Enigma “Sadeness Part 1”
It had been nearly ten years since Matilda had partaken in sins of the flesh. In one month it would be a decade since she took her solemn vow in front of God to live a contemplative existence of medication and prayer, forsaking any urges and denying herself any kind of sexual pleasure whatsoever. For the most part it had been relatively easy, her faith was strong and she was able to resist her quim’s calling. However, every now and then, and more frequently of late, she had fantasized of touching herself intimately. She had become wracked with guilt over this yearning and hadn’t spoken of her desire to another soul other than the almighty himself. It seemed illicit, sinful, contradictory of everything that the good book taught. But she was a full-blooded woman after all, time may have blurred the lines somewhat, but the fact remained that she had needs like any other and these impulses had been renounced long ago.
Mainstream society had not suited her, life had not been kind. Her abusive stepfather had callously snatched away any confidence she had in herself from an early age. A long line of sexual abuse had left her scarred and her inability to share this with another meant that she internalized everything. While other kids her age in school were making friends, attending parties and going through the motions of teenage life, Matilda was hiding herself from plain sight and suffering in silence, the only way she knew how. When her mother tragically died from ovarian cancer at the age of 37, her whole life was thrown into disarray and she acted out accordingly. Her stepfather drank himself into a stupor and regularly lashed out in her direction, so it was left to her grandparents to pick up the pieces. She constantly defied them and fast became known as an easy lay about campus, sleeping with numerous frisky co-eds in an attempt at shutting out her considerable pain. It never worked.
She had always been something of an ugly duckling at school but that changed as she reached her late teens. Any persistent acne had cleared by the time she turned eighteen and she eventually began to fit her skin rather snugly. The sudden attention of boys her own age should have provided her with the confidence boost she craved but she knew, deep down, that they were only interested in one thing. Sex admittedly offered release for her but there was never any emotional investment from her various suitors which made for a rather hollow experience. They would get their kicks, but never concern themselves with returning the favor, leaving her frustrated and feeling used. Consequently she learned and perfected the art of self-gratification as this provided the intimacy other exploits lacked sorely and critically she felt in control. She ultimately learned how to love herself rather than giving herself a look of disdain each time she passed a full-length mirror.
Then she met William. He was different to any other male she had ever come into contact with and seemed genuinely interested in her happiness. They began to court and he acted with dignity and honor, calling her when he said he would and never pushing her into doing anything she wasn’t already comfortable with. It was two months into their relationship before things escalated sexually and, when they did, it was a shared experience and he proved a delicate and respectful lover. Her outlook began to change and she started to see a future with William, until fate intervened in the cruelest way imaginable. He was two weeks away from his twentieth birthday when his car blew a tire, careering off the freeway and into a signpost. He burned alive in the wreckage and Matilda was left utterly devastated by his death, refusing to leave her room for months afterwards and repeatedly listening to the numerous mix-tapes he had compiled for her before he was so harshly and swiftly taken.
Her grandparents became distraught over her spontaneous decline and felt powerless as there was little they could do to raise her flagging spirits. At one point they enlisted her on a course of therapy but this only served to reopen former wounds. Without an outlet, she ended up perpetually revisiting her past, becoming more disillusioned as the agony continued to augment. She was aware that she had to find a channel for her anguish and, when a neighbor suggested religion as a crutch, she figured there was nothing to lose in giving it a try. Her mother had been an atheist and she had never before considered this as being an answer but threw herself into it wholeheartedly as prayer became a most therapeutic manner in which to face up to what she was feeling inside. God became the one shoulder she could cry upon and never appeared to judge her for her past indiscretions. She considered being molested by her stepfather as one such gaffe on her part and found forgiveness in both the old and new testament.
Corinthians 10:13 – No temptation has overtaken you that is not common to man. God is faithful, and he will not let you be tempted beyond your ability, but with the temptation he will also provide the way of escape, that you may be able to endure it.
It had now been almost a decade since her last intimate encounter and it had started to become unbearable. She had questioned her faith on a number of occasions but this was all she knew now. Even her memories of William were fading, the nights they would lay naked and explore every inch of another as time appeared simply to stop. For years those recollections were burned into her mind, though she divulged to nobody else, and never once acted on the impulse to release her pent-up feelings. She had become overcome with self-condemnation for disobeying God so surreptitiously and knew that there were no secrets when all was said as done. If that meant ultimate judgement then she was prepared to take that chance as she knew the purity of their love, even though her bodily urges were anything but. If God really was as forgiving as the good book stated then he would turn a blind eye to such trivial indiscretions and see the larger picture.
Tonight was William’s birthday. Matilda dreaded this day more than any other as the feelings invariably came rushing back, and every time her heart broke, it felt the same as the very first time. Recently she had grown disparaged by the church after Grace, the sister that first took her in, passed away from the same affliction that took her mother. She adored Grace and it seemed cruel that she suffered for a period of three months before she was granted release and, for the first time since taking her vows, alarms were raised as to whether the master she served so obediently even cared. This was her day to remember, their day to cherish together, a potent reminder of how things could have turned out if death had not separated them. She placed her crucifix down on her dresser, sat in brief and quiet prayer, and asked for forgiveness for the sin she was about to commit.
John 1:9: If we confess our sins, he is faithful and just to forgive us our sins and to cleanse us from all unrighteousness.
Matilda had long since stopped believing that she was beautiful. William told her all the time and she shrugged it off for the most part. Compliments were not something she was used to receiving and her stepfather regularly reminded her that she was a scrawny little cunt growing up. Her self-esteem couldn’t have gotten any lower but, after hearing the words “you’re beautiful” enough and seeing the truth in his eyes each time, she eventually started to believe such to be true. It was a decade since anybody last attempted to make her feel good about herself and that had taken its toll on her confidence tremendously. Despite her lowly opinion of herself, many girls would’ve killed for her long lustrous hair or perky well-rounded bosoms and firm derriere. She hadn’t the vaguest idea how beautiful a woman she’d actually grown into.
It took her several minutes before she could pluck up the courage to discard her habit. There were precious few mirrors at the monastery and she habitually evaded their gaze but right now she was locked in a stand-off with her own reflection. As her garment slipped to her ankles and settled around her perfectly proportioned toes, themselves having never seen a lick of nail polish, she took a moment to drink herself in. She was beside herself with nerves but imagined William standing behind her, stroking her long mane and reminding her how perfect she was in his eyes. This helped considerably, it had been too long since she had afforded her mind the opportunity to run away. Reminding herself that she wasn’t alone kept her from denying herself as had been the case on numerous occasions recently. Instead she remained, as naked as the day she was conceived, and growing more comfortable in her skin with every fleeting second.
The sleeping arrangements here were far from the Hilton. As she sat on the edge of her bedstead the first rejoinder was that of cold alloy against her buttocks. However this was counter-balanced by an ambiguous warmth in her haunch, a forgotten feeling which had returned all at once. It was intoxicating, her head was reeling from the glowing sensation at her center, and she laid back gently on the sterile sheets, arching her back delicately as wave after wave of longing rippled up her soft flesh. She knew exactly what to do in such situations but it had been years since she had actually put her learning into practice. Her fingertips had barely touched herself intimately other than in a workmanlike manner whilst bathing since she had taken her solemn oath. In her mind, she sinned the moment she entertained this notion in the first place so there appeared nothing further to lose by proceeding.
She started at her neckline, fingernails dragging lightly against her pelt as they perused her upper torso. Her nipples were rigid posts, had been since she dropped her gown, and her areola were swollen also, evidently picking up the signal from her sticky center-point. Thumbing each in turn made for labored sighs of forbidden pleasure and light convulsions, she knew that what she was doing would be considered sacrilegious in the eyes of the lord but he wasn’t present right now. She had every intention of taking it up with him the next time she passed confessional but was powerless to resist the shudders which coursed through every fiber as she continued her south-bound pilgrimage. Stopping briefly at her naval which had become cloistered by the perspiration which sheathed her front, she continued downwards and into her dense bush of grossly disheveled pubic hair.
It was thick and knotted, in need of dire attention, but housed the source of her fascination so she braved the thicket and slid a solitary digit through to her plump lips. She started rubbing her clitoris ever so gently, hardly making contact as it was already a hive of sensitivity. Occasionally that same finger would retreat to her taut vagina and retrieve nectar to lubricate herself further but this was barely necessary as her well was overflowing with the sweetest honey as attested by her pubic growth which had formed two dainty pig-tails either side of her labial opening. Redemption hadn’t entered into her thoughts since starting the fire between her legs, she had become a sexual arsonist and knew that wouldn’t be looked upon kindly come dawn but this one night mattered not. Not now, she had come too far to stop and her entire body refused to take the obedient way out.
The convulsions were beginning to grow wilder, more unpredictable, and solicited by sweet sin. She parted her legs further, to the point where they dangled from both sides of the divan, and those tender touches became fierce flicks of defiance. Her middle three fingers were inside, milking her desire steadily as her thumb continued to influence from the front. This caused her eyes to flicker and, momentarily she could have sworn she noticed William’s naked frame in the shadows to her left. This didn’t faze her in the slightest, instead a feeling of calm affection washed over her and she forced herself deeper. He was right here, she felt his presence, that was always what this was about for Matilda. She had shared few spiritual connections in her lifetime but the love they shared reassured her that her actions stemmed from pure origin.
There was nothing pure about the thoughts running through her head right now, each twinge awakened something else which had laid dormant for what seemed like an eternity. Every nerve ending was ablaze with wanton lust and that inferno spread right through to her sopping pussy, which was on the brink of imminent explosion. All five of her fingers were now in play, the smallest sliding in and out of her asshole as she began to erupt. That cock, that stiff cock, she wanted it now. She wanted it to fuck her through the headboard and those gentle murmurs turned to full-throated screams as ecstasy claimed her. It felt as though his hands where everywhere, touching and probing. Her flailing arms clattered into the flickering candle on her bedside, knocking it to the floor where its flame ignited her full-length drapes but she remained undaunted.
The only parts of her still touching the sheets by this point were her head and her feet. The rest of her body was elevated entirely as she came and came again in short succession. As her eyes began to roll into the back of her head, she noticed him again. He was between her legs, tongue pressed hard against her clit whilst looking up at her adoringly. The blaze had started to spread and its orange glow was all around her, growing with every sensation. Still, she remained defiant. Within seconds her sheets had begun to smolder and this just intensified her pleasure further. William’s weight was now pressed hard against her and his tongue had now traversed to her hard nipples allowing his burly member to plunder deep. Matilda reciprocated every thrust, pushing down on his girth with every last muscle. Her mattress had now caught light.
She hadn’t noticed the fire alarm sounding in the hallway and was oblivious to the cries of her fellow sisters as they desperately fled their quarters. The pleasure was so intense that she even ignored the flames as they began creeping in from both sides. She was with him, that was all that mattered now. Ten years of stifling her voice had left her numb but she felt more alive now, with death beckoning, than she even realized she could. Her childhood anguish, which had haunted her ever since, was trivial now. William was fucking it right out, holding her tight in his loving embrace as their skin started to cinder together. Before long the entire divan was engulfed and her burning pelt thrashed wildly, although still utterly absorbed in the moment. She wouldn’t let go again, her faith was something that had kept her going through her darkest hours, and she illustrated this belief by clinging on. With that, she reached her ultimate climax, held it there while the last of her nerve endings frittered away. Their love was eternal, no matter where that should be, it would be with him.
The fire crew took nearly an hour putting out the inferno, the entire east wing was decimated by the fire and very little remained by the time the last flame was extinguished. As they doused her bedstead and threw a blanket over her charred remains, one item in the room remained unaffected by the blaze. Her leather-bound bible sat on her dresser wide open meaningfully on one page in particular, highlighting one very specific passage.
Corinthians 3:15-17 – If any man’s work shall be burned, he shall suffer loss: but he himself shall be saved; yet so as by fire.
Truly, Clearly, Really, Sincerely,
Keeper of the Crimson Quill
Copyright: Crimson Quill: Savage Vault Enterprises 2014