the kindly friar brought my clean tunic on Tuesday, and carried in all my meals. And when I spotted Hyde through my little window, it was this blond, bespectacled friend who came to escort me outside.

  Not that I would’ve awaited permission to leave: throughout those days alone, thoughts of my handsome benefactor had kept me from caving in to the loneliness Father Luc imposed upon me. My heart knew Hyde would be happy to see me, too, so by Friday I was determined to rush into his arms, abbot be damned. I nearly knocked Brother Christy against the wall in my haste to greet the man I loved.

  ‘Mary Grace!’ he sang out. And then we were embracing, kissing like impassioned animals. ‘My God, how I’ve missed you, sweetheart. I’ve lost count of the times I almost told Sebastian to hitch up the carriage.’

  ‘I wish you had,’ I whispered against his neck. ‘Oh, I wish you’d been here.’

  Hyde gazed at me with those distinctive cinnamon eyes, which burned with his affection. Had ever two strong arms felt so comforting? In the week since I’d seen him, I’d been caressed in ways and places I couldn’t have imagined before, but this simple hug in the sunshine felt better than all those other touches combined. It made me feel loved. And I had sorely missed that emotion since coming to Heaven’s Gate.

  Ignoring Brother Christy and the abbot, Hyde searched my face. ‘Have things gone well, Mary Grace?’ he asked with quiet concern. ‘I’ll pay off our arrangement and take you home, if you have the slightest doubt about staying here.’

  From beneath that wedge of brown hair that hung rakishly over one eye, Hyde Fortune appeared as eager for me to leave the abbey as I was to go with him. My first impulse was to shout, ‘Yes! Take me with you! Please take me home!’

  And yet, with the abbot looking smugly on, flanked by the monk who’d befriended me, I couldn’t concede defeat. If I went down that mountain, I’d have to tell Hyde of the degradation I’d suffered here, without confessing the more arousing aspects of my stay. I’d be admitting I couldn’t keep my part of a bargain, which would mean — at least to me — I couldn’t support myself with my sewing. I loved Hyde dearly, but I wasn’t ready to depend upon him like a parasite. Especially if it meant living above his mortuary.
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  But mostly I envisioned Father Luc’s laughter as he counted Hyde’s money, his sneer as he bade me goodbye. And it would be just like him to recount my sins and shortcomings when Hyde visited in the future. He would delight in telling how easily I became aroused, and with how many lovers in how many different ways, to shatter Hyde’s trust in me.

  No, I couldn’t leave here a loser.

  So I put on a brave face. ‘I’ve finished a quilt and started another! I’ve made several new friends. And Sybil even invited me to make chocolate-covered cherries.’

  ‘You and your room-mate are getting on all right, then?’

  I smiled, hoping he didn’t read between my lines. ‘Oh, she puts up a tough front, but inside, Sybil’s a cream puff — if she likes you. And thank goodness, she’s decided I’m worthy of sleeping on her couch.’

  A dimple played in his cheek, perhaps betraying a recollection of his own experiences with her. ‘If you’re sure this is working out, I suppose I can endure the next few months without you. The house feels empty. Even Sebastian and Yu Ling miss you, Mary Grace.’

  I was tempted to admit the truth, to leave this place before I got myself into deeper erotic waters than I could tread. But Father Luc’s purposeful cough brought me out of my pondering. Why should I give him the satisfaction of seeing me leave with my tail between my legs?

  ‘I miss you, too, Hyde. Dreadfully,’ I whispered. ‘But I’m a woman of my word. I’ll stay and earn out my part of this bargain.’

  He nodded, and with a quick kiss he ended our private conversation. ‘Father Luc will be wanting the balance of his Christmas profits,’ he said more loudly, ‘and I’ve brought supplies Sybil needs in the kitchen. For you, my love, I have a trunkful of ball gowns, donated by the Ladies Aide Society. Many of them want one of your illustrated quilts, and seeing pieces of their own finery worked into the designs will send the bidding higher yet.’

  ‘Thank you!’ I squealed. ‘I can’t wait to see them.’

  ‘And so you won’t.’ He gestured towards Brother Christy and the abbot, steering me to the back of his carriage. ‘If these gentlemen will carry the trunk into your work area, I’ll fetch the cash, and we’ll settle up. Then,’ he whispered, ‘you and I will settle a few things. Alone.’

  Opening that trunk felt like Christmas. I pulled out shiny taffetas and tulles, rich velvets, silks and crêpe de Chine, along with patterned brocades in bright jewel tones that lifted my spirits like nothing else could. I felt someone behind me and looked up to see Brother Christy.

  ‘You have quite a rainbow here,’ he remarked, testing some of the fabrics between his fingers. ‘Perhaps one of your quilts could illustrate the Noah’s Ark story. This tweed could be the gopher wood for the boat — and look! Wouldn’t this gold velvet make a fine giraffe!’

  ‘You have a wonderful eye,’ I replied. I could already see the bow of the boat in the quilt’s foreground, with a shimmering rainbow behind it. Some animals would stand on the deck, and a serene white dove would bear an olive branch across the sky.

  Hyde had joined us, and he was smiling slyly. ‘I could even persuade a certain someone to buy that quilt for the church, Mary Grace. Delores Poppington was asking about you this week, and I told her some of your creations would soon be up for auction.’

  ‘Lord knows she has the money for it,’ I muttered, recalling the false-bottomed casket she’d bought her husband — and her ecstatic shrieks when Hyde was humping her in her own. ‘Perhaps her conscience will drive the price on this fine piece as high as Mount Ararat.’

  Brother Christy laughed. ‘My offer still stands, to show you other cast-offs you could use for your quilts. Remind me some day, and I’ll take you to where we keep them.’ He nodded to Hyde then, and went on his way.

  The money Father Luc had just collected drew Mrs Goodin like a magnet, so we left the two of them poring over the ledgers. I felt supremely happy as I linked my arm through Hyde’s, and then let him help me into the enclosed carriage, where he pulled me into a deep, yearning kiss.

  ‘Be thinking about where we can go,’ he whispered, clapping the reins across Beau’s backside. ‘My buttons are ready to pop from wanting you.’

  Arousal highlighted his virile face, and his words sent the wanting right between my thighs. I’d gained a great deal of experience among these randy abbey residents, but none of them had the voice or the way with words Mr Fortune wooed me with. I sensed our budding romance was a vital part of our lovemaking to him, as it was to me, and this set his affection apart from the games and rituals my new friends engaged in.

  We entered a sweet-smelling kitchen that buzzed like a hive. ‘You’re just in time for a taste of the morning’s work,’ Vee sang out, and her sister added, ‘Come look at these pretties.’

  Hyde and I followed them through the kitchen towards the dining tables, where delicate fruit and pastry creations cooled. I took a long, appreciative sniff. ‘Tarts, eh?’

  Elvira glanced around, wearing a furtive smile. ‘No one here by that description, surely. How are you, Hyde? Good to see you again.’

  I watched with veiled interest as the man wearing fashionable male attire took the hand offered by one who dressed as a woman. Did Hyde know Elvira’s secret? Their greeting was brief, because Sybil sashayed in with a tray of tarts still steaming from the oven.

  ‘Just the man I was hoping to see!’ she crooned with a seductive wink. ‘I hope you’ve brought me something, instead of saving it all for Miss Michaels. I could use a long piece of hard salami about now!’

  Hyde smiled, his eyes sidling to mine. ‘You’ll have to get your rise out of the yeast I brought you, Sybil. The rest of my goods go to Mary Grace.’

  ‘Fine way to treat the woman who never lets you down,’ she teased. Then she playfully pressed a cooled tart to his lips. ‘See if this cherry’s to your liking. And ask your lady friend about covering hers with chocolate a few days ago. She had a memorable morning.’

  Hyde bit down, then shared his pastry with me. ‘Every morning with you is memorable, Sybil,’ he quipped, ‘but today I’m interested in a cosy nook where Mrs Goodin won’t yank open the door, and spies won’t taunt us in the water. The hide without the seek, in other words.’

  Sybil’s smile lit up her dark-rimmed eyes and made the bangles in her ears quiver. ‘I know a little cottage where the mistress won’t be in until after dinner’s served,’ she hinted. ‘And everyone else will be here in the dining hall. Just leave me a little something on the sheets to remember you by.’

  Within minutes, Hyde, Brother Paul and Brother Quentin had unloaded the supplies, and we were strolling towards the bungalow with as much nonchalance as our desire would allow. My escort placed a hand on my back, hurrying me along, but he also waved to Brother Gregory and Brother Jack, who were returning from the pecan grove with loaded baskets.

  ‘Would you look at the nuts on those guys?’ Hyde teased in a low voice.

  ‘I like yours better. How’s Solomon these days?’

  ‘Hard pressed, and in search of female company,’ he growled, running his fingernails up my spine. ‘He’s especially fond of redheads who don’t wear underthings. Know of any?’

  ‘Two, actually. But if he’s as wise as the story goes, he’ll choose me.’ I paused at the cottage door, glancing around the grounds. ‘I have the distinct impression the other one is arranging a visitation of some sort, despite how deserted things appear. These people thrive on…exposing each other.’

  ‘Surely not! Father Luc wouldn’t allow it.’ As we entered the cottage and he leaned against the door to shut it, Hyde’s eyes glowed. I couldn’t tell if he knew of the highly-sexed undercurrent at Heaven’s Gate, or if he was truly unaware of how life here didn’t reflect the typical monastery. ‘All I know, sweet Mary, is that the past week without you has been hell, and that we have a lot of catching up to do before I leave this afternoon.’

  My face fell. ‘Must you go so soon?’

  ‘Big funeral tomorr
ow. Rumour had it Mayor Bateman fathered a child out of wedlock, and his wife shot him. By the time the smoke cleared, the new mother decided someone else had sired her child, so then poor Mrs Bateman ate the pistol herself.’

  ‘How tragic!’ I whispered, before Hyde’s searing kiss silenced me.

  ‘Not nearly so sad as this pistol of mine,’ he breathed. He guided my hand between his legs, where a bulge threatened to split the seam of his pants. ‘Unfired for a week now, growing despondent and cold in your absence. What do you intend to do about that, sweet lady?’

  At least he wasn’t asking if I, too, had gone unfulfilled. I returned his kiss with a vengeance, wanting him more than Sybil or Ahmad or anyone else who’d been my teacher this week. I unfastened his fly, grasping his erection to lead him to the bed. ‘I’m going to straddle your face and feel your tongue thrusting up my cunt,’ I murmured. ‘And when I can’t stand any more of that, I’m going to mount you like a wild mustang and hang on for dear life!’

  ‘Oh, God,’ he murmured, tugging my tunic up over my head. ‘Suck me, and buck me…and then you’ll have to fuck me!’

  Hyde’s words sent heat rushing through my body, now exposed to his view. He cupped my breasts, his hands urgent as they reacquainted themselves with the size and the weight and the roundness of them. My nipples popped out, and as I yanked his shirt from his pants I couldn’t contain a lustful yelp. I bared his chest, splaying my hands across the muscled planes and then tickling his rigid nipples with my tongue.

  He grunted and shoved me back on to the mattress. ‘I hope fast and loose will suit you this time, sweetheart. Sol gets a little unruly when he’s been deprived.’