Stranger in the Dark Ch. 02

"What the hell?" The doors were firmly locked, Sonya rotating both knobs in turn and vainly pushing and pulling on them, the heavy, aged wood barely acknowledging her attempts at escape. Caught in a stupor, she simply stood still for a moment staring at her blocked route to freedom, as though her will alone could cause the hinges to stir. Having stilled her mind and body for a moment, she reconsidered her predicament. Maybe I'll just go and see this strange priest after all, she thought. It can't hurt to have a look and I do have my cell phone just in case. As much as he unnerved me, he also made me damn horny. Who is this man?

Curiosity began propelling her back away from the doors, as was her awareness of her silk panties that had become plastered to her wet pussy. Each step chafed the lips of her sex, an uncomfortable sensation that was arousing none-the-less. Sonya walked between the pews and passed the confessional booth and then the altar, finally reaching the unobtrusive door that was hidden from general view at the back of the building. The heavy door moved hesitantly as she pushed it slowly, and she warily entered Father Michael's office, her eyes searching the room for the mysterious priest.

It hadn't changed since she was a child, a familiar place of warmth despite its chill appearance, Sonya having accompanied her parents many times as they spoke to the family priest or being one of a swarm of children riotously shoving their way to Father Michael and his famous lollypop jar. It didn't look like an office in the modern sense of the word at all. It was a large, dim room dominated by grey stone, the ceiling as tall as that of the main hall, and the few highly placed stain-glassed windows and the sparse, simple furnishings made it seem all the loftier and emptier. Sunshine barely made it to the bottom of the cavernous room and candlelight flickered and jumped, creating constantly moving shadows. The only furniture inside was a heavy oak desk, a bookshelf backed against the left wall, a stand with a bowl perched on top on the right, a few tall ornate candlesticks and the strange stone slab directly in front of her.

That odd piece of architecture had been a constant source of amusement as a child, Sonya and her friends poking each other and giggling when ever they saw it, delighting in telling spooky tales in which it was invariably a crypt, its contents changing with each story although the common theme tending to involve naughty children. I don't remember it being so low, she thought, the height of the slab reaching her naval, but then she remembered peering over it as a small child when they would sneak up on Father Michael. It does look like a crypt though, just the right size for a human body, she mused.

"You didn't knock," a voice boomed. Sonya was jolted from her thoughts and realized that the strange priest was sitting in a chair pushed back from the desk; he must have been hiding in the shadows and watching her the entire time. She automatically felt flustered and a little angry with herself for not having noticed, although even now with her attention focused on the priest, she could only see a vague black silhouette, his features muddied and the cock of his head the only indication that he was regarding her.

"I'm sorry," she said, and she genuinely was.

"Ah, well manners are the least of our worries right now. We have much larger fish to fry, don't we Sonya?" She virtually tingled all over as he said her name. Although he was completely intimidating and more than a little scary, Sonya could not deny the pleasure he elicited from her body. She felt a shivering wave course through her body and she visibly shuddered. All because this horrid man said my name?

"Yes, I suppose we do," she quietly replied.

"Well then, come closer my child," he instructed, rolling his chair forward, the candlelight slowly revealing and illuminating his face and form. Sonya gasped and took a step behind her toward the door, clearly taken aback. It was not fear that prompted her response, although the man clearly made her fearful, but shock at how attractive she found him and her response of primordial lust. He was ruggedly handsome, with swept back sandy-blonde hair and piercing green eyes. His mouth was slightly upturned at the edges, as though he found the world constantly amusing, or rather that he and the world shared a private joke that no one else was privy to. His massive, broad shoulders strained against the fabric of his black cassock and Sonya suddenly thought he looked like a beautiful, swarthy pirate-priest, her vagina and clitoris throbbing in unison at the sight of him.

Crossing her legs slightly and pressing her thighs together, she squirmed slightly in discomfort and arousal as the priest openly appraised her, his eyes starting at her feet and working their way up, lingering for more than a few moments at her breasts, to then reach her face. He was just staring at her now, his eyes boring into her soul, Sonya unable to break free from his penetrating gaze. "Come forward I said," the priest repeated, and she shuffled forward with the small steps of a geisha, her body under his complete control. By God he is handsome, she thought. The closer I get, the better he looks... and the more I am desperate for his attention, his approval, his touch... She was still holding her thighs together, all too aware of the sticky wetness between them and that the pressure was intensifying her feelings of pleasure, her clitoris swelling and starting to throb harder.

She made to sit down on one of the chairs in front of the desk, her knees becoming weak with her tensely held positioning, when the priest said loudly "No, no, no! Remain standing Sonya, there is no need for you to sit. We have nothing to discuss. We know what we have to do now, don't we?"

"Yes," she replied, as meek as an obedient school girl. She had no idea what he was referring to, but she didn't care... her body had already given itself over to the priest's control. As for her mind, logic and wariness were now merely uninvolved onlookers as her deeper instincts forced their way to the forefront and were more than happy to play this strange man's little game as long as he gave them what they truly desired.

"I think it pertinent that we begin then, child. The mere presence of your sinful body is staining this righteous church. And obviously I must try and save you... you are one of God's creatures, even though you are a complete whore." Sonya jolted as he called her that name. She had never been called such a name before and her intelligent mind was disgusted, urging her to scream her outrage at him and leave immediately, slamming the door behind her. And yet the thought was foggy and unclear as though it had originated from afar, yelled across a vast expanse and barely audible. It was no match for her bodily reaction, her nipples stiff with excitement and her pussy hot and wet, already pulsing rhythmically and craving his cock inside it. Just look at his condescending smirk, she thought. I would wipe it from his face... if I didn't like it so much.

"Undress!" he suddenly demanded.

"Pardon?" she responded. Although she was as horny as hell, his order managed to bring her blindingly back to reality, to the absurdity and horror of the situation. She visibly trembled at the thought of obeying his request.

"Come now, Sonya. You heard what I said and I know you understood. Undress now, you little whore," the priest said snidely.

"But I... I can't... I mean..." she stuttered.

"Enough!" he growled. "Undress! Undress now!" Sonya was panicking, her breaths being caught up by the knot in her throat, her hands slick with fear sweat, and yet she found herself slowly stepping out of her heels, feeling the cold stone flagging beneath her bare feet. The priest nodded his satisfaction, sinking back into his chair with his arms crossed, intently watching her every move with cold calculation. He gestured absently with one hand for her to continue, and she did, unbuttoning her blouse slowly, tugging at the buttons with her uncooperative fingers. It seemed to take an eternity, and once it was undone Sonya allowed her top to slide down her shoulders and onto the floor, like a white flag indicating her defeat. She shivered in the cool air, embarrassed by her provocative black and red bra and the way it lifted her round, perky breasts and barely covered them, revealing pink hints of her areolas.

Shifting slightly, the priest motioned downward with his hand, indicating to Sonya that she should remove her skirt. She reached around to undo the clasp, fumbling momentarily with the catch, and then slowly slid the zipper down. She wriggled it past her hips, edging her last main piece of clothing down and it sat in a rumpled, black pool around her ankles. As she stood back up, Sonya instinctually placed her hands in front of her vagina, attempting to cover her erotic panties from the priest's intent gaze. He was shaking his head in disapproval, and said "Come now, my child. It's a little late for modesty, don't you think? We all know why you are here so you can desist with the pretense."

Sonya lowered her arms, her cheeks burning as he regarded her exposed form. He was obviously enjoying her discomfort, a fact that made her extremely uncomfortable and yet highly aroused at the same time. "We know you act like a whore, now I see you dress like a whore. You must indeed be a whore, Sonya," he stated calmly, looking into her face for her reaction. She met his eyes with defiance, standing straight and tall with her breasts jutting out and her legs still tightly pinned together, her thigh muscles aching with the effort and her pussy burning as hot as her face.

"Let us just make sure now, shall we? I mean it is just a formality, but I think it may be quite entertaining and I do think we should do this seriously and go through the proper motions. I need you to stand... like this" the priest instructed, suddenly rising from his chair and holding himself in a mock position of Christ on the cross, looking at her intently the entire time. Sonya gasped when he stood, seeing his large erection poking the front of his cassock. The bulge was absolutely huge and she couldn't help but pant a little at the sight of it. He himself was a massive man, and it was evident even under his clothing that he was incredibly muscled and well-defined by the way he held himself. He is beautiful and terrible... like a god, she mused. She felt her arms rise as though they were on puppet strings that he was manipulating, and held them aloft.

"Now spread your legs," he told her, holding his arms crossed once more with his hard-on thrust out over the desk. Sonya could barely move her feet having held her thighs together so tightly for so long, and she awkwardly shuffled them slightly apart. "More," he intoned her muscles and joints screaming as she widened her stance, her movements as jerking as a marionette. "More!" he commanded forcefully and she instantly responded by standing with her legs as far apart as she could manage. He leaned forward and lowered his head, studying her pelvic region and nodding in satisfaction. "Very good. Now we know with certainty that you are a whore, Sonya. Although we did already know that, didn't we?" Confused as to what was holding his attention and made self conscious by his intent observation, she looked down and was horrified by what she saw. The inside of her thighs were wet and slick all the way down to her knees, her juices shining with the reflection of the dancing flames of the candles. Oh my God. I was aware that I was horny, but oh my God, thought Sonya, shocked at the degree to which she was aroused.

Her arms beginning to tire, she began to lower them and the priest immediately reprimanded her. "Oh no Sonya, you must remain in that position until I say otherwise. We are about to begin the purification ritual." He reached down and opened a desk drawer, retrieving a small whip with a multitude of loose, waving lashes. "Do you know what this is?"

"Yes, it is a whip," she answered, shocked at the turn their encounter had taken.

"Not exactly. It is a scourge. This will be used for your bodily penance to show remorse for your sin," he explained as he slowly approached her. "A whore can not be trusted to self-flagellate properly, so you are extremely privileged to have me help with your corporal mortification." He slid a finger along sensitive skin of the underside of her left arm, Sonya shivering under his touch and completely apprehensive. He was circling her like a predatory animal and drinking in her form, when suddenly his face was before hers, so close she could smell his sweet breath. His lips were a mere inch from her own and she automatically leaned forward, craving his touch and straining to feel his beautiful lips against hers. "Tut tut, you naughty little whore," he chastised her and withdrew his close proximity, resuming his slow circling.

Aaah! Just touch me, damn you! Her sexual frustration was being intensified by the position she was holding, her arms starting to burn with her effort. She suddenly felt the glorious lashes of the whip caressing one shoulder and then the other, and then tickling all the way down her spine to her tailbone. She trembled and nearly writhed uncontrollably under their touch, a delicious sensory experience that she reveled in. He stepped beside her and ran the knotted, leather cords down her left arm from her neck to her fingertips, Sonya hearing his heavy breathing close to her ear. She maintained her position, eyes locked on the desk in front of her, transfixed and unable to move until his face was before hers once more. He shook the whip gently across her breasts, following with loving brushstrokes that snaked down her belly to below her naval, just frustratingly shy of her pussy.

And then it happened, the numerous stings of the lashes as the whip struck her belly. It was completely eerie and Sonya felt it was an almost out-of-body experience. When he drew back his arm to deliver the blow it felt as though it happened in slow motion, to then quickly speed up as the scourge reached just short of her skin. Even though she was expecting the impact, the biting pain shocked her and sent a flash of red through her body, a sound of agony unintentionally escaping her lips.

"No, Sonya! That simply won't do," the priest snarled. "Do you think Jesus whimpered and moaned as he was paying for your sins? You must be quiet and receive your due with spiritual dignity. Now, let's try this again."

She braced for the impact and clenched her teeth as he drew back his arm, feeling the warmth of the first blow spreading across her mid-section and incredibly, the flames of her desire also fanned. The whip hit her stomach, Sonya shuddering with the feeling of a hundred vicious barbs embedding themselves in her skin, and she instinctively looked down to survey the damage. Expecting blood or at the very least some horrible, raised welts, she was shocked to see a mere pink hint to her unspoilt flesh. Looking up at the terrible priest with an alarmed, questioning expression, he nodded and spoke gently. "I know what I am doing, my child. You must trust me." And strangely she did, letting go of her last vestiges of independence, giving over her mind, body and soul to the man and overwhelmed with the aching sexual arousal that this act entailed. I am now completely and irrevocably yours, she thought.

He flogged her again and again across her stomach, taking long pauses between each stroke which seemed to intensify their effectiveness. Sonya jolted with each agonizingly sharp caress of the whip, her skin becoming burning hot and intensely sensitized and yet the pain diminishing or at least becoming more bearable. She was still wondering how much more she could endure when the priest stopped and came close to her, placing a hand on her belly. He moved his palm lightly across her skin, although Sonya in her hyper-sensitive state felt as though he was stroking her with sandpaper. He reached higher toward her breasts, Sonya jutting them forward and yearning for his hand to move just an inch further up. Her nipples were not just erect, but as hard as slate and uncomfortably contained by her bra. Please, please just touch them, she begged him in her mind. "Very good," he commended her as he removed his teasing hand from her flesh. "This heat is what will bring your sin to the surface, so that you may be purified." He deigned to smile at her and Sonya became one of those pathetic women she loathed of romance novels, practically swooning at his simple gesture.

He stepped back and suddenly whipped her right arm, a swarm of biting ants overwhelming the burning sensation of her exertion at holding it aloft for so long. The other arm joined the suffering as he flogged it too, Sonya realizing just how numb her stomach had become with this feeling of fresh, raw pain. Then the lashes bit into the sensitive flesh of her thigh, her mouth gasping and letting out a moan. "No!" he reprimanded her, and struck her much more viciously on the other thigh. She jolted with the impact, and felt her eyes well with tears. "You were really doing wonderfully, my child. I know you can do this." She thought it so strange how he was affecting her, her will not hers to employ any longer, her very existence and state of being all in his hands. It was not the fact that she was enjoying it so much, but that it seemed so right, as if the natural state of the universe had been reinstated, that was so shocking to her. And yet this thought was relegated to the back of her mind, her consciousness completely consumed by the priest.

He whipped her extremities in no discernable pattern or order, increasing the anticipation and pain for Sonya, her limbs trembling in their prolonged positioning and her mind focused on the face and form of the beautiful, terrible man before her. She strained her body to stillness before the bombardment of stinging pain, gritting her teeth and trying to ignore the smarting heat that radiated from the site of the hurts and down her spine. She was shuddering now, her teeth chattering, when the priest abruptly stopped and turned his back to her. "Very good, Sonya. You may lower your arms and stand comfortably now," he said.

Her arms had stiffened in their held positions, and having wanted so desperately to lower them for so long, she found that she could barely move them down now that she had been given permission. She strained against their locked arrangement, moving them down one unbearable inch at a time, until they finally hung limp and trembling by her sides. The priest turned back around to face her and tilted a glass of cold water against her lips, Sonya nearly crying with shock and appreciation. She asked herself mentally why she was so overwhelmed and held back sobs as she tried to swallow the cool, clear liquid that was running down her throat. Why am I so grateful? He is a terrible monster. And yet I am. Is it love? No, it can't possibly be. And yet it is something so similar, so all encompassing, so intense in feeling...

"That's enough, my child. You deserved it, and it will strengthen you for what is about to come," he said, returning the glass to the desktop. The mild reprieve from his ministrations had done much more to fortify her than the water, and she instinctually flexed her muscles in anticipation as he rounded her and stood hidden from view behind her. The wait was unbearable, her body occasionally flinching when she heard the slightest sound or felt the air shift with unseen movement, Sony bracing for the first strike. Funnily enough, when the first blow of the whip finally met the untouched skin of her back she was taken by surprise. The lashes left their burning, stinging marks across one shoulder, and she arched her back and wailed in response, feeling the pain run down her spine to pool in her feet. It was immediately followed by a spiteful, vicious thrashing that almost brought Sonya to her knees. She bit her lip and tasted blood, willing herself to quietness, knowing that these terrible blows were punishment for her loud cry. Five horrid, savage whips across the middle of her back were her penalty, each one seeming to hit the precise location of the last, and when he ceased his brutal attack the intense pain persisted for many long minutes.