The Monk Ambrosio Ch. 02

This is the second chapter of my 'The Monk Ambrosio' series. This chapter chiefly features Matilda, Ambrosio's lover from Chapter One. In it, Matilda meets with her Master. Let's see what happens shall we?

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"Now I truly must go," said Ambrosio, rising from the couch. Matilda sighed deeply, her body flushed with the heat of their recent lovemaking. Much to her disappointment, she had only a few minutes to hold Ambrosio before he rose from the bed again.

"Shall I come to you to-night?" she asked, sitting at the edge of the bed.

"I have not the time. I have much to do," he said plainly.

"Ah. Then shall I see you tomorrow?" Matilda asked, frowning at the floor. Her heart beat heavy with grief. She pursed her lips.

Ambrosio sensed her dismay, turned and smiled smally. He hated her, for the way she had seduced him into betraying his vows of celibacy. He hated her because she was so beautiful... because by revealing herself she had been the cause of his losing Rosario. 'But' he thought to himself, 'Matilda was Rosario.' And it was his resurrected fatherly affection for Rosario that prompted his bosom to swell with guilt at what he would soon tell her. The truth being: that it was lust and not love which he had felt for the young girl. What he had felt was only a physical attraction. He now no longer wanted her in this way and knew that what had just taken place between them might be the last incident of lovemaking.

"I am sorry." He was apologizing, though, as of yet, he had no reason to do so. He couldn't summon the courage to tell her but somehow he thought she knew. He enveloped her in his arms, holding her to his chest. Her chilly body warmed at this display of affection, knowing and feeling that the meaning behind it was more filial than romantic. Her soft fingers clutched at his shoulder, as the hand of a scared infant might clutch to its parent.

"Do not apologize, dear Ambrosio. I shall see you on the morrow," she said smiling at him. A mischievous gleam was in her eyes that unsettled him as he left her chamber.

Matilda fell back on her cushion, looking in the direction of heaven, knowing that no amount of prayer could save her soul or give her the heart of Ambrosio. Something dark stirred in her heart and she felt the unmistakable drawing of her thoughts to the sepulcher in the St. Clare gardens. She frowned at the sudden inclination possessing her to go in that direction. She rose from bed, hearing a small voice behind her. She started, turning to see nothing.

"Make yourself visible!" she hissed, dismissing her sweetness.

"Of course, my mistress," answered the voice. A thick silver smoke puffed into the chamber then drew away like a veil from a tall masculine figure. The male figure had a wide set of sable wings which, unfolded, might fill the entire chamber. His clothes were fine and a circlet of gleaming gold sat on his forehead, symbols of his Master's ownership etched into it. A tether was attached to a golden cuff on his wrist. At the tether began a golden chain, molten-red with hellfire, running to the floor where the arch-demon's minions scratched and hissed at each other. The vermin sneered at her, eyeing her naked body with dastardly chokes, which Matilda had always supposed to be laughter. She despised the sound.

"Have I, or have I not told you before, Asmodeus, that you are never to veil yourself before me?"

"Were you afraid, my mistress?" His black eyes sporting small blue flames.

"No, indeed, I was not." She began pulling on her clothes. The arch-demon chuckled, a rumble possessing the walls as he did so.

"He wishes to speak to you," Asmodeus said in his deep, unearthly voice, tugging the chain beside him violently as he made his way to Matilda's side.

"I know," Matilda said plainly. "I could feel him calling me."

"The Master grows impatient for his prize, mistress."

"I have told your Master that when Ambrosio's love is mine, I will gain him Ambrosio's soul."

"My dear Matilda," the lust-demon's voice filled her ears, warming her body with the debauchery it promised, "why not give up your design for this monk?" Matilda's eyes floated closed, her energy growing wild in her body, coursing to where Asmodeus' fingers drew soft patterns on her neck. He leaned in close to her, his black tresses tickling her shoulder. He drew his fingertips across her throat.

"I know the desires of your body, my mistress. I can satisfy you... I can drive you to madness." He was bewitching, handsome, and dangerous... as lovely as any angel. His smoky breath on her cheek made her quiver. She might have dropped her clothing away in the shadow of this patron of lust, if she hadn't grown accustomed to his advances. The smoke curled from his fingertips into her nostrils, a perfume for seduction.

Without warning, Matilda shattered his spell with laughter. "My ridiculous specter! I am very well aware that demons hold nothing and no one dear but themselves and their Master." Completely taken aback, Asmodeus stepped away from her. The tethered minions at his feet 'laughed' again. The arch-demon tugged the chain, sending them squealing into a corner.

"Demons may not hold dear, things or creatures with souls, but they do possess," Asmodeus said, smoke rising from the ground on which he walked.

"And would you possess me, you foul thing?" she taunted. "As I recall it, your Master has put you under my charge. And should I ever detect your advances again, I will punish you."

"Any punishment of human devising may inflict yet more pleasure than pain." He said with a wide, hot smile.

"That is yet to be seen. Until then, I desire that you pursue Ambrosio again today."

"Again?" Asmodeus scoffed. "That insufferable monk? He does nothing interesting at all." Despite his upset, he perked up suddenly. "You know, yesterday he met with a girl in the chapel. She was very beautiful."

"You lie," Matilda hissed.

"I am not lying. I swear it in my Master's name." Asmodeus inclined his head, his hand over his chest, where a heart might beat if he were human.

"What lady was this?" Matilda managed to ask in her shock.

"I believe she answers to the name Antonia, my mistress." He smiled wide.

"Antonia," Matilda repeated, lost in thought for a moment. She turned her eyes to the demon, the green churning like crashing waves in an ocean. "I knew his mind was elsewhere. He finds my company less than pleasurable. There can be no other reason than his desire for this... Antonia." She choked on the name, thinking of how Ambrosio might whisper her name in the throes of desire. She felt tears come to her eyes.

Asmodeus grinned in his triumph. "I can sense my Master's displeasure at your delayed appearance in the sepulcher."

"Your Master! Curse your Master!" Matilda's anger flared. A bowl of fruit was made victim of her rage, hurled across the room, crashing against the wall and clattering to the floor along with its contents. "Let your Master come to me, if he wishes to see me!"

The chamber rumbled and what little sunlight coming through the window seemed to falter into shadow. Asmodeus stumbled while his minions cowered and were silent. Matilda's moist eyes were wide at the reaction of the Evil One. She frowned at the floor and pulled on the last of her clothes. "I will go to the sepulcher now, without delay. Go forth and watch Ambrosio as I have instructed, relate to me every single detail of his wanderings today. Do not fail me, or your Master will know of your stupidity," Matilda said, her angry gaze settling into Asmodeus' burning eyes.

"Your will be done, my Mistress," Asmodeus said. Quicker than during his entrance, the silver smoke engulfed the handsome demon and his minions, taking them away from the room. Matilda grabbed up her basket, ruing the moment she'd allowed her temper to flare... knowing that the Devil himself... and his punishment awaited her in the catacombs of St. Clair.

The stone door of the sepulcher gave way at the turn of her key and she descended the staircase through the winding passageways of the tomb. Holding her light above her head, she followed her old path to a statue of St. Francis and urged the hollow figure aside, revealing a hidden path. She set her light at the mouth of the hole and stepped in, pulling the figure back into place behind her. Brushing the dust from her cloak, she regained her light and carefully retraced the narrow corridor to a small ante-chamber.

In the center was a heavy gravestone into which several prominent characters had been etched. All around the center-stone were various occult devices that she had placed there for previous rituals. She set her basket down and retrieved a red, satin gown, a golden-chain that she used for a belt, a jeweled-goblet stained red inside by a previous ritual, a jeweled dagger wrapped in a velvet shawl, and at last a heavy black cloak. Dressing herself in the ritual robes, tucking the dagger into the belt on her right hip, hanging the chalice by the slack of the chain on her left hip, she was prepared for what was to come.

Matilda pulled from a corner of the chamber, a thick but fragile book. Its pages were tattered, its cover was made of very soft hide and inscribed with various foreign characters, most of which matched the implanted gravestone in the center of the chamber. To the stone, she paid fresh attention, opening the book to a marked place. She set the book at the center of the stone. She withdrew the chalice and set it before the slab then began chanting an incantation. Sparks flew from the book, growing in number and heat until the book and stone were engulfed in multi-colored flame. Matilda drew the jeweled poniard from her belt and struck the blade against her wrist. Blood poured from the wound into the goblet. Violet smoke filled the chamber and a loud boom echoed as lightning blazed from the sky, through the ground and struck the stone. The blood was gone when the light disappeared. In a moment, her wound had healed itself. The peal of thunder rescinded and before her stood the Prince of Darkness himself.

The young witch had never been before the Evil One without quaking and she fell to her knees in his presence, averting her eyes. His bass voice growled from his throat.

"Matilda," he addressed her in the language of Hell, "why are you tardy in attending my whim?" She could feel him snort in his anger.

"Forgive me, my Master. I am sorry!" She remained prostrate at his feet.

"Forgiveness is for the accursed Ruler of Heaven!" Satan thundered.

"Yes my Master!" Matilda said, her heart beating wildly with regret and fear.

"Harlot!" The Devil said, pacing the chamber. The flames had died off, but the smell of sulphur still lingered. The temperature of the ritual room was intense. "You have failed to gain me the soul of the monk! Yet again!"

"I am sorry, my Master!" Matilda wept at the dirt. Her tears only spiked further rage in the entity. With a wave of his hand, her body was thrown several feet backward into the wall. Her muscles ached, but soon the pain disappeared. She covered her face in shame.

"'Master', you say... yet you command me to appear in the presence of my children! I should burn you for a thousand years for such blasphemy!" In a mere second, he towered before her.

Clothed in darkness, which always animated to his liking, he was a beautiful creature, his unearthly features strong and bold. Anyone who might live after seeing him would recount that, even though he closely resembled a human, no man or woman could have made him. His wavy, sable hair, the length of which ended at his hip, shone against the light of the lamp. Brows of the same hue hedged eyes as black as the night sky, holding no light within them. Matilda thought his skin dark like a gypsy's and his lips thick like a Persian's. His exquisite mouth was now echoing the scorn in his voice, drawn back to reveal a gleaming white set of teeth, bearing his long, pointed incisors. She feared, with every inch of her life, the gnash of those teeth, the poison that he might inflict with a bite. Her emerald eyes looked at him, wide with terror.

He took a fistful of her hair in his massive hand. By this tether, he lifted her from the ground and set her on her feet. The same fist took prisoner, her throat and drew her to him. Lucifer's eyes reflected the lamp's flame as he reared his head back and laughed.

"Oh the delightful, sinful pleasure I could instill in those eyes. If only you could know the opposite of that tremble of horror." He combed his large fingers through her hair, tipping her head back. The tears were no more in her eyes and the remnants of them had burned from her face at the Devil's touch. "Would not you like to know, my little witch?"

"I would know whatever you wish to impart to your servant. I should be happy with whatever gifts the Evil One would bestow upon me." Matilda said, looking into the vast emptiness of his gaze. He set her on the ground, his finger unclasping at her throat. His broad, self-satisfied smile was contagious.

"I desire that you know your monk has fallen in love with the human woman named Antonia. Even now he is thinking the most depraved thoughts... of enjoying her person, of depriving her of her innocence," the Prince of Darkness gauged her response, though he could easily read her thoughts if he wished.

Matilda faltered in her admiration of the Devil, frowning as her eyes closed, at the very thought of Ambrosio being with another. Her fists clenched at her side, her teeth gritting together.

"Please, I implore you, my Master! Furnish me with a charm to win his affection!" Matilda begged, dropping to her knees, offering her clasped hands up to him.

Lucifer smiled deviously down at her.

"I have given you many charms. Did they, none of them, succeed?" The lamplight made his demon eyes glimmer.

"My Master is too wise. He knows they have not succeeded," she said, retracting her hands and arms.

"Do you know why, little witch?" He seemed to regard her with a measure of affection.

"I do not, Master." Matilda said, her eyes on the ground, sadness overtaking her.

"I am going to reveal to you, Matilda, why he is not won and what you must do next." Satan clapped his hands together and a small sofa appeared, onto which he reclined, eyeing the young witch with a new idea.

"Thank you, Master." She sunk to the ground, avoiding the Dark One's eyes.

"Ambrosio is not won because such is not meant to be so."

Matilda looked into the King of Demons' face again, searching it for an answer to her obvious question.

"Yes, it is true Matilda. I have known this since you came to me, but I did not tell you so."

"M- Master, you knew this?" she stuttered. She nearly accused him of being cruel but he was the Devil after-all.

"It is rare for me to reveal a whole truth, my little witch. Do you remember that which I told you when you first beckoned for me at the grave of your fathers?" the Devil asked.

Matilda had to search her memory, for it was a year since she prayed to the Devil to take her soul in return for the love of Ambrosio. She thought hard.

"You told me that I may have all of the pleasures of life... whatever I desired, with Ambrosio at my command."

"That is true. But he shall not be yours in life. Only after you are both dead will he be yours completely. And I shall give him to you in the Dark Chambers."

Matilda's heart swelled with happiness but then nearly burst at the inclination of living life without Ambrosio. She looked to the Devil, knowing he already knew her thoughts.

"When the time comes, you are to open to the seventh page of the book which I gave to you and read from it. I will appear to you then, in your time of most dire need. And if you succeed in persuading Ambrosio to follow my orders, he shall be yours." The Devil's eyes still gleamed.

"Yes, Dark One! Thank you, my Master!" Matilda threw herself at the base of the couch and then sought out Satan's fingers... to press reverent kisses to them. She looked into his face, tears of joy cresting on her eyelashes, her delicate features: perfect and emotive of what innocence still lay in her.

Lucifer lifted her chin. "There is another truth which I will share with you, Matilda." She remained quiet. "I do not wish you to be as my other servants in Hades." Her surprise was evident. "I have many chambers of consorts. They live to satisfy my desires. Their only joy is to serve me. Since you cannot love Ambrosio, devote yourself to loving me. In return, you shall have all the desires of your heart. You shall be commander of all of my arch-demons. They will obey you as they do me and the other consorts."

Matilda considered for a moment... considered his anger if she refused, her love for Ambrosio -- that might certainly follow her to the grave and beyond -- the enticement of going to bed with the most pleasurable of beings, of one day owning the rights to Ambrosio's soul, and of having power in the Palaces of Hell. All points considered, the merits were too difficult to ignore. She looked with half-feigned happiness into the Satan's eyes.

"It is done then," he said, his lips dripping with mirth. "Abandon your design for the monk in life, aid me in gaining his soul, and he shall be yours for Eternity."

"Yes Master," Matilda said.

"Now, my consort, I shall partake of you even now," said Lucifer. Matilda's heartbeat sped with curiosity, but coil of fear formed in her stomach and womb. She remained silent and did not stop him as he pushed away her cloak. It fluttered to the floor. Her gown also fell away to join it. The Devil's own darkness melted away as he willed it. He gently lifted Matilda to her feet. She shifted nervously, hoping her body was to his liking.

"You are an exquisite creature," said he, noting the voluptuousness of her figure, the plumpness of her breasts and buttocks. "When you are fully prepared, you will make a fine consort." A new flame licked into his eyes.

Matilda took the opportunity to observe the Devil in his nakedness. His finely-toned sinew was tight over his arms, chest, stomach, and legs. He stood from the couch. In the way of stature, he towered over her, dwarfing her by comparison. It was then she was able to see the amazing rigid length of his demon-member. It seemed almost a yard long, though she was sure it could be whatever size he wished. The site of the hardness there made her shiver with desire. She had never seen a more impressive being in the whole of her life.

"Lie down upon my bed, my little witch. I shall prepare you for your desecration." His lusty smile was born of Hell-flame, but still she obeyed, lying on her back against the warm, velveteen cushions.

The Devil clapped his hands and smoke puffed from several places in the chamber. Two figures approached from the fog, appearing naturally human excepting a golden cuff around each one of their necks and a black halo resting on the crown of each.

"These demons are my slaves. They follow my commands and yours. They know your mind and will make you an able vessel to receive me." The Devil chuckled. "I have never met a creature which I could not satisfy, so prepare yourself, my little witch, for desire never before known to a human woman." She feared the other creatures, and nearly fled the chamber... but the same fear kept her from quitting the couch.

"Master I- " her voice caught in her throat as the Devil motioned to the closest of the two minions. He dropped to his knees and dropped his mouth to the hot peak of her nipple. Her body clenched, her fingers gripping the cushions beneath her. The other of the minions dropped at her feet, soundlessly parted her knees and pressed his face into the mound of blond curls at the entrance to her womanhood. She cried out in surprise, bucking at the sensations flooding her womb.